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Nimitz would no more hurt a human being than turn vegetarian, and treecats never made mistakes in that respect.
The admiral was a bland-faced, cherubic little gnome of a man with a bent for creating demonic tac problems,
Assuming he could keep himself from strangling the sneaky bastard long enough to congratulate him.
If one of her officers needed reprimanding, she would attend to it in private, just as she made it a point to deliver praise in public.
They could hate her guts all they liked as long as they did their duty.
I'm not as young as I used to be, and I don't know if I'm ready for the concept of a competent senior officer on Basilisk Station!"
"I am an officer of the Royal Manticoran Navy, Sir—" Venizelos felt an undeniable rush of adrenaline and pleasure as he faced the burly captain squarely "—and the Royal Manticoran Navy does not 'bluff.'"
"In fact, I'm just starting to realize how hard a hardass she is. And you know something, Hayne? I like it."
"I wouldn't want him getting bored now that he and his people have the smugglers cut down to size, now would I?" "You're a terrible person, Commander Harrington," Dame Estelle said with an answering grin. "Dame Estelle, you have no idea how terrible," Honor agreed cheerfully.
"I know you can knock a kodiak max on his ass at two klicks with a pulse rifle. I know you can pick a single gnat out of a cloud of 'em with a plasma gun and strangle hexapumas with your bare hands. I even know your battle armor gives you the strength of ten because your heart is pure! But this ain't no boarding action, 'Major' Papadapolous,
help. The skimmer's interior was splashed and daubed with crimson, as if lunatics with buckets of blood had run amok within it.
He'd reduced her cruiser to a wreck—she had to be some kind of wizard just to hold it together, much less go on shooting at him!
