War of Honor

by David Weber

  "And," Descroix murmured, also flicking a glance at the Chancellor of the Exchequer, "suspending construction will be a demonstration of our own desire for peace. Superdreadnoughts, as Edward so rightly points out, are used to project power. They're offensive weapons systems, unlike the cruisers he wants to build as an anti-piracy measure. And LACs are even less suitable for aggression against our neighbors, because they're not even hyper-capable without a carrier."

  "An excellent point," New Kiev said, nodding vigorously as her anti-imperialism reflex triggered.

  "I see." North Hollow frowned thoughtfully for a long moment, then nodded himself, slowly. "I see," he repeated more briskly, "and I completely agree, of course. Nonetheless, I continue to have some concerns about the way in which an alarmist jingoist might try to attack the new policies. In particular, I'm concerned about White Haven and Harrington."

  The effect of those two names was remarkable. Every other face in the room tightened with expressions which ranged from hostility through revulsion and contempt to just a trace of outright fear. North Hollow alone seemed unaffected, although all of them knew that was a lie, for he had even more reason than any of the others to hate and loath Honor Harrington. Nor was he likely to have forgotten that Hamish Alexander had been president of the court-martial which had ended his dead brother's military career in bitter disgrace.

  "The two of them have been troublesome and obstructionist enough over other issues," the earl continued levelly. "Given their stature in the public mind as great wartime leaders, they could prove even more troublesome over an issue this directly related to the Navy."

  "Harrington," Janacek grated, "is a maniac. Oh, I suppose she's charismatic enough, but she has yet to demonstrate anything approaching true strategic insight. And my God, the casualty figures she's run up!" He snorted harshly. " 'Salamander,' indeed! Too bad the fire seems to burn everyone else to a crisp!"

  "But she does enjoy immense popularity," North Hollow pointed out calmly.

  "Of course she does!" Janacek growled. "The Opposition media's seen to that, and the general public is too ignorant of military realities and too besotted with her public image of derring-do to question it."

  For just a moment, North Hollow seemed to hover on the brink of asking the First Lord if Admiral White Haven's reputation was equally undeserved, but not even he was foolish enough to do that. The savagely caustic (and highly public) tongue-lashing White Haven had administered to Janacek when they'd both been serving officers was legendary.

  "We all realize Harrington's reputation is grossly overinflated, Edward," High Ridge said soothingly instead, "but that doesn't invalidate Stefan's point. Particularly given how critical the enactment of our new budget and spending priorities has become. However she acquired that reputation, she possesses it, and she's learned to use it effectively when she launches her attacks against our policies."

  "She and White Haven together," Descroix amplified.

  "I know." Janacek drew a deep breath and made himself sit back in his chair. "In fact, I might as well admit that not offering Harrington a space-going command was a mistake. I wanted to keep her off any flag bridges, especially since she's obviously totally out of her depth as a flag officer, despite the promotions the previous Admiralty administration so unwisely showered upon her. The last thing I wanted was her anywhere near the Havenite front while we were in the process of negotiations, because God only knew what sort of unilateral lunatic action she might have committed us to. That's why I approved her request to return to the Saganami Island faculty; I thought we could keep her safely shelved teaching, instead. Failing that, I'd hoped the Graysons would be foolish enough to call her home and offer her a command, since they so obviously worship the ground she walks on. I never expected her to turn into a permanent fixture at Saganami, but she has, and now I can't justify removing the damned 'Salamander' from the faculty without opening a tremendous can of worms." He shrugged unhappily. "I hadn't considered that she might realize that by keeping her here on Manticore I'd also keep her handy to Parliament as well as keeping her in the public eye."

  "And none of us realized she and White Haven would make such an effective team." Descroix's voice was sour, and for a few seconds her benign, harmless mask slipped as her eyes went flint-hard.

  "Precisely the point I wished to raise," North Hollow said. "Either of them alone would be bad enough; together, they're the greatest single obstacle we face in the Lords. Would anyone disagree with that?"

  "You're probably right," New Kiev said after a moment. "William Alexander is bad enough, but he was always a team player, completely loyal to Cromarty. He stayed in the background, so the public saw him as the nuts-and-bolts member of Cromarty's team—a technician and strategist, and an excellent one, but not a leader. Not with the sort of charisma Harrington has or the reputation for command his brother enjoys. And the same thing's true for James Webster and Sebastian D'Orville on the Navy side. They're both respected, but neither of them ever captured the public's eye the way Harrington and White Haven did. And, of course, neither of them holds a seat in Parliament, however influential they may be as Opposition 'analysts.' "

  "So I think we're all in agreement," North Hollow said, "that anything which could, um, decrease White Haven's and Harrington's popularity, especially at this particular moment, would be . . . advantageous?"

  He looked around the conference table with bright, speculative eyes, and one by one, the others nodded. New Kiev's nod was smaller and less enthusiastic than the others, almost uncomfortable, but it was a nod nonetheless.

  "The question which comes to mind, My Lord," Descroix remarked, "is precisely how we could go about decreasing the popularity either of them enjoys, much less both of them. Goodness knows they've proved remarkably resistant to previous efforts in that direction."

  "Ah, but that was because our efforts were directed at . . . disarming each of them. Not both of them," North Hollow said with a most unpleasant smile.

  Chapter Six

  "...So the contracts should be in our hands by the end of the week, Your Grace."

  Richard Maxwell, Honor's personal Manticoran attorney and acting solicitor general for the Duchy of Harrington, punched the forward button on his memo pad. A new page displayed itself, and he studied it for a moment, then gave a small, satisfied nod.

  "That's just about it, Your Grace," he said.

  "An excellent brief, Richard," Honor approved. "I'm particularly pleased with the progress on the lodge agreements."

  "I'm still not as good at contract law as Willard," Maxwell pointed out, "but that wasn't really a problem in this case. That whole area is absolutely prime ski territory, and the access to the coast offers a year-round recreational possibility for the operators. They were eager to close, and they were willing to pay a considerably higher premium for the rights to build there than we'd anticipated, especially now that the cessation of hostilities has given the civilian economy a push forward again. Willard was right about Odom, too; he's almost as sharp a negotiator as Willard himself. He knew exactly when to push at the final session, and at the expense of possible immodesty, I think I've been getting better at this whole commercial law business, too. And I have to admit that having Clarise Childers available as backup hasn't hurt a bit."

  "I've been very satisfied with Merlin," Honor agreed. "And I've noticed Clarise always lends a certain . . . presence to any meeting. Whether she's actually there or not."

  She smiled at Maxwell, and he grinned back at the studied understatement of her remark.

  Merlin Odom was Willard Neufsteiller's handpicked deputy on Manticore, managing the operations of the steadily growing Harrington financial empire in the Star Kingdom in accordance with Neufsteiller's general directives from Grayson. At forty-two, he was much younger than Willard, and even less inclined to get out of the office in the name of heathen exercise. But the heavy-set lawyer with the brown hair, blue eyes, and startlingly red goatee was already demonstrating similar
instincts. With a few more decades of experience, he would be more than ready to take over when Willard finally retired, which was a very high compliment indeed.

  As for Childers, the mere fact that everyone knew her services were available to Honor at need was an asset beyond price. Not only was she one of the most capable attorneys in the Star Kingdom in her own right, but her firm's short—very short—client list loomed large in the mind of any commercial negotiator. Honor herself had become one of the richest individuals in the Star Kingdom over the past decade and a half, and her Sky Domes of Grayson was firmly established among the Kingdom Five Hundred list of top corporations. But Childers worked directly for Klaus Hauptman, whose personal and corporate wealth was at least equal to the combined assets of his half dozen closest competitors. Clarise Childers was the president and senior partner of the enormous law firm of Childers, Strauslund, Goldman, and Wu, whose sole clients were the Hauptman Cartel (which headed the Kingdom Five Hundred by a wide margin), the Hauptman family . . . and, on occasion, Honor Harrington.

  "With the commercial side of things under control for the moment, Your Grace," Maxwell went on, his pleasantly ugly face thoughtful, "what I'd like to do next would be to spend some time setting up the Harrington judiciary."

  "Do we really have to do that this quickly?" Honor asked with a small grimace. "It's not like we have anything approaching a true population in the duchy yet!"

  "Your Grace," Maxwell said a bit sternly, "if anyone in the Star Kingdom should know better than that, it's you. You've already been through setting up a new steading on Grayson, after all."

  "But I left most of that to Howard Clinkscales," Honor pointed out. "All I really did was sign off on the decisions he'd already reached."

  "I happen to know from private correspondence with Lord Clinkscales that you were considerably more involved in the process than that, Your Grace," Maxwell disagreed respectfully. "And even if you hadn't been, you've had plenty of time to see how badly a well-organized infrastructure is needed in situations like this."

  "The cases aren't parallel," Honor objected. "As a steadholder, I hold the powers of high, middle, and low justice in Harrington. I don't want them, mind you, and any steadholder's power of arbitrary decision has been steadily reduced by precedents over the last few centuries. Not to mention what the Sword's done to subordinate steading law codes to the planetary Constitution since the 'Mayhew Restoration.' But Steadholder Harrington is still a head of state in her own right, with all of the legal prerogatives and responsibilities that entails. Duchess Harrington is only an administrator—a Crown governor, basically."

  "And, like a governor, the Duchess holds the powers of judicial review and commutation," Maxwell pointed out in turn. "And, like a governor, she's effectively the chief magistrate of her duchy. Which means she needs a functioning system of courts and law enforcement in place."

  "To enforce it against whom?" Honor asked plaintively. "The total population of the duchy is—what? Clear up to two thousand now? Scattered over how many thousands of square kilometers?"

  "The actual number is a bit higher than that," Maxwell told her. "Not a lot, I'll admit, but higher. And it's about to get a lot higher than it is, for another reason with which your Grayson experience with Sky Domes should make you familiar. Once the survey and construction crews for the ski lodges move in, the current population is going to go up by at least a factor of five. And once the lodges and resorts start attracting tourists and the permanent population to service them, the number will skyrocket."

  "All right, all right," Honor sighed. "I surrender. Pull together a proposal for me by next Wednesday, and I promise to get back to you on it as soon as I can."

  "Hear that, Nimitz?" the attorney said over his shoulder, to the cream and gray 'cat sprawled comfortably on the custom-made perch beside his smaller, dappled brown and cream mate. Nimitz pricked up his ears, and Maxwell chuckled. "I expect you to keep an eye on her and see to it that she really does pay attention to my memos," he said.

  Nimitz considered him for a moment, then rose to a half-sitting position on the perch, and raised his true-hands. He placed the right true-hand, fingers together and palm facing to the left, on the upturned palm of his left true-hand, which pointed away from his body. The right true-hand slid out along the left palm, over the left fingers, and stopped with its heel resting on the left fingertips.

  "Traitor," Honor muttered darkly as she read the sign for "Okay," and Nimitz bleeked a laugh and started signing again.

  the flashing fingers said.

  "To think your loyalty can be bought so cheaply," Honor told him, shaking her head sorrowfully.

  Nimitz's true-hands replied.

  "Right," Honor snorted. Then she looked back at Maxwell. "Well, now that you've recruited your furry minion, I suppose I really don't have any choice but to read your memo. Although, exactly where you expect me to fit it into my schedule is beyond me."

  "I'm sure that between them Mac and Miranda can find somewhere to steal an hour or two for you to spend reading. I promise I'll make it as concise as I can, too. But before you approve any plans, you really do need to read more than just the digest and the section heads, Your Grace. I'm flattered that you trust me, but the ultimate decisions and the consequences they may have are up to you."

  "I know," she said more seriously, and tapped a command into the terminal at her desk. She studied the display for a few seconds, and then entered a brief note.

  "I just picked Wednesday out of a hat," she admitted, "but it looks like it will actually work anyway. And it's a good thing, too, because I've got an exam at Saganami Island that afternoon. I'm going to be swamped grading papers in my copious free time at least through the weekend. So if you can get it to me by Wednesday morning, or even better, by Tuesday evening, I'll fit it in somehow before I get buried under papers."

  "I'm glad to hear it, Your Grace," Maxwell told her, "but don't you have a session in the Lords Wednesday, as well? I thought I saw a notice that the Government intended to move its new budget this week, and even though this is important, I wouldn't want it to interfere with any preparations for that."

  "No," Honor said with another, more heartfelt grimace. "It's been moved to next Wednesday. I'm not sure why, but the Government notified us day before yesterday that they were moving the debate back a week. And there won't be a lot of preparation to do, either. High Ridge will say exactly the same things he's been saying for the last three T-years, and Earl White Haven and I will say exactly the same things we've been saying for the last three years. Then the House will vote—narrowly, of course—to draft the budget the Government wants, the Commons will move amendments to change it, the Lords will strip them back out again, and absolutely nothing will change."

  Maxwell looked at her, wondering if she realized just how bitter (and exhausted) she sounded at that instant. Not that he was surprised to hear it.

  The House of Lord's power to initiate finance bills was only part of its advantage in controlling the power of the purse in the Star Kingdom. In addition, any bill which actually passed had to pass in the final form approved by the Lords. That meant that, as Honor had just complained, the Lords could effectively strip out any Commons-sponsored amendment of which it disapproved and require a straight up-or-down vote on its own version of any financial bill. Under normal circumstances, the Commons still had quite a lot of say-so, since it could always refuse to approve the Lords' final version and—especially—refuse approval for any extraordinary funding measures required to support the Lords' budgets. But these circumstances weren't normal. The "extraordinary funding measures" were already in place, and the authority the Lords also enjoyed to pass special financial enabling authority for core government services on an emergency basis even without the Commons' approval in the event of a budgetary standoff was the icing on the cake.

  Of course, prudent prime ministers were
usually careful not to overstrain their weapons. For the Lords to ride roughshod over the Commons required a situation in which a sufficiently sizable piece of the electorate would be prepared to blame the Commons for failure to achieve compromise. Under those circumstances, the house which had to stand for reelection faced a fatal disadvantage, but if the Lords had been foolish enough to court situations in which they would be blamed for the ensuing shutdown of most government services, the long-term resentment might have allowed the Crown to strip the senior house of the power of the purse long ago.

  That was precisely why the High Ridge Government had been so assiduously attempting to buy public support . . . and what had made Duchess Harrington and Earl White Haven so valuable as the Opposition's spokespeople in the House of Lords. Where the naval budgets, in particular, were concerned, their voices carried a great deal of weight with the electorate.

  And it was also why High Ridge and his allies wanted so desperately to reduce their effectiveness by any means possible,

  The members of the Government themselves had to be extremely careful about seeming to pick personal quarrels with the two most famous heroes of the war against the Peeps. But that only required them to be more inventive and delegate attacks to suitably distanced henchmen. Nor did it do a thing to restrain the Government-sponsored "commentators" and 'faxes or the idiots who actually believed them, and Lady Harrington's cumulative exhaustion was beginning to show.