by David Weber
"Yes, it would," he acknowledged with massive restraint. "I'd like to point out, however, that legally we're still at war with the Republic of Haven. If you've read the transcript of Theisman's news conference, then you know he made that point himself, when one of the newsies asked him why the Pritchart administration had been so secretive about its own naval budget. He was right, too. So to the best of my knowledge, there's absolutely no domestic or interstellar legal obstacle to our resuming military operations at any time we choose."
"But we happen to be in the middle of a truce . . . and negotiating to extend that truce into a permanent treaty!" New Kiev pointed out sharply.
She glowered at Janacek, her nonconfrontational attitude clearly in abeyance as her maternal pride in the truce agreement she had negotiated during her own tenure as Foreign Secretary roused.
"I'm fully aware of that, Marisa," he told her. "And I'm not proposing any sort of attack at this time. I'm simply enumerating all of our potential responses. Personally, I find the notion of resuming active operations the least appetizing of any of them, but I don't think we can afford to overlook it."
"Especially not when it's the Havenites, not us, who have seen fit to destabilize the existing military balance," Descroix put in virtuously. New Kiev turned her attention to the Foreign Secretary, who shrugged. "They can't reasonably expect us to negotiate in good faith under threat, Marisa!"
None of her colleagues saw any reason to point out that all of them had certainly expected the Republic to negotiate "under threat."
"But we still have a responsibility to observe the terms of the existing truce," New Kiev argued.
"I'm sure we all agree with that in principle, Marisa," High Ridge said soothingly. Her eyes flashed angrily, but he continued in those same, smooth tones. "As Edward says, however, we have a responsibility as Her Majesty's Government to consider all options and alternatives, don't we?"
New Kiev had opened her mouth, but now she shut it again. Her expression remained thunderous, but she drew a deep breath and nodded, despite her obvious unhappiness with the thought.
"Actually," Janacek said after a moment, "there probably isn't any conflict between the truce terms and the operational requirements of a preemptive strike."
All of them looked at him in varying degrees of surprise, and it was his turn to shrug.
"For obvious reasons, we've paid particularly close attention over at Admiralty House to the terms which bear specifically on military operations," he said. "Those terms require both sides to refrain from hostile actions as long as the negotiations are proceeding. If they stop proceeding, then that requirement no longer applies."
"You mean—?" Descroix's eyes widened in speculation as she looked at him, and he smiled thinly.
"Technically, we could decide at any time we wished to break off talks and terminate the truce. Or we could determine that the Republic has already effectively done so."
"In what way?" Descroix asked.
"As you just pointed out, Elaine, they've destabilized the balance by secretly building this new fleet of theirs. Certainly we could argue that such a massive escalation of their war-fighting ability—particularly when we've been unilaterally building down our own naval strength in the interest of reducing tensions and promoting the peace—represents a 'hostile action.' Under those circumstances, we would have every right to act to neutralize that action."
He shrugged again, and New Kiev stared at him in a shock that verged on horror. Descroix and High Ridge, on the other hand, returned his thin smile with broader ones of their own. He was hardly surprised by any of the reactions he'd elicited, but his attention was focused on New Kiev.
"I'm not suggesting that we do anything of the sort, Marisa," he told her in his most reasonable voice. "I'm simply pointing out that if they drive us to it, we have options. To be perfectly and brutally honest, I would advocate launching an attack with no notice at all if I believed the situation were sufficiently desperate to justify it. As it happens, I don't believe that's the case at this point, and I would never suggest doing anything of the sort if the situation isn't desperate. But as Michael says, we have a responsibility as Ministers of the Crown to consider all possible avenues of action, however distasteful we may personally find some of them to be."
"Edward is right, Marisa." High Ridge was careful to project an equally calm and reasonable attitude. "No one disputes that we have a responsibility to set an example of proper behavior in our conduct of our diplomacy. Certainly, I would never wish to be the Prime Minister who violates any interstellar agreement to which the Star Kingdom is a party. Any such action must be repugnant to any of us, even when—as Edward has just pointed out—we wouldn't be technically violating anything. At the same time, however, I have to agree with him that under certain circumstances, military necessity clearly trumps any treaty clause or agreement."
New Kiev hovered on the brink of hot disagreement, but then she looked around at the others' expressions and hesitated. And in that moment of hesitation, her urge towards rebellion perished. It was obvious that she couldn't bring herself to agree, but neither was she willing to disagree. Not, at least, while the question remained hypothetical.
"Very well, then," the Prime Minister said briskly as the Chancellor of the Exchequer sank unhappily back in her chair. "Edward and Reginald will begin work immediately to project the necessary budgetary adjustments to respond to the Republic's new ships. Edward, I'll want to see both minimum and maximum projections. How quickly can you have them for us?"
"I can probably have rough numbers for you by tomorrow evening," Janacek replied. "Until we manage to confirm or disprove the accuracy of Theisman's claims, 'rough' is all they'll be, though," he cautioned.
"Understood." High Ridge rubbed his hands together, frowning in thought, then nodded. "All right. While Edward works on that, the rest of us need to concentrate on the spadework to prepare public opinion. We have at most another twelve to eighteen hours before this hits the 'faxes. Between now and then, we have to convene a meeting of the entire Cabinet and prepare an official response to the news. Something that combines the proper balance of gravity and confidence. Elaine, I think you should prepare a separate statement as Foreign Secretary. Marisa, I'd like you to work with Clarence on a more general statement for the Government as a whole."
He watched New Kiev with carefully concealed intensity as he made the request. She seemed to hesitate for just a moment, but then she nodded, and he relaxed internally. She would be far less likely to break ranks with the rest of the Government's position later if she bore formal responsibility for the statement which had announced it in the first place.
"In that case," he said calmly, "I would suggest that we adjourn and get started."
Chapter Thirty-One
"How well did we time it, My Lady?" Admiral Alfredo Yu asked. He and Rafe Cardones had arrived in Honor's day cabin together, and now the slender, one-time Peep grinned broadly at his hostess while James MacGuiness began distributing potable refreshments. "I tried not to interrupt your breakfast."
"Mercedes and I were just finishing dessert, actually," Honor told him with an answering smile. She glanced at Brigham, almond eyes twinkling wickedly, and Nimitz groomed his whiskers cheerfully at the other woman from her shoulder.
"And did our arrival come as a pleasant surprise?" Yu asked as he also turned to the chief of staff . . . who'd commanded a division of SD(P)s in the Protector's Own before accepting her position on Honor's staff.
"After we got over the collective heart failure you and Her Grace managed to inflict on all of us," Brigham replied wryly, and shook her head. "I can't believe that neither of you even told me this was coming!"
"Well, it wouldn't exactly have been fair to tell you if I didn't tell anyone else on the staff, now would it?" Honor asked, and chuckled at the very old-fashioned look Brigham bestowed upon her.
"Was there a particular reason why you didn't tell the entire staff?" the older woman asked
after a moment, and Honor shrugged.
"I suppose not, really," she conceded. "But since none of Alfredo's people knew they were headed out here when they first sailed, it just seemed that it would be . . . I don't know, inappropriate, perhaps, to tell you what they didn't know. Besides," her crooked smile turned impish, "Alfredo and I had already decided all of you could use a little unscheduled drill you didn't know was a drill. And it did get all of us up on our toes, didn't it?"
"I imagine someone given to understatement might put it that way, Your Grace," Cardones agreed in a dust-dry tone. "Not," he continued, turning to Yu, "that we're not all delighted to see you, Admiral."
"I believe Captain Cardones speaks for all of us in that, Sir," Andrea Jaruwalski put in, and shook her head. "You've just more than doubled our strength in both SD(P)s and CLACs, after all!"
"And no one knows you have. Not yet, at least," Brigham observed with profound satisfaction.
"But that cuts both ways," Jaruwalski pointed out. "If the Andies do decide to try something, then the fact that we have Admiral Yu's units to back us up is going to come as a profoundly unhappy surprise for them. But if they did know he was here, then his presence might well . . . dissuade them from any risky adventures."
"The word will get around soon enough," Honor reassured her, then paused to accept a stein of Old Tillman from MacGuiness. She smiled her thanks at the steward and turned back to the ops officer.
"The Silesian grapevine is the only genuinely faster than light means of interstellar communications I've ever encountered, Andrea," she continued. "And, frankly, I'm not at all unhappy at how quickly I expect the word to get out. The secrecy about Admiral Yu's destination wasn't aimed at the Andies in the first place."
"Worried about the Opposition in the Keys, Your Grace?" Brigham asked shrewdly, and Honor nodded.
"That doesn't get mentioned outside 'the family,' " she cautioned, and Jaruwalski, Brigham, and Cardones all nodded in understanding.
"May I ask how long the Protector's Own will be staying?" Jaruwalski inquired after a moment, glancing back and forth between Honor and Yu.
"Until Steadholder Harrington tells us to go home," Yu replied in an emphatic tone. Jaruwalski's expression showed her flicker of surprise at the strength of his response, and he shook his head. "Sorry, Captain. It's just that my instructions from High Admiral Matthews and the Protector were a bit on the . . . firm side."
"I appreciate that, Alfredo," Honor said. "At the same time, though, I don't see how I could justify hanging onto this much of the Protector's Own indefinitely."
"You don't have to justify a thing, My Lady," Yu told her. "Part of our mission profile is to demonstrate our ability to maintain ourselves out of our own resources. That's why we brought along our own supply and service ships. At the moment, we've got everything we need to meet our logistical needs for a minimum of five T-months, and the High Admiral told me that he doesn't expect to see me back until we reach the bottom of the barrel."
"That's very generous of him—" Honor began, only to have Yu interrupt, politely but firmly, before she could complete the sentence.
"He told me that was exactly what you'd say, My Lady. Not that I really needed telling. And he also told me to tell you that you are a vassal of Protector Benjamin, and that as a loyal and obedient vassal you'll take the forces that the Protector chooses to send you, and you'll use them to accomplish the mission which you and the Protector discussed before your departure from Grayson. That was just before he added the bit about 'suffering your liege's displeasure' if you were foolish enough to turn down the reinforcements which both of you know you need."
"He's right, you know, Your Grace," Brigham said quietly. Honor looked at her, and the chief of staff shrugged. "I know you haven't specifically discussed this aspect of our assignment with any of us, but I think I've spent enough time in Grayson service to know what the Protector is thinking. As a Manticoran, I find it humiliating that we need someone else's support. As a Grayson, I can see exactly why the Protector is willing to provide that support. The last thing any of us need is for the situation in Silesia to blow up in all of our faces."
"Whether the Government recognizes that or not," Cardones agreed in an uncharacteristically grim tone.
"Well," Honor said mildly after a moment, a bit taken back, despite her ability to taste their emotions, by her subordinates' emphatic, unanimous agreement with one another, "I don't plan on sending Alfredo home tomorrow morning. For that matter, I don't really plan on sending him home at all until I'm certain the situation out here is under control. And to be completely honest, I expect that situation to work itself out, one way or another, within no more than another three or four T-months. Either the Andies will discover Alfredo's presence here and take it as conclusive proof that the Alliance means business and shelve any plans which might lead to a shooting incident, or else they'll go ahead and shoot anyway."
"And which way to you expect them to jump, My Lady, if I may ask?" Yu asked quietly.
"I wish I could tell you that," Honor replied.
* * *
"Now what do we do?"
Arnold Giancola looked up from the display of his memo pad as his brother asked the plaintive question. He hadn't heard Jason come in, and he grimaced as he realized his brother had just stepped in from the outer office . . . and that the door was standing wide open behind him.
"I think it might be a good idea if you came in and closed the door, first," he suggested testily. "I realize it's after hours, but I, for one, would just as soon not share our discussions with whoever happens along down the hallway."
Jason flushed at the acid tone, but it was one with which he had an unfortunate degree of familiarity. Arnold had never been a particularly patient individual, and he'd become progressively less patient over the past two T-years or so. In this instance, however, Jason had to admit he had a point, and he hastily stepped forward to clear the powered door's sensors and allow it to close.
"Sorry," he half-muttered, and Arnold sighed.
"No, Jase," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "I shouldn't have bitten your head off. I guess I'm even more irritated than I thought I was."
"I wouldn't be surprised if you were," Jason said, and produced an off-center smile. "Seems like every time we turn around someone's giving one of us a fresh reason to be pissed off, doesn't it?"
"Sometimes," Arnold agreed. He tipped back his chair and squeezed the bridge of his nose. It would have been nice if he could have squeezed the overwhelming sense of fatigue out of himself, but that wasn't going to happen.
Jason watched him for several seconds. Arnold had always been the leader. Partly that was because he was over ten T-years older than Jason was, but Jason was honest enough to admit that even if their ages had been reversed, Arnold would still have been the leader. He was smarter than Jason, for one thing, and Jason knew it. But more importantly, he possessed something that had been left out of Jason's personality. Jason wasn't entirely certain what that "something" was, but he knew it gave Arnold a spark, a presence. Whatever it was, it lay at the heart of the almost frighteningly powerful magnetism Arnold could exert upon those around him when he chose.
Well, upon almost all of those around him. Eloise Pritchart and Thomas Theisman appeared remarkably resistant to what several of their congressional allies referred to as the "Giancola Effect." Which unhappy reflection brought Jason back to the purpose of his visit.
"What do we do now?" he repeated, and Arnold lowered his hand to look up at him.
"I'm not sure," the Secretary of State admitted after a moment. "I hate to admit it, but Pritchart and Theisman completely surprised me with that news conference. I guess they were more alert to where I was headed than I thought they were."
"Are you sure? I mean, it could have been a genuine coincidence."
"Sure it could," Arnold said acidly. "But if you think it was, I've got some bottomland I'd like to sell you. Just don't ask me what it's on the bottom of!
"
"I didn't say I thought it was a coincidence," Jason said with some dignity. "I only said that it could have been, and it could have."
"In the theoretical sense that anything could be a coincidence, you probably have a point, Jase," Arnold replied a bit more patiently. Not a lot, but a bit. "In this particular case, though, it had to be deliberate. They knew we'd been talking to people, and they must have suspected that we were just about ready to announce the existence of the new ships ourselves. So Pritchart had Theisman made the announcement instead as a way to take the wind out of our sails."
"McGwire asked me about her speech," Jason told him, and Arnold grunted. The mysterious speech all of the news services planned to carry live from Eloise Pritchart's presidential office the next evening was another source of his current unhappiness.
"He wanted to know what she intends to announce," the younger Giancola continued, then shrugged. "I had to tell him I don't really know. I don't think that was what he wanted to hear."
"No, I doubt it was," Arnold agreed. He swiveled his chair gently from side to side for two or three seconds, gazing at his brother contemplatively, then shrugged. "I haven't seen a draft of her speech, but based on a few things she's said to me over the last week or so, I have a pretty shrewd notion of what she plans to say, and I can't say I'm exactly thrilled by it."
"You think she's going to talk about the negotiations with the Manties, don't you?" Jason said.
"I think that's exactly what she's going to talk about," Arnold acknowledged. "And I think she's going to tell Congress—and the voters—that she intends to pursue an actual peace treaty with considerably more vigor. Which is why there's no way in Hell Theisman's news conference was a coincidence."
"I was afraid that was what she was going to say," Jason admitted. He sighed. "She's taking your position away from you."
"Tell me something I don't already know." Arnold snorted. "It has to be Pritchart, too. She's a much better political tactician than Theisman. Besides, Theisman was our best ally as far as timing the announcement of the new fleet elements was concerned. He was so obsessed with maintaining operational security that we could have counted on him to keep his mouth shut until we were completely ready to go public. No, it was Pritchart. She overruled him, and now, like you say, she plans to co-opt my position on the negotiations."