by David Weber
"So I see." High Ridge glanced back at his own copy of the note and grimaced. "I see that she's taken her offer of a plebiscite for Trevor's Star back off the table."
"That part doesn't really surprise me," Descroix admitted. "Especially with all of the talk here in the Star Kingdom about the annexation of the new terminus and the possibility of extending that to Lynx and the other Talbott systems. We're considering mass annexations, and she sees that as a bad precedent for her own occupied systems. And we've also been concentrating on Talbott to downplay the tension between us and the Republic, and she knows that, too. So she went looking for a way to slap us on the wrist hard enough to get our attention, and this is what she came up with. She figures that Trevor's Star is the most valuable counter on the board and that taking it back out of play—from her side, at least—at this particular moment will make the point that she's pissed off."
"I can understand that, I suppose. On the other hand, surely she's not so stupid as to think that whether she's willing to talk about Trevor's Star or not is going to make any difference to what happens there? We've formally annexed the system, for God's sake! Whatever she or those other idiots in Nouveau Paris may think, Trevor's Star and San Martin are definitely remaining under our control."
"Of course I don't think she's stupid enough to think any other outcome is possible," Descroix said. "But you've seen the analyses of their public discussion about Trevor's Star. At least a very large minority—possibly even a majority—of their public opinion has fastened on Trevor's Star as the symbol of all our 'evil' ways. That makes it an issue that would play well to her voters, and she knows we know that. Which, in turn, gives her threat at least a hint of credibility. And the fact that we may believe she'll have no choice but to concede the issue in the end doesn't mean we might not be willing to make concessions of our own elsewhere to have the Republic bless the annexation. It would defuse potential future disputes over possession of the system and knock any move by a later Havenite administration to regain it on the head. Maybe even more importantly, if the Republic were to formally concede that a legitimate San Martino planetary government had voluntarily asked to join the Star Kingdom, it would help to calm any fears among our allies—or the Sollies—that we might be planning on embarking on a career of conquest by force of arms. She knows that could be extremely valuable to us. So taking the plebiscite offer off the table is a way of warning us she has ways to punish us if we don't meet her demands.
"At the same time, she's actually opened the door to further concessions on her part."
"She has?"
"Of course she has! Didn't you notice the bit about recognizing our traditional concern for the security of termini of the Junction?" Descroix demanded. The Prime Minister nodded, and she shrugged. "That's very close to offering us the same arrangement we enjoy in Gregor. Admittedly, that sort of arrangement falls far short of anything we could finally accept, since we've already asserted outright sovereignty over the entire system, so I suppose it could be argued that it's actually a ploy to avoid recognizing that sovereignty. But it also moves at least one step towards us, and I think it's a way of signaling us that she's still open to a settlement on the system which we can accept. And the offer to cede those naval bases in the systems around Trevor's Star is probably another. She's showing us the carrot at the same time as she's trying to beat us with the stick, Michael."
"And this business about the possible recall of her negotiating team for 'consultations'? That's more of the stick?"
"Mostly. It's not as subtle a threat, though. Especially not coupled with their admission of their improved naval capabilities."
"You think they might seriously contemplate breaking off the negotiating process completely if we don't begin caving in?"
"Probably not permanently," Descroix said slowly. "I think Pritchart might consider doing that temporarily—long enough to make her point. But I doubt that she's any more eager to start shooting at us again than we are to start shooting at them."
"But you might be wrong," High Ridge said, unable to completely hide his anxiety.
"Of course I might," Descroix said testily. "Obviously, I don't think I am, however, or I wouldn't have said it in the first place!"
"I understand." High Ridge's fingers drummed lightly on his desktop, then he inhaled deeply.
"Clarence brought me the new poll figures this morning," he said. "Have you seen them?"
"Not today's, no. But I imagine the trend lines are pretty much what they've been being."
"By and large," the Prime Minister agreed. "The number of people who say they believe there's an immediate military threat from Haven has dropped almost another full percentage point. Approval for the annexation of Lynx is holding steady at almost eighty-five percent. For that matter, those who say they would approve the annexation of the entire Talbott Cluster are up above seventy percent. But those who anticipate the successful negotiation of a formal peace treaty with Haven have dropped another half percentage point. This—" he waved a hand at the note "—is only going to make that worse."
"Of course it is," Descroix said impatiently. "That's one of the things Pritchart is after. But if we let her stampede us into agreeing to her demands and signing that treaty, then we're going to have to call that general election none of us wants to call, Michael."
High Ridge's jaw muscles tightened angrily at her lecturing tone, but he forced himself not to snap at her.
"I am aware of that," he said, instead. The very calmness with which he replied rebuked her gently, but he didn't let the rebuke linger.
"My point," he went on, "was that I'm beginning to wonder if we might not want to make a few cosmetic concessions. Something to bring Pritchard back to the table and simultaneously bolster the public's faith in the negotiation process."
"If we were going to do that, we should already have done it," Descroix replied. "Something along those lines would probably be a good idea in the long run, but I'd really prefer not to do it right on the heels of this note. The language in this thing is pretty stiff, Michael. If we turn around and make concessions—any concessions—after the Republic's head of state has formally complained about our 'deceptive, intentionally obstructionist refusal to negotiate in good faith,' we give up our claim to the high ground. The momentum moves towards Pritchart's side of the table, and public opinion, both here and in the Republic, will probably see her as the positive force pushing the negotiations. Manticorans may not approve of her language, or even her methods, but if we give ground, we seem to be admitting that her basic accusations are accurate, after all. All of which will only make it harder for us to put the brakes back on later without provoking an even more negative reaction than the one you're worrying about right now."
"Um." High Ridge frowned. He considered her argument, then nodded slowly, but his frown remained.
"I see your logic. But it's going to be hard to convince Marisa of it."
"Marisa!" Descroix snorted contemptuously.
"Yes, Marisa. Whatever you may think, we still need the Liberals, and when Marisa sees this—" he indicated the text of the note again "—it's going to be very difficult to convince her that we can't make at least some concessions. You and I may understand the necessity of not giving in, but she has to consider the more . . . unruly members of her party. Especially now that Montaigne is making so many waves in the Commons."
"In that case, don't show it to her," Descroix shot back. "She's so good at closing her eyes to things it would be inconvenient for her to see. Why not take advantage of that with this?"
"Don't think I wouldn't like to do exactly that. But everyone in the Star Kingdom knows by now that Pritchart's sent us a fresh note. And if we don't make its contents public, in at least general terms, you can be certain that someone—Grosclaude himself, most probably—will see to it that a copy of the original gets leaked to the Opposition. And the 'faxes. But before we make anything public, we're going to have to share the original with the entire Cab
inet. Which means Marisa."
"Let me think about that for a little while," Descroix said after a moment. "You're probably right. I don't much like the thought of listening to her piss and moan about her precious 'principles' and the potential danger of Theisman's new fleet. God knows she's been willing enough to share the advantages of stalling the talks! I just think it would be nice if she were willing to shoulder a little of the responsibility, maybe even risk getting her own lily-white hands just a tiny bit soiled doing the dirty work someone has to do. But that doesn't make you wrong about what would happen if we didn't brief her in on this."
The Foreign Secretary gazed off into the distance for several seconds, staring at something only she could see, then snorted softly.
"You know," she mused, "you and I are the only members of the Cabinet who have actually seen this thing."
"That's exactly what we've just been talking about, isn't it?" High Ridge's brow furrowed in confusion, and she chuckled.
"Of course it is. But it's just occurred to me that there's no reason I couldn't do a little judicious scissors work on Pritchart's more . . . objectionable turns of phrase before I handed it to someone like Marisa."
High Ridge looked at her in shock. She gazed back at him, then grimaced.
"Let's not start getting holier than thou, Michael!"
"But—I mean, falsifying diplomatic notes—"
"No one's talking about falsifying anything," she interrupted. "I wouldn't insert a single word. For that matter, I wouldn't even change any of them. I'd just . . . prune out a few passages completely."
"And if Pritchart publishes the text herself?"
"I vote we cross that bridge when we come to it. If we release a paraphrase that conveys the same basic information but without using her hardline language, she'll probably let it go. My sense is that she'd cut us some face-saving slack in that regard. And if I'm wrong, I'm wrong." She shrugged. "Be honest, Michael. Do you really think we'd have a lot more trouble holding Marisa if Pritchart published the entire text later than if we showed it to her ourselves right now?"
"Probably not," he conceded finally. "But I don't like this, Elaine. Not a bit."
"I don't like it very much myself; I just like the alternatives less."
"Even if it works, it's only a temporary fix," he pointed out fretfully.
"As I see it, those poll trend lines you were just talking about suggest that if we can string Pritchart along for a few more months, long enough to actually push the Lynx annexation through, maybe even move beyond Lynx to the rest of the cluster, we should manage to cement enough public support behind us for even Marisa to be able to weather any concern over how we're handling negotiations with Haven. In the meantime, Edward will have time to get more of his new SD(P)s and CLACs out of the yards, which will go a long way towards offsetting Theisman's new ships. If we pull both of those off, then I think we may actually be able to move the polls far enough in our favor that we can afford to risk that damned election at last. And if we can get to that point, then we can go ahead and negotiate Pritchart's damned treaty because we won't need to string the talks out any further. And if we manage that, we could probably even call another election and increase our seats in the Commons even further."
"There's a lot of 'if's' in that," the Prime Minister observed.
"Of course there are. We're in a hell of a mess right now. There's no point pretending we're not. From where I sit, this gives us our best chance of getting out of it. So either we take it, or else we go ahead and resign the game. And when you come right down to it, whether we show Marisa the complete note now—and risk her withdrawal from the Coalition—or hold off on it until Pritchart sends us another, even nastier one a few months from now, the consequences are pretty much the same, aren't they? We win, or we lose . . . and I'm not all that interested in losing. So let's go for the whole nine meters."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"It's good to see you, Arnold," Eloise Pritchart lied as a member of the Presidential Security Detachment escorted Secretary of State Giancola into her office.
"Thank you, Madame President. It's always good to see you, too," Giancola replied equally smoothly for the benefit of the bodyguard. Not that anyone Kevin Usher had handpicked to protect the President of the Republic was going to be fooled by the surface exchange of pleasantries. Still, there were appearances to maintain.
The Secretary of State seated himself in the same chair Thomas Theisman preferred for his visits to Pritchart's office, and the PSD man withdrew.
"Would you care for some refreshments?" Pritchart inquired.
"No, thank you." Giancola grimaced. "I'm going straight from here to a dinner for the Ambassador from Erewhon. I'm afraid that means I'm going to have to tuck into that disgusting pickled fish dish they're all so proud of and pretend I like it. I'd just as soon not put anything down there that might surprise me by coming back up."
Pritchart laughed, and somewhat to her own surprise, her amusement was genuine. It was a real pity she couldn't trust Giancola as far as she could spit. Much as she disliked the man, and distrusted him, she wasn't unaware of the charm and magnetism he could exude whenever it suited his purposes.
"Well, in that case, I suppose we should get down to business," she said after a moment, and there was no more temptation to humor in her voice.
"Yes, I suppose we should," he agreed, and cocked his head at her. "May I assume you've already read my report?"
"I have." Pritchart frowned. "And I can't say I much cared for it, either."
"I don't much care for my conclusions myself," he told her, only partly truthfully.
"From the tone of Descroix's note, it sounds as if their position's actually hardening." Pritchart regarded him intently. "Is that your conclusion, as well?"
"It is," he replied. "Of course," he added in a voice which carried just a hint of satisfaction, "I may be a bit predisposed in that direction, given my earlier analysis of the Manties' foreign policy priorities."
"It's always good to be aware of the way expectations can sometimes lead us astray," Pritchart observed pleasantly.
Their eyes locked for just a moment. The challenge hovered there in the air between them, and the office seemed to hum with tension. But the moment was brief. Neither of them maintained any illusions about their relationship, but neither was quite ready for an open declaration of war, either.
"In the meantime," Pritchart resumed, "I'd have to agree that Descroix's note comes very close to rejecting our most recent proposals out of hand."
"Yes, it does," he agreed in a carefully neutral tone. In fact, the Manticoran Foreign Secretary's note had been the next best thing to perfect, from his perspective. The formal diplomatic language had been suitably opaque, but it was obvious Descroix was using it as a way to officially agree to "consider" Pritchart's initiatives while actually telling the Republic they were dead on arrival. Giancola could have kissed the woman when her note was couriered to the capital.
"Actually," he continued, "I'm inclined to believe that the Manties don't really appreciate the fundamental shift in the balance of military power which has occurred since negotiations began."
He'd been careful, Pritchart noted, not to suggest that announcing that shift earlier might have inspired the High Ridge Government with a more accurate appreciation of the military realities. On the other hand, his failure to mention the possibility aloud was simply a more effective way of making the same statement.
"I really don't want this to turn into a matter of who has the bigger gun, Arnold," she said coolly.
"Neither do I," he said with apparent sincerity. "Unfortunately, in the end, effective diplomacy depends on a favorable balance of military strength more often than we'd like to admit." He shrugged. "It's an imperfect universe, Madame President."
"Admitted. I'd just prefer not to make it any less perfect that it already is."
"I've never advocated pushing things to the brink of an actual resumption of hostilities,"
he told her. "But star nations can stumble into wars neither of them want if they misread one another's strength and determination. And at the moment, the Manties seem to be busy underestimating both of those qualities where we're concerned."
"I don't believe our last note to them could have been much clearer in that regard," Pritchart observed, that edge of chill still frosting her voice.
"Not if they're actually bothering to listen to anything we say in the first place," Giancola replied.
And there, Pritchart was forced to admit, he might well have a point. She didn't like how hard it was for her to make that admission, because she knew why it was. Her personal antipathy towards Giancola was making it increasingly difficult for her to listen to anything he said without automatically rejecting it. It was one thing to maintain a healthy sense of suspicion where someone who obviously had his own agenda was concerned. It was quite another to allow that suspicion to begin dictating an auto-response rejection of anything he ever said. Unfortunately, it was much easier for her to recognize that danger than it was to find a way around it.
In this instance, it was just a bit easier for her to concede that he might be correct, however. Previous experience with the Star Kingdom's diplomacy—as practiced by the current Government, at least—provided a more than sufficient counterirritant.
Her most recent set of proposals had been more than reasonable. She still hadn't actually offered formal recognition of the Star Kingdom's annexation of Trevor's Star. The Republic's permanent renunciation of all claims to San Martin was simply too valuable a bargaining chip to give up until she got at least something in return. And although she'd dropped her previous offer of a plebiscite in that system, her suggestion that she might accept the same sort of arrangement the Star Kingdom already enjoyed with the Andermani Empire in Gregor for the Trevor's Star Junction terminus had constituted a significant hint that she was at least open to the possibility of an eventual, formal recognition of the system's annexation. Moreover, she'd also conceded that legitimate Manticoran security concerns might well require at least some additional territorial adjustments, particularly in the area immediately around Trevor's Star. And she'd offered to cede the former Havenite naval bases in the systems of Samson, Owens, and Barnett outright, as permanent RMN bases to deepen the Manticoran Alliance's defensive frontier.