War Of Honor hh-10

by David Weber

  "Welcome aboard Campenhausen, Your Grace," Chien-lu Rabenstrange said.

  "Thank you, Your Grace," Honor replied, and Rabenstrange smiled ever so slightly. She could taste the caution of his emotions, but she also tasted curiosity. And, even more important, she did taste something very like trust. She'd hoped she would, but she hadn't allowed herself to count on it. Still, she and Rabenstrange had established a certain personal empathy which extended beyond their purely professional relationship during her last assignment to Silesia. Apparently, it was still there. He was obviously aware of the tension inherent in their meeting, under the circumstances, but he trusted her personal integrity. At least far enough for him to have agreed to meet with her in the first place, at least.

  "I must confess," he told her, "to being somewhat . . . surprised by your presence here, Your Grace. Under the circumstances, given the tension and recent unfortunate events between our two commands, I would not have anticipated a direct contact at this level."

  "I'll confess that I was rather counting on that, actually, Your Grace," she responded. He cocked his head questioningly, and she smiled. "I have something a bit unusual to discuss with you," she told him, "and I felt that this might be the most effective way to get your attention."

  "Did you?" he murmured, and it was his turn to smile. "Well, Your Grace, I certainly can't guarantee that I'll find myself in agreement with whatever brings you here. But I will confess, that you have piqued my curiosity! So, why don't you begin?"

  He waved gracefully at the chair at the foot of the conference table, and Honor seated herself in it and collected Nimitz in her lap.

  "Certainly, Your Grace," she told him. "Now, I realize that tensions between the Empire and the Star Kingdom are running high at the moment. And I don't propose attempting to magically sort things out between the two of us. That, obviously, is something which ultimately will have to be accomplished at a higher level. In the meantime, however, I've recently become aware of certain information which I believe ought properly to be shared with a representative of the Empire. Information which might have a certain bearing on the deployment of both of our forces."

  "Information?"

  "Yes, Your Grace. You see . . ."

  Chapter Fifty Two

  "So, Zhenting, what did you think?"

  Herzog von Rabenstrange and his chief of staff stood on Campenhausen's flag bridge, watching the glittering icon of HMS Troubadour as the Manticoran superdreadnought accelerated steadily towards the hyper limit.

  "I thought—" Kapitan der Sternen Isenhoffer paused, then shrugged ever so slightly. "I thought that in many ways it all sounded very . . . convenient for Duchess Harrington, Sir."

  " 'Convenient'?" Rabenstrange rolled the word across his tongue and cocked his head at the taller Isenhoffer. "An interesting choice of words, Zhenting. Not entirely without applicability, I suppose, but still . . ." He shook his head. "However 'convenient' it might be for her under some circumstances, it remains most in convenient under most of them. I believe the old cliche about rocks and hard places comes to mind."

  "Unless she can convince us not to be the rock . . . or the hard place, Sir," Isenhoffer pointed out in tones of respectfully stubborn skepticism.

  "Perhaps," Rabenstrange conceded, but his own voice was dubious. "Still, I suspect His Imperial Majesty would be quite impressed by the logic of her analysis. Assuming, of course, that the data upon which it's based has some basis in reality."

  "I would certainly agree that the accuracy—or lack of it—of her basic information is the crux of the matter," Isenhoffer said. He started to say something else, then paused, and clearly reconsidered.

  "Yes?" Rabenstrange prompted.

  "I was only going to say, Sir," the chief of staff said after a moment, "that while I continue to cherish my own suspicions about Duchess Harrington's motives, I honestly don't believe she lied to you."

  Isenhoffer was clearly uncomfortable saying that, and Rabenstrange smiled without humor. The kapitan der sternen, he knew, must have hated admitting that. It would have suited his purposes much better if he'd been able to argue that Honor Harrington had been less than truthful about what she had discovered about the Republic of Haven's activities in Silesia. Unfortunately, he had too much integrity for that. Which, the herzog admitted, only gave his suspicions of her motives even greater weight in some ways.

  "I think," the small admiral said slowly, "that it would be as well to remember that hers are not the only suspect motives in this instance. For example, if we assume that the Duchess has, in fact, been truthful with us, and also that her intelligence officer's analysis is accurate, we must ask ourselves precisely what the Republic is actually up to."

  "Forgive me, Sir," Isenhoffer said, "but in my opinion, the Republic's objectives are relatively clear and straightforward. If I were President Pritchart or Admiral Theisman, I would almost certainly have resorted to military operations in order to force a resolution of the negotiations long before this. Assuming, of course, that I had the capability to do so." He shrugged. "In that regard, I believe Duchess Harrington was probably completely correct as to the Republic's intentions, both in regard to its own occupied systems and in regard to Sidemore."

  "Perhaps so," Rabenstrange replied. "But consider this, Zhenting. The Republic has encouraged us to pursue our objectives in Silesia. True, they've done so only in private conversations, not publicly, but you and I have both read the Foreign Ministry's synopses of Ambassador Kaiserfest's discussions with their Secretary of State. Even allowing for a certain degree of corruption in transmission, Secretary Giancola was remarkably specific. And very encouraging."

  He paused for a long moment, watching Troubadour's icon, then looked back up at Isenhoffer.

  "Yet for all his specificity, Zhenting, he never once mentioned the possibility of Havenite operations in the Confederacy. Even more to the point, he specifically informed Kaiserfest that it would be impossible for the Republic to offer us even verbal support openly because of the Republic's internal public opinion."

  "You think that he was attempting to maneuver us into a false position?" Isenhoffer frowned.

  "I think it's certainly possible. At the very least, he obviously hoped to use us as a cat's paw, yet another way to distract the Star Kingdom while his own navy prepared its offensive. That much, of course, I'm sure the Foreign Ministry had already considered. But the fact that he never so much as hinted—as far as I can tell from the synopses, at least—that Haven was preparing to resume active operations strikes me as significant. Indeed, I would judge that he went out of his way to avoid even the least suggestion that such operations were being contemplated. Some, at least, of that could be no more than the maintenance of operational security. But the decision to send their own naval forces into the Confederacy without so much as mentioning it to us at the same time as they were encouraging us to embark upon an adventure here was at best . . . reckless."

  "What possible motive could they have?" Isenhoffer wondered aloud.

  "I can think of at least one," Rabenstrange said grimly. "Suppose their intention—or, their hope, at least—was that we and the Manties would, indeed go to war, and that one of us would defeat the other. I believe that their strategists could confidently assume that whichever of us won, we would be severely damaged, possibly crippled, in the process. And if it were to happen that the Republic just coincidentally had a fresh, unbloodied fleet of its own in the vicinity . . ."

  His voice trailed off, and Isenhoffer's frown deepened.

  "Sir, do you actually believe that the Republic of Haven would seriously contemplate going to war with the Star Kingdom and the Empire simultaneously?"

  "On the face of it, it would seem ridiculous," Rabenstrange admitted. "But you've seen the same intelligence reports I have. For all of our inability to penetrate 'Bolthole's' security, it's perfectly obvious that Theisman and Pritchart have been able to build a substantially larger and more modern fleet even than the one they've admi
tted to possessing. Perhaps they've accomplished even more than we believe they have. Don't forget that for decades the Legislaturalists' foreign policy was based on a timetable of first the Star Kingdom, then Silesia, and then the Empire. If Pritchart and Theisman feel they have sufficient naval power, might they not to be tempted to revert to that policy now?"

  "Nothing any of the analysts have reported would suggest that President Pritchart's mind works that way, Sir," Isenhoffer pointed out.

  "Analysts can be wrong. Perhaps more importantly, Pritchart doesn't operate in a vacuum. I've never felt comfortable with our grasp of the internal dynamics of her government. It's impossible for us to know all of the factions and counter-factions she might find herself forced to cope with. And even if she was as reluctant to resort to active operations against Manticore as our analysts and her own public statements would seem to suggest, she certainly seems to have decided to do so anyway. And if she feels herself compelled to go back to war, then perhaps she also sees an opportunity to accomplish the traditional Havenite goal in this sector once and for all."

  "The possibility no doubt exists, Sir," Isenhoffer said slowly. "It just strikes me as rather more Machiavellian than I would have expected out of her."

  "Me also," Rabenstrange admitted. "To be honest, I don't like considering the possibility even now. But it's possible that her public concentration on domestic reform has, in fact, been something of a mask all along." He shook his head with a grimace. "Even now, when I hear myself saying it, it's hard for me to believe that of her. But what I keep coming back to, Zhenting, is that her Secretary of State approached us with the offer of an informal, behind-the-scenes understanding. Almost an undeclared alliance against Manticore. He came to Kaiserfest, not the reverse. And the entire time that he and Kaiserfest were building their 'working relationship' he never even broached the possibility of Havenite naval forces in Silesia. Not once, Zhenting. Clearly Pritchart is working to some sort of carefully orchestrated plan, and equally clearly the Empire will eventually become aware of the presence of her military forces in the Confederacy. This is not a stupid woman, because a stupid woman couldn't have achieved all that she has. So why would she deliberately approach us with this informal alliance, and then turn around and intrude militarily into the very area she's had her Secretary of State encouraging us to annex? Unless her entire plan was to keep us ignorant of her ships' presence for as long as she could. Until it was too late for us to do anything about them."

  "But that way, it sounds . . . plausible," Isenhoffer said finally. "Insanely reckless, unless they have indeed managed to build their naval forces to a level far in excess of Intelligence's estimates, but plausible. Yet, with all due respect, Sir, every bit of it is completely speculative. At this point, we don't have any proof even that the Republic is contemplating attacking the Star Kingdom at all. Duchess Harrington's hypothesis is the only indication that they might be, to be perfectly honest. And whatever suspicions you might have, His Imperial Majesty's instructions are explicit."

  "I realize that. But the ultimate responsibility is mine as the Sachsen fleet commander. And our timetable isn't all that time-critical. Even if my suspicions are completely unfounded, we would lose little by waiting a few more weeks, or even months. If, on the other hand, there is any substance to them, we might court disaster by not waiting."

  Troubadour's data code reached the hyper limit and vanished, and Chien-lu Rabenstrange inhaled deeply.

  "Inform Communications that I will require a dispatch boat," he said quietly.

  * * *

  "Do you think it did any good, Your Grace?" Mercedes Brigham asked.

  "I don't know," Honor replied honestly. "I can tell you that Herzog von Rabenstrange believed I was telling him the truth. Or, at least, that nothing I told him was a lie. But precisely how he'll react …?" She shrugged.

  "Well," her chief of staff observed, "whatever comes of that part of it, at least we managed to nail down a little more definite information on Andy capabilities. Unfortunately."

  "Ah?" Honor glanced at Brigham, and the commodore nodded.

  "I don't think they even suspected Captain Conagher had deployed the drones, Ma'am." She smiled thinly. "Whatever else they've done, it doesn't look like they've solved our EW capabilities just yet."

  "I'm glad . . . I think," Honor said. "I almost wish I hadn't let you and Alistair talk me into deploying them in the first place. If we'd been caught at it, it could have convinced Rabenstrange that my entire visit was only an intelligence ploy."

  Brigham started to reply, then decided not to. She still believed that even if the drones had been detected, a bunch as pragmatic as the Andermani Imperial Navy would have accepted it as no more than the way the game was played. In fact, she suspected, Honor probably believed the same thing, deep down inside. But if fretting about it represented her sole concession to the anxiety Brigham knew she must be feeling, then the chief of staff was perfectly willing to put up with it.

  "At any rate," she continued after a moment, "we got good visuals on several of their ships. Admiral Bachfisch was right about their new battlecruisers, too. They have at least one pod-based design in service; we got confirming visual imagery on three of them."

  "I wish I could say it was a surprise," Honor observed.

  "You and I both, Your Grace," Brigham agreed. "But after seeing those strap-on pods of theirs, a surprise is one thing it isn't. As a matter of fact, I'd have been delighted if that were the only thing the drones had confirmed."

  Honor crooked an eyebrow at her, and the chief of staff shrugged.

  "They definitely have at least one SD(P) class in commission, Ma'am. We're not positive how many of them they have in Sachsen. For that matter, neither Captain Conagher's tac people nor George and I are prepared to give you any definitive estimate on their total ship strength in Sachsen. They'd clearly dispersed their units and gone to emissions control before we got far enough in-system to spot them all. But we picked up at least twenty superdreadnoughts, and the drones say that at least five of the twenty were SD(P)s."

  "Darn," Honor said with a mildness which deceived neither Brigham nor herself.

  "We didn't pick up any sign of CLACs," Brigham told her. "That doesn't prove anything, of course. And we did see an awfully high number of LAC drive signatures scattered around the system." She shrugged. "Call me paranoid, but to my suspicious mind, the existence of pod-based main combatants suggests that they have to have solved the problems of building something as simple as a LAC carrier."

  "You're probably right," Honor agreed. "And if you are, then they're going to be a lot more dangerous. You know," she went on slowly, "I wonder if they really failed to spot the drones at all."

  "You think they may have wanted us to know about their new hardware?" Brigham sounded skeptical, and it was Honor's turn to shrug.

  "I think it's possible," she said. "Think about it. If they're still hoping to convince us to pull out without a fight, letting us know that they're going to be tougher opponents than we might have assumed would make sense. And they could kill two birds with one stone, in a way, if they deliberately failed to respond to our drones. First, they let us 'steal' the data they wanted us to have anyway. And second, by 'not noticing us' when we did, they lead us to assume that they can't crack our electronic warfare capabilities. Which could come as a very nasty surprise down the road if we didn't take the hint and withdraw from Silesia completely."

  "You know, Your Grace, I'd just hate double— and triple-think situations like this."

  "And you think I don't?" Honor smiled crookedly, then gave her head a little toss. "But at least we know a bit more than we did, whether the Andies wanted us to know it or not. And they know a bit more about what's going on than they did before we went to call on them. I'm sure that someone back at Admiralty House is going to be upset with me for 'consorting with the enemy,' but I can't help thinking that this is the first positive contact between us and the Andermani since the entire esca
lation in tensions began."

  "I'd have to agree with that," Brigham said. "But even so, that just brings me back to my original question, I'm afraid. Do you think it did any good?"

  Chapter Fifty Three

  " Starlight, you are Alpha-One for transit at the inner beacon."

  "Astro Control, Starlight copies Alpha-One for transit. Beginning final approach to insertion now."

  "Starlight, Astro Control shows you on nominal approach. Enjoy your trip. Astro Control, clear."

  "Thank you, Astro Control. Starlight, clear."

  Lieutenant Commander Sybil Dalipagic watched the data code of the Silesian Confederacy diplomatic courier blink out of existence as it disappeared into the Junction's central terminus on its way to Basilisk. As she'd informed Starlight's astrogator, the dispatch boat's flight path had been nominal, but that hadn't kept her from sweating the transit, anyway. Diplomatic couriers were the one type of vessel with which Astro Control could not establish direct telemetry links. Dalipagic shuddered to think what would have happened if she'd even suggested to Starlight that she could have handled the entire transit much more safely and efficiently from her own console. The very idea would have violated at least half a dozen solemn interstellar accords, although in Dalipagic's professional opinion, those solemn accords were pretty damned stupid. It wasn't as if establishing an interface and an override with the ship's maneuvering computers would have in any way compromised the sacred integrity of its diplomatic files. Or, not at least if the people the dispatch boat belonged to had an IQ recorded in double digits.

  She snorted in familiar amusement at the thought. Her brother-in-law had served for almost forty T-years aboard the ships of the Royal Manticoran Mail Service. The RMMS was never used for secure diplomatic dispatches, but there were plenty of other people who wanted to be sure their mail was transmitted in complete security. Which was why the mail ships' secure data banks were completely separated—physically, not just by electronic firewalls—from any other computer they carried. Somehow, Dalipagic thought, it was . . . unlikely that a diplomatic courier wouldn't have built in security measures at least that good. Which would just happen to have obviated any possibility that she could have hacked into Starlight's dispatches simply by interfacing with the dispatch boat's astrogation systems. Hell, not even a hacker as celebrated as the Navy's Sir Horace Harkness could have managed that!