"I think that, either way, it isn't going to matter," Terekhov said much more seriously. FitzGerald looked at him, and he shrugged. "If the annexation goes through, the League won't be looking at a single, unsupported Verge system; it'll be looking at a member system of the Star Kingdom of Manticore. At which point, it will become our responsibility to protect Suttles from Frontier Security. And," his tone turned more serious still, almost grim, "if you people find what I'm very much afraid you're going to, Suttles and everyone else who ever favored the annexation are going to find themselves in much worse trouble than anything this could produce unless we do something about it."
The pinnace pilot was playing his maneuvering thrusters with a skill which reminded Terekhov of Ragnhild Pavletic. The memory sent a fresh stab of pain through him, but he allowed no trace of it to shadow his expression as he gazed back out through the port again. He watched as the pilot carefully aligned the pinnace's airlock with the freighter's emergency personnel hatch. A single skinsuited crewman stepped through the airlock's open outer hatch and drifted gracefully across to Copenhagen's hull, where he opened a small access cover and tapped a command sequence into the keypad behind it. The personnel hatch considered the command ("unofficially" acquired from Trevor Bannister after Copenhagen's crew accepted his invitation as involuntary guests of Montana) and obediently extruded its boarding tube to mate with the pinnace's lock.
FitzGerald sat studying the captain's profile and trying to think of a fresh argument which might bring Terekhov to his senses. It wasn't that he didn't understand what the other man had in mind, or even that he disagreed with Terekhov's suspicions or the captain's conviction that something had to be done to prove or disprove what he feared. It was the method Terekhov had selected... and, perhaps even more, what FitzGerald suspected the captain had in mind if his investigation confirmed his worst fears.
The green light came on above the airlock's inner hatch, indicating a good seal and pressure in the tube, and Terekhov nodded.
"Time to get your people on board."
"Skipper, at least send one of the other ships straight to Spindle," FitzGerald half-blurted, but Terekhov shook his head.
He was gazing back along the center aisle, watching Aikawa Kagiyama. The midshipman looked better, but his shoulders still hunched, as if they were bearing up under a burden of guilt, and Terekhov was worried about him. That was one reason he'd assigned Aikawa to FitzGerald's party.
Lieutenant MacIntyre would be along as FitzGerald's engineer, with Lieutenant Olivetti as his astrogator and Lieutenant Kobe to handle his communications. That was as many officers as Terekhov could spare, but it was still going to leave FitzGerald shorthanded, since only Olivetti was watch-qualified. MacIntyre and Kobe were both junior-grade lieutenants, capable enough in their specialties, but with limited experience. In fact, MacIntyre had something of a reputation for being sharp-tongued and waspish with enlisted personnel and noncoms. Terekhov suspected that it sprang from her own lack of self-confidence, and he hoped this assignment might help to turn that around. But he'd also decided FitzGerald needed at least a little more support, so he'd attached Aikawa. The midshipman wasn't watch-certified, yet, but he was a levelheaded sort who was actually better at managing enlisted personnel than MacIntyre was. He could take on at least some of the load... and getting him out of Hexapuma would also get him out of an environment where every single sight and sound and smell reminded him of Ragnhild's death.
"Admiral Khumalo's going to think you should've sent word directly to him, Sir," FitzGerald said flatly, in his strongest statement of disagreement yet.
Terekhov looked back at him, touched by the concern in his executive officer's expression.
"Thank you for worrying, Ansten," he said quietly, "but the decision's made. I only have three hyper-capable units, aside from Hexapuma herself-and, of course, Copenhagen. I can't spare any of them for a direct flight to Spindle, but Ericsson will continue on to Spindle from Dresden. She'll deliver my complete report to the Admiral and the Provisional Governor."
"But-"
"I think we should move on to something else," Terekhov said firmly, and FitzGerald closed his mouth. He looked for a moment at the CO about whose resolution he'd nursed such reservations when they first met, six months before, and knew there was no point in arguing.
"Yes, Sir," he said finally, and Terekhov smiled gently and patted him on the forearm.
"Good. And now, let's get your people aboard your new command. You've got a lot to do before you break orbit."
* * *
Aleksandra Tonkovic stood with a welcoming smile as her butler ushered Tomaz Zovan into the library of her Karlovac townhouse.
"Tomaz," she greeted, holding out her hand.
"Madam President," he replied as he took it, and her smile turned into a slight frown at the unexpected formality. Zovan was a Democratic Centralist and a forty-T-year veteran of Parliament. She'd known him literally since childhood, and if he'd never been one of the most brilliant intellects Parliament had ever known, he'd always been a loyal, dependable wheel-horse for the Party and her own administration. As such, he was accustomed to addressing her by her given name, at least in private.
"Why so formal, Tomaz?" she asked, after a moment. "I understood this was to be a social visit."
"I wasn't fully confident of the security of my com when I had my secretary make the appointment, Madam President," he replied, and grimaced. "Rajkovic and Basaricek swear they aren't using Manty technology to monitor all calls from the Nemanja Building, but-"
He broke off with a shrug, and Tonkovic's face tightened.
"Surely not even he would go that far!"
"Madam President," Zovan said, deliberately emphasizing the title, "how can we be sure of that? He hasn't returned the seal of office to you, has he? Doesn't it seem likely at least part of the reason he hasn't is to keep you from finding out exactly what he's been up to? What he's still up to?"
Tonkovic started to protest that Zovan was being unnecessarily paranoid. To be sure, Rajkovic ought to have returned the seal of office to her, and with it her formal authority as head of state, as soon as she set foot back on Kornatian soil. He hadn't, and she'd been back for over nine days now. It was infuriating and insulting, but it wasn't-quite-illegal. Technically, a confirming vote of Parliament was required to transfer that authority back and forth, even if he'd handed the seal directly to her. And given the current tone of Parliament, and her continuing appearances before the Special Committee on Annexation and even more acrimonious appearances before Cuijeta Krizanic's Standing Committee on Constitutional Law, she'd decided not to press the matter. Some of the exchanges between her supporters and opponents-not all of them Reconciliationalists, either-were becoming decidedly ugly. However little she'd cared to admit it to herself, she hadn't been certain Parliament would back her if she demanded Rajkovic hand the seal over, and she couldn't afford the loss of political capital if it had declined to do so.
Besides, she hadn't needed the official return of her authority to monitor what was happening inside "his" Cabinet. Mavro Kanjer and Alenka Mestrovic kept her fully informed on anything Rajkovic said at Cabinet meetings, and Kanjer, as Justice Secretary, would certainly have known about any communications taps the Manticoran detachment from Spindle was maintaining.
She decided against explaining any of that. If someone wanted to get sticky, Mavro and Alenka were technically violating the law to keep her informed when someone else was acting head of state. Zovan certainly wouldn't pass on anything she told him in confidence, but under the circumstances, the fewer people who knew, the better.
"I think you're unduly concerned, Tomaz," she said instead. "But, now that you're here, please, sit down. Have a drink, and then tell me what this is all about."
"I appreciate the offer, Madam President. And I may take you up on the drink later. But I think I'd better explain why I needed to see you first, not last."
"As you wish. But at least please
sit down."
She pointed at one of the comfortable chairs which sat facing her own, and Zovan settled obediently into it. But he didn't relax. He sat forward, on the edge of the seat, his hands resting on his knees, and actually leaned slightly towards her.
"Now, Tomaz," she said. "What is this all about?"
"Madam President, officially, I'm not supposed to know this. Or, at least, I'm not supposed to admit I do. Under the circumstances, however, I thought it my duty to come to you about it immediately."
His voice was somber, his expression grim, and Tonkovic felt a formless chill run through her.
"This afternoon," he continued, "Krizanic spoke to the other members of the Standing Committee behind closed doors. Afterward, Judita Debevic came to my office."
He paused, and Tonkovic nodded slightly. Debevic was the leader of the Social Moderates and vice chairwoman of the committee.
"Madam President," Zovan said heavily, "she'd come to ask me unofficially if I'd be prepared to serve as your advocate in a formal impeachment debate."
Despite decades of political experience and discipline, Tonkovic flinched physically. She sat staring at her visitor for at least ten seconds, conscious only of a vast, singing emptiness, before she could shake her brain back into operation.
No sitting president had ever been successfully impeached! Only one bill of impeachment had ever been voted out in Kornatian history, and it had failed. By a narrow margin, perhaps, but failed. Surely not even Rajkovic was stupid enough to think an impeachment could be sustained against her on such flimsy grounds!
Yet even as she told herself that, she felt an undeniable tingle of fear. Rajkovic's Reconciliationists had gotten the chairmanship of the Standing Committee on Constitutional Law for Krizanic as part of the share out of committee chairmanships after the last presidential election. That had seemed reasonable, with Tonkovic's party and its allies' control of the presidency and a working majority in Parliament. But although Cuijeta Krizanic might be the committee's chairwoman, five of its eight members were either Democratic Centralists or Social Moderates. That ought to have guaranteed the failure of any motion before the committee for an impeachment.
But Debevic would never have asked Zovan if he would act as Tonkovic's advocate if she weren't deeply concerned that articles of impeachment might-probably would-be voted out. She'd spoken to Zovan unofficially, but she'd known Tomaz would inform Tonkovic as quickly as possible. It was a way for her to warn the Planetary President without violating her constitutional duty to maintain confidentiality on any deliberations before the committee.
That meant Debevic was afraid of losing at least two "safe" votes, and Tonkovic's eyes narrowed as she ran back over the committee's membership mentally, trying to decide who the traitors might be.
"Did Judita happen to mention how soon she needed an answer from you?"
"She wanted an immediate reply, Madam President." Zovan's tone was even heavier. "Needless to say, I assured her I would be honored to represent you, should such an unthinkable event come to pass."
"Thank you, Tomaz. Thank you very much," she said, smiling, as warmly as she could around the freezing void which seemed to fill her as she realized the event in question was far more thinkable than she'd ever imagined it could be.
* * *
"Mr. Levakonic is here, Admiral."
"Show him in immediately," Isidor Hegedusic said.
The Monican admiral stood as his wiry visitor was ushered in. He didn't walk around his desk to greet Levakonic, however. He'd requested this meeting almost a week ago.
"Mr. Levakonic," he said, holding out his hand. "Thank you for coming." Despite himself, his tone added an unspoken "finally."
"Admiral Hegedusic," Levakonic replied, taking the hand and shaking it with a bright smile. "I'm sorry I couldn't get out here sooner. I was so tied up in meetings with President Tyler, Ms. Anisimovna, and Ms. Bardasano that I've hardly had time to catch my breath. Every time I thought I could schedule the flight out to Eroica Station, something else came up. Please forgive me."
"Of course," Hegedusic said, far more graciously than he felt. At the moment, Eroica Station, the Monican Navy's primary shipyard, was well on its way towards opposition from Monica. Flight time from the planet to Eroica Station, traveling with the rest of the Eroica belt, was almost eight hours, so he supposed it was even possible Levakonic was telling the truth rather than that he'd delayed until it suited him as a way to remind his neobarb allies of their place.
Possible. Which wasn't to be confused with "likely."
"But now that I'm here, Admiral," Levakonic continued briskly, "I'm obviously excited about seeing how well the work is proceeding. And, of course, to learn what else it is I can do for you?"
"The first of the battlecruisers went in for refit almost two standard months ago, as I'm sure you know," Hegedusic said. "I'm afraid progress has been slower than anticipated, however. It'll be at least another month and a half before the first of them recommissions."
"That long?" Levakonic frowned, as if this were the first he'd heard of any delays. Which, Hegedusic was forced to admit, was at least possible. His own reports to Admiral Bourmont had been drawing attention to the slippage for weeks now, but it would have been very like the Chief of Naval Operations to... refrain from passing that unhappy news along.
"I'd hoped our technical representatives would have been able to hasten that process for you, Admiral. Indeed, it was my understanding they'd done just that."
"Your people have been extraordinarily helpful," Hegedusic told him, which was nothing less than the truth. "I think the problem's that the capacity of our facilities was overestimated when the original schedule was projected. I've been reporting our difficulties to my superiors-" which meant, as Levakonic no doubt understood, Bourmont "-for some time now. I'd hoped you'd been informed."
"Unfortunately, I wasn't." Levakonic shook his head with another frown. "I could have arranged another additional draft of our own yard workers and some additional equipment if I'd known. Now, by the time I could get word back to Yildun, it would be too late to get additional help out here in time to make much of a difference."
"I'm sorry the word didn't get back to you in time. An oversight on someone's part, I'm sure."
"No doubt," Levakonic agreed, and Hegedusic thought he might detect the beginning of genuine respect-or, at least, sympathy for a competent officer trying to get a job done despite his -superiors. "Well," the Solly went on briskly, "I'll still look forward to inspecting the work. And, obviously, if I can think of anything to speed the process up, I'll definitely bring it to your attention."
"Thank you. I'd appreciate that," Hegedusic said sincerely. "However, the real reason I wanted to speak to you has to do with the missile pods."
"Don't tell me they've been delayed, too!" Levakonic said with a levity Hegedusic suspected was just a bit forced.
"No, they arrived on schedule early last week," the admiral reassured him. "What I wanted to inquire into was the possibility of deploying some of them here, in Monica, to bolster Eroica Station's security when we began drawing down our existing naval strength to find personnel to man the new vessels. We're recruiting additional men, but we're still going to have to lay up every existing ship. I don't like being that vulnerable."
"I don't blame you"
Levakonic thought for a moment, then nodded and looked back at Hegedusic.
"I don't see why that should be a problem," he said so readily Hegedusic was hard pressed to hide his surprise. "We'll need at least a couple of weeks-a month would be better-to overhaul them before they'll be ready for deployment in Lynx. But you ought to have enough of the new battlecruisers in commission to let me began picking the pods back up with time to spare. Even if that doesn't happen, we probably wouldn't have to deploy more than thirty or forty pods-a hundred or so, at most. If it's no more than that, we could almost certainly overhaul them aboard ship on our way to Lynx."
"To be honest, I'd
prefer to deploy as many of them here as we can," Hegedusic said. "On the other hand, I realize I'm probably oversensitive where Eroica's security is concerned. But I'll deeply appreciate the ability to deploy any of them."
"I understand completely, Admiral," Levakonic assured him. "I'll talk to my project officers about it while I'm out here. We'll want to discuss exact numbers with you, but I'll authorize the deployment before I return to Monica."
"Thank you," Hegedusic said, even more sincerely.
"Admiral," Levakonic told him with a desert-dry smile, "Technodyne has a lot of money tied up in this operation. And, to be honest, we're extremely hopeful of having the opportunity to look at some of the Manties' new technology first-hand. We're deeply committed to making the project a success, and this sounds to me like a perfectly reasonable request."
"I'd hoped you might see it that way," Hegedusic said. "And I'm relieved you do. So," he stood again, and this time he did walk around his desk, "let's go arrange that tour of the yard for you."
David Weber - Honor17 - Shadow of Saganami Page 77