by David Weber
"Maybe." Her grin softened into a smile. "And thanks. I needed someone to kick me in the posterior."
"What are friends for? Besides, I remember someone who kicked my ass when I needed it." He smiled back, then finished his coffee and rose.
"And now, Captain Harrington, if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to my ship. Thank you for a marvelous dinner."
"You're welcome." Honor escorted McKeon to the hatch, then stopped and held out her hand. "I'll let you find your own way to the boat bay, Commander McKeon. I've got some things to think about before I turn in."
"Yes, Ma'am." He shook her hand firmly. "Good night, Ma'am."
"Good night, Commander." The hatch slid shut behind him, and she smiled at it. "Good night, indeed," she murmured softly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Hello, Bernard," Courvosier said as he ran into Yanakov just outside the conference room door. "Got a minute?"
"Certainly, Raoul."
Sir Anthony Langtry, the Manticoran Ambassador, smoothly diverted the rest of Yanakov's own party, and the Grayson smiled. He and Courvosier had come to understand one another far better than anyone else might suspect over the past three days, and he knew this slickly-managed, unscheduled encounter was far from coincidental.
"Thanks." Courvosier waited while Langtry shepherded the other Graysons through the door, then smiled a bit apologetically. "I just wanted to warn you to watch your blood pressure today."
"My blood pressure?" Yanakov had become accustomed to the fact that this man who looked two-thirds his age was actually forty years older. If Courvosier wanted to warn him, he was certainly ready to listen.
"Yes." Courvosier grimaced. "Since the question of economic aid is on today's agenda, you're going to have to put up with the Honorable Reginald Houseman."
"Ah. Should I assume Mr. Houseman is going to be a problem?"
"Yes and no. I've laid down the law to him, and I'm pretty sure he'll play by my rules when it comes to actual policy drafting, but he thinks of me as a naval officer, whereas he's a Great Statesman." Courvosier grimaced again. "He's also a patronizing son-of-a-bitch who thinks all us military types want to solve problems with a gun in either hand and a knife between our teeth."
"I see. We're not completely unfamiliar with the type here," Yanakov said, but Courvosier shook his head.
"Not his type, believe me. He's part of the domestic group that wants to hold down our own Fleet expenditures to keep from 'provoking' Haven, and he genuinely believes we could avoid war with them if the military only stopped terrifying Parliament with scare stories about Havenite preparations. Worse, he thinks of himself as a student of military history." Courvosier's lips twitched with amusement at some recollection, then he shrugged.
"The point is, he's not one of my greater admirers, and he's not at all pleased with the military cooperation agreements you and I initialed yesterday. He's got all sorts of reasons, but what it comes down to is that his 'study of the problem' convinces him our assumption of Masada's fundamental hostility to your planet is 'unduly pessimistic.' " Yanakov blinked, and Courvosier nodded. "You've got it. He believes in peaceful coexistence, and he can't quite grasp that a cragsheep can coexist with a hexapuma only from the inside. As I say, he even thinks we should be looking for ways to coexist with Haven."
"You're joking . . . aren't you?"
"I wish I were. Anyway, I suspect he's going to see your Chancellor's presence as his last chance to salvage the situation from us warmongers. I told him to watch his step, but I'm not really with the Foreign Office. I doubt he's too worried about any complaints I may file with his superiors, and from the way he looked last night, I figure he's got his Statesman Hat on. He's just likely to start preaching to you about the virtues of economic cooperation with Masada as a way to resolve your 'minor' religious differences."
Yanakov stared at him, then shook his head and grinned.
"Well, maybe it's a relief to know you've got people on your team with bean curd for brains, too. All right, Raoul. Thanks for the warning. I'll have a word with the Chancellor and try to sit on our people if he does."
"Good." Courvosier squeezed his arm with an answering grin, and the two admirals walked into the conference room side by side.
* * *
" . . . so our greatest need, Admiral," Chancellor Prestwick finished his initial statement, "is for general industrial aid and, specifically, whatever assistance we can secure for our orbital construction projects. Particularly, under the circumstances, for naval expansion."
"I see." Courvosier exchanged glances with Yanakov, then nodded to Houseman. "Mr. Houseman? Perhaps you'd care to respond to that."
"Of course, Admiral." Reginald Houseman turned to the Grayson with a smile. "Mr. Chancellor, I appreciate the clarity with which you've sketched out your needs, and the Kingdom will give every consideration to meeting them. If I may, however, I'd like to take your points in reverse order."
Prestwick leaned back slightly and nodded agreement.
"Thank you. As far as naval expansion is concerned, my government, as Admiral Courvosier has already agreed in principle with High Admiral Yanakov, is prepared to provide a permanent security detachment for Yeltsin in return for basing rights here. In addition, we will be establishing our own service and repair facilities, and I see no difficulty in sharing them with you."
Houseman glanced sideways at Courvosier, then continued quickly.
"I think, however, that there are other, nonmilitary considerations which have not yet been given their full weight." Yanakov saw Courvosier stiffen, and the two admirals' eyes met across the table, but then Courvosier sat back with a resigned expression as Prestwick spoke.
"Nonmilitary considerations, Mr. Houseman?"
"Indeed. While no one could overlook or ignore the military threat your planet faces, it may be that there are nonmilitary ways to reduce it."
"Indeed?" Prestwick glanced at Yanakov, and the high admiral made a "go easy" gesture under cover of the table. "What ways might those be, Mr. Houseman?" the Chancellor asked slowly.
"Well, I realize I'm only an economist," Houseman's voice dripped self-deprecation, and Ambassador Langtry covered his eyes with one hand, "but it occurs to me that naval expansion can only divert materials and labor from your other projects. Given the necessity of your orbital farms to your growing population, I have to wonder, as an economist, if it wouldn't be more efficient to find some means besides warships to secure peace with Masada."
"I see." Prestwick's eyes narrowed, but Yanakov's repeated braking gesture restrained his instant, incredulous response. "And those means are?"
"Self-interest, Sir." Houseman made it sound like a concept he'd just invented. "Despite the population imbalance between your planet and Masada, you have a considerably greater industrial capacity than they. They have to be aware of that. And while neither of your systems presently have any commodities to attract large volumes of interstellar trade, your mutual proximity makes you a natural market area. Transport times—and costs—between your systems would be very low, which means the possibility exists for you to enter into an extremely profitable commercial relationship."
"With Masada?" someone blurted, and Langtry's other hand rose to join its fellow over his eyes. Houseman's head twitched as if to turn in the direction of the question, but he didn't—quite—though his smile took on a slightly fixed air while Prestwick took the time to frame his response.
"That's a very interesting suggestion, Sir, but I'm afraid the fundamental hostility between Grayson and Masada makes it . . . impractical."
"Mr. Chancellor," Houseman said earnestly, carefully avoiding looking at Courvosier, "I'm an economist, not a politician, and what matters to an economist is the bottom line, the cold, hard figures of the balance sheet. And the bottom line is always higher when potentially hostile groups recognize their deeper mutual self-interest and act intelligently to maximize it.
"Now, in this instance, what we have is two neighbor
ing star systems, each, if you'll pardon my frankness, with marginal economies. Under the circumstances, an arms race between them makes no economic sense at all, so it seems to me that any move which can reduce your military competition is highly desirable. I'm aware that overcoming the legacy of centuries of distrust won't be easy, but surely any reasonable person can see the profit to all sides in making a successful effort to do so?"
He paused to smile at Prestwick, and Courvosier sat on his temper. Like most ideologues, Houseman was convinced the purity of his ends justified his means—whatever means those were—which meant his promise not to open this can of worms meant absolutely nothing to him beside his calling to end six centuries of silly squabbling. He was going to have his say, and the only way Courvosier could have stopped him would have been to banish him from the discussions. That wasn't practical, given his position as the second ranking member of the delegation and connections back home, until he got blatantly out of line, so the only solution was to let him make his case and then cut him off at the ankles.
"Masada is badly over-populated in terms of its productive capacity," Houseman went on, "and Grayson requires additional infusions of capital for industrial expansion. If you opened markets in the Endicott System, you could secure a nearby planetary source for foodstuffs and sufficient capital to meet your own needs by supplying Masada with the goods and services it requires for its population. The boon to your economy is obvious, even in the short term. In the long term, a commercial relationship which serves both your needs could only lessen—perhaps even eliminate—the hostility which has divided you for so long. It might even create a situation in which naval expansion becomes as unnecessary as it is economically wasteful."
The Grayson side of the table had stared at him in mounting, horrified disbelief; now they turned as one to look at Courvosier, and the admiral clenched his teeth. He'd warned Yanakov to watch his blood pressure, but he hadn't counted on quite how difficult it would be to watch his own.
"Admiral Courvosier," Prestwick asked very carefully, "does this constitute a rejection of our request for assistance in naval expansion?"
"No, Sir, it does not," Courvosier said, and ignored Houseman's flush. He'd warned the man against going off half-cocked, but Houseman had been too convinced of his own moral superiority to listen. Under the circumstances, his embarrassment weighed very little with Raoul Courvosier.
"Her Majesty's Government," he went on firmly, "is well aware of the Masadan threat to Grayson. In the event that Grayson allies itself with Manticore, the government intends to take all necessary and prudent steps to safeguard Grayson's territorial integrity. If, in the view of your own government and military, those steps include the expansion and modernization of your fleet, we will assist in every practical way."
"Mr. Chancellor," Houseman cut in, "while Admiral Courvosier is a direct representative of Her Majesty, the fact remains that he is primarily a military man, and military men think in terms of military solutions. I'm simply trying to point out that reasonable men, negotiating from reasonable positions, can sometimes-"
"Mr. Houseman." Courvosier's deep, normally pleasant voice was very, very cold, and the economist turned to glare resentfully at him.
"As you've just pointed out," Courvosier went on in that same cold voice, "I am Her Majesty's direct representative. I am also the chief of this diplomatic mission." He held the other's eyes until they dropped, then nodded and returned his own attention to Prestwick.
"Now, then," he said as if nothing had happened, "as I was saying, Mr. Chancellor, we will assist your naval expansion in any way we can. Of course, as you yourself have indicated, you have other needs, as well. The equipment and materials already being transferred from our freighters to your custody will make a start towards meeting some of them, but their long-term solution is going to be an extensive and difficult task. Balancing them against your military requirements will require some careful tradeoffs and allocations, and I'm sure Mr. Houseman will agree that the best way to meet all of them will be to upgrade your own industrial and technical base. And I think we can assume your major trading partner will be Manticore, not Masada, at least-" he allowed himself a wintry smile "—for the foreseeable future."
A ripple of laughter with an undeniable undertone of relief answered from the Grayson side of the table, and Houseman's face turned ugly for just a moment, then smoothed into professional non-expression.
"I believe that's probably a safe assumption," Prestwick agreed.
"Then we'll proceed on that basis," Courvosier said calmly. He glanced back at his economic adviser, and there was a hint of steel in his voice as he said, again, "Mr. Houseman?"
"Well, yes, of course," Houseman said. "I was merely-" He cut himself off and forced a smile. "In that case, Mr. Chancellor, I suppose we should first consider the question of government guarantees for loans to Grayson industrial consortiums. After that-"
The last of the strain dissipated among the Grayson delegates, and Yanakov leaned back with a sigh of relief. He met Courvosier's eyes across the table, and the two of them exchanged a brief smile.
* * *
Space was deep and dark and empty sixty-five light-minutes from Yeltsin's Star, but then, suddenly, two starships blinked into existence, radiating the blue glory of hyper transit from their Warshawski sails in a brief, dazzling flash no eye or sensor observed. They floated for a moment, sails reconfiguring into impeller wedges, and then they began to move, accelerating at scarcely half a dozen gravities in an arc which would intersect the outer edge of the asteroid belt, and no one saw them coming at all.
* * *
"Admiral Courvosier, I resent the way you humiliated me in front of the Grayson delegation!"
Raoul Courvosier leaned back behind his desk in the Manticoran Embassy, and the look he gave Reginald Houseman would have been recognized by whole generations of errant midshipmen.
"There was no need for you to undercut my position and credibility so blatantly! Any diplomat knows all possibilities must be explored, and the possibilities for reducing tensions in this region would be incalculable if Grayson would even consider the benefits of peaceful trade with Masada!"
"I may not be a diplomat," Courvosier said, "but I know a little something about chains of command. I specifically told you not to raise that point, and you gave me your word you wouldn't. In short, you lied, and any humiliation you may have suffered in consequence leaves me totally unmoved."
Houseman paled, then reddened with fury. He was unaccustomed to hearing such cold contempt from anyone, much less ignorant uniformed Neanderthals. He was a master of his field, with the credentials to prove it. How dared this . . . this jingoistic myrmidon speak to him this way!
"It was my duty to present the truth, whether you can see it or not!"
"It was your duty to conform to my directives or tell me honestly that you couldn't do so in good conscience, and the fact that you came to this system with your own preconceptions and haven't bothered to learn a thing since only makes you as stupid as you are dishonest."
Houseman gaped at him, too furious to speak, and the admiral continued in a flat, deadly voice.
"The reason these people are expanding their population after centuries of draconian population control, the reason they need those orbital farms, is that Masada is getting ready to wipe them out and they need the manpower to fight back. I was prepared to learn their fears were exaggerated, but after studying their intelligence reports and the public record, it's my opinion, Mr. Houseman, that they have in fact understated the case. Yes, they have a stronger industrial base, but the other side outnumbers them three-to-one, and they need most of that industry simply to survive their planetary environment! If you'd bothered to examine their library data base, or even the précis Ambassador Langtry's staff have assembled, you'd know that. You haven't, and I have absolutely no intention of allowing your uninformed opinions to color the official position of this mission."
"That's preposter
ous!" Houseman spluttered. "Masada doesn't begin to have the capacity to project that kind of military power to Yeltsin!"
"I rather thought the military was my area," Courvosier said icily.
"It doesn't take a genius to know that—just someone with an open mind! Look at their per capita income figures, damn it! They'd ruin themselves if they made the attempt!"
"Even assuming that statement to be true, that doesn't mean they won't make the attempt. The point you seem consistently unwilling or unable to grasp is that rationality isn't their driving motivation. They're committed to the defeat of Grayson and the forcible imposition of their own way of life in both systems because they see it as their religious duty."
"Hogwash!" Houseman snorted. "I don't care what mystic gobbledygook they spout! The fact is that their economy simply won't support the effort—certainly not to 'conquer' such a hostile-environment planet!"
"Then perhaps you'd better tell them that, not their intended victims. Their fleet is twenty percent stronger overall than Grayson's, and much stronger in terms of hyper-capable units. They have five cruisers and eight destroyers to Grayson's three cruisers and four destroyers. That's not a defensive power mix. The bulk of the Masadan Navy is designed for operations in someone else's star system, but the bulk of the Grayson fleet consists of sublight LACs for local defense. And LACs, Mr. Houseman, are even less capable in combat than their tonnage might suggest because their sidewalls are much weaker than those of starships. The local orbital fortifications are laughable, and Grayson doesn't know how to generate spherical sidewalls, so their forts don't have any passive anti-missile defenses. And, finally, the Masadan government—which nuked planetary targets in the last war—has repeatedly stated its willingness to annihilate the 'godless apostates' of Grayson if that's the only way to 'liberate' and 'purge' the planet!"