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# Chapter Forty-Four

Sir Edward Janacek had discovered that he no longer enjoyed going to work in the morning. He would never have believed that might come to pass when Michael Janvier first invited him to return to Admiralty House, but things had changed since that heady day of triumph.

He nodded to his yeoman and strode on into his inner office. His desk was waiting, and there in the middle of the blotter sat the locked dispatch case containing chips of the overnight communications. Like the trip to his office itself, that box had become something he dreaded, especially in light of the arrival of Eloise Pritchart's most recent missive the day before. He didn't really want to admit its existence, but he glanced at it as he started to walk past the desk towards the coffee carafe sitting in its accustomed place on the credenza. Then he stopped dead. A crimson light blinked on top of the dispatch case, and his stomach muscles tightened as it flashed at him.

Given the inevitable lags in communication time for units deployed over interstellar distances, there wasn't a great deal of sense in awakening senior members of the Admiralty when dispatches arrived in the middle of the night. Even if their contents were desperately important, getting them into the hands of their recipients an hour or two sooner wasn't going to have any significant effect on the turnaround time for a decision loop a dozen light-years or so across. There were, of course, exceptions to that rule, especially for star nations which possessed wormhole junctions, and senior communications staffers were expected to recognize when those exceptions occurred. Except in those very special circumstances, however, the Admiralty's most senior echelons could anticipate a night's sleep unflawed by the precipitate delivery of bad news.

But that flashing light indicated that Simon Chakrabarti, as First Space Lord, had already read the overnight dispatches . . . and that in his opinion one of them was of special importance.

The First Space Lord had been becoming steadily more unhappy for months now. Janacek was prepared to accept his in-house expression of a certain degree of concern, of course. It was the First Space Lord's job to warn his civilian superiors of any worries he might entertain, after all. But Chakrabarti had gone beyond private discussions of concern or even verbal expressions of those same concerns in face-to-face meetings. He'd actually begun drafting formal memos whose arguments were becoming steadily more pointed, and he'd been following the message traffic—especially from Silesia—with what Janacek privately considered obsessive attentiveness.

As part of that attentiveness, he'd taken to recording marginal notes on the dispatches he found of particular concern. Which, Janacek thought as he watched the malignant, blinking red eye with a sort of dread fascination, was not something he wanted to deal with just now.

Unfortunately, as Pritchart's response to Elaine Descroix's most recent note had reminded the entire High Ridge Government, what he wanted didn't always bear a great deal of resemblance to what he was going to get.

He squared his shoulders, inhaled deeply, and marched across to the desk. He sank into his chair, scarcely noticing its comfort, and reached out to key the combination into the dispatch case lock plate. The combination of fingerprints, proper numerical code, and DNA tracers convinced it to open for him, and he pulled out the chip on top of the pile.

For just a moment, he felt an undeniable sense of relief, because it was in a Fleet message folio, not one with the flashings of the ONI. So at least it wasn't a fresh admission from Francis Jurgensen that that insufferable son-of-a-bitch Theisman had managed to deceive them as to his navy's combat capabilities after all. But that fleeting relief vanished as he read the header that identified it as a message from Sidemore Station.

Oh my God, he thought around the fresh sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. What's that lunatic done now?

He drew another deep breath, slipped the chip into his desk top reader, and called up the message header.

* * *

"Just how bad is it, Edward?"

The Prime Minister's anxiety showed far more clearly than he wanted it to. Indeed, Janacek thought, it undoubtedly showed far more clearly than High Ridge thought it did. Not that the baron was alone in that, and the First Lord felt the echo of his own tension and strain coming back from the other members of the working cabinet. Aside from Janacek and High Ridge himself, that working cabinet currently consisted of Elaine Descroix, Countess New Kiev, Earl North Hollow, and Sir Harrison MacIntosh.

"That's very difficult to say," the First Lord replied. "I'm not trying to dodge the question, but all we have right now is Harrington's initial report about the Zoraster System incident itself. It will be at least a few days before we get anything more than that, I'd imagine. It would have taken at least that long for the Andies to respond to the incident—or to Harrington's message to their station commander in Sachsen. So any later report from her is going to be delayed at least that long before reaching here."

"But when those messages do get here," Marisa Turner pointed out anxiously, "the events in them will be over two weeks old. There's absolutely no way for us to tell how far Harrington may have pushed the Andies even as we sit here."

"Now, just a moment, Marisa," Janacek replied strongly. "Everyone in this room knows my opinion of 'the Salamander.' I'm not about to change it at this late date, either. But, much as I may distrust her judgment, in this instance she's certainly showed far more restraint than I would ever have anticipated."

He tapped the hardcopy of Harrington's report, where it lay on the conference table in front of him. An identical copy lay in front of each of them, and he wondered for a moment if New Kiev had even bothered to read hers.

"To be perfectly honest, my initial fear when I read her account of the incident was that she was likely to head for Sachsen cleared for action to demand satisfaction from Admiral Sternhafen. Instead, to my considerable surprise, she actually seems to be working actively to reduce tensions. Of course, there's no way to tell how Sternhafen reacted to her suggestion of a joint investigation, but the fact that she came up with the idea at all has to be taken as a good sign, I think."

"On the surface," she agreed. Then she shook her head and made a face. "No, you're right," she admitted. "It's just that I worry about her temper. Her first reaction has always seemed to be to resort to force immediately—or, at least, to meet force with greater force. I suppose it's just . . . difficult for me to conceive of her in the role of peacemaker."

"For you and me both," Janacek admitted. "Nonetheless, that does seem to have been her initial response, at least, in this case."

"If so," North Hollow observed acidly, "it's undoubtedly for the first time in her entire life!"

"I won't disagree with you there, Stefan," Janacek replied.

"But you say there's no way to predict how Sternhafen reacted to her proposal," High Ridge pressed, and Janacek shrugged.

"Obviously not. If this really was an accident, an unintended confrontation, then the man would have to be a bigger lunatic even than Harrington not to seize this opportunity to back off and cool things down. Of course, given the provocative behavior the Andies have been evincing out there, it's impossible to say whether or not it really was accidental. Admiral Jurgensen, Admiral Chakrabarti, and I, are currently inclined towards the view that it was unintended. If the Andies had intended to begin a war with us, then surely they would have done it by attacking more than a single, isolated heavy cruiser. Moreover, it seems fairly evident that their ship took Jessica Epps by surprise. Whether that's the case or not, they'd at least managed to get into attack range well before Jessica Epps initially ordered this suspected slave ship to heave to. What that suggests to us, is that the Andies didn't go into this looking for a fight. If that had been their objective, then it's virtually certain that they would have fired sooner—probably before Jessica Epps even knew they were there."

"So you think they were responding to our effort to intercept this slaver, this Sittich," Elaine Descroix said.

"It certainly looks that way," Janacek agreed. "Precisely why they responded the way they did is more than we can say at this point. If Harrington's report's conclusions about the ship and the tonnage discrepancy our shipping list information indicated are correct, then I have to say I'm baffled by the Andy captain's actions. We may not get along with the Andermani all that well, but as far as we've been able to tell, they don't especially care for the slave trade, either. They don't have the long-term standing commitment to its suppression which the Star Kingdom's had, but they've certainly acted promptly to stamp on it whenever it's reared its head in their backyard."

"And very properly so," New Kiev put in. "But as you say, Edward, given that history of theirs, then surely their captain should have acted to assist Jessica Epps, not fired on her!"

"I believe that's approximately what I just said, Marisa," Janacek observed.

"I realize that," she said a bit snippily. "My point was that perhaps his reaction suggests that Harrington's suspicions about this particular ship weren't as well founded as she believes. Or, at least, as her report suggests."

"The same thought had occurred to me," Janacek replied. "But Admiral Jurgensen pulled the central file copy of the real Sittich's emissions fingerprint and compared it to the sensor data from Chantilly." He shook his head. "There's no question, Marisa—the ship squawking Sittich's transponder code wasn't Sittich. I can't say for certain who she was, but she wasn't who she claimed to be."

"I must say," Descroix observed, "that I'm afraid Harrington may have put us all in a false position with this quixotic crusade of hers."

"What 'quixotic crusade'?" New Kiev asked.

"This 'Operation Wilberforce' of hers," Descroix said.

"I may question her judgment and temper, and even at times her motivation," New Kiev said sharply, "but I hardly think it's appropriate to call the Star Kingdom's long-standing commitment to the suppression of the interstellar genetic slave trade a 'quixotic crusade.' "

Descroix glared at her and opened her mouth to fire back, but High Ridge interrupted before she could.

"Marisa, no one is suggesting that we ought to abandon that policy. For that matter, no one is suggesting that it was inappropriate for Harrington to act in accordance with it."

And we're especially not going to suggest it, he reflected, with that maniac Montaigne holding our feet—and yours—to the fire over the entire slavery issue in the Commons!

"Nonetheless, Elaine may have a point. Obviously, this entire incident only occurred because Harrington decided to act on the basis of testimony from a criminal caught in the act of committing an offense punishable by death. I think one might arguably call it a 'quixotic' decision to act so precipitously on the basis of such legitimately questionable 'evidence.' "

Janacek started to point out that, questionable or not, the fact that the suspected ship obviously had been squawking exactly the false transponder code Harrington's informant had told her it would seemed to suggest the evidence had been sound. But he didn't. Whether she'd acted precipitously or not was really beside the point, after all.

"So, Edward," High Ridge said after a moment, when it became apparent that neither New Kiev nor Descroix was prepared to continue their confrontation, however sullen they might be about it, "what does the Admiralty suggest we do?"

"Nothing," Janacek said with a promptness which caused the others to look at him sharply.

"Nothing?" High Ridge repeated.

"Until we know more, there's no point trying to formulate a response," Janacek said. "We could respond by immediately scraping up additional reinforcements and rushing them off to Sidemore. Unfortunately, we don't know that those reinforcements are going to be required. My current feeling is that Sternhafen is very likely to take the out Harrington has offered him and agree to a joint investigation. If that is his decision—or, more probably, given the time lag in our communications, was his decision—then it's probable that this particular crisis is well along the way towards being defused.

"If, on the other hand, he's decided not to take her suggestion, then all of the data ONI has amassed on Andermani deployment patterns suggests that it will take some time, probably at least a couple of months, for the IAN to redeploy for offensive operations against Sidemore. They can probably push her back from the systems we've been patrolling in the Confederacy itself, but the Fleet base is a much tougher nut than that. Even with the delay in communications between here and there, we should know within no more than another week or so whether or not he decided to go along with her. At that point, we can think seriously about sending additional forces to Sidemore."

Assuming, he carefully didn't add, that we haven't found out we need them much worse closer to home.

"So you think we'd have enough time to respond?" High Ridge pressed.

"That's the consensus at Admiralty House," Janacek assured him . . . almost accurately. In fact, Admiral Chakrabarti was far from agreeing. His steadily growing concern over how thinly spread the Navy's assets had become in the face of its commitments had only been made sharper by Harrington's news. But there was no point bringing that up just now.

"In that case," the Prime Minister decided, "I think we should draft fresh instructions for her to restrain her martial instincts and continue her efforts to keep a lid on the situation. To be completely honest, I must confess that at this moment the situation in Silesia is clearly of secondary concern. In the end, we could afford to simply let the Andermani have the entire Confederacy without suffering any irreparable damage to our interests. Even our commercial interests would survive with only minor losses, especially in light of the offsetting access we've just gained to the Talbott Cluster and the shipping lanes on that side of the League."

"I agree," Descroix said decisively. "And if that's settled, I suggest we turn our attention to a matter of primary concern."

No one needed to ask which matter she had in mind.

"Very well," High Ridge agreed. "Would you care to open the discussion, then, Elaine?"

"If you want." Descroix folded her hands on the document holder in front of her and looked around the conference room.

"My staff has completed its analysis of Pritchart's latest note," she announced. "Needless to say, the distracting effect of Harrington's report from Silesia has scarcely helped, but I set up three separate teams to evaluate it. After they'd finished their initial work, I had all three reports combined for final analysis by a fourth study group.

"The conclusion those analysts have reached is that this note represents an effort to set up the moral justification to support its threat to break off negotiations if we don't accede immediately to their demands."

Complete silence greeted her announcement. It was the heavy silence of gloom, not the silence of shock, because everyone in that conference room had already guessed what the "experts" were going to tell them.

"What do you think they'll do after they break off negotiations—assuming, of course, that that's what they actually intend to do?" New Kiev asked.

"If they break off negotiations for a peace treaty, Marisa," Descroix replied with an edge of exasperation, "they really only have one choice, don't they?"

"You think they'd actually resume operations," New Kiev said, sufficiently focused in her anxiety that she failed to take umbrage at the Foreign Secretary's tone.

"I think that's the only alternative to talking to us they really have," Descroix responded in an unwontedly serious tone, forgetting, however briefly, her antipathy for the Chancellor of the Exchequer in light of her own worries.

"But you've assured us that they don't have the technical capability to fight us, Edward," New Kiev said, turning to Janacek.

"What I've said," the First Lord said, cursing mentally as the countess put her finger on what, whether he'd cared to admit it or not, had always been the most problematical aspect of ONI's estimates of the Havenite navy's capabilities, "was that all available intelligence data suggested to us that their technology remains significantly inferior to our own. In fact, that's what our latest information still indicates. Unfortunately, the fact that we believe that to be true—or even the fact that it actually is true—doesn't necessarily mean Theisman and his advisers agree with us. It could be that they're overestimating their own capabilities, or underestimating ours. In either of those cases, they may be advising their civilian authorities that they do have the capacity to successfully resume operations against us."

"And if they do?" New Kiev pressed.

"If they do," Janacek admitted unwillingly, "they'll hurt us. Mind you, Admiral Chakrabarti and ONI remain confident that we would defeat them in the end, whatever they may believe they might accomplish. But defeating them won't be as easy as it was during Operation Buttercup, and the casualties and ship losses will almost certainly be significantly higher."

"That's terrible," New Kiev said softly. Which, Janacek reflected, was probably one of the most superfluous things even she'd ever said.

"It certainly is," Descroix said. "If they're stupid enough to do something that suicidal, public opinion here at home will never understand that it's not our fault they chose to commit suicide. All the public will see it is that the war has started all over again. The Centrists and Crown Loyalists will eat it up with a spoon!"

"I hardly think public opinion should be our greatest concern just now, Elaine!" New Kiev half-snapped. "From what Edward's just said, we can anticipate heavy casualties—thousands of them!"

"I'm scarcely overlooking that aspect of it, Marisa," Descroix shot back. "But if Pritchart and her advisers choose to attack us, the blood of every one of those casualties will be on her hands, not ours! In the end, I'm sure history will bear out that verdict. But in the meantime, we have to be concerned with our ability to continue to govern effectively in the face of such a crisis."

She glared at New Kiev, who returned her fiery stare with interest, and High Ridge frowned thunderously. The last thing he needed was for the members of his Cabinet to turn on one another. As Descroix said, the ability of the Government to continue to function effectively in the face of a possible Havenite attack was crucial. And, in the longer run, none of the members of his coalition could afford to quarrel with one another if they were to have any hope of surviving the disastrous political consequences of such an attack.

"Please, Marisa, Elaine!" He shook his head. "Both of you have voiced perfectly legitimate concerns. Marisa, all of us feel horrible over the possibility of heavy loss of life among our naval personnel. Of course we do! And we'll do everything we can to minimize casualties. But if we suffer them anyway, it will be because someone else forced military action upon us, not because we chose to go back to war. And that means Elaine is also correct that our primary responsibility as the leaders of Her Majesty's Government in the face of such an attack must be to insure the smooth continuation of our ability to govern."

And, he decided not to add, to somehow salvage our domestic position out of the wreckage a Havenite attack would leave.

"There is one possibility we haven't considered," Janacek said slowly.

"What sort of possibility?" New Kiev asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Before I answer that," the First Lord replied, "let me ask you a question, Marisa. Given the tone and the content of Pritchart's note, do you personally think she's seriously contemplating breaking off negotiations and not just running some sort of bluff?"

"I'm not Foreign Secretary anymore," New Kiev pointed out, sparing Descroix a poisonous glance from the corners of her eyes. "I don't have the sort of sources which might allow me to form any sort of independent judgment of the analysis Elaine's staff has prepared."

"Please, Marisa," Janacek said with a patience he maintained only with difficulty. "The situation is obviously too serious for us to dance around the point. You've read Pritchart's note. And, as you just pointed out, you used to be Foreign Secretary yourself. On that basis, how would you have evaluated this note?"

New Kiev frowned, clearly unhappy at being put on the spot. But then, slowly, she shook her head.

"I'm afraid I do think this is nothing more than a step to justify her actions in the eyes of her own public—and, probably, interstellar public opinion—when she chooses to break off negotiations," she admitted.

"The language is far more uncompromising than anything she's said yet," the countess continued, still blissfully ignorant of the exact wording of the preceding communication from the Republic's president, "and the flat, unqualified assertion that the Republic retains unimpaired sovereignty over all 'occupied systems' could be read to include Trevor's Star. If it does, that represents an enormous escalation in their bargaining position, especially after her earlier apparent willingness to concede that system's loss. And the fact that she's seen fit to recite an entire catalog of allegations that we've been the ones obstructing the talks is a clear bid to convince her own voters that she's been driven to take such an adamant position by our own unreasonableness."

She gave Descroix another smoldering glance, but obviously restrained herself from adding an "I told you so" to her analysis. Then she looked back at Janacek.

"Was that what you wanted to hear?" she asked harshly.

"Not what I wanted to hear, no," Janacek replied. "But that doesn't mean it isn't what I expected. And the reason I asked you is that I agree with Elaine; if they choose to break off negotiations, that decision is tantamount to a decision to resume active operations. In other words, if they've decided to stop talking to us, they've also decided to start shooting at us again. Would you agree that that's a reasonable conclusion?"

"I don't think I'd apply the word 'reasonable' to anything that's going to unnecessarily cost so many lives," New Kiev said unhappily.

"I understand your position, but you're still avoiding my point. Technically, we're still at war with them, you know. Pritchart wouldn't even need a declaration of war. All she'd need would be to decide, as commander in chief of their military, to resume operations. Wouldn't you agree that it looks very much as if that's what she's decided to do here?"

"I don't—" New Kiev began, then stopped and visibly bit her tongue. "All right, Edward," she sighed. "I don't like your conclusions, but, yes. I'm afraid I'd have to agree that that's precisely what a decision to terminate negotiations could amount to in practical terms."

"I see we're in agreement, then," Janacek said. "I won't say I'm happy we are, because I'd rather not be faced with the situation at all. But since we are in agreement, I would further submit to you that if they've decided to resume operations, it's our responsibility to prevent those operations from succeeding."

He raised an eyebrow and held New Kiev with his eyes until she nodded, then shrugged.

"Well, the only way to do that is to . . . remove their ability to attack us."

"And exactly what sort of black magic do you intend to use to do that?" New Kiev asked skeptically.

"Not black magic," Janacek demurred. "Just Her Majesty's Navy."

"What do you mean?" High Ridge asked, leaning forward across the table and regarding the First Lord through narrowed eyes.

"I mean exactly what you think I do, Michael," Janacek said flatly. "I've pointed out once before that if we know they're going to attack us, the logical thing for us to do is attack them first. If ONI's right, the bulk of their new fleet is still concentrated in the Haven System. If we act quickly and decisively, a preemptive strike by our own SD(P)s and CLACs would destroy or at least decisively cripple their modern combat capability. In which case, they'd have no choice but to return to the negotiating table whether they want to or not."

New Kiev stared at him in horror, which was hardly unexpected. Descroix looked suddenly thoughtful, as did Stefan Young, but MacIntosh's expression had gone completely blank. Janacek felt the consternation his proposal had generated, but he'd anticipated exactly that reaction, and so he simply sat there, looking reasonable and confident.

"You're actually suggesting," the Prime Minister said slowly, "that we break off negotiations ourselves and attack the Haven System?"

"Not precisely, no," Janacek disagreed. "First, I'm certainly not proposing that we formally break off negotiations. It's obvious they intend to do that anyway, and our formal withdrawal from the conference would only alert them to our own plans. I believe the tone and wording of Pritchart's note should make it clear to any impartial reader that she intends to withdraw from the talks and attack us, so I believe we would be completely justified in carrying out the strike without formally terminating negotiations first. Afterward, we could publish the diplomatic correspondence in order to show the voters the fashion in which our hand was forced.

"Second," he continued, rolling forward over the increasing horror on New Kiev's face, "I'm not suggesting that we attack 'the Haven System' at all. I'm suggesting we attack Theisman's new fleet, which simply happens to be located in the Haven System at this time. Our objective would be the destruction of the ships which have destabilized the negotiating process, and we would scrupulously avoid any other targets in the course of our attack." He shrugged. "Given the circumstances, I hardly see how any fair-minded observer could question the propriety of our actions."

It was obvious that New Kiev wanted to protest his reasoning, but she seemed temporarily bereft of speech. She could only stare at him, as if even now she couldn't quite believe what she'd heard. Then she turned a look of raw appeal on High Ridge, and the Prime Minister cleared his throat.

"I'm not certain the public—or the galaxy at-large—would appreciate the fine distinction between attacking the Haven System and attacking a fleet which 'simply happens' to be located there, Edward," he said carefully. "Leaving that aside, however, I think your suggestion may overestimate the . . . sophistication of the average voter's appreciation for the realities of interstellar diplomacy. While it's obvious to us that Pritchart is the one determined to derail the negotiating process if we don't supinely concede her completely unreasonable demands, it may be a bit difficult to convince the man in the street of that."

"Michael," Janacek replied patiently, "look at her note."

He opened the document folder before him and turned to the final page of Pritchart's note.

"It says, and I quote, 'In light of the Star Kingdom of Manticore's persistent refusal to accept even in principle the legitimacy of a single one of the Republic of Haven's attempts to formulate some basis for agreement, and in light of the Manticoran government's complete and unreasonable rejection of all assertions of the Republic's legitimate sovereignty over its occupied territory and its responsibilities to its citizens living under Manticoran occupation, these so-called peace negotiations have become not simply a farce but the laughingstock of an entire sector. Under the circumstances, the Republic of Haven seriously doubts that there remains any point in attempting the futile task of breathing life back into a negotiating process which the Star Kingdom of Manticore has systematically throttled from the outset.' "

He looked back up from the sheet of paper and shrugged.

"That seems explicit enough to me," he observed mildly.

"Expressing doubt about the viability of negotiations is scarcely the same as actively withdrawing from them," High Ridge pointed out. "Or that, at least, is the position someone like William Alexander or his brother will certainly take. And let's face it, Edward—when they make that argument, the typical voter is going to agree with them."

"Then the typical voter will be wrong," Janacek said flatly.

"Wrong or right doesn't really come into it," High Ridge said patiently. "Public perceptions do. No, Edward. I appreciate the courage it took to make your recommendation, but this Government can't possibly contemplate such a preemptive strike at this time."

"You're the Prime Minister," Janacek said after a moment of pregnant silence. "If that's your decision, then, of course, I have no option but to abide by it. I'd like to state once again for the record, however, that I believe the strategy I've just outlined represents the Star Kingdom's best opportunity of nipping this new war in the bud."

And you've gotten that viewpoint on record to cover yourself if that war breaks out after all, High Ridge reflected. That's a bit more sophisticated than I expected out of you, Edward.

"Your position will certainly be noted," he said aloud.

"But in the meantime," New Kiev said, making no effort to keep her enormous relief out of her voice, "we still have to decide what sort of response we're going to make to Pritchart."

"My initial reaction," Descroix growled, "is to tell her we refuse to negotiate at all in the face of such a blatantly implicit threat!"

"If we tell them that, we only confirm their accusations that we're the ones who have sabotaged the peace process!" New Kiev snapped.

"And if we don't, then we cave in," Descroix shot back. "Do you think there'd be any serious chance of ever resuming talks successfully if we just roll over and let them get away with talking to us this way?"

"Talking is always preferable to killing people," New Kiev said icily.

"That depends on who you're talking about killing, doesn't it?" Descroix snarled, glaring at the Chancellor of the Exchequer in a way which left very little doubt about who she would have preferred to nominate for victim. New Kiev's face darkened with fury, but once again High Ridge hastily pushed himself between the two of them.

"We're not achieving anything by snapping at each other!" he pointed out sharply.

Descroix and New Kiev clamped their jaws and looked away from one another in almost perfect unison, and the temperature in the conference room slipped back a notch or two from the point of explosion.

"Thank you," the Prime Minister said into the ringing silence. "Now, I agree with you, Elaine, that we can't allow the provocative language of this note to pass unremarked. But I also agree with Marisa that breaking off the negotiations ourselves is unacceptable. Not only is talking preferable to shooting, but we cannot afford to be labeled with responsibility as the party which finally withdrew from the peace process, no matter what provocation was offered by the other side.

"I see no way we could possibly agree to meet all of Pritchart's demands, particularly her outrageous insistence at this late date that the Republic retains unimpaired sovereignty over Trevor's Star, and that we're obligated to return it to Republican control. In light of that, and coupled with the fact that it would be completely politically unacceptable for us to be the first party to withdraw from the talks, I suggest that our best response is to rebuke her for her language, adamantly refuse to negotiate under pressure, but suggest that it's clearly time for some new initiative to break the logjam of frustration and ill will which has grown-up between our two governments. Rather than attempting to specify just what that initiative might be, I think it would be wiser to leave it essentially undefined so as not to foreclose any possibilities."

New Kiev sat back in her chair, visibly unhappy. Had her mood been light enough to allow for such observations, she might have reflected that at least Descroix looked almost as unhappy as she was.

"I don't really like it," the countess said finally. "I can't avoid the feeling that we're still being too confrontational. I've argued from the beginning that we've been overly cavalier in rejecting Republican proposals that—"

She cut herself off and shook her head sharply.

"I'm sorry," she said almost curtly. "I didn't mean to rehash old arguments. What I meant to say, Michael, is that while I don't like it, I also don't see that we really have any other choice. As you say, it would be impossible to give her everything she's insisting upon. I feel we'll have to make that very clear in our response. But by the same token, leaving the door open will exert pressure on her to return to the table with a more reasonable attitude. And if she refuses to do so, then the onus will have been placed firmly where it belongs—on the Republic."

Despite his own anxiety, his sense that the situation was spinning further and further out of control, High Ridge felt a brief, bleak amusement at the countess' ability to evade what had to be evaded in the name of political expediency.

For himself, he conceded, his proposal was uncomfortably close to a council of despair. He doubted very much that the woman who'd composed that belligerent, exasperated note was prepared to put up with still more diplomatic sleight of hand. But for the backing of the naval strength Theisman had somehow managed to assemble without that idiot Jurgensen realizing he was doing it, she would have had no option but to continue to dance to his and Descroix's piping. Now, unfortunately, she thought she did have an option, and even if Janacek was right about the miscalculations on which she based that belief, she seemed oblivious to the possibility. Which meant she was just likely to rely upon it.

No. Whatever face he chose to put upon it for the rest of the Cabinet, High Ridge was well aware that his proposed response was actually a concession of weakness. All he could realistically hope to do at this point was to spin things out just a little longer. Long enough for Janacek's belated resumption of the Navy's building programs to produce a few new ships. Or, failing that, at least long enough for Pritchart to clearly and obviously become the aggressor in the wake of his own offers of "reasonable" compromise.

Neither of those things, he admitted to himself behind the mask of his outwardly confident features, was really likely. But his only alternatives were to play for the possibility, however remote, that he could pull one of them off or else to simply surrender everything he'd spent the last forty-six T-months trying to achieve.

He couldn't do that. Even running the very real risk of slipping back over into a brief, bloody clash with the Republic was better than that. Nor could he allow anything to divert his attention or his resources from the looming confrontation with Pritchart. Everything must be focused at the critical point, including the full resources of the Navy. Which meant all other problems, including whatever was happening in Silesia, must be relegated to a secondary or even tertiary level of priority. So people like Duchess Harrington were simply going to have to get by as best they could with the resources they already possessed, because Michael Janvier, Baron High Ridge, Prime Minister of the Star Kingdom of Manticore, refused to surrender without a fight.

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