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# Chapter Thirty-Five

Elaine Descroix had never really enjoyed her appearances in the House of Lords at the best of times. Which might have struck some observers as being just a little bit odd, since the upper chamber of the Star Kingdom's parliament was the logical spiritual home of the defenders of the status quo to which the current government was so devoted. But although the Descroix family was well ensconced among the wealthiest upper crust of Manticoran society, its connections with the true aristocracy were tenuous, at best. And Elaine, who had married into the family, was even more tenuously connected than that, especially since Sir John Descroix's death fourteen T-years before. She'd never seen any reason to replace the deceased husband who'd been her original passport to the stratified heights of Manticoran society, and most people had forgotten that she was a relative newcomer to it. Yet despite the outward assurance with which she rubbed elbows with the most nobly born, neither she—nor they—ever quite forgot that she was an interloper in their territory.

In many ways, that sense of inherent inferiority, by birth, at least, explained a great deal of the ambition which had driven her so far in her quest for political power. It was one of the more bitter ironies of her current position that the coalition to which she belonged was absolutely dedicated to preserving a political balance in which Elaine Descroix could never hold the one post she most hungered to hold: the premiership. Unless, of course, she wound up enobled in recognition of her selfless service to the Star Kingdom.

Not, she reflected, that Michael Janvier would nominate her for a title if he wanted to hang onto the Prime Minister's residence and had a single gram of sense.

None of which made her feel any happier about the prospect of today's session in the Lords. Unfortunately, there was no way to avoid it. That pain in the ass William Alexander and his even greater pain in the ass of a brother had put Eloise Pritchart's speech and the general state of the ongoing negotiations with the Republic of Haven on the Official Questions list for the upper house. Which meant someone from the Government had no option under the unwritten portion of the Constitution but to appear before the Lords to be suitably grilled.

And that someone, whether she herself was a member of the Lords or not, was the Foreign Secretary.

Now she listened to the boring, droning formalities of her introduction by the Speaker and drew a deep mental breath in preparation for the coming ordeal.

"And so," the Speaker wound up at last, "it is my pleasure to yield the floor to the Honorable Foreign Secretary. Madame Secretary?"

He turned to her with a smile she suspected must be at least as false as the one with which she responded, and she stood and crossed to the combination lectern and data console provided for those called to testify before the House.

"Thank you, Mr. Speaker," she said graciously, then turned to look out over the tiers of seats. "And may I also thank the noble members of this House for permitting me to appear before them."

She produced another of her patented, gentle smiles and then spent a few seconds arranging a dozen or so old-fashioned hardcopy note cards before her. They were purely nonfunctional props, but she'd long since learned to use them as a delaying tactic, something to shuffle through as if checking her facts while she actually considered exactly how to respond to a particularly sensitive question.

In the end, however, she had to stop playing with the pieces of paper and face up to the reason she was here.

"As the noble members are aware," she began, "this is Questions Day. And because the first Question on the List is the state of the Star Kingdom's foreign policy, it seemed most appropriate to the Government for the Foreign Secretary to appear before you to respond. I await your pleasure."

There was silence for a few seconds, and then the blinking green light which indicated that someone sought recognition from the floor lit. Inevitably, it was above the White Haven cadet seat.

"I recognize Lord Alexander," she said in a voice whose pleasant tone fooled no one in the chamber.

"I thank the Honorable Secretary." Alexander's tone probably fooled even fewer people than her own had. He paused for a moment, then continued. "Madame Secretary. In a recent speech before both houses of the Congress of the Republic of Haven, President Eloise Pritchart announced that her administration intended to press the Star Kingdom's negotiators for concrete progress in the peace talks between the Star Kingdom and the Republic. She stated at that time that new proposals from the Republic would be forthcoming, and the implication of her speech appeared to be that she intended to demand a prompt response from us. Have those proposals, in fact, been received? And if so, of what do they consist and what response does the Government propose to make to them?"

Descroix suppressed an urge to shuffle through her note cards. It wasn't as if Alexander's questions came as any sort of a surprise.

"I am, of course, familiar with the text of President Pritchart's speech, My Lord," she began carefully. "While I would agree that the general tone of her remarks was more assertive and potentially confrontational than we might have wished, I'm not certain they indicated that she intended to 'demand' anything from us. There must, of course, be a certain degree of impatience on the part of anyone whose government has been engaged for so long, and with so little success, on the negotiation of a treaty to end such a bloody conflict. Her Majesty's Government is fully aware of the extent to which this must be true for the Republic of Haven, which, after all, stands in the weaker position in those negotiations. Nor are the members of Her Majesty's Government immune to such impatience in their own right. Unfortunately, there remain fundamental points of disagreement between the Star Kingdom and the Republic of Haven which continue to preclude the prompt and amicable settlement of our differences which I am certain both governments earnestly desire. President Pritchart's speech undoubtedly reflected the frustration all of us feel."

She smiled again. Alexander did not smile back, and her own expression stiffened ever so slightly.

"In response to your first question, My Lord, Her Majesty's Government is in receipt of a communique transmitted to us from President Pritchart through the offices of Secretary of State Giancola. I would not characterize its contents as a 'demand,' however. Certainly, they constitute a body of proposals to which President Pritchart obviously expects Her Majesty's Government to respond, but the term 'demand' implies a far greater degree of confrontationalism than is contained in President Pritchart's note.

"The exact nature of the proposals contained in her note is somewhat sensitive," she continued, edging very carefully into potentially murky waters. "The nature of such complex, ongoing negotiations, particularly those in which feelings have indeed, upon occasion, run high on both sides, demands a somewhat greater degree of confidentiality than might otherwise be the case. Her Majesty's Government craves the indulgence of this House and requests that that confidentiality be respected in this case."

"While I fully appreciate the need to maintain confidentiality under some circumstances, Madame Secretary," Alexander replied, "I find it somewhat difficult to believe these circumstances require it. These negotiations have been ongoing for more than four T-years. The newsfaxes have covered every aspect of them in minute detail. Unless President Pritchart's note contains some new and total departure from the Republic's previous positions, I cannot see any legitimate need to conceal her 'proposals' from the members of this House. After all," he allowed himself a wintery smile, "she already knows what they are."

Descroix found it even more difficult not to play with her note cards this time. Under the unwritten but ironbound constitutional precedents which governed the Official Questions List, she could refuse to answer Alexander's questions only if she were prepared to assert that the security of the Star Kingdom required that she do so. That option was always available to her, but while there might be one peer who would be stupid enough to believe her claim was anything other than a desperate political maneuver, there couldn't possibly be two of them. And if she invoked security concerns, then she effectively confirmed that Pritchart's "proposals" did, in fact, constitute a major escalation in the tension between the two star nations.

There was, however, an appeal which should remove her from the horns of this particular dilemma without resorting to that dangerous alternative.

"I regret that Her Majesty's Government must find itself in disagreement with you on this point, My Lord," she said firmly. "In the Government's opinion, and in my own, as Foreign Secretary, the best interests of the Star Kingdom and our hope for progress in our negotiations with the Republic of Haven would not be well served by a violation of the confidentiality of the negotiating process. I must, therefore, appeal to the judgment of the House at large, praying that its noble members will sustain my position and that of Her Majesty's Government."

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the House," the Speaker announced, "the Honorable Secretary craves your indulgence and asks you to sustain her in declining further specific response to the noble member's Question. Please indicate your pleasure on this matter."

Descroix stood calmly, her expression confident, as the members of the House entered their votes into their own consoles. It didn't take long, and then the Speaker looked up from the display which tallied them before him.

"Ladies and Gentlemen of the House," he said, "you have indicated your pleasure. The vote is three hundred and seventy-three in support of the Honorable Secretary's position and three hundred and ninety-one opposed, with twenty-three abstentions. The Honorable Secretary's position is not sustained."

Descroix stiffened. Several decades of political experience allowed her to maintain her calm expression, but she felt herself pale in dismay. In the entire four-plus T-years of the High Ridge Government, the House of Lords had never failed to sustain the Government when it declined to answer an Official Question. The same could not be said in the Commons, but the Lords had been a bastion of solid support, and she'd expected it to sustain the government today, as well.

The fact that it had chosen not to left her with no option but to answer or flatly refuse on the basis of national security. She could do that, but it would strip the Government of any cover of mature, considered support from the House of Lords at large. That was bad enough, but the vote totals were even worse. The number of abstentions was a sufficiently unpleasant shock, but the Opposition in the Lords could normally count on no more than three hundred and fifty votes. Which meant that at least sixty peers upon whose support the Government usually could have firmly relied had either abstained or actively supported the Opposition.

She stood there for a moment, making certain she remained firmly in command of her voice, then made herself smile at Alexander.

"If it is not the pleasure of the House to sustain the Government's position, then, of course, I am at your disposal, My Lord."

"I thank you for that gracious acknowledgment, Madame Secretary," Alexander replied, with a small bow. "In that case, may I renew my request that you share President Pritchart's 'proposals' with this House?"

"Certainly, My Lord. First, President Pritchart notes that, from the beginning of the negotiation process, the position of the Star Kingdom in relation to Trevor's Star has been that . . ."

* * *

Elaine Descroix stormed into the conference room. Her normal, benign expression was notably in abeyance, and Michael Janvier hid a mental wince at the ferocity of the scowl she turned upon the waiting members of the working Cabinet as she slammed through the door.

Despite his own membership in the House of Lords, the Prime Minister had decided that prudent tactics required him to be unavoidably detained on official business rather than attend the session Descroix had just endured. Had he been there, and had the session gone poorly—as, in fact, it had—then he might have found himself, as Prime Minister, drawn into responding to the Opposition, as well. Under the circumstances, that was not an acceptable situation. Descroix, as a mere Foreign Secretary, could get away with evasions a Prime Minister could not. And ultimately, a Foreign Secretary was expendable. He could always request her resignation from her current office if some minor prevarication came home to roost or if a sacrificial victim were required to propitiate the newsies. Her position in the Progressive Party would make it necessary to find her another Cabinet level post if he did, but such reorganizations were scarcely unheard of.

The fact that he hadn't attended the session, however, hadn't prevented him from monitoring it from his office. Which meant he understood exactly why Descroix looked ready to strangle Opposition peers with her bare hands.

And, he thought mordantly, she'd probably just as soon throttle some of our peers, for that matter.

"Hello, Elaine," he said as she stalked across to her chair at the conference table.

She snarled something which might have been interpreted as a greeting, jerked out her chair, and flung herself into it.

"I regret that you've had such an unpleasant morning," High Ridge continued, "and I deeply appreciate your efforts on the Government's behalf. I mean that sincerely."

"You'd damned well better appreciate them!" Descroix half-snapped. "Jesus! And you'd damned well better have a long heart-to-heart talk with Green Vale, too!"

Jessica Burke, Countess of Green Vale, was the Government Whip in the Lords. That post was far from a sinecure in a coalition of such diverse ideologies as that of the current government, and everyone in the conference room knew it. Nonetheless, High Ridge reflected, it was undoubtedly fortunate that Green Vale wasn't present at the moment.

"I assure you that I'll be speaking with her," he said mildly after a moment. "In all fairness, however, I feel confident she did all that could have been done under the circumstances."

"Oh?" Descroix glowered at him. "And what sort of Whip doesn't even warn us when we're likely to lose a vote like that?"

"The margin was only eighteen votes," High Ridge pointed out. "That's barely two percent of the members actually present."

"But the total shift was sixty-three votes, counting the abstentions," she pointed out in venomous response. "And by my math, that's over eight percent. Which doesn't even count the thirty-seven members of the House who managed to not even be there in the first place." Her eyes would have sent daggers through the heart of anyone less stoutly armored by his own sense of who he was than High Ridge.

"Admittedly, it was a most unfortunate occurrence," the Prime Minister conceded. "All I meant to indicate was that the margin of votes actually cast was close enough that I believe it would be unfair to fault Jessica for failing to realize ahead of time that the House wouldn't vote to sustain."

"Then why the hell do we have a Whip in the first place?" she demanded.

He didn't respond to the obviously rhetorical question, and, after a moment, she shrugged in petulant acknowledgment of its pettiness.

"At any rate," she went on after a moment, "I don't see any way we can regard today's fiasco as anything but a potentially serious setback, Michael."

"A setback, certainly," he agreed. "Precisely how serious it may prove is another question, however."

"Don't fool yourself," she said flatly. "Alexander and White Haven were both out for blood . . . and New Dijon wasn't any damned help, either. Goddamned Liberal hypocrite!"

High Ridge didn't manage to conceal his wince this time. Fortunately, the Chancellor of the Exchequer wasn't present. It had taken a little creative scheduling on his part to ensure that she would be otherwise occupied meeting with the Chairman of the Bank of Manticore and the Board of the Royal Interstellar Development Fund at the exact time he was "forced" to schedule this meeting. He strongly suspected that New Kiev knew exactly why he'd done it, and the fact that she hadn't protested even mildly suggested even more to him. On the other hand, she'd undoubtedly managed to assuage her own conscience by reflecting that her good friend and fellow Liberal Sir Harrison MacIntosh would be present to deputize for her and see to it that their party's interests were represented. Which he was. And at the moment, he looked almost as unhappy with Descroix's characterization of the Earl of New Dijon as New Kiev would have looked.

Not that High Ridge had any personal quibble with Descroix on that particular point. New Dijon had always been careful to distance himself from the current government. That hadn't meant he was unaware of which side of his bread was buttered, however, and while he'd been careful to maintain his public stance of independent thought, his actual voting record had been another matter.

But today had been different. The fact that William Alexander and his brother would lead the attack had been as inevitable as the next sunrise, and no one had been surprised when a dozen other Opposition peers piled on with their own pointed questions. But three of the Independent peers who had routinely supported the Government had joined the Opposition in indicating serious concern over the Republic's new, more aggressive negotiating stance . . . and so had New Dijon.

"Actually," the Prime Minister said after a moment, "New Dijon's position may work out in our favor."

"Excuse me?" Descroix looked at him incredulously, and he shrugged.

"I don't say that's what he had in mind, but the fact that he publicly 'took us to the woodshed,' as my grandfather used to put it, could actually help us out down the road. As far as the newsfaxes are concerned, he's indicated his independence of thought and willingness to speak his mind. And the questions he asked were actually on the mild side, you know. So he's positioned himself to act as a sort of buffer without doing us any real additional harm. Which means that if he later expresses himself as moderately concerned and yet confident in Her Majesty's Government's handling of the negotiations, his statement will carry even more weight because of his earlier doubts."

"Do you honestly believe that's what he had in mind?" Descroix demanded in obvious disbelief, and High Ridge shrugged again.

"Personally, I doubt it," he conceded. "His support, however indirect, has always been shakiest where our foreign policy was concerned, you know. I think, however, that he's clearly indicated his awareness of the consequences for the authority of the House of Lords if this Government should fall. So I wouldn't be surprised if his own party leadership was able to convince him of the necessity of supporting us against this particular attack. Wouldn't you agree, Harrison?"

He looked at MacIntosh, and the Home Secretary scowled. But then, obviously against his will, he nodded slowly.

"I'm sure," the Secretary of Trade put in, "that the Earl will be . . . open-minded if we approach him properly."

Everyone at the table glanced in the direction of the Earl of North Hollow with varying degrees of openness. Interesting, High Ridge thought. He hadn't realized the North Hollow Files might contain anything useful for influencing New Dijon.

"However that may work out in the end," Descroix went on after a moment, her voice slightly less acid, "we got hurt today. There's no point pretending otherwise."

"I wish you were wrong," High Ridge said. She wasn't, of course. Alexander had hammered away at the exact nature of the Pritchart "proposals" with merciless energy. Descroix had managed to avoid simply handing over the note from Secretary of State Giancola, which had at least allowed her to paraphrase the taut, uncompromising way in which some of those proposals had been phrased. But nothing she'd been able to do had been sufficient to conceal the fact that the Republic of Haven had, indeed, taken a much harder line. It was painfully obvious that Eloise Pritchart was done responding to Manticoran proposals. She clearly intended to put her own demands on the table and insist that Manticore respond to them, instead.

That had been quite bad enough, but then Alexander's insufferable brother had dived into the fray. What, he had asked, was the Government's view of the effect the Republican Navy's newly revealed combat capabilities was likely to have on the future course of the negotiations?

Descroix had insisted that the consequences of the Republic's naval strength would be minimal, particularly in light of the steps the Government had already taken to offset the so far unproven increases in Haven's capabilities. It had been an unfortunate position for her to maintain, in some ways, given White Haven's earlier insistence that the Government's naval reductions were dangerously unsound. Yet it had also been the only one she could possibly take, and so she'd done her best to defend what was at best a weak position.

She had not come off well in the confrontation.

Yet for all that, High Ridge reminded himself, the Government's position in the Lords almost certainly remained sound. At least fifteen or twenty of the peers who'd managed to find reasons to be elsewhere during today's session could be counted upon in a pinch to vote to sustain the Government. They'd absented themselves to avoid potential embarrassment, perhaps, but like New Dijon, they knew where their own interests ultimately lay. And they'd actually lost even fewer of the Independent peers on the vote to sustain Descroix than he might have expected, under the circumstances.

"I think you handled Alexander about as well as anyone could have," he told her after a moment, and it was probably true. Under the circumstances, no one could have prevented the Opposition leader from making an unfortunate amount of political capital out of the situation, yet Descroix had managed to at least somewhat blunt his attacks.

"Do you?" she asked, her mouth twisting as if she'd bitten into something spoiled. "I wish I could say the same where his asshole of a brother was concerned!"

High Ridge grimaced, partly over her language, but far more because he agreed with her assessment. White Haven had hurt them on the military preparedness issue. Possibly hurt them badly, although that remained to be seen.

"Tell me, Edward," Descroix went on, turning her scowl upon Janacek. "How would you have responded to his little inquisition?"

"I've already had to do that, thank you," Janacek said sourly. "This is the first time you've had to deal with it, but we haven't been quite that fortunate over at Admiralty House."

"Well, perhaps if you'd seen it coming and managed to give any of us any warning," she said icily, "it wouldn't have been quite so embarrassing for you. Or for the rest of us, either."

"And perhaps if anyone at the Foreign Office had been awake enough to warn us that Pritchart was going to start issuing demands when you'd assured us you were completely in control of the negotiating process, that wouldn't have embarrassed us, either!" Janacek shot back.

"Which wouldn't have mattered if they hadn't managed to sneak their fleet increases past you," Descroix rejoined hotly. "Without having improved their military position, they wouldn't have had the gall to take this sort of high-handed tone with us!"

"I'm not as sure of that as you seem to be," Janacek growled. "And another thing, I'm getting tired—"

"That will be enough." High Ridge didn't quite raise his voice, but its hard edge cut through the burgeoning quarrel like a knife, and Janacek closed his mouth. That didn't keep him from bestowing a final glare on Descroix, who returned it with interest, but at least it shut them both up.

"I think," the Prime Minister continued, "that we're all in agreement that our position today is weaker than it was a few months ago." He shrugged. "That sort of thing happens in politics, and the same trends that are working against us right now may well turn around and work in our favor once the current furor's had an opportunity to quiet down. After all, the Opposition has been crying wolf for so long that a substantial portion of the public is tired of hearing it. At the moment, Alexander and his crowd may have managed to engender a certain degree of concern, possibly even panic. But if we can keep a lid on the situation, that concern will begin to fade into a 'business as usual' attitude. That's also the nature of politics.

"The point to which we ought to be turning our attention is just how we go about keeping that lid in place. And to be completely frank, Edward, I think the public is more exercised over the potential increases in the Havenites' naval power than over the exact language of diplomatic notes."

"I know it," Janacek conceded.

"And how do you suggest we go about addressing that concern?"

"Admiral Jurgensen and I have been focusing closely on that very question, I assure you," the First Lord replied. "As I told you when the existence of the new Havenite ships of the wall first came out, what really matters more than the ships themselves is the technology and sophistication of the weapons and defensive systems they mount. With that in mind, Admiral Jurgensen has ordered an exhaustive analysis of all the information in our possession. That includes direct reports from our own naval attaches, reports from agent networks in the Republic, technical intelligence, and even Havenite news accounts. The consensus of his analysts is that Theisman's 'new navy' is probably a lot less impressive than he wants us to believe."

"Really?" High Ridge leaned back and raised one eyebrow.

"Really. As I say, the key consideration is the capabilities of the hardware that goes inside the ships. Now, admittedly, there's no way short of actually physically examining those vessels to be positive about what those capabilities are, but there are certain significant indicators. Probably the strongest single one of those is the fact that they haven't shown anyone a single CLAC. It's extremely unlikely—indeed, according to BuWeaps it's virtually impossible—that the Havenite tech base is capable of matching the range performance of Ghost Rider, much less the fire control and electronic warfare capabilities of our new systems. Don't forget, we've had plenty of experience with examining captured Havenite equipment, so we know exactly what they had in their first line units at the time of the cease-fire. Projecting from that basis, and bearing in mind that Havenite R&D has never been able to match our own, their SD(P)s are almost certainly shorter ranged and much easier to kill than our own are. Substantially more dangerous than any of the classes they had in service prior to the cease-fire, certainly, but not in a class with our own SD(P)s.

"The fact that they haven't put any CLACs into service is another indicator. We certainly showed them what the new LACs could accomplish, so, logically, they must have been working all out in an effort to duplicate those capabilities. Obviously, they've so far failed to do so. If they'd succeeded, Theisman would have announced that, as well. But many of the technologies required to produce Ghost Rider also have applications in the production of the new LACs. So if they don't have the one, it seems reasonable to assume they don't have the other."

He shrugged.

"I'm not certain how best to go about making the point to the man in the street, but it's becoming increasingly apparent to those of us at Admiralty House that to a large extent, this 'new navy' of theirs is a paper hexapuma."

"You're confident of that?" Descroix asked, and her voice was no longer acrimonious. Instead, she regarded Janacek narrowly, her eyes alight with interest.

"Obviously I can't make any promises, Elaine. As I said, without the opportunity to actually examine the physical hardware involved, all we can do is draw inferences and ask what we believe are significant questions. With that proviso, though, yes. I'm confident that Secretary Theisman has substantially overstated—or, rather, drawn certain so-called naval experts of our own into overstating—the actual combat power of the Republican Navy."

"I see." Descroix propped an elbow on the left arm of her chair and rested her chin on an upraised left hand. She sat like that for several seconds, thinking hard, then shrugged.

"I see," she repeated. "And I also see what you mean about the difficulty of getting that sophisticated analysis across to the average voter. Especially when someone like White Haven is busy beating the panic drum at the same time."

"Exactly," Janacek said sourly. "The public still thinks that sanctimonious son-of-a-bitch walks on water. No one's interested in listening to mere logic or something as unimportant as evidence when he shouts that the end is near every time he opens his overrated mouth!"

Sir Edward Janacek might not be the most disinterested observer where Hamish Alexander was concerned, High Ridge reflected. But that didn't mean he hadn't put his finger on exactly what White Haven had been doing to them ever since Theisman's announcement became public knowledge in the Star Kingdom.

"I'm afraid you're right," Descroix said, and this time her voice was almost completely back to normal and her expression was thoughtful, no longer angry. "But if we're not going to be able to get that across, anyway, perhaps we shouldn't waste the effort trying to."

"What do you mean?" High Ridge asked her.

"I mean we should certainly go on trying to calm public opinion by emphasizing the naval precautions we've taken," she replied. "By all means, let's keep reminding them of the ships we've authorized the yards to resume construction on. And while I'm not sure it would be a good idea to openly denigrate the Havenites' technological capabilities—that might sound too self-serving—I think it would be entirely appropriate for us to emphasize our own capabilities. Let's remind the voters that we've held the technological edge from the beginning. If we do that with sufficient confidence, at least some of them are going to draw the proper inference.

"But even more importantly, I think the way we conduct ourselves is going to be at least as important as anything we say. If we seem to be acting as if we're afraid, then any effort on our part to reassure the public is going to be futile. But if we make it obvious that we aren't afraid—that we remain confident of our ability to handle the Havenites diplomatically, or even militarily, if it comes down to it—then that message is going to soak into the public awareness, as well."

"So what exactly are you proposing?" High Ridge asked.

"I'm proposing that we make it clear, both here at home and in Nouveau Paris, that we don't intend to be bullied," Descroix said flatly. "If Pritchart wants to get confrontational, then we need to push back just as hard as she pushes us. From what Edward's just said, it sounds very much to me as if she's basically trying to run a bluff."

"I haven't said that they haven't made some substantial improvements in their war fighting ability, Elaine," Janacek cautioned.

"No. But you have said you're confident that whatever improvements they've made, we still have the edge."

She made the statement an almost-question, and he nodded.

"Very well, then. If you can be confident of that without actually examining their hardware, then surely they have to be aware of it as well. After all, they know exactly what they have and also exactly what Eighth Fleet did to them before the cease-fire. That's what I meant when I said I think Pritchart is essentially bluffing. She certainly isn't going to be stupid enough to want to go back to war with us when she can't be confident of achieving a military victory. So we call her bluff.

"I'm not proposing that we issue any ultimatums," she went on quickly, reassuring the incipient alarm she saw on one or two faces. "I'm simply proposing that we stand firm. We won't demand any fresh concessions on their part; we'll simply refuse to be panicked into conceding the concessions they've demanded from us. Once the public realizes we feel sufficiently confident to hold our position and recognizes the patience with which we're prepared to wait out this diplomatic tantrum Pritchart is throwing, the sort of borderline panic Alexander and White Haven are working so hard to generate will die a natural death."

She raised her right hand, palm uppermost, and made a throwing-away gesture.

"You may be right," High Ridge said. "In fact, I think you probably are. But it's likely that things are going to be pretty unpleasant in the short term, whatever we do."

"Like you said earlier, Michael," she pointed out, "politics ebb and flow. As long as Green Vale and the party whips can hold our majority in the Lords, there isn't really anything Alexander and his crowd can do except view with alarm. And when the current 'crisis' passes without Armageddon actually descending upon us, their efforts to generate panic will turn around and bite them in the opinion polls.

"And that," she said with a thin, cold smile, "will make all of this worthwhile."

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