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# Chapter Forty-Eight

"Excuse me, Sir."

Sir Edward Janacek looked up with an expression of intense irritation. His personal yeoman stood in the open door of his office, and the First Lord's irate expression headed rapidly towards thunderous. The man had been with him long enough to know better than to physically intrude into his office unannounced, especially when he was grappling with something like the latest report from a lunatic like Harrington.

"What?" he barked harshly enough to make the yeoman flinch. But it wasn't enough to send him scurrying in retreat, and Janacek's brows knit in a cumulonimbus frown.

"I'm very sorry to intrude, Sir," the yeoman said quickly, "but . . . That is, you . . . I mean, you have a visitor, Sir!"

"What in God's name are you babbling about?" Janacek demanded furiously. There was no one on his schedule this afternoon until his meeting at four o'clock with Simon Chakrabarti, and the yeoman knew it. He was the fumble-fingered idiot responsible for maintaining the First Lord's schedule!

"Sir," the yeoman said almost desperately, "Earl White Haven is here!"

Janacek's jaw dropped in disbelief as the yeoman vanished back out of the door like a Sphinxian chipmunk, darting into its burrow with a treecat in hot pursuit. The First Lord had just put his hands on his desk to shove himself up out of his chair when the office door opened again, and a tall, blue-eyed man in dress uniform, tunic ablaze with medal ribbons, stepped through it.

Janacek's dropped jaw closed with a beartrap-click, and the disbelief in his eyes turned into something much hotter as he took in the newcomer's appearance. White Haven had every right to appear at Admiralty House in uniform, and Janacek had no doubt at all that the sight of the four gold stars on the earl's collar and that glittering galaxy of ribbons explained his yeoman's failure to simply send the intruder about his business. Much as he wanted to, the First Lord really couldn't fault the man for that, and his jaw clenched even tighter as that same uniform's impact washed over him. It was a somewhat different emotion in his own case, because had they both been in uniform, his collar would have borne only three stars. And when last he'd been on active duty, it would have borne only two.

But that didn't matter in this office, he reminded himself, and instead of pushing himself fully to his feet, he dropped back into his chair. It was a deliberate refusal to give White Haven the courtesy of standing to greet him, and felt a stir of satisfaction as anger flickered in those ice-blue eyes.

"What do you want?" he half-snapped.

"Still wasting no courtesy on visitors, I see," White Haven observed.

"Visitors who want courtesy should know enough to go through my appointments yeoman," Janacek replied in that same, harsh voice.

"Who undoubtedly would have found all manner of reasons why you couldn't have squeezed in the time to meet with me."

"Maybe he would have," Janacek growled. "But if you think I would deliberately have refused to see you, maybe that should have suggested that you stay the hell away."

Hamish Alexander started to snap back, then made himself pause and draw a deep breath, instead. He wondered if Janacek even began to suspect what a childish, petulant appearance he presented. But it had always been that way where the two of them were concerned, so he could hardly pretend the First Lord's attitude was unexpected. And if he was going to be honest, Janacek had always brought out the very worst in him, as well. It was as if simply walking into the other man's presence was enough to transport them both back to a confrontation on a grammar school playground somewhere.

But at least White Haven was aware of that. That gave him a certain responsibility to at least try to act like an adult. And even though he felt deep in his bones that any sort of rational discussion of what brought him here was unlikely—to say the very least—it was also far too important for him to allow Janacek's temper to provoke his own.

"Look," he said after a moment in a reasonable tone, "we don't like each other. We never have, and we never will. I don't see any point in pretending otherwise, especially when there aren't any witnesses." He smiled thinly. "But I assure you, I wouldn't be here unless I thought it was sufficiently important to justify the sort of scene you and I usually seem to end up a part of whenever we meet."

"I'm sure a man of your well-known brilliance and intellect must have all sorts of things that need doing," and Janacek replied sarcastically. "What could possibly make me important enough for you to waste time in my office?"

Again, White Haven began a hot retort, only to bite it off.

"I do have any number of things I could be doing instead," he agreed. "None of them, however, are quite as important as the reason I'm here. If you'll give me ten minutes of your time without the two of us snarling at each other like a pair of playground bullies, perhaps we can deal with that particular concern and I can be on my way."

"I'm certainly in favor of anything which would produce that effect," Janacek snorted. He cocked back his chair, deliberately drawing attention to his failure to invite his "guest" to be seated. "What seems to be on your mind, My Lord?"

"Silesia," White Haven said shortly, eyes hard as Janacek kept him standing in front of his desk like some junior officer who'd been called on the carpet. The earl considered sitting down anyway and daring Janacek to respond, but instead he reminded himself yet again that one of them had to at least pretend to be an adult.

"Ah, yes, Silesia." Janacek smiled nastily. "Admiral Harrington's command."

His implication was crystal clear, and White Haven felt a fresh, white-hot spurt of anger. It was harder to strangle this one at birth, but he managed—barely—and simply stood there, cold eyes boring into the First Lord.

"Well," Janacek said finally, his tone irritable under the icy weight of the fabled Alexander glare, "what about Silesia?"

"I'm concerned about what the Republic may be up to out there," White Haven said flatly, and Janacek's face darkened in fury.

"And what, if I may ask, My Lord," he grated, "leads you to believe that the Republic is up to anything in Silesia?"

"Private correspondence," White Haven said briefly.

" 'Private correspondence' from Admiral Harrington, I presume." Janacek's eyes were hard as flint. "Correspondence divulging sensitive information to an officer who not only had no compelling security need to know but isn't even currently on active duty!"

"Security considerations don't come into it," White Haven retorted. "The information Duchess Harrington shared with me isn't classified and never has been. Even if it were, My Lord, I believe you would discover that all of my security clearances are still in effect. And that as a member of the Naval Affairs Committee of the House of Lords, I have a 'need to know' which transcends the normal uniformed structure of Her Majesty's Navy."

"Don't you split technical hairs with me, 'My Lord'!" Janacek glared.

"I'm not splitting hairs with you. Nor, as we're both well aware, does it really matter at this point whether or not the Duchess technically violated any security regulation. If you believe she did, the appropriate thing for you to do would be to file charges against her. I wouldn't recommend it, because you and I both know how that would end, but that decision is up to you. What matters right this instant, however, is what response you intend to make to her report."

"That's not your affair, My Lord," Janacek replied.

"You're in error," White Haven said flatly. "I realize you report to the Prime Minister, not directly to the Queen. But Her Majesty is also in possession of this information." Janacek's eyes went wide, and the earl continued in that same flat, almost robotic tone. "I'm here at her behest, as well as my own. If you doubt that, My Lord, I invite you to com Mount Royal Palace and ask her about it."

"How dare you?" Janacek rose at last, planting both knuckled fists on his desk and leaning over it. "How dare you attempt to blackmail me?!"

"Who said anything about blackmail?" White Haven demanded. "I simply informed you that the Queen also wishes to know what her Admiralty is prepared to do about the situation in Silesia."

"If she wants to know, there are proper channels through which she may inquire," Janacek snapped. "This isn't one of them!"

"Unfortunately," White Haven said icily, " 'proper channels' seem to be somewhat . . . constricted these days." He smiled again, his eyes cold. "Think of this as the Gordian knot and me as another Alexander, My Lord."

"Fuck you!" Janacek snarled. "Don't you dare come walking into my office and demand information from me! You may think you're God's gift to the fucking Navy, but to me you're just one more pissant admiral without a command!"

"I find myself singularly unimpressed by your view of me," White Haven replied contemptuously. "And I'm still waiting for an answer I can deliver to the Queen."

"Go to Hell," Janacek growled.

"Very well," White Haven said with deadly precision. "If that's your final word, I'll go and deliver it to Her Majesty. Who will then, I feel certain, call a news conference in which she will inform the press of precisely how forthcoming her First Lord of Admiralty was." His smile was colder than ever. "Somehow, My Lord, I doubt the Prime Minister will thank you."

He turned away, striding towards the door, and Janacek felt a sudden stab of panic. It wasn't enough to overcome his fury, but it was sharp enough to penetrate it.

"Wait," he said flatly, and White Haven paused and turned back to face him. "You have no right at all to demand an accounting from me, and Her Majesty is fully aware of the constitutional channels through which she should request any accounting. If, however, you're truly prepared to spew such sensitive matters into the media, regardless of their potential effect on the military security and diplomatic posture of the Star Kingdom, I suppose I have no alternative but to tell you what you want to know."

"We may differ on just what would be affected if I spoke to the newsies," White Haven said coldly. "However, other than that, I find myself unusually in agreement with you, My Lord."

"What, specifically, do you want to know?" Janacek grated.

"Her Majesty," White Haven stressed, "would like to know the Admiralty's official reaction to Duchess Harrington's report of Havenite Naval activity in Silesia?"

"At the moment, the Admiralty's official reaction is that the Sidemore Station commander's report contains far too little detail for any definitive conclusions to be drawn."

"Excuse me?" White Haven's eyebrows rose.

"All that we—or Admiral Harrington—know," Janacek retorted, "is that a single Republican destroyer engaged—or was engaged by—an armed merchant auxiliary of the Silesian Navy commanded by a half-pay Manticoran officer who was dismissed his ship for cause forty T-years ago. That virtually the entire crew of the destroyer was massacred in the ensuing action. And that the captain of the armed auxiliary in question handed over fragmentary records which he claimed to have obtained from the wrecked destroyer's computers."

White Haven stared at him, as if momentarily bereft of words. Then he shook himself almost visibly.

"Are you suggesting that Admiral Bachfisch fabricated this entire affair for some unknown Machiavellian reason of his own?" he demanded.

"I'm suggesting that at this moment we know absolutely nothing for certain," Janacek shot back. "I can't think of any reason why Bachfisch might have fabricated anything, but that doesn't mean I'm prepared to dismiss the possibility out of hand. The man's been out of Manticoran uniform for forty years, and he didn't exactly leave it voluntarily, did he? He fucked up by the numbers when he wore the Queen's uniform—under remarkably similar circumstances, I might add—and I see no reason to assume he didn't do the same thing here. And even if he didn't, he's undoubtedly still bitter over what happened to his career. That might make him an ideal conduit if someone wanted to deliberately plant disinformation on us."

"That's preposterous," White Haven snorted. "And even if he was inclined to do anything of the sort—even to the extent of voluntarily allowing both of his own legs to be shot off to lend authenticity to his efforts—Duchess Harrington and her staff evaluated the records and interviewed the surviving crew members independently."

"Yes, and sent a task group off to examine the star where this hypothetical 'Second Fleet' was supposedly stationed," Janacek retorted. "But she didn't find anything there, did she?"

"Which proves absolutely nothing," White Haven pointed out. "There are any number of reasons why a fleet ordered to remain covert might have shifted its base."

"Of course there are. And that's precisely what Theisman wants us to think."

"Theisman? Are you suggesting now that the Republic's Secretary of War deliberately sacrificed a destroyer and its entire crew just to convince us he was prepared to contemplate an act of war against us?"

"Of course not!" Janacek snapped. "He never intended for the destroyer to be damaged. But he did expect it to be spotted and followed—why else would he have openly sent two fleet destroyers to ostentatiously orbit the one planet in the entire sector where there was a Havenite diplomatic mission? In a star system where our patrol units call regularly?" The First Lord sneered. "If they were so damned determined to remain 'covert,' don't you think they could have found something just a bit less obtrusive than that?"

"And the purpose of allowing themselves to be spotted and followed?" White Haven asked, fascinated despite himself and despite his scalding anger.

"To convince us of exactly what Admiral Harrington was convinced of," Janacek said with the patience of someone speaking to a very small child. "Our relations with the Republic are deteriorating steadily. You know that as well as I do. And despite all of his public statements of confidence in his navy's abilities, Theisman isn't at all certain of his ability to stand up to us. So he sent his two destroyers off to Silesia with orders to draw our attention there in order to convince us he was sending forces to threaten Sidemore. Obviously what he wants is for us to divert still more of our strength to Silesia, thus weakening ourselves at the decisive point if the cease-fire should fail."

"I see." White Haven considered the First Lord in silence for several seconds, then shook his head. "Exactly how were his destroyers supposed to suggest all of this to us?"

"By being followed to an appropriate star somewhere—exactly as this Hecate was. Undoubtedly, they hoped to be picked up by one of our warships. If one of them had been, she would have 'suddenly' realized she was being trailed and broken away from the star she'd been to such trouble to bring to our attention. Our ship would have followed her until she either lost us or else returned to the Horus System 'for new orders.' In either case, when the incident was reported to Sidemore, Admiral Harrington and her staff could be relied upon to draw the proper conclusions.

"As it turned out, they were spotted and shadowed by what they thought was a typical Silesian merchant ship, and they thought they saw an even better way to get their disinformation into our hands. Obviously, they intended to board Bachfisch's ship, drop a few hints, and then turn her loose with stern orders not to go anywhere near the Marsh System. Of course any Silly merchant crew would immediately see the possibility of selling such information to us, which would have sent them straight off to Admiral Harrington!"

"And the data Admiral Bachfisch recovered from her computers?" White Haven asked.

"Strictly a fallback position," Janacek said confidently. "Hecate was never intended to be captured or destroyed, but it must have been apparent to their planners that their ship might be unfortunate enough to attract the attention of a cruiser or even a battlecruiser. With our compensator efficiency advantages, Hecate's ability to pull away would have been far from assured, so they briefed her crew with a cover story and planted a few ambiguous references to this 'Second Fleet' of theirs in her computers. They probably had it set up to look as if the crew had attempted to purge their database and failed to get everything dumped." He shrugged. "When they screwed up and misidentified Bachfisch's ship as a regular merchie, someone had time to go back to the fallback plan before he was killed."

"Do you seriously believe any of that?" White Haven asked almost conversationally, and Janacek swelled with fury.

"Of course I do!" He shook his head angrily. "Oh, I'm sure we have some of the details wrong, but there's no way—no way in the universe—Theisman would even contemplate genuinely sending a force as powerful as the one Harrington is postulating that far away from the decisive theater at a time like this! I don't doubt that their ops plan came apart on them. Certainly I don't believe they deliberately sacrificed an entire destroyer crew just to convince us their information was genuine! But the only thing that makes any sense is that this was intended as some elaborate diversionary effort."

"And you don't intend to be diverted by it, do you?"

"No, My Lord, I do not," Janacek said flatly, staring unyieldingly into White Haven's eyes.

"My Lord," White Haven said quietly, "haven't you even considered the other implications of this supposed diversionary effort of yours?"

"What 'other implications'?" Janacek demanded.

"If Duchess Harrington's belief that sizable Havenite forces have been sent to Silesia is, in fact, correct, then they can only be there for one purpose: to attack Sidemore Station and destroy her task force. If they did such a thing, it would be a clear act of war, and we would respond to it as such—everywhere, not just in Silesia. The implication is clearly that they're actively contemplating resuming hostilities, and if they're willing to do so in an area as far from our strategic center as Silesia, then they're certainly willing to do it somewhere closer to home, as well.

"Even if you assume this was no more than an effort to draw us into dispersing our forces, it certainly suggests they're planning active operations against us somewhere. Any dispersal we were drawn into as a result of this disinformation attempt you've postulated would be only temporary. If we found no other sign of their 'Second Fleet' within a few weeks—or, at most, a few months—then we'd begin recalling any reinforcements we'd sent. Once we did that, the balance of forces would revert to what it had been, and Theisman would know that as well as we did. Trust me, the man is an excellent strategist.

"So if the dispersal would be only temporary, I have to wonder why he should bother. Unless, during that temporary window of dispersal, he intended to attack us here."

"Make up your mind," Janacek said nastily. "You came in here prepared to demand that we send reinforcements to Sidemore. Now you're saying that if we did that, we'd be playing directly into Theisman's hands."

"I'm saying nothing of the sort," White Haven snapped. "I'm simply pointing out that even if your analysis were correct—which I don't for a moment believe it is—it only underscores the danger of a Havenite attack. If Duchess Harrington is correct, on the other hand, the danger isn't underscored; it's confirmed!"

"Tensions are undoubtedly running high," Janacek told him, biting off each word as if he were chewing an iron bar. "The danger of a resumption of hostilities is greater than it's been in quite some time. If you want me to concede that the interruption of our building programs was a mistake, then off the record, I will. However, nothing ONI has turned up convinces me that the Republican Navy is capable of meeting us in combat successfully."

"And if they don't agree with your analysis?"

"Then they may be stupid enough to find out the hard way."

"Will you at least put our system pickets and station commanders on a higher state of readiness and reinforce Trevor's Star?" White Haven demanded.

"Our system pickets and station commanders are always at a high state of readiness," Janacek shot back. "As for Trevor's Star, the system picket—as you're perfectly well aware—is already extremely powerful, and the terminus forts are online and fully ammunitioned. To further reinforce Third Fleet at this particular moment would only increase tensions between the Republic and the Star Kingdom without providing any practical increase in the system's security."

"So you're telling me that alerting our commanders and reinforcing Third Fleet are politically unacceptable options?"

"In essence, yes," Janacek said unflinchingly, and White Haven gazed at him for several silent seconds. It was obvious that the First Lord had no intention of being swayed, and finally, the earl shook his head.

"Do you know," he said in a conversational, almost pleasant tone, "if I hadn't heard it with my own ears I wouldn't have believed it was possible for you to get even stupider."

Janacek's already rage-darkened face turned an alarming shade of purple and his jaw worked, as if his mouth were independently trying to get out the words his infuriated brain couldn't quite wrap itself around. White Haven simply looked at him for two or three breaths, then shook his head again.

"Obviously, there's no point trying to talk sense into you," he said, his voice flat with cold contempt. "Good day."

And he strode out the office door before Janacek ever managed to find his voice once more.

* * *

"Edward, I think we need to seriously consider further reinforcing Sidemore."

"Out of the question!" Janacek snapped, and glowered at Admiral Chakrabarti, wondering just what the First Space Lord had heard about his "interview" with White Haven.

Chakrabarti only looked back at him levelly, and Janacek threw his hands up.

"Just where do you propose we find those reinforcements?" he demanded. "Especially after the note we just sent off to Pritchart? If she and Theisman are stupid enough to break off negotiations after they get it, we're going to need every hull we've got a lot closer to home than Silesia!"

"In that case," Chakrabarti said, "I think we need to draft new instructions for Duchess Harrington."

"What sort of 'new instructions'?" Janacek growled.

"Instructions to give the Andermani whatever the hell they want!" Chakrabarti shot back with highly unusual asperity.

"What?" Janacek stared at him in disbelief.

"I've been rereading Sternhafen's version of what happened in Zoraster," Chakrabarti told him. "It's obvious that it's a total fabrication. And his official rejection of Harrington's offer of the joint investigation is more of the same. In my opinion, the Empire's clearly setting the stage for it to demand major territorial concessions in Silesia. I believe the Emperor is prepared to go so far as risking open conflict with the Star Kingdom in order to get those concessions and that he's using this incident to bludgeon us into acquiescing rather than risk still further escalations in the level of confrontation. In fact, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if the rising tensions between us and the Republic are leading him to deduce—correctly, as it happens—that we're not in a position to reinforce Sidemore."

"But according to everything Francis has been able to dig up, the Andies are still redeploying," Janacek protested.

"With all due respect for Francis," Chakrabarti said in a not particularly respectful tone, "I think he's wrong. Or, rather, I think the Andies are probably a lot further along in their redeployment than he's been assuming. It's the only explanation I can see for the way Sternhafen jumped on this Zoraster Incident. And then there's this entire Hecate affair. I know," he waved a hand in the air. "Francis believes the whole thing was intended as a diversionary effort. Maybe it was, but maybe it wasn't, either. Whatever the Republic might be up to, however, doesn't change the situation where the Andies are concerned. Except, of course, that if Harrington's right, and there is a Havenite fleet screwing around out there, then the threat situation is even worse.

"I reiterate, Edward. In my opinion as First Space Lord, we either have to reinforce Sidemore significantly, or else we have to draft new instructions for the station commander, reducing the scope of what we expect her to do with the forces she has."

"I don't think that's politically possible," Janacek said slowly. "Not right now. Not when we're already in such a delicate position with the Republic. Even if it's not exactly what Theisman has been trying to convince us to do, it would be too great a concession of weakness."

"It would be an admission of reality," Chakrabarti replied crisply.

"No, it's out of the question," Janacek said firmly.

"In that case," Chakrabarti said, "I see no option but to tender my resignation as First Space Lord."

Janacek stared at him in utter disbelief.

"You can't be serious!"

"I'm afraid I can, Edward." Chakrabarti shook his head. "I won't pretend I'm happy about it, because I'm not. But I've been telling you for months that we've got too many forest fires. In my opinion, we have got to reduce our obligations and consolidate our forces. In fact, I deeply regret having earlier supported such deep reductions in our naval strength."

"It's a bit late to be bringing up that particular piece of after-the-fact wisdom!" Janacek snapped.

"Yes, it is," Chakrabarti agreed. "And given what we knew at the time we decided to make them, I'd probably have made the same decision today. What I meant was simply that because of those reductions we lack the strength to even contemplate a two-front war. And that's precisely what we're going to be looking at if the Andies have decided to push and we simultaneously stumble back into hostilities with the Republic. I don't know about you, but I am not going to bear the responsibility for finding ourselves in that position. So either the Government is going to have to decide to alter Duchess Harrington's instructions so we can actually bring some of her strength home, or else I'm very much afraid that you're going to have to find a new First Space Lord."

"But—"

"No, Edward," Chakrabarti interrupted firmly. "We need to consolidate our strength. Either we call the bulk of Task Force Thirty-Four home from Sidemore, or else we find the strength to reinforce our system pickets somewhere else. Or else I resign."

"But there isn't anywhere else!"

"There's always Grayson," Chakrabarti said flatly.

"No! No, I refuse to beg those neobarb bastards for help!"

"I know you don't trust them, and I know you don't like them. Hell, I don't like them myself!" Chakrabarti barked a laugh. "But they've got the naval strength to reinforce our pickets in the occupied systems sufficiently to give the Republic pause . . . if they'll do it."

Janacek's jaw clamped, and he glared furiously at the First Space Lord. The confrontation with White Haven had left his emotions lacerated and raw. It had also left him determined to prove once and for all to that superior, sanctimonious, supercilious son-of-a-bitch that he wasn't fucking infallible after all. And that he and his precious "Salamander" weren't going to call the tune for the Admiralty's piping the way the two of them had when Mourncreek was First Lord.

And now this. All very well for Chakrabarti to suggest at this late date that they go crawling to Benjamin Mayhew and his precious High Admiral Matthews. He wasn't the one who'd had to deal with the insufferable, arrogant, religious fanatic barbarians and put them in their places! No, that had been Janacek's job. So of course it was easy for Chakrabarti to propose that the First Lord eat dirt and beg Grayson to save their bacon now!

"Just where did this particular brainstorm come from all of a sudden?" he demanded icily.

"It's not 'all of a sudden,' " Chakrabarti replied. "I admit that I haven't broached the possibility of calling on Grayson with you before this, but you've certainly been aware of my concern over how thinly we're spread. Harrington's report may have galvanized my concerns, but I've been thinking about this particular possible solution for two or three months now, particularly in light of my correspondence with Admiral Kuzak."

"Kuzak!" Janacek spat out the name like a fishbone. Theodosia Kuzak was the one senior fleet commander he'd been unable to get rid of. He'd had to choose between her or White Haven, given the way the citizens of San Martin worshiped the pair of them. White Haven might have liberated the system, but Kuzak had commanded the fleet which protected Trevor's Star for almost ten T-years. He'd wanted desperately to fire her right along with her precious friend White Haven, but High Ridge had overruled him. The Prime Minister had been unwilling to expend the political capital involved in firing both of the flag officers the San Martinos held in such high regard.

"Yes, Kuzak," Chakrabarti acknowledged. "That's one reason I haven't discussed the possibility with you. I knew anything she approved of would automatically . . . irritate you. But she's got a point, Edward. We're in trouble. How we got there is really immaterial at the moment in practical terms. Getting out of it is what matters, and if the Graysons are prepared to reinforce us, then I think we need to very seriously consider asking them to do just that."

"No," Janacek repeated in a somewhat calmer tone. "And not just because I don't trust the Graysons or Kuzak. I don't," he admitted, "and for good reason, I think. But leaving that completely aside, asking Grayson to send additional units to back up our pickets at this point could only be seen by the Republic as a provocative move."

"Provocative?"

"Of course it would be provocative! You're talking about strengthening our naval presence in the very systems whose possession is under dispute. How could that not be seen as a provocative gesture at this time?"

"Unless I'm very much mistaken, the diplomatic note we've just sent them could certainly be considered provocative, Edward!"

"Not in the same fashion. One is only a matter of diplomacy; the other is a matter of actual military movements. I think there's a very distinct difference between the two, myself."

"I don't think you and I are going to agree on this," Chakrabarti said after a moment. "So let me ask you one more time. Will you agree to ask the Prime Minister to modify our Silesian policy so that we can bring sizable portions of Task Force Thirty-Four home, or else to explore the possibility of seeking Grayson reinforcements for our system pickets?"

"No," Janacek said flatly.

"Very well." Chakrabarti stood. "In that case, I submit my resignation, effective immediately."

"You can't do this!"

"Yes, I can, Edward."

"You'll be ruined!"

"Perhaps I will. It's certainly possible. But in my judgment, it's far more likely that I'd be 'ruined' if I simply sat by and watched the shuttle crash."

"Oh?" Janacek looked scornfully at the taller man. "And have you discussed this with your brother-in-law and your cousin?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," Chakrabarti said, and Janacek blinked at him in astonishment. "Akahito made more or less the same arguments you've just made. In fact, his advice was that I just keep my mouth shut and do whatever I was told to do. I can't say I was too surprised by that. But Adam had a somewhat different viewpoint."

Janacek realized he was gaping at the First Space Lord and commanded his mouth to close. It wasn't easy. Like Chakrabarti, he was hardly surprised that Akahito Fitzpatrick had advised his cousin not to rock the boat. The Duke of Gray Water had been one of High Ridge's closest political allies for decades, after all. But Chakrabarti's brother-in-law, Adam Damakos, was another matter entirely.

"And just what did Mr. Damakos have to say about it?" The First Lord asked warily.

"I'm not sure it would be appropriate for me to discuss that with you," Chakrabarti replied. "I'll simply say that Adam is . . . increasingly less enamored of the current Government, despite New Kiev's and MacIntosh's presence in it."

"What?" Janacek laughed scornfully. "He prefers that bleeding heart, mealy mouthed, babbling idiot Montaigne?"

"As a matter of fact, I believe he does," Chakrabarti said. "In fact, he's not the only Liberal MP who seems to me to be leaning in that direction. But what matters in this instance is that he's the ranking Liberal member of the Naval Affairs Committee in the Commons. That means he's considerably better informed on the realities of our naval posture than Akahito is, and his judgment is much the same as mine. We have too many responsibilities and too few hulls to meet them all. Either we find the extra hulls, or we reduce the responsibilities. Those are our only two options, Edward. And if you can't agree with me on that, then you and I have no business working together."

"Very well," Janacek grated. "Your resignation will be accepted before the end of the day. I trust that I need not remind you of the provisions of the Official Secrets Act."

"No, you most certainly don't," Chakrabarti replied stiffly. "I'll keep my mouth shut about the privileged aspects of my knowledge. When the newsies ask me why I've resigned, I'll use that old standby about personalities that just don't mesh smoothly. But trust me, Edward. If you don't do something about this, I'm very much afraid that your concerns about why people may think I resigned are going to be the least of your problems."

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