"Frankly, our purely military options are limited at this point," Janacek said. "There are several things we could do, but most of them would be purely cosmetic, in my opinion."
For just an instant, he considered purposing a further reinforcement of Trevor's Star. But only for an instant. Without calling on Grayson—which he would never do—the only place reinforcements could have come from would be Home Fleet. Diverting forces from the Star Kingdom's home system would have been an unthinkable admission of weakness and fear. Besides, there was no real need to. If necessary, Home Fleet in its entirety could be deployed to Trevor's Star in considerably less than a single standard day.
"So you recommend against shifting our deployments?" High Ridge asked.
"Any changes we made at this point would have a purely marginal effect. It would take weeks, at least, for news of them to reach Nouveau Paris, which would effectively prevent them from exercising any deterrent effect on Pritchart and Theisman in the interim. It's possible that when Theisman did learn of them, he might very well misinterpret them as responses generated out of panic. And even leaving all of that aside, if we start juggling our forces and the Republic does try something, we run the risk of being caught off balance. We could very easily find ourselves with units in transit from one star system to another instead of available at their current stations in the event of an attack.
"I'm not saying I might not change my opinion as the situation continues to develop and more information on Theisman's deployments becomes available. All I'm saying is that on the basis of what we now know, any redeployment we might attempt would be based on guesswork, at best. As a result, the chance of accomplishing anything worthwhile in military terms would be slight, especially in light of any such move's potentially escalating effect on the political situation."
The Prime Minister gazed at him for several long moments, then shrugged.
"You're the best informed on our military posture, Edward. If that's your advice, I'm inclined to take it. But at the same time, something more than a business-as-usual response is required in this case. Since the Republic has seen fit to be so terse and explicit in its latest communique to us, I propose that we be equally terse in response."
"Do you believe they're actually prepared—willing, I mean—to go back to war?" New Kiev asked unhappily.
"I don't know," High Ridge admitted with unwonted honesty. "I doubt that they would have been this confrontational without considering the possibility, at least. At the same time, they did stop short of formally breaking off talks. That suggests they're not prepared yet to simply walk away from the conference table. So it's time for us to point out to them that that's precisely the corner their intransigence is painting both sides into."
"Do you suppose," New Kiev suggested hesitantly, "that it might be worthwhile to suggest the possibility of a direct ministerial level conference? If we were to invite Secretary of State Giancola to personally visit the Star Kingdom, then perhaps it might be possible to put the brakes on even at this late date."
"I can't fault your motives for suggesting the possibility, Marisa," High Ridge replied heavily. "But I think that before we issue any such invitations, we have to make it plain we're not prepared to be dictated to. The first step is to make it absolutely clear to Pritchart and her administration that this outrageous escalation of her demands is completely unacceptable. Once we've pruned their expectations back to something which might conceivably be acceptable to us, it would make an enormous amount of sense to invite Giancola—or possibly even Pritchart herself—to visit Manticore in a bid to restart the peace process on a new basis."
Descroix gazed at him again. For just a moment she hesitated on the brink of asking him openly if what he'd just said represented the complete abandonment of their entire domestic political strategy. But she didn't. She couldn't, not in front of New Kiev. That was something she and the Prime Minister would have to discuss privately. In the meantime, however . . .
"So what you're saying," she said, "is that our first priority is to smack Pritchart down, after which we'll offer her a hand to stand back up."
"Perhaps a bit more bluntly phrased than I might have preferred, but, essentially, yes," High Ridge agreed.
"All right then. In that case, I think we need to consider exactly how we want to go about smacking her."
Swathes of brown could still be seen amidst the startling silver hair of the hazel-eyed man waiting in the shuttle pad's VIP lounge as Hamish Alexander debarked from the Grayson Space Navy pinnace which had collected him from the Paul Tankersley.
The earl had felt more than a little uncomfortable using Honor's private starship for this trip, even though he'd known it was silly of him. Honor herself had suggested that he do so in her letter to him, because the Tankersley was a very fast ship indeed. The fact that it enjoyed diplomatic immunity these days as Steadholder Harrington's personal ship was another reason. But White Haven was honest enough with himself to admit that the true reason for his discomfort was the ship's name. He'd been aboard her several times before, but never since he had admitted his feelings for Honor to her. Now he felt vaguely as if using the ship named for her murdered lover was somehow an act of infidelity.
Which, he reflected with a wry mental grin, was not only silly of him but an example of the sorts of inconsequential things a man's mind could find to fasten upon when the potential for cataclysm threatened to overwhelm him.
"My Lord," the man waiting in the lounge greeted him.
"High Admiral," White Haven replied with equal formality, then smiled as he held out his hand.
"Welcome back to Grayson, Hamish," High Admiral Wesley Matthews said warmly, gripping the proffered hand and squeezing firmly.
"Thank you, Wesley," White Haven said, but then his own smile faded. "I only wish I were here under happier conditions," he said.
"So do we all," Matthews assured him, releasing his hand. The high admiral stepped back and waved towards a waiting air car. "Under the circumstances," he said, "I suspected that you'd prefer to go straight to Protector's Palace."
Protector Benjamin rose behind his desk and held out his hand as an armsman in Mayhew maroon and gold ushered White Haven and Matthews into his office. Major Rice, Benjamin's personal armsman, stood unobtrusively behind him, and Gregory Paxton was already present in his position as the director of Sword Intelligence. Honor's onetime intelligence officer had aged noticeably. He walked with a cane these days, and he made no effort to hoist himself to his feet, but his eyes were still bright and alert, and he nodded a welcome to the newcomers.
"Hamish." Benjamin's greeting was warm, but it was also subdued and dark with anxiety.
"Your Grace," White Haven replied as they shook hands. "Thank you for agreeing to see me on such short notice."
"There's no need to thank me," Benjamin said, shaking his head. "I'd have made room in my schedule even if you'd turned up totally unannounced. As it was, Honor's letter had warned me you'd probably be coming."
"Well," White Haven acknowledged with a grimace, "she certainly predicted Janacek's reaction accurately enough, so I don't suppose I should be surprised she predicted mine, as well!"
"Under the circumstances," Matthews said grimly, "it didn't really require very much clairvoyance on her part, I'm afraid."
"Probably not," White Haven agreed. Benjamin waved him into a chair, and the earl sat obediently. An armsman appeared beside him, and White Haven grinned, despite the seriousness of the moment, as a bottle of Old Tillman materialized on the small table at his elbow.
"Now," Benjamin said briskly as the earl reached for his beer, "according to the letter Honor sent me, she believes Eloise Pritchart is seriously contemplating resuming active operations against the Star Kingdom. I have to admit that even now that surprises me just a bit. Do you think she's right, Hamish?"