Theisman nodded almost unconsciously, for he shared his friend's confusion fully. Why, when the Republic had outright announced its willingness to renounce all claim of sovereignty over Trevor's Star had the Manties effectively threatened to unilaterally withdraw from the peace negotiations on the grounds that the Republic had demanded that sovereignty be returned to it?
"Could they possibly have misunderstood somehow?" Walter Sanderson asked slowly.
"How?" Pritchart demanded furiously. "How could even an idiot like High Ridge have misunderstood something this simple!" She pawed angrily through the folder in front of her until she found her copy of the Republic's most recent note to the Star Kingdom.
" 'In response to the Star Kingdom's request for clarification as to the Republic's view of the status of the Trevor's Star system,' " she read aloud in a hard, tight voice, " 'the Republic specifically does not claim sovereignty over that star system.' " She slammed the note back down on the tabletop. "Not claim sovereignty, Walter! I fail to see how we could possibly have been any clearer than that!"
Sanderson shook his head slowly, clearly bemused.
"I'm afraid there's one very simple possible explanation," Tony Nesbitt said. All eyes swung to him, and he shrugged. "This is about as bald faced a misrepresentation of the truth as anyone could possibly have presented. It's not a misunderstanding; it's a lie. It's an effort to shift the full responsibility for the failure of the negotiations onto us. The only reason I can see for them to do that is because they intend to break off those negotiations, and they want their people and the rest of the galaxy to believe it was our fault."
"And what do they hope to accomplish?" Hanriot asked, but she no longer sounded as skeptical as she once had where Nesbitt's long-standing suspicions about the Star Kingdom's motives were concerned.
"I think that's clear enough, Rachel," the Secretary of Commerce said in a flat voice. "They don't want just Trevor's Star. They plan to keep all of the occupied systems. They're just using Trevor's Star as the wedge."
"I think it's possible we're all overreacting just a bit," Giancola said. The eyes which had focused on Nesbitt traversed back to him, and he waved one hand. "I'm not trying to minimize the huge conflict between what we told them and what they seem to be trying to say that we told them. And obviously I've always been suspicious about their ultimate intentions myself. But let's all back off for a moment and try to catch our breaths."
"It's a little late to be playing Mr. Reasonable, Arnold," Pritchart told him a bit spitefully. "Especially after this." She thumped the text of the most recent Manticoran note yet again.
"There's always time to let reason have its say, Madame President," Giancola replied. "That's the most important single fundamental principle of diplomacy. And it's not as if we have to respond to this immediately. No one outside the Cabinet, with the exception of Ambassador Grosclaude, knows anything about the specific content of this note. If we keep a lid on this, at least to the extent of not waxing publicly furious over it, then we've got a chance to cool tempers down and work our way through it."
"No, we don't," Pritchart said flatly, and Giancola felt his smile congeal ever so slightly as something about the President's iron tone sounded warning bells.
"Madame President—"
"I know all about the gentleman's agreement about respecting the confidentiality of official diplomatic communications," Pritchart grated. "But as far as I'm concerned, it no longer applies."
"Madame President—!"
"I said it no longer applies, Arnold!" She shook her head. "The only reason they could possibly have drafted this piece of crap," she said, "was to justify exactly the scenario Tony's just described. Which means that at some point, probably after they attack us, they're going to publish their version of our diplomatic correspondence. And judging from this," she thumped the Manticoran note again, "their version of it isn't going to bear very much resemblance to reality. Well, if that's what they have in mind, I'll damned well see the truth released to the newsies and the galaxy at large first!"
Giancola swallowed hard. Things were moving much more quickly than he'd anticipated. Pritchart's decision to go public with the text of Descroix's most recent note was hardly unexpected, but he hadn't planned on her reaching it this quickly. He was a little nervous about what might happen when the Republic and the Star Kingdom published their versions of their official diplomatic correspondence and the discrepancies between them came to light, but he wasn't too concerned about it. Or, he hadn't been, at any rate. He'd calculated that by the time the two star nations reached that point, each of them would be completely prepared to believe the other was editing the actual notes in order to support its own territorial ambitions. Certainly he and Grosclaude had been very careful to insure that all of the official archived copies of the Republic's correspondence agreed with the versions approved by Eloise Pritchart.
But he hadn't counted on the sheer, fiery passion of Pritchart's anger. And that, he suddenly realized, had been remarkably stupid of him. She'd fooled him. She'd insisted on being so calm, so magisterial. On thinking things through and 'giving peace a chance.' And because she'd been and done those things, he'd expected her to go on doing them. He'd counted on at least one more round of notes in which he would magically soothe away the tension over Trevor's Star. But that was because he'd forgotten that before she was ever President Pritchart, before she was ever People's Commissioner Pritchart, Eloise Pritchart had been "Brigade Commander Delta" . . . one of the three top field commanders in the most effective single guerrilla movement to have fought against the Legislaturalists before the Pierre Coup.
Arnold Giancola felt a sudden, icy sinking sensation as he realized just how completely he'd misread her probable response to his carefully engineered Manticoran "provocation."
"As far as I am concerned," she said in a voice of hammered iron, "this travesty, this . . . farrago of lies, constitutes a unilateral decision to break off negotiations with us. I intend to lay it before a joint session of Congress, and on the basis of its obvious dishonesty and transparently disguised justification for the Star Kingdom to permanently annex planets occupied by our citizens regardless of those citizens' desires, announce my intention to resume active military operations!"
Chapter Fifty
"Good evening, Lady North Hollow. I'm so happy you could come!"
"Why, thank you! I was delighted to be invited," Georgia Young replied as the butler ushered her into the palatial sitting room. It was a very large sitting room, for an apartment, even in the City of Landing, where space was hardly at the premium it was on more populous planets. It might be smaller than, say, the Green Sitting Room in the Landing residence of the Earl of the Tor, but not by all that much. Not surprisingly, perhaps, given that the luxurious "apartment" to which it belonged easily ran to at least three thousand square meters. In, needless to say, one of the most expensive residential towers in the entire capital.
Not bad for a commoner, Georgia thought as she handed her stylish jacket to the butler with a gracious smile. He smiled back at her, and one of her eyebrows tried to quirk in surprise. Mostly because it was unusual for any well-trained, professional servant to return the smile—or frown—of one of his employer's guests. But also because there was something . . . odd about that smile. Something she couldn't quite put a finger on.