by David Weber
"Under the circumstances, I repeat, I fail to see what other option Gortz had. In my opinion, Ferrero acted in typical Manticoran fashion, arrogantly assuming—and demanding—that an Imperial warship stand by with its hat literally in its hands while she violated the sovereignty of the Empire's flag. It's my belief that we ought to be discussing posthumous decorations for Kapitan der Sternen Gortz and his crew, not trying to fasten blame for this . . . episode upon them as any so-called 'joint' investigation under Manticoran authority would certainly do."
Rabenstrange stared at him for a long moment, and then the herzog's nostrils flared.
"Graf von Sternhafen," he said, enunciating each word with extreme precision, "while I intend to make all due effort to address you with the courtesy you've reminded me a station commander in His Imperial Majesty's service deserves, you make that extremely difficult. I am interested in getting to the bottom of what happened; as nearly as I can tell, you are primarily interested in justifying Kapitan der Sternen Gortz's actions in their totality. And, I repeat, you apparently made no effort whatsoever to investigate Duchess Harrington's statements or to consider the possibility that, however patriotic and noble he may have been, Kapitan zur Sternen Gortz might—might, I say!—have committed an error in this instance."
"Errors were certainly made, Gross Admiral," Sternhafen replied. "They were not, however, made by Kapitan der Sternen Gortz."
Rabenstrange forced himself not to shout in the other man's face. It was difficult. And not least because the herzog found himself in fundamental disagreement with his imperial cousin's Silesian policy. Despite his own lofty birth and accomplishments, Chien-lu Anderman was not an especially vain man. He saw no point in pretending to be any more modest than he was, either, but he wasn't one of those individuals who worried particularly about what others might think of him or about matters of reputation and "face."
Despite that, he was aware that the Emperor regarded him more as a favored brother than as a mere cousin, and that very few individuals in the Andermani Empire had as much influence with Gustav as he did. But there were limits in all things, and try though he might, he'd been unable to dissuade Gustav from embarking upon his grand adventure in the Confederacy.
Truth to tell, Rabenstrange found it impossible to fault Gustav's basic determination to secure the Empire's legitimate frontiers in Silesia. Unlike the Star Kingdom of Manticore, the Andermani Empire was physically close enough to Silesia to suffer occasional border violations by Silesian pirates and freebooters. That situation had become even worse (although, he admitted, not enormously so) in the wake of the steady trickle into the Confederacy of outlaw warships which had once belonged to the People's Navy. Which, if one wanted to look at it that way, was at least partly the fault of the Manticorans, since it was their war with the People's Republic which had ultimately created the situation. And whatever implications Silesian instability might have had for the Star Kingdom's merchant marine, that instability offered no direct, immediate threat to the security of Manticore's territory or citizenry at large. The fact that Manticore had presumed for so long to dictate Andermani behavior in Silesia under those circumstances certainly explained the long-standing, deep-seated anti-Manticoran prejudices of old-line wardogs like Sternhafen. For that matter, Rabenstrange himself was far from immune to the same sort of burning anger when some fresh example of Manticoran high handedness fanned the flames.
But this was the wrong way to go about seeking redress. Rabenstrange had argued strenuously against the policy of gradually increasing the pressure on Manticore. Not because he disagreed with Imperial Intelligence's estimates of the fundamental gutlessness of the High Ridge Government, but because of the dangerous potential for provocations to get out of hand and spill over into acts of war. Far better, he'd argued, for the Ministry of State to formally inform the Star Kingdom that the Emperor proposed to press his legitimate security interests in Silesia. Get it all out in the open. Give High Ridge his options and call in the debt the Star Kingdom owed the Empire for the way in which Andermani "neutrality" had favored it in its confrontation with the People's Republic of Haven. And if Manticore persisted in refusing to concede the Empire its just due, then pursue the military option, openly and straightforwardly.
But other counsel had prevailed. Other advisers had convinced Gustav that the application of sufficient pressure would not only inspire a spineless leader like High Ridge to withdraw unilaterally from Silesia but also remind the Confederacy government that resisting his eventual demands might be . . . unwise. And if no explicit demands upon or threats to Manticore were made, then the possibility of accidentally backing someone like High Ridge into a position in which public opinion might force him into a hardline response would be substantially reduced. The belated offer of covert Havenite support which Ambassador Kaiserfest had reported after his conversations with Secretary of State Giancola had been the clinching factor in the triumph of the faction which favored gradually ratcheting up the pressure in Silesia. Rabenstrange's own argument that such a policy offered far more fertile ground for misunderstandings and accidents had been rejected.
And so they had all come to this—to precisely the sort of incident Rabenstrange had feared from the outset might occur. And it was his responsibility to drive the policy he'd argued against through to a successful conclusion.
Which he would. Whether he agreed with it or not was immaterial at this point. But that didn't mean he was prepared to plunge blindly ahead into open warfare with the Star Kingdom if there were any way he could avoid it.
Unfortunately, it was looking more and more as if he might not have that choice. And it was people like Sternhafen, and the recently deceased Gortz, who had made that true.
"Allow me to explain to you, Graf von Sternhafen," he said finally, "that, in the delightfully pithy Manticoran phrase, Kapitan der Sternen Gortz 'screwed the pooch' in a truly spectacular display of stupidity." Sternhafen swelled angrily, but Rabenstrange continued in that same level, biting tone.
"Unlike you, I did conduct a certain amount of research. And I found it trivially simple to confirm that the vessel squawking Sittich's transponder code was not Sittich." Sternhafen stared at him, and Rabenstrange smiled thinly. "I base that statement not simply on the data in Duchess Harrington's message to you, Herr Graf, but also on the data your own vessels secured from the local Silesian security LACs who were in sensor range of the incident. Based upon its observed tonnage alone, the vessel Jessica Epps was moving to intercept was not an Andermani-flag merchant—or, at least, not the one it claimed to be. And since I assume that as a conscientious servant of His Imperial Majesty you've seen to it that all units under your command have current, updated copies of the Registry of Merchant Vessels, I must also assume that it would have been possible for Hellbarde's sensors to establish that that same vessel was squawking a false transponder code . . . and thus violating the sovereignty of our flag in contravention of solemn interstellar law. Given those facts and deductions, I see no reason to doubt the remainder of Duchess Harrington's analysis and explanation. In short, Herr Graf, your 'heroic' Kapitan der Sternen Gortz managed to kill virtually his entire crew and the complete company of a Manticoran heavy cruiser out of sheer, incompetent stupidity, and all in the name of allowing a vessel engaged in the filth and perversion of the interstellar genetic slave trade to escape interception and capture!"
"There's no proof of any such thing!" Sternhafen snapped, but something flickered in his eyes, and Rabenstrange snorted.
"The problem is that there's no proof at all," the herzog shot back. "And because you—you, Herr Graf, and no one else—refused even to consider the possibility that Gortz might have been in error, this entire situation is in the process of spiraling completely out of control."
"I did no more than exercise my legitimate authority as the Empire's representative in Silesia, and I'm prepared to face whatever inquiry His Imperial Majesty may feel appropriate," Sternhafen replied. His effort at noble def
iance fell considerably short of total success, and Rabenstrange's lip curled.
"That's very courageous of you, Herr Graf. Unfortunately, His Majesty isn't prepared to have your incredible incompetence aired for all the galaxy to see. Obviously, I've had no time to confer with him on this matter, but the instructions I was given before being sent out here leave me in no doubt as to what the Imperial policy will be in the wake of this incident. By issuing your formal statement 'explaining' the Zoraster Incident, you've committed us to a policy of denying that the Star Kingdom might have acted properly in this case. I can do nothing else, no matter how much I might wish to, because to admit anything else at this late date would look like an act of weakness, rather than the act of strength an immediate and thorough investigation would have been."
"Caving in to the Manticoran version of events would have been the act of weakness!" Sternhafen protested.
"That conclusion," Rabenstrange said coldly and precisely, "is the product of your own stupidity and prejudice against the Star Kingdom. It would have been a simple matter for us to investigate from a position of strength. For us to move in and secure temporary control of the entire Zoraster System in order to be certain all relevant evidence still in the system was preserved. We could have asserted our authority to conduct the investigation ourselves, and I have no doubt whatsoever that High Ridge would have instructed Duchess Harrington to give us a free hand in that investigation . . . which she would have been inclined to do in the first place because, unlike you, she is a decent and open-minded individual. But that concession from High Ridge would have established his government's acceptance of our primacy as the interstellar police force with paramount jurisdiction in this instance, thus granting us equality with the Star Kingdom in dealing with Silesian lawlessness. And when, at the end of our investigation, our report to the galaxy at large didn't attempt to whitewash the actions of our commander on the spot, we would have emerged from the incident as a mature, responsible force in Silesia. Our willingness to admit when we ourselves were the ones at fault would have made us a voice of reason in a region whose anarchy and lack of effective central authority promote outrages like the slave trade which provoked the entire tragic incident. Which, you idiot, would have given us the moral highroad for our annexation of critical territory here as the means of putting an end to that same anarchy!"
Despite himself, his voice rose to a shout with the final sentence, and he clenched his fists behind him, glaring at Sternhafen. The other admiral seemed to wilt inside his spotless white uniform tunic, and Rabenstrange made himself close his eyes and draw another deep, cleansing breath.
"Now, after you've chosen to reject Harrington's proposal and rushed to proclaim the official verdict of the Empire without any investigation whatsoever, I have no choice but to maintain the farce to which you've committed His Imperial Majesty. An opportunity which would have allowed us to turn this entire wretched incident decisively to our advantage has been totally foreclosed by your narrowminded, knee-jerk need to announce to the galaxy at large that the Manticorans were at fault. And because I can't repudiate your official announcement without revealing to the entire universe just how stupid our policy has been, I'm probably going to find myself faced with fighting the war against the Star Kingdom which His Imperial Majesty so earnestly wished to avoid."
The herzog smiled very coldly at Sternhafen.
"I suspect, Herr Graf, that the Emperor may have just a little to say to you upon this subject himself."
* * *
"I did warn you they were becoming increasingly hardline," Arnold Giancola said in an artfully regretful tone.
Eloise Pritchart glared at him, too angry, for once, to maintain the sort of carefully crafted mask which had preserved her from detection by StateSec's minions. Giancola settled back in his chair, presenting a properly submissive mien while deep inside he savored her obvious fury.
"Yes, Arnold, you did warn me," she told him with savage, icy precision. "Which isn't particularly useful, just at the moment."
"Sorry," he replied as sincerely as possible. "I didn't mean to sound as if I were saying 'I told you so.' It's just that I've been seeing them moving in this direction for so long without being able to do anything about it that—"
He shrugged helplessly, and the President turned her back to stare out the window of her office at downtown Nouveau Paris while she fought to control her own temper.
The traditional, archaic hardcopy of Elaine Descroix's response to the Republic's most recent note lay on her desk, and a corner of her mind was a bit surprised that the sheer, white-hot fury which had filled her as she read it hadn't ignited the paper on which it was printed. Descroix had finally abandoned the platitudes and vague, generalized nothings with which the Star Kingdom's negotiators had strung out negotiations for so long. Her new note was a combination of an arrogant lecture on the People's Republic's long history of interstellar misbehavior coupled with curt observations that "confrontational, antagonistic expressions of anger and impatience do not contribute to the mature resolution of differences between interstellar powers." It also included a flat refusal to acknowledge that the Republic, as the direct successor of the "brutally oppressive prior regimes of the People's Republic," had any right "at this late date to wrap itself in a supposed mantle of moral authority" and demand the return of its territory to its sovereignty. Apparently, Pritchart noted furiously, that was true even if the citizens living in the territory in question requested in a freely voted upon plebiscite to do exactly that! In essence, Descroix's note represented a thinly veiled ultimatum demanding that the Republic of Haven submit completely to the total package of the Star Kingdom's diplomatic demands as the price for a formal treaty.
"Obviously," she told the crystoplast of the window, never turning to look at Giancola, "High Ridge and Descroix aren't impressed by the reasonableness of our proposals."
"If they were interested in reasonable proposals," Giancola pointed out diffidently, "we could have had a peace treaty years ago. And while I argued before our last note that adopting a still more . . . assertive stance might be counterproductive, I have to admit that at least it's had the effect of openly crystallizing their position. Madame President, much as we may dislike admitting it, the demands contained in their response are, in my opinion, precisely where they've been headed from the beginning of this process. I know you haven't wanted to hear that. I know we've disagreed at many times during these negotiations. I even know you have certain concerns about my loyalty and commitment to the official positions of this administration's diplomacy. But whatever our differences in the past may have been, surely the entire tenor of this response represents an admission by the High Ridge Government at last of its intention to forcibly annex the Republican star systems its naval forces currently occupy."
Something inside Eloise Pritchart tied itself into a knot as his respectful, reasonable tone washed over her. The fact that she still didn't trust him didn't necessarily invalidate his observations or his conclusions, she reminded herself yet again. And whatever she might have thought about his motivations, he wasn't the one who'd drafted the infuriating, arrogant, dismissive note lying on her blotter.
She gazed out at Nouveau Paris, and as her eyes rested on the gleaming walls of the New Octagon, a sudden sense of decision flowed through her. She gazed at the Navy's central HQ for a moment longer, then turned at last to face Giancola once more.
"All right," she said flatly. "If they want to play hardball, then we'll damned well play hardball."
"Excuse me, Madame President?" he asked, and the sudden edge of concern in his voice wasn't entirely assumed. He'd never seen Pritchart quite this angry before—never realized she could be this angry—and he felt a brief, uncharacteristic uncertainty about his ability to continue to manage events properly.
"I said I'll play the game just as hard as they want to play it," she told him, and crossed to her desk to punch a combination into her com. The connection went through almos
t instantly, and she nodded briskly as Thomas Theisman's face appeared on her display.
"Madame President," Theisman said. He seemed unsurprised to see her, but then, only eleven people in the entire Republic of Haven had the combination to his personal New Octagon com.
"Arnold Giancola is in my office with me, Tom," she told him without preamble. "He's brought Descroix's official response to our last note, and it isn't good. Not good at all. They're clearly refusing to give a single centimeter."
"I see," Theisman said cautiously.
"I think," she continued in that same, flat voice, "that it's time to convince them of the error of their ways."
* * *
"I wish I weren't telling you this," Thomas Theisman said into the visual pickup as he recorded the "Eyes-Only" message for Javier Giscard. "Unfortunately, I am."
He drew a deep breath.
"This letter is for your personal information, but the official dispatch accompanying it should be considered a war warning. At the present time, Eloise has informed me that she has no intention of firing the first shot, but in my opinion the risk that someone will fire it has just gone up considerably."
He paused, reflecting upon the fact that he was speaking to the man who loved Eloise Pritchart and probably knew her better than anyone else in the universe, with the possible exception of Kevin Usher. But Giscard was aboard his flagship, orbiting SXR-136, not in Nouveau Paris.
"Eloise and Giancola are drafting a new note for the Manties. It will no longer request that they consider our new proposals. Instead, it will insist that they accept our demands. She's assured me that she doesn't intend—at this time—to specify the potential consequences if they fail to accept them, but it's obvious to me that her language is going to be more than merely 'stiff.'
