Mission of Honor

emotions, he was entirely in favor of the notion. He knew as well as Honor that the Havenite legislator understood perfectly well that she was suggesting nothing of the sort. In fact, what Younger felt at the moment was a powerful sense of satisfaction, undoubtedly at his ability to burn time on such a minor issue.

And speaking of time, she decided, it was time for a certain amount of candor.

'Mr. Younger,' she said calmly, 'you and I are both perfectly well aware I'm suggesting nothing of the sort.'

His eyes widened, and she tasted his surprise at her head-on approach. Well, that was too bad, wasn't it? After all, she was an admiral, not a diplomat, and he could either like that fact or lump it. At the moment, she didn't much care which, either.

'I haven't said Manticore won't acknowledge the validity of the plebiscite results. What I've said is that Manticore won't acknowledge their validity without the opportunity to evaluate their reliability, accuracy, openness, and honesty for ourselves. You're as aware as I am of the distinction between those two positions, and you're also as aware as I am that this is a point on which I, as the Star Empire's representative to these talks, am not going to make the concession you're demanding. I can only assume, therefore, that your purpose in demanding it is to use up time. Which, I observe, you are doing despite the fact that I informed you perfectly straightforwardly at the beginning of these negotiations that there was a limit to how long I was authorized to continue talking before the Star Empire resumes active operations against the Republic.'

He started to open his mouth, his expression indignant, but she raised her right hand between them, index finger extended vertically in an unspoken command to be silent, and continued in the same measured tone.

'There could be many reasons for your desire to 'run out the clock,' including the belief—mistaken, I assure you—that Manticore is so desperate for a settlement with the Republic, in light of the potential for conflict with the Solarian League, that if these talks can simply be strung out long enough, we'll accept revisions to our more substantive demands, such as the . . . clarification of our differences over our prewar diplomatic correspondence. If that is what you're hoping for, I'm quite certain President Pritchart doesn't share your belief.'

She didn't so much as glance in Pritchart's direction, but she could feel the president stiffening ever so slightly in her chair. Not because Honor was wrong, but because Pritchart was surprised by just how correct she was.

'I suspect you're well aware that the President believes—accurately, as it happens—that my instructions are to return to Manticore with no treaty rather than with a bad treaty, time limit or not. Which suggests to me, Sir, that you're bringing a domestic agenda to this table in the belief the President will give you whatever it is you want from her here in the Republic in order to convince you to stop wasting time. Whether or not that belief of yours is accurate is, of course, more than I could say. I would suggest, however, that signing up for fiddle lessons when the house is already on fire is scarcely the most profitable use of your time. Bearing that in mind, I think that rather than sitting here wasting valuable time, we should take a short recess, during which you may discuss with President Pritchart just what it is you want and stop trying to get it out of her by using my mission as your prybar.'

Younger's face had darkened steadily, and the power of his anger pulsed in Honor's awareness like a blow torch. He had himself sufficiently under control to glower at her in hot-eyed silence rather than open his mouth and let his fury betray how accurately she'd read him, however. She met his glare steadily for a moment, then looked at Pritchart at last.

The president's topaz eyes met hers with commendable steadiness, although the firm lips below them might have quivered ever so slightly. Honor wasn't prepared to swear to that either way, but she could taste the other woman's mingled irritation, frustration, and—overwhelming, this last emotion—entertainment.

'I believe, under the circumstances, that a recess probably is in order,' Pritchart said after taking a moment to be certain she had her own voice under control. 'I see it's very nearly lunchtime, anyway. If I may, Admiral, I'd suggest we take a couple of hours for lunch, during which Representative Younger can contact the members of his committee and canvas their response to your. . . forthright statement of the Star Empire's position on this point.'

She smiled pleasantly at Honor, then turned to Younger.

'If you desire, Gerald,' she continued pleasantly, 'I'm sure Leslie and Walter and I could also make the time available before our next session with Admiral Alexander-Harrington and her delegation to discuss the Administration's view on this point. I'm always happy to hear Congress' views and advice, as you're well aware, and if the members of your committee have pronounced reservations on this point, I'd like to be made aware of them. I would never seek to dictate to the consciences of the Republic's elected representatives, but I must confess that at this moment, I'm unaware of any general groundswell of opinion on this point. If it's going to present serious difficulties, I'd appreciate a briefing on it.'

The expression Younger turned on her was even closer to a glare than the one he'd bewstowed on Honor, but he kept a firm leash on his anger and nodded with at least a pretense of courtesy.

'Well then,' Pritchart said just a tad brightly, smiling at Honor. 'In that case, Admiral, we'll meet back here in two hours. Will that be convenient for your delegation?'

* * *

'Well, that was certainly entertaining, wasn't it?' Honor observed with an edge of whimsy as the members of her delegation—herded along by the alert sheepdogs of her armsmen—filed through the door into their suite's dining room. Like the conference room Pritchart had provided for their negotiations, the dining room's windows looked out over the boiling foam of Frontenac Falls, and she crossed the floor to gaze out at the spectacular scenery.

'I'm not sure 'entertaining' is exactly the word I'd choose, Your Grace,' Tuominen said dryly. 'Your approach to the rarefied and refined world of diplomacy seems just a trifle . . . direct , shall we say?'

'Oh, come now, Voitto!' Sir Barnabas Kew shook his head, smiling broadly. 'You know you enjoyed seeing that insufferable young bugger taken down a notch just as much asI did! Talk about poisonous little vipers.' The permanent undersecretary shook his head and glanced at Honor. 'I don't know what the specifics of his agenda may be, Your Grace, but I'm convinced you nailed what he's up to.'

'Nimitz and I have been discussing him for a while,' Honor said, which was true enough, as far as it went, and Kew, Tuominen, and Baroness Selleck all nodded. She'd shared her—and Nimitz's, of course—impressions of all of the Havenite negotiators, although she'd been a bit less explicit about Pritchart, Theisman, and Nesbitt for various reasons.

'Of their entire delegation,' she continued, 'Younger and Tullingham are undoubtedly the most cynical and self-seeking. McGwire's no prize, you understand, but I think he's at least aware that in the Republic's current circumstances, a certain pragmatic resignation is in order. Tullingham could scarcely care less what happens to Pritchart's and Theisman's constitution—which, personally, I don't think is a most desirable possible trait in a Supreme Court justice—but my impression is that while he's the sort who thinks it's a perfectly wonderful idea to put legal opinions up for sale to the highest bidder, he's definitely not the sort who'd risk riding something like this down in flames just to satisfy his personal ambitions. His approach is more a case of 'business is business,' you might say. Younger, on the other hand . . . .'

She shook her head, not trying to hide her own disgust.

'What about him, Your Grace?' Selleck asked, regarding her narrowly, and Honor tasted her speculation. Of course, the baroness had been included among her advisers in no small part because of her familiarity with the various opposition groups which had emerged to resurrect the Republic after Saint-Just's death.

'I'm more than a little surprised he hasn't tried to use Green Pines, actually,' Honor admitted. 'I know that was what we hoped for when I had my little chat with the President, but I honestly didn't expect him to keep his mouth completely shut about it.' Nor, she thought, had she anticipated the shiver of fear which went through the representative's mind glow whenever it looked like someone else might be about to bring it up. 'But the more we see of him, the more convinced I am that he'd been fishing in some very murky waters long before we ever turned up in Nouveau Paris.'

'You may well be right,' Selleck said. 'As I've said, I still don't have a good feel for how the internal dynamics of his party fit together, but my sources are suggesting more and more strongly that he's a more prominent player than we thought before. Are you suggesting he's a more important player than we've realized even now?'

'That's hard to say, Carissa,' Honor replied thoughtfully, turning away from the windows and moving towards