domestic resistance and turn his attention back to Manticore.
Then there was the Conservative Association—reactionary, xenophobic, isolationist to the core... and pigheaded enough to make the Progressives look smart. The Conservatives believed (or claimed to believe) that the Republics initial, shattering reverses would lead the new leadership to abandon any further thought of attacking the Manticoran Alliance lest still worse befall them, which overlooked both the tonnage imbalance and the fact that the People's Navy had to be lusting to avenge its humiliation. And last, and most contemptible, were the New Men, whose sole motive was a cynical bid to secure greater parliamentary clout by selling their votes to the highest bidder.
It was insane. Here they were, with a golden opportunity to strike deep and hard, and the politicians wanted to throw it away ... and leave his Navy to suck up the losses when the bill came due!
He dragged his mind back from its increasingly well-worn path of angry resentment and cleared his throat.
'Just how bad is the situation, Milady? I spoke with Duke Cromarty yesterday and assured him the Navy would support him, but—' Caparelli broke off as Morncreek looked at him sharply, then he shrugged. 'I thought you knew he'd commed me, Milady.'
'Well, I didn't. Nor did he happen to mention it when we spoke this afternoon. Exactly what sort of 'support' did you promise him?'
'Nothing at all on the domestic side, Milady.' Caparelli was careful to avoid words like 'coup,' and Morncreek relaxed a bit. 'I simply assured him we would continue to obey the lawful orders of Her Majesty and her ministers if he instructed me to continue operations. We can do that without a declaration, but not for very long, I'm afraid. If I completely suspend all current construction and divert every dollar I can from our essential infrastructure, I could probably sustain operations for another three months or so. After that, we'd need a special appropriation— assuming we don't have a formal declaration to free the Exchequer's hands—and I don't see how we can expect to get that if we can't get the declaration in the first place.'
He paused with a shrug, and Morncreek nibbled gently on a fingernail, then sighed.
'The next time the Prime Minister coms you directly, Sir Thomas, I would appreciate your informing me of the fact,' she said, but there was as much weariness as frost in her voice. 'I suppose the Duke could order you to continue offensive operations, as long as the money holds out, without a declaration, but I assure you there'd be a furor in Parliament that would make the Gryphon Crisis look like a pillow fight! A point,' she added grimly, 'I intend to emphasize in my next discussion with His Grace.'
'Yes, Ma'am.' Caparelli fought an urge to rise and come to attention; Lady Morncreek might be petite and attractive, but the snap of her authority was unmistakable. 'I understand, Ma'am. And I assure you we only touched very briefly on what I suppose I might call the tactical situation in Parliament. In light of what you've just said, could you give us a feel for just what it is we're looking at there?'
'We're looking at something that couldn't get a lot worse,' the First Lord said bluntly. 'The Duke is fighting for every vote in the Lords—God only knows what promises he's going to have to make, or to whom—and even if he puts a new majority together, it's going to be incredibly fragile.'
'Stupid bastards,' Cortez muttered, then flushed crimson as he realized he'd spoken aloud. 'Forgive me, Milady,' he began quickly, 'I only—'
'You only said what I'm thinking, Sir Lucien.' Morncreek waved away his apologies and looked back at Caparelli. 'It is stupid, and one of the great flaws of our system. Oh,' she gestured irritably as Caparelli's jaw started to drop, 'I'm not saying the fundamental system is unsound. It's served us well for the last four or five T- centuries, after all. But the House of Lords doesn't have to stand for election. That can be a tremendous strength when it comes to resisting popular pressure for unwise policies, but it can also be an equally tremendous weakness. An MP in the Commons knows what will happen in the next general election if he hog-ties the Government at a time like this; the Lords don't have to worry about that, and they've got a marked tendency to create single-viewpoint cliques around their own pet theories of the way things ought to be.
'At the moment, there's a distinct sense of euphoria, of having dodged the pulser dart, coupled with a desire to hide under the blankets till the threat goes away. Of course, it's not going to go away, but they don't want to face that. Eventually, they'll have to, and I pray to God they do it before it's too late, but even if they do, their positions will have hardened. The strain of our own military buildup's polarized our politics, and too many of the Opposition buy into the theory that opposing the use of force—for whatever reason—is inherently 'noble' and not a gutless renunciation of the will—and ability—to resist aggression or any other sort of organized evil! As long as someone else gets on with fighting the war, they can enjoy the luxury of continuing to oppose it to prove their moral superiority, and I'm afraid too many of them are going to do just that.
'Which brings us right back to Young's trial. I realize neither you nor Sir Lucien had any voice—or any legal right to one—in its selection, but I can't imagine a more dangerous board. This thing has the potential to blow the entire situation wide open at the very moment the Duke's turning over every rock on Manticore for the votes he needs for that formal declaration.'
'Well, I know where he can get one of them,' Caparelli said sourly. Morncreek raised an eyebrow, and he gave a wry smile. 'Lady Harrington would certainly cast her vote in favor.'
'I wish she could,' Morncreek sighed, 'but that, too, is out of the question. She's never taken her seat in the House, and this isn't the time for her to do it. The Duke feels that, even without the trial, admitting her to the Lords just now would almost certainly backfire. The Opposition would scream that he was only doing it to steal another vote, and given the irregularity with which she was raised to the peerage in the first place—'
The First Lord shook her head, and Caparelli had to nod in agreement. God, what he wouldn't give never to have to deal with politics again!
'So what do you want us to do, Milady?' he asked.
'I don't know.' Morncreek rubbed her temple in a quick, nervous gesture. 'And I'm pretty sure the Duke doesn't know yet, either. That was why he wanted me to find out who was on the court—for which I apologize. I realize it's a technical violation, but under the circumstances he had no choice.'
Caparelli nodded his understanding, and the baroness rubbed her temple again, then sighed.
'The Prime Minister hasn't told me how he intends to handle it,' she said at last, 'but he really has only two options: push forward quickly, or put the brakes on. Getting it out of the way as quickly as possible might be the best tactic, but that could turn around on us, even if the court votes to convict. On the other hand, the longer we delay, the more the Opposition will try to extort out of the Duke by playing on his fear of its outcome. And the whole situation is further complicated by the fact that Young is legally entitled to a speedy trial and the possibility that if we delay until after we bribe, blackmail, and extort the votes for a declaration the Opposition will seize on the delay as a cynical political maneuver by the Government. Which,' she admitted with a tight smile, 'is exactly what it would be, after all.'
She sighed again and shook her head.
'Captain Harrington seems to have a penchant for setting the Kingdom on its ear, one way or the other.' She made the observation wryly, but Caparelli felt compelled to reply.
'In all fairness to Lady Harrington, Milady, this is not her fault. I fully realize how unpopular she is with the Opposition's leadership, but she's never done a millimeter less than her duty. Moreover, the charges against Lord Young were filed by Vice Admiral Parks on the recommendation of a formal board of inquiry. And, I might add, only because they were amply justified—even required—by Lord Young's own actions.'
'I know, Sir Thomas, I know.' Morncreek uncrossed her legs and stood, and her smile was penitent. 'Please don't construe my last remark as a criticism of Captain Harrington or her record. It's just that some people have a positive gift for being at the center of things, and for the last few years, she's the one who's had it. I admire and respect her accomplishments, but I can't help wishing she'd been a little less... visible since Basilisk.'
''Visible',' Caparelli repeated softly, as if tasting the word, then surprised himself with a grin. 'Now that, Milady, is certainly a fair description of Captain Harrington.' His grin faded, and he cocked his head. 'Shall I call her in and discuss the situation with her, Milady? In light of the political pressures, it might be wise to warn her to be on her guard. God knows the media will be waiting to pounce on anything she says!'
Morncreek considered the offer carefully, then shook her head.
'No, Sir Thomas. Oh, she needs to be warned, but this is much more a political matter than a naval one. I'll see her at the palace in the morning, and I can discuss it with her myself. I owe her that, and I'm afraid—' she smiled crookedly '—that sort of thing comes with my job.'
