War Of Honor

advantageous to . . . decrease the Manticorans' ability to meddle in our internal affairs and legitimate security interests. With that in mind, it seems to us that it would only be reasonable for us to coordinate our efforts in that direction. Discreetly, of course.'

'Oh, of course,' Kaiserfest agreed. He sipped his own brandy, letting the rich, fiery liquor roll around his mouth, then nodded. 'I understand completely,' he said then. 'And I agree.'

'You also understand, I trust,' Giancola said seriously, 'that although we intend to lend the Empire all the support we can, it will be necessary for our public stance to be somewhat different. Much as I've come to value our friendship, Mr. Ambassador, it would be naive for either of us to pretend that anything other than real politik is involved here.'

'Of course not,' Kaiserfest agreed once more.

'Unfortunately, my own star nation is still in the grip of a certain revolutionary fervor,' Giancola observed. 'That sort of enthusiasm is an uncomfortable fit for the pragmatic requirements of effective interstellar diplomacy. Which, of course, is the reason President Pritchart and I may find ourselves forced to make certain public statements which could be construed as criticisms of the Empire's Silesian policy. I trust that you and the Emperor will both understand why we find it necessary to cover our true policy with a certain degree of disinformation.'

'Such a situation isn't completely unknown to us,' Kaiserfest said with a thin smile. 'And as you yourself have observed, our . . . pragmatic interests make us logical allies—for the moment, at least—whatever public rhetoric may be forced upon you.'

'You're most understanding, Mr. Ambassador.'

'Merely practical,' Kaiserfest assured him. 'I will, of course, inform His Majesty of our conversations.'

'Of course,' Arnold Giancola told him with a smile. 'I wouldn't have it any other way.'

Chapter Thirty Seven

'So, have you had any other thoughts about what they're likely to find?' Alistair McKeon asked.

He and Honor stood in the lift car, accompanied by Alfredo Yu, Warner Caslet, Captain Sampson Grant, Nimitz, Mercedes Brigham, Roslee Orndorff, Banshee, and—inevitably—Andrew LaFollet, while the light dot of the car sped across the schematic of HMS Werewolf. They were on their way to a meeting which Alice Truman really ought to have been attending, as well. At the moment, however, Alice was busy coordinating the redeployment of the system reconnaissance platforms . . . in no small part as a direct result of the events which had prompted the meeting.

'The reconnaissance platforms?' Honor asked.

'What?' McKeon blinked for a moment, then chuckled. 'Sorry. I can see why you thought that was what I was asking about, under the circumstances. But I was actually referring to what we were talking about last night.' She looked at him, and he shrugged. 'Call it a way of distracting myself.'

'A fairly futile one,' she observed.

'The best distractions are,' McKeon replied cheerfully. 'If you can answer the question once and for all, it stops being a distraction, doesn't it?'

'Did I ever tell you that you're a peculiar person, Alistair?'

Orndorff, Grant, and Brigham grinned at each other behind their superiors' backs. Yu and Caslet, on the other hand, were sufficiently senior to chuckle openly, and Nimitz bleeked a laugh of his own.

'Actually, I don't believe you ever did,' McKeon replied. 'But all gratuitous insults aside, my question stands. What do you think they're likely to find?'

'I don't have the least idea,' she said frankly. 'On the other hand, whatever it is, they've undoubtedly found it by now. It's just going to take a while for the news to reach us.'

'We are sort of on the backside of nowhere,' McKeon agreed more sourly.

Which, Honor reflected, was certainly the truth in a lot of ways. McKeon's question had brought that back into clear relief, whether that was what he'd intended to do or not. They'd received word only two days ago that HMS Harvest Joy had been ordered to depart the Manticore System via the newly discovered Junction terminus, but that message had required over three standard weeks to reach them. It would take just as long for any report of what the survey ship discovered at the terminus' far end to make the same trip . . . which was also true of any other message it might occur to the Admiralty or High Ridge Government to send them.

Not that either of those august entities had so far evinced any interest in communicating with something as obviously unimportant as Sidemore Station.

'I don't have any idea what Zachary and Dr. Kare are likely to find,' she told McKeon, 'but I hope whatever it is doesn't distract the Government even more from our situation out here.'

'Um.' McKeon frowned. 'I understand what you're saying, but I think it's a bit of six of one, half a dozen of another. We're not getting any support or guidance, but they're not screwing the situation up still worse, either.'

Yu started to say something, then visibly changed his mind. Other people felt less constrained by tact, however.

'Admiral McKeon may have a point, Your Grace,' Brigham offered diffidently from behind them. Honor looked over her shoulder at the chief of staff, and the commodore shrugged. 'It's not fair for them to dump the responsibility for making policy, as well as executing it, on you,' she continued. 'But given the kind of policy they seem to delight in making, the Star Kingdom may be better off if something does distract them for the duration.'

'I take your point—yours and Alistair's both,' Honor said after a moment. 'But I think this is probably something we shouldn't be discussing even 'in the family.' ' She knew Yu and Caslet well enough to feel no discomfort at saying such a thing in front of them, and Grant, Yu's chief of staff, was an old-school Grayson; it was impossible to conceive of him ever telling tales out of school. Besides, the three of them were family themselves, by adoption, at least, and she gave the them a smile as she went on. 'There's no point pretending we're not all concerned over the lack of new instructions, and I don't see any way to avoid speculating on why we're not receiving any. But I'd very much prefer for us to minimize discussion of how stupid we think our existing orders are. I don't expect either of you to tell yourselves to stop thinking about it, but, frankly, we've got more than enough distrust and resentment floating around the staff without our adding fuel to the fire.'

She held Brigham's eye for a moment, then swept her gaze over Orndorff and McKeon, as well, waiting until each of them had nodded.

McKeon started to say something more, but then the lift car arrived at its destination. The door hissed open, and he shrugged, with a crooked grin for the distraction, and stood back to follow Honor out into the passageway.

* * *

Andrea Jaruwalski and George Reynolds were waiting in the briefing room when Andrew LaFollet poked his head through the hatch to give the compartment his customary once over. A tallish, fair-haired senior-grade RMN captain and an unusually youthful Sidemorian lieutenant commander were waiting with the staffers, and LaFollet let his eyes linger on them for just a moment, as if committing their faces to memory. Then he withdrew into the passage once more, and permitted Honor to lead the rest of her small party through the hatch.

Her juniors came to their feet respectfully, and she waved them back into their chairs as she headed for her own place at the head of the table. McKeon seated himself to her right, with Orndorff to his own right, while Yu and Caslet sat to her left. Brigham found her own chair between Jaruwalski and Reynolds, and Honor waited a moment longer while the two treecats settled down on the tops of their people's chair backs, then turned her attention to Jaruwalski.

'Are you and George ready for us?' she asked.

'Yes, Your Grace,' the operations officer replied.

'Then we might as well get started.'

'Yes, Your Grace,' Jaruwalski repeated, and nodded to Reynolds. 'Go ahead, George.'

'Certainly, Ma'am,' the staff 'spook' said, more formal than usual in the presence of outsiders. Then he