War Of Honor

from the simpler pleasures of life, but one thing I was always delighted about on Grayson is that even the snobbiest of steadholders isn't ashamed to admit he likes an occasional beer.'

'The supposed virtues of a taste for beer are grossly exaggerated by those unfortunate souls blind to the superior virtues of a decent vintage,' William informed them both. 'I don't mind an occasional beer, myself. It certainly beats water. But why settle for second-best when a superior alternative is available?'

'We didn't,' his brother replied. 'We were wondering why you did.'

'Behave yourselves, children,' Honor scolded, feeling briefly more like their nanny than their political colleague, despite the fact that even the younger Alexander was well over twenty T-years older than she. 'We have other things to discuss before we settle down to letting you two insult one another properly.'

'Aye, aye, Ma'am,' White Haven said with a broad grin, and she shook her head fondly at him.

'Actually,' William said, his tone suddenly much more serious, 'you're quite right, Honor. We do have several things to discuss, including one concern I really wish didn't have to be brought up.'

Honor sat back in her chair, eyes narrowing as she tasted his emotions. Despite the customary banter between the brothers, both of them radiated an underlying sense of tension frosted with anger. That much she was accustomed to; it was an inevitable consequence of the political situation they'd come to discuss. But she'd never before sensed anything quite like the level of . . . anxiety she was picking up from William at the moment. There was something new and especially pointed about his emotions, a sense of focused urgency. More than that, he seemed to be trying to suppress whatever it was—or at least to feel a hesitance about admitting its source which surprised her after all of the crises they'd weathered together by now.

'And what would that be?' she asked cautiously.

'Well . . .' William looked at her for a moment, then glanced at his brother and visibly drew a steadying breath.

'According to my sources,' he said in the voice of a man determined to get through difficult ground and setting up the groundwork for the journey, 'we're about to be hit with fresh naval reductions in the new budget. The new estimates are in, and it's pretty clear that the termination of the Emergency Income Tax Act is about to start cutting into their slush funds and pork barrel pretty badly. They don't like that one bit, but they're not stupid enough to try to renew it. Not when they know we'll kill it in the Commons and use the opportunity to both advertise their real spending priorities and simultaneously deprive them of the ability to go on blaming us for all of the Kingdom's fiscal woes. So instead, Janacek is going to recommend cutting our active duty ships of the wall by about twenty percent to free up funds from the other 'wartime taxes.' He's also planning to suspend construction on virtually all the incomplete SD(P)s for the same reason, and High Ridge thinks he's found a way to neutralize you and Hamish when the new cuts are debated in the Lords.'

'Fresh reductions?!' Hamish repeated, then muttered something vicious under his breath which Honor was just as happy not to have heard clearly.

'How can they possibly justify cutting the Fleet even further?' she asked William, and she was more than a little surprised that she sounded so calm herself. 'We're already down to a lower number of hulls than we had before the war started,' she pointed out. 'And as they're fond of reminding people, the war still isn't over.'

'Not officially, anyway,' Hamish growled.

'They plan to justify it exactly the way they've justified all the other reductions,' William replied to Honor's question. 'By pointing to how much of the naval budget they can save through the increased effectiveness and combat power of the new types. They don't need all those 'obsolescent' older ships getting in the way of the new, lean, efficient Navy Janacek has single-handedly created.'

Despite her own total agreement with William's opinion of High Ridge and Sir Edward Janacek, Honor winced at the ferocious sarcasm in his bitter voice. His brother, on the other hand, was too furious to pay it much attention.

'That's the biggest load of bullshit I've heard in months,' Hamish grated. 'Even for them, it sets some new record!'

'It's a logical progression from everything else they've done, Hamish,' Honor observed. Her voice was by far the most serene one in the room, but there was nothing particularly serene about her agate-hard eyes. 'Still, I'm a bit surprised at the size of this reduction. They've already cut away every bit of fat and muscle; now they're working on the bones.'

'That's a depressingly accurate analysis,' William agreed. 'And you're right, this is a direct, straight-line extension of the same justification they've used every step of the way. The new ship types are more powerful, more survivable, and less manpower intensive, and with the demise of the income tax, their budget is suddenly so tight something has to give.'

' 'Give,' is it?' Hamish repeated savagely. 'I'll give that lying, conniving, pigheaded idiot Janacek something! In fact, I'll—'

'Calm down, Hamish,' Honor said, never looking away from William . . . and not even thinking about how casually she'd addressed White Haven. 'We already knew they regard the Navy budget as some kind of piggy bank they can keep raiding forever for their precious 'peace dividend.' Losing our tempers and frothing at the mouth while we chew pieces off of them in debate the way they deserve is only going to make us look like we're overreacting. Which will only make them look more reasonable. However stupid their policy may be, we have to stick together and sound calm and rational when we oppose it. That's especially true for the two of us, and you know it.'

'You're right,' he said, after another brief, fulminating pause. Then he drew a deep breath. 'So they're going to reduce our combat power even further, are they?' he said. His brother nodded, and Hamish snorted. 'And I suppose Jurgensen and his pet analysts at ONI are going to back Janacek up?'

'Of course they are,' William replied, and it was Honor's turn to snort bitterly.

It hadn't surprised anyone when Janacek began his second tenure as First Lord of Admiralty by placing Hamish Alexander on inactive, half-pay status. The Earl of White Haven's war record had been brilliant, but the combined reincarnation of Horatio Nelson, Togo Heimachoro, Raymond Spruance, Gustav Anderman, and Edward Saganami couldn't have been brilliant enough to outweigh the bitter, personal animosity between himself and Sir Edward Janacek.

That much, at least, had been expected, however petty and vindictive it might have been. But Honor suspected that the rest of the Navy had been as surprised and dismayed as she had when Janacek decided Sir Thomas Caparelli and Patricia Givens also 'deserved a rest.'

Actually, she reflected, Caparelli might truly have needed the break, after the massive strain of acting as the Star Kingdom's senior uniformed commander for over a decade. Unfortunately, that hadn't been the real reason for his relief. She'd come to know the former First Space Lord fairly well following her return from Cerberus, and one thing Thomas Caparelli would never be was any political appointee's yes-man. His integrity would never have permitted him to assist in Janacek's downsizing of the Navy when the Government had simultaneously declined to bring the war against the Peeps to a true conclusion. And so, like White Haven, although for different reasons, he'd had to go.

Admiral Givens had gone for largely the same reasons as Caparelli, despite her phenomenally successful record as Director of the Office of Naval Intelligence. Her loyalty to and close working relationship with Caparelli would probably have required her dismissal in Janacek's eyes as part of his 'clean broom' theory of personnel management under any circumstances. There were also rumors about fundamental disagreements between her and Janacek over his plans to restructure the Navy's intelligence priorities, but her greatest sin had been her refusal to slant her analyses at ONI to say what her civilian superiors wanted them to say. So, she too, had found herself on half-pay as her reward for helping to preserve the Star Kingdom.

One thing of which no one would ever be able to accuse her replacement was excessive independence. Admiral Francis Jurgensen had become something of an anachronism in the war-fighting Royal Navy: a flag officer who owed his exalted rank far more to political patronage than to any personal ability. Such officers had been depressingly common before the war, although they'd been weeded out ruthlessly since, usually by Caparelli, but far too often (and painfully) by enemy action. Unfortunately, they were making a comeback under the Admiralty's new management. However disgusting she might find that, Honor supposed it was inevitable. After all, Sir Edward Janacek had been exactly that sort of officer throughout his own career.

What mattered in Jurgensen's case, however, was that he understood precisely what Janacek and his political superiors wanted to hear. Honor wasn't prepared to accuse him of actually falsifying evidence, although she