Duchess Zangaria drew a long breath. “Who?”
“Well, any of us could have done it,” Duke Rudbek said. He ignored Harrison’s soft cough of disdain. “And so could a number of . . . let us say lesser aristocrats. But I think we know there is only one prime suspect.”
“The king,” Peter said. The thought was so shocking he could barely contemplate it. “Are you suggesting that the king deliberately helped the enemy?”
“It does make a certain kind of sense,” Duke Rudbek pointed out. “Who benefits from a resurgent threat? The king, because it allows him to prolong the state of emergency and keep raking in taxes. How many of his powers will end with the state of emergency? And it isn’t as if four enemy superdreadnoughts, or eight, or sixteen, would pose any real threat. They might be able to cause havoc in the occupied sector, but over here? They’d be smashed if they tried to hit a first-rank world. Maybe we should ask questions about why the bastards never tried to cross the Gap.”
“I was under the impression that there was a greater chance of being detected if they tried,” Peter said stiffly. Could the allegations be true? He didn’t believe it . . . he didn’t want to believe it. And yet, if one assumed the king might have set out to prolong his emergency powers . . . might he have provoked the war to obtain his emergency powers? Had it been the king behind Admiral Morrison? “I . . . if this is true . . .”
“If this is true,” Duchess Zangaria repeated. “How do we know it is true? This . . . rumor could be designed to push us into an untenable position. Accusing the king of High Treason . . . if we were wrong, or right without a great deal of proof, we’d be in real trouble.”
“My source was quite specific,” Duke Rudbek said firmly. “And I have had no reason to doubt her before.”
“That’s how they lure you in,” Duchess Zangaria said. “They feed you snippets of genuine information so that when they lie, you’ll believe it. This could be nothing more than a cunning plot to destroy our credibility once and for all.”
“Or a warning that the situation is an order of magnitude worse than we thought,” Duke Rudbek said. “We will, of course, attempt to verify the information. However, assuming it is true . . . what do we do?”
“We move ahead with the impeachment bill,” Peter said. “And brace ourselves for a violent response.”
“And we move to secure the planetary defenses,” Duke Rudbek added. “I’m trying to ensure that my clients are aware of the possible danger.”
“And mine,” Peter said. “But . . . you do realize this could end very badly?”
“It’s already bad,” Duke Rudbek said. “Israel?”
“Right now, there’s no way we could guarantee a victory,” Harrison said. “The impeachment bill rests on shaky foundations. We would have to prove that the king is either unsuitable for his position or engaged in criminal behavior. And, so far, we have no actual proof of either.”
“I believe we can impeach him for whatever the hell we like,” Duchess Zangaria observed archly.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Harrison said. “We could impeach him for wearing flowered underpants, if we could convince a majority of Parliament to support us. And yes, it would be perfectly legal. But we would have to convince Parliament that wearing flowered underpants is something so . . . so unsuitable that it justifies impeachment. And the MPs, in particular, would have to justify their vote to their constituencies. I think it would be easier to impeach him for wearing the wrong underwear than high treason.”
Peter resisted the urge to snort, rudely. “So we focus on something we can prove,” he said. “Misuse of taxpayers’ money—that should look good in the newscasts—and interfering with the withdrawal from the occupied sector. We can even press to impeach him on the grounds that he’s done everything in his power to prolong the state of emergency. That’s true, even if we don’t have proof he supplied the Theocrats.”
“And we keep making preparations to defang him as soon as the vote is passed,” Duke Rudbek warned. “We cannot risk giving him a chance to hit back.”
“We could move first,” Duchess Zangaria pointed out. “Defang him, then impeach him.”
“It would bring the political system crashing down,” Harrison said. “Once the precedent for acting outside the law is set, we’d never be able to get away from it.”
“Yes,” Duke Rudbek said. He looked at Peter. “There’s one other thing you need to know.”
Peter looked back at him evenly. “And that is?”
“Your sister was in command of the force that smashed the Theocratic base,” Duke Rudbek said. “And she contacted the king directly, as a member of his Privy Council. What does that tell you about where her loyalties lie?”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “But if this . . . situation . . . really does get out of hand, a great many people are going to have to decide which side they’re on.”
“And hope it isn’t the one that loses,” Harrison muttered.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
IN TRANSIT
Kat looked up and smiled as William stepped into her suite and nodded politely to her. He looked vaguely out of place in the drab shipsuit that passed for a uniform on Asher Dales, but he’d declined all offers of replacement uniforms or civilian clothes. She rather suspected the choice of attire was a statement of independence, aimed more at the king than her. She’d effectively kidnapped him when the squadron had departed the enemy base and set course for the Gap.
She rose to greet him. “Tanya isn’t coming?”
“She’s fiddling with the budget,” William told her. “She thinks we can purchase a couple of additional destroyers when we reach Tyre.”
“That might be a good idea,” Kat said. “The Theocrats may be gone, but there will be other threats.” She motioned for him to sit down at the table. “Lucy told me she’s been cooking all day,” she said. Her steward had been
