David Weber: Mission of Honor

He suspected from Abruzzi’s attitude that Malachai, if no one else, had at least an inkling of just how dangerous this could turn out to be. Wodoslawski probably did, too, although it was harder to tell in her case. Rajampet obviously wasn’t thinking that far ahead, and Kolokoltsov honestly didn’t have a clue whether or not MacArtney and Quartermain were able to see beyond the immediate potential consequences for their own departments.

“I agree with you about the historical interpretation of Article Seven, Rajani,” he said out loud, finally. “I think you’d be well advised to consult with Brangwen about the precedents, though. And to make sure the rest of her people over at Justice are onboard with you for this one.”

“Of course I’ll check with her,” Rajampet replied a bit more calmly. “In the meantime, though, I’m confident I’ve got the authority to respond by taking prudent military precautions.” He smiled thinly. “And there’s always the old saying about the best defense being a strong offense.”

“Maybe there is,” Abruzzi said. “And I’ll even agree that apologizing later is usually easier than getting permission first. But I’d also like to point out that this one’s quite a bit different from ‘usually’. So if you intend to sell that to the Assembly in a way that’s going to keep some of the busybodies over there from demanding all sorts of inquiries and holding all kinds of hearings, we’re going to have to prepare the ground for it carefully, anyway. Some of those people over there think they really ought to be in charge, you know, and the ones who think that way are likely to try to use this. As long as there’s no strong public support for them, they aren’t going to accomplish much—all the inertia in the system’s against them. But if we want to deny them that public support, we’re going to have to show everyone that you not only have that authority but that we’re in the right in this particular confrontation.”

“Despite what you just said about my ‘idiot admiral’?” Anger crackled in Rajampet’s voice.

“If the adjective offends you, I’m sorry.” Abruzzi didn’t waste a lot of effort on the sincerity of his tone. “But the fact remains that he was in the wrong.”

“Then how in hell do you think we’re going to convince that ‘public support’ of yours we’re in the right if we smash the Manties like they deserve?” Rajampet sneered.

“We lie .” Abruzzi shrugged. “It’s not like we haven’t done it before. And, in the end, the truth is what the winner says it is. But in order to rebut the Manties’ version effectively, I have to know what it is, first. And we can’t make any military moves until after I’ve had a chance to do the preliminary spadework.”

“Spadework.” This time, Rajampet’s sneer was marginally more restrained. Then he snorted harshly. “Fine. You do your ‘spadework’. In the end, it’s going to be my superdreadnoughts that make it stand up, though.”

Abruzzi started to shoot something back, but Omosupe Quartermain interrupted him.

“Let’s not get carried away,” she said. The others looked at her, and she shrugged. “No matter what’s happened, let’s not just automatically assume we’ve got to move immediately to some sort of military response. You say they haven’t ruled out the possibility of a diplomatic settlement, Innokentiy. Well, I’m sure the settlement they have in mind is us making apologies and offering them reparations. But what if we turned the tables? Even the Manties have to be capable of doing the same math Rajani just did for us. They have to know that if push comes to shove, any qualitative advantage they might have can’t possibly stand up to our quantitative advantage. So what if we were to tell them we’re outraged by their high-handedness, their unilateral escalation of the confrontation before they even had our response to their first note? What if we tell them it’s our position that, because of that escalation, all the additional bloodshed at New Tuscany was their responsibility, regardless of how Byng may have responded to their ultimatum? And what if we tell them we demand apologies and reparations from them on pain of an official declaration of war and the destruction of their entire ‘Star Empire’?”

“You mean we hammer them hard enough over the negotiating table, demand a big enough kilo of flesh for leaving them intact, to make sure no one else is ever stupid enough to try this same kind of stunt?” Abruzzi said thoughtfully.

“I don’t know.” Wodoslawski shook her head. “From what you said about the tone of their note and what they’ve already done, don’t we have to assume they’d be willing to go ahead and risk exactly that? Would they have gone this far if they weren’t prepared to go farther?”

“It’s easy to be brave before the other fellow actually aims his pulser at you,” Rajampet pointed out.

Several of the others looked at him with combined skepticism and surprise, and he grunted.

“I don’t really like it,” he admitted. “And I stand by what I said earlier—we can’t let this pass, can’t let them get away with it. But that doesn’t mean Omosupe’s idea isn’t worth trying, first. If they apologize abjectly enough, and if they’re willing to throw this Gold Peak to the wolves, and if they’re ready to cough up a big enough reparation, then we’ll be in the position of graciously restraining ourselves instead of hammering their pathetic little ‘Star Empire’ flat. And if they’re still too stupid to accept the inevitable,” he shrugged, “we send in however much of Battle Fleet it takes and squash them like a bug.”

It was obvious how he expected it to work out in the end, Kolokoltsov thought. And the hell of it was that even though Quartermain’s idea was probably worth trying, Rajampet was even more probably right. Wodoslawski was obviously thinking the same thing.

“I think we ought to do some risk-benefit analysis before we go embracing any military options,” she said. “Omosupe, you’re probably in a better position over at Commerce to come up with what kind of impact it would have if Manticore closed down our shipping through the wormholes they control. For that matter, just pulling their merchantships off the League’s cargo routes would probably hit our economy pretty damned hard. But whether that’s true or not, I can tell you even without looking at the numbers that our financial markets will take a significant hit if the Manties disrupt interstellar financial transactions as badly as they could.”

“So we take an economic downtick.” Rajampet shrugged. “That’s happened before, even without the Manties getting behind and pushing it, and it’s never been more than a short-term problem. I’m willing to concede this one could be worse, but even if it were, we’d still survive it. And don’t forget this, either, Agatá—if we go all the way, then when the smoke clears, the Manticoran Wormhole Junction will belong to the Solarian League , not the Manties. That ought to save your shippers a pretty penny in transit fees over at Commerce, Omosupe! And even if it doesn’t,” he smiled avariciously, “all those fees would be coming to the League , not Manticore. Relatively speaking, it probably wouldn’t mean all that much compared to our overall gross interstellar product, but it sure as hell ought to be enough to pay for whatever the war costs! And it would be an ongoing revenue source that brings in a nice piece of pocket change every year.”

“And it would get the Manties out of our hair in the Verge, too,” MacArtney said slowly. “It’s worst over around Talbott right now, but I don’t like the way they’ve been sniffing around the Maya Sector, either.”