David Weber - The Shadow of Saganami

"Admiral Khumalo's going to think you should've sent word directly to him, Sir," FitzGerald said flatly, in his strongest statement of disagreement yet.

Terekhov looked back at him, touched by the concern in his executive officer's expression.

"Thank you for worrying, Ansten," he said quietly, "but the decision's made. I only have three hyper-capable units, aside from Hexapuma herself-and, of course, Copenhagen . I can't spare any of them for a direct flight to Spindle, but Ericsson will continue on to Spindle from Dresden. She'll deliver my complete report to the Admiral and the Provisional Governor."

"But- "

"I think we should move on to something else," Terekhov said firmly, and FitzGerald closed his mouth. He looked for a moment at the CO about whose resolution he'd nursed such reservations when they first met, six months before, and knew there was no point in arguing.

"Yes, Sir," he said finally, and Terekhov smiled gently and patted him on the forearm.

"Good. And now, let's get your people aboard your new command. You've got a lot to do before you break orbit."

Aleksandra Tonkovic stood with a welcoming smile as her butler ushered Tomaz Zovan into the library of her Karlovac townhouse.

"Tomaz," she greeted, holding out her hand.

"Madam President," he replied as he took it, and her smile turned into a slight frown at the unexpected formality. Zovan was a Democratic Centralist and a forty-T-year veteran of Parliament. She'd known him literally since childhood, and if he'd never been one of the most brilliant intellects Parliament had ever known, he'd always been a loyal, dependable wheel-horse for the Party and her own administration. As such, he was accustomed to addressing her by her given name, at least in private.

"Why so formal, Tomaz?" she asked, after a moment. "I understood this was to be a social visit."

"I wasn't fully confident of the security of my com when I had my secretary make the appointment, Madam President," he replied, and grimaced. "Rajkovic and Basaricek swear they aren't using Manty technology to monitor all calls from the Nemanja Building, but-"

He broke off with a shrug, and Tonkovic's face tightened.

"Surely not even he would go that far!"

"Madam President," Zovan said, deliberately emphasizing the title, "how can we be sure of that? He hasn't returned the seal of office to you, has he? Doesn't it seem likely at least part of the reason he hasn't is to keep you from finding out exactly what he's been up to? What he's still up to?"

Tonkovic started to protest that Zovan was being unnecessarily paranoid. To be sure, Rajkovic ought to have returned the seal of office to her, and with it her formal authority as head of state, as soon as she set foot back on Kornatian soil. He hadn't, and she'd been back for over nine days now. It was infuriating and insulting, but it wasn't-quite-illegal. Technically, a confirming vote of Parliament was required to transfer that authority back and forth, even if he'd handed the seal directly to her. And given the current tone of Parliament, and her continuing appearances before the Special Committee on Annexation and even more acrimonious appearances before Cuijeta Krizanic's Standing Committee on Constitutional Law, she'd decided not to press the matter. Some of the exchanges between her supporters and opponents-not all of them Reconciliationalists, either-were becoming decidedly ugly. However little she'd cared to admit it to herself, she hadn't been certain Parliament would back her if she demanded Rajkovic hand the seal over, and she couldn't afford the loss of political capital if it had declined to do so.

Besides, she hadn't needed the official return of her authority to monitor what was happening inside "his" Cabinet. Mavro Kanjer and Alenka Mestrovic kept her fully informed on anything Rajkovic said at Cabinet meetings, and Kanjer, as Justice Secretary, would certainly have known about any communications taps the Manticoran detachment from Spindle was maintaining.

She decided against explaining any of that. If someone wanted to get sticky, Mavro and Alenka were technically violating the law to keep her informed when someone else was acting head of state. Zovan certainly wouldn't pass on anything she told him in confidence, but under the circumstances, the fewer people who knew, the better.

"I think you're unduly concerned, Tomaz," she said instead. "But, now that you're here, please, sit down. Have a drink, and then tell me what this is all about."

"I appreciate the offer, Madam President. And I may take you up on the drink later. But I think I'd better explain why I needed to see you first, not last."

"As you wish. But at least please sit down."

She pointed at one of the comfortable chairs which sat facing her own, and Zovan settled obediently into it. But he didn't relax. He sat forward, on the edge of the seat, his hands resting on his knees, and actually leaned slightly towards her.

"Now, Tomaz," she said. "What is this all about?"

"Madam President, officially, I'm not supposed to know this. Or, at least, I'm not supposed to admit I do. Under the circumstances, however, I thought it my duty to come to you about it immediately."

His voice was somber, his expression grim, and Tonkovic felt a formless chill run through her.

"This afternoon," he continued, "Krizanic spoke to the other members of the Standing Committee behind closed doors. Afterward, Judita Debevic came to my office."

He paused, and Tonkovic nodded slightly. Debevic was the leader of the Social Moderates and vice chairwoman of the committee.

"Madam President," Zovan said heavily, "she'd come to ask me unofficially if I'd be prepared to serve as your advocate in a formal impeachment debate."

Despite decades of political experience and discipline, Tonkovic flinched physically. She sat staring at her visitor for at least ten seconds, conscious only of a vast, singing emptiness, before she could shake her brain back into operation.

No sitting president had ever been successfully impeached! Only one bill of impeachment had ever been voted out in Kornatian history, and it had failed. By a narrow margin, perhaps, but failed. Surely not even Rajkovic was stupid enough to think an impeachment could be sustained against her on such flimsy grounds!

Yet even as she told herself that, she felt an undeniable tingle of fear. Rajkovic's Reconciliationists had gotten the chairmanship of the Standing Committee on Constitutional Law for Krizanic as part of the share out of committee chairmanships after the last presidential election. That had seemed reasonable, with Tonkovic's party and its allies' control of the presidency and a working majority in Parliament. But although Cuijeta Krizanic might be the committee's chairwoman, five of its eight members were either Democratic Centralists or Social Moderates. That ought to have guaranteed the failure of any motion before the committee for an impeachment.

But Debevic would never have asked Zovan if he would act as Tonkovic's advocate if she weren't deeply concerned that articles of impeachment might-probably would-be voted out. She'd spoken to Zovan unofficially, but she'd known Tomaz would inform Tonkovic as quickly as possible. It was a way for her to warn the Planetary President without violating her constitutional duty to maintain confidentiality on any deliberations before the committee.

That meant Debevic was afraid of losing at least two "safe" votes, and Tonkovic's eyes narrowed as she ran back over the committee's membership mentally, trying to decide who the traitors might be.

"Did Judita happen to mention how soon she needed an answer from you?"

"She wanted an immediate reply, Madam President." Zovan's tone was even heavier. "Needless to say, I assured her I would be honored to represent you, should such an unthinkable event come to pass."