Mission of Honor-ARC (23 page)

"There are those in the Star Empire," she went on, allowing no trace of her awareness of Pritchart's pain to color her own expression or tone, "who would prefer to do just that. Who think it's time for us to use our advantage to completely destroy your fleet, along with all the casualties that would entail, and then to turn the entire Republic into one huge junkyard unless you surrender unconditionally to the Star Empire and the Manticoran Alliance. And, if you do surrender, to impose whatever domestic changes and limitations may be necessary to prevent you from ever again threatening the Star Empire or Queen Elizabeth's subjects."

She paused, letting her words sink home, tasting their anger, their apprehension, their resentment and frustration. Yet even now, hope continued to flicker, made even stronger in many ways by simple desperation. By the fact that there
had
to be some end less terrible than the total destruction of all they'd fought and struggled to build and accomplish.

"I would be lying to you, ladies and gentlemen," she resumed finally, "if I didn't admit that the Manticorans who would prefer to see the final and permanent destruction of the Republic of Haven probably outnumber those who would prefer any other outcome. And I'm sure there are any number of Havenites who feel exactly the same way about the Star Empire after so many years of warfare and destruction.

"But vengeance begets vengeance." Her voice was soft, her brown, almond-shaped eyes very level as they swept the faces of the Havenites. "Destruction can be a 'final solution' only when that destruction is complete and total. When there's no one left on the other side—will
never
be anyone left on the other side—to seek their own vengeance. Surely history offers endless examples of that basic, unpalatable truth. Rome had 'peace' with Carthage back on Old Terra in the end, but only when Carthage had been not simply defeated, but totally destroyed. And no one in the Star Empire is foolish enough to believe we can 'totally destroy' the Republic of Haven. Whatever we do, wherever the Star Empire and the Republic go from this point, there will still be people on both sides who identify themselves as Manticoran or Havenite and
remember
what the other side did to them, and no military advantage lasts forever. Admiral Theisman and Admiral Foraker demonstrated that quite clearly two or three T-years ago, and I assure you that we in the Star Empire learned the lesson well."

Something like an echo of bleak satisfaction quivered around the Havenite side of the table at her admission, and she met Theisman's gaze, then nodded very slightly to him.

"So the position of the Star Empire, Ladies and Gentlemen," she told them, "is that it's ultimately in the best interests of both Manticore and Haven to
end
this. To end it
now
, with as little additional bloodshed, as little additional destruction, as little additional grounds for us to hate one another and seek vengeance upon one another, as possible. My Queen doesn't expect that to be easy. She doesn't expect it to happen quickly. But the truth is that it's a simple problem.
Solving
it may not be simple, yet if we can agree on the unacceptability of failure, it's a solution we can achieve. One we
must
achieve. Because if we fail to, then all that will remain are more of those 'bad options' that have brought us to this pass in the first place. And if all that remain are bad options, then Her Majesty's Government and military forces will choose the option most likely to preclude Haven's threatening the Star Empire again for as many decades as possible."

She looked around the conference table again, sampling the whirlwind emotions behind those outwardly calm and attentive faces, and shook her head slowly.

"I personally believe, both as an officer in Her Majesty's service and as a private citizen, that that would be a disaster. That it would only sow the seeds of still another cycle of bloodshed and killing in the fullness of time. None of which means it won't happen anyway, if we fail to find some other solution. That I won't carry out my own orders to
make
it happen. So it's up to us—all of us, Manticoran and Havenite—to decide which outcome we can achieve. And my own belief, Ladies and Gentlemen, is that we owe it not only to all the people who may die in the future but to those who have already died—to
all
our dead, Manticoran, Grayson, Andermani, and Havenite—to choose the
right
outcome."

"Good morning, Michael," the very black-skinned woman said from Rear Admiral Michael Oversteegen's com display.

"Mornin', Milady," Oversteegen drawled, and smiled slightly as her eyes narrowed. His chosen form of address was perfectly appropriate, even courteous . . . no matter how much he knew it irritated Vice Admiral Gloria Michelle Samantha Evelyn Henke, Countess Gold Peak. Especially in that upper-crust, languid accent. Of course, the fact that she knew
he
knew it irritated her only made it even more amusing.

Serves her right
, he thought.
All those years she managed t' avoid admittin' she was only half-a-dozen or so heartbeats away from th' Throne. Not anymore, Milady Countess
.

It wasn't that Oversteegen had anything other than the highest respect for Michelle Henke. It was just that she'd always been so aggressive in stamping on anything that even looked like the operation of nepotism in her behalf. Oh, if she'd been incompetent, or even only
marginally
competent, he'd have agreed with her. The use of family influence in support of self-interest and mediocrity (or worse) was the single greatest weakness of an aristocratic system, and Oversteegen had studied more than enough history to admit it. But
every
social system had weaknesses of one sort or another, and the Manticoran system was an aristocratic one. Making that system work required a recognition of social responsibility on the part of those at its apex, and Oversteegen had no patience with those—like his own miserable excuse for an uncle, Michael Janvier, the Baron of High Ridge—who saw their lofty births solely in terms of their own advantage. But it also required the effective use of the advantages of birth and position to promote merit. To see to it that those who were capable of discharging their responsibilities, and willing to do so, received the preference to let them get on with it.

He was willing to concede that the entire system disproportionately favored those who enjoyed the patronage and family influence in question, and that was unfortunate. One of those weaknesses every system had. But he wasn't going to pretend he didn't see those advantages as a rightful possession of those who met their obligations under it . . . including, especially, the enormous obligation to see to it that those advantages were employed on behalf of others, in support of the entire society which provided them, not simply for their own personal benefit or the sort of shortsighted class selfishness of which aristocrats like his uncle (or, for that matter, his own father) were altogether too often guilty . In particular, one of the responsibilities of any naval officer was to identify and groom his own successors, and Oversteegen saw no reason he shouldn't use his influence to nurture the careers of capable subordinates, be they ever so commonly born. It wasn't as if being born into the aristocracy magically guaranteed some sort of innate superiority, and one of the greater strengths of the Manticoran system from its inception had been the relative ease with which capable commoners could find themselves elevated to its aristocracy.

Mike ought t' recognize that if anyone does
, he reflected,
given that her best friend in th' galaxy is also th' most spectacular example I can think of of how it works.
When
it works, of course. Be fair, Michael—it doesn't always, and you know it as well as Mike does
.

"What can I do for you this fine mornin'?" he inquired genially, and she shook her head at him.

"I was going to invite you to observe a little command simulation over here aboard
Artie
in a couple of days," she said, using the nickname which had been bestowed upon HMS
Artemis
' by her flagship's crew. "But given how feisty you're obviously feeling, I've changed my mind. Instead"—she smiled nastily—"I think you'd better join me for lunch so we can discuss the defenders' role. You've just inspired me to let
you
play system-defense force CO in our little exercise instead of Shulamit."

"I'd hate t' be quoted on this, Milady, but that sounds just a mite . . . I don't know . . .
vengeful
, perhaps?"

"Why, yes, I believe it does, Admiral Oversteegen. And, speaking as one decadent, effete aristocrat to another, isn't vengefulness one of our hallmark traits?"

"I believe it is," he agreed with a chuckle.

"I'm glad it amuses you, Admiral," she said cheerfully. "And I hope you'll go right on feeling equally amused when it turns out the other side has Mark 23s, too, this time."

"Why do I have th' impression you just this minute decided t' add that particular wrinkle t' th' sim, Milady?"

"Because you have a nasty, suspicious mind and know me entirely too well. But look at it this way. It's bound to be a very
enlightening
experience for you." She smiled sweetly at him. "I'll expect you at oh-one-thirty, Admiral. Don't be late!"

Michelle terminated the connection and tipped back in her flag bridge chair, shaking her head wryly.

"Are you really going to give the aggressor force Mark 23s, Ma'am?" a voice asked, and Michelle looked over her shoulder at Captain Cynthia Lecter, Tenth Fleet's chief of staff.

"I'm not only going to give the op force Mark 23s, Cindy," she said with a wicked smile. "I'm probably going to give it Apollo, too."

Lecter winced. The current iteration of the Mark 23 multidrive missile carried the most destructive warhead in service with any navy, and it carried it farther and faster than any missile in service with any navy outside what was still called the Haven Sector. That was a sufficiently significant advantage for most people to be going on with, she supposed, but when the faster-than-light command and control link of the Apollo system was incorporated into the mix, the combination went far beyond simply devastating.

"You don't think that might be a little bit of overkill, Ma'am?" the chief of staff asked after a moment.

"I certainly
hope
it will!" Michelle replied tartly. "He deserves worse, actually. Well, maybe not
deserves
, but I can't think of a word that comes closer. Besides, it'll be good for him. Put a little hiccup in that unbroken string of four-oh simulations he's reeled off since he got here. After all," she finished, lifting her nose with a slight but audible sniff, "it's one of a commanding officer's responsibilities to remind her subordinates from time to time of their own mortality."

"You manage to sound so virtuous when you say that, Ma'am," Lecter observed. "And you can actually keep a straight face, too. I think that's even more remarkable."

"Why, thank you, Captain Lecter!" Michelle beamed benignly and raised one hand in a gesture of blessing which would have done her distant cousin Robert Telmachi, the Archbishop of Manticore, proud. "And now, why don't you sit down with Dominica, Max, and Bill to see just how devious the three of you can be in putting all of those unfair advantages into effect?"

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," Lecter acknowledged, and headed off towards the tactical section, where Commander Dominica Adenauer was discussing something with Lieutenant Commander Maxwell Tersteeg, Michelle's staff electronic warfare officer.

Michelle watched her go and wondered if Cindy had figured out the other reason she was thinking about giving the op force Apollo. They weren't going to find a more capable system-defense CO than Michael Oversteegen, and she badly wanted to see how well the Royal Manticoran Navy's Apollo—in the hands of one Vice Admiral Gold Peak and her staff—could do while someone with all the Royal Manticoran Navy's war-fighting technology
short
of Apollo pulled out all the stops against her.

Her own smile faded at the thought. None of her ships currently had Apollo, nor did they have the Keyhole-Two platforms to make use of the FTL telemetry link even if they'd had the Apollo birds themselves. But unless she missed her guess, that was going to change very soon now.

I hope to
hell
it is, anyway
, she reflected grimly.
And when it
does
, we'd damned well better have figured out how to use it as effectively as possible. That bastard Byng may have been a complete and utter incompetent—as well as an asshole—but not all Sollies can be
that
idiotic
.

She settled back, contemplating the main plot with eyes that didn't see it at all while she reflected on the last three T-months.

Somehow, when she'd just been setting out on her naval career, it had never occurred to her she might find herself in a situation like this one. Even now, it seemed impossible that so much could have happened in so short a period, and she wished she knew more about what was going on back home.

Be glad of what you
do
know, girl
, she told herself sternly.
At least Beth approved of your actions. Cousin or not, she could've recalled you as the sacrificial goat. In fact, I'm sure a lot of people think that's exactly what she
should've
done
.

The four-week communications loop between the Spindle System, the capital of the newly organized Talbott Quadrant of the Star Empire of Manticore, and the Manticoran Binary System was the kind of communications delay any interstellar naval officer had to learn to live with. It was also the reason most successful navies simply assumed flag officers on distant stations were going to have to make their own decisions. There just wasn't time for them to communicate with their governments, even though everyone recognized that the decisions they made might have significant consequences for their star nations' foreign policy. But however well established that state of affairs might be, the potential consequences for Michelle Henke this time around were rather more significant than usual.