Uncompromising Honor - eARC by David Weber
“Once we get them to Warner,” Benjamin continued, “we tranship them to the Kalokainos ship and it sails off to Beowulf. It’ll arrive covered by a legitimate shipping manifest. Warner seized a bunch of general merchandise consigned to Beowulf when the Manties started shutting down the wormholes, and Beowulf’s trade rep’s been working on prying it loose ever since. The system government’s been dragging its heels, claiming it wants to see which way the plebiscite goes before it releases the goods. The Beowulfers have been arguing that the goods in question belong to private individuals and corporations, not to the Republic of Beowulf, so they aren’t liable to seizure whatever the plebiscite decides. Collin has half a dozen people in place in the Warner government, and they’ve had their thumbs on the delaying-things side of the scale. Once we get the Silver Bullets to Warner and get them loaded, they’ll change their tune, and off the ship—it’s called the Star Galleon—will go to Beowulf.”
Daniel frowned, rubbing his lower lip as he did some mental math. Warner to Beowulf was about 103 light-years. For a standard freighter, that worked out to thirty-five days or so, just under twenty-eight subjective days for Star Galleon’s crew. So if he made his delivery schedule…
“Last week of November or first week of December, you think?”
“Something like that.” Benjamin nodded. “Have your projections for in-system deployment changed?”
“Not significantly.” Daniel shook his head. “Given the volume we’ve projected for the Mycroft platforms’ locations, they should be fully deployed within twelve days.”
“Dwell time projections?”
“That’s actually a little better than our original estimates. Given the size of the final platform, we were able to build in deployable solar panels and a trickle charger for the plasma capacitors. They’ll be far enough out to limit what the panels can scoop up, but they should have enough power to hold the accumulators’ charge for at least eighty days before they fall behind the leakage rate and the capacitors drop below minimum operating levels. The numbers for Beowulf suggest it’ll be closer to ninety or even a hundred days, but eighty’s a safe minimum estimate.” Daniel shrugged. “If the spider wasn’t such a power hog, those numbers would be a lot better.”
“Then that defines our operational window, doesn’t it?” Benjamin drummed on his desktop a bit more.
“I’ll have to discuss the final timing with Collin,” he said then, “but I think you’ve given us more than enough flexibility.” He smiled warmly at his brother. “On the other hand, we’d probably better get the new schedule off to Gweon pretty quickly. It’s only about eight days from Warner to Sol under streak drive, but we don’t know how long it’ll take him to bring Kingsford around.”
“Will he be able to convince Kingsford?” Daniel asked a bit anxiously, and Benjamin shrugged.
“Collin says ‘probably,’” he said. “The problem is that Kingsford’s smarter than Rajampet was, and he’s already gotten his hand burned in Raging Justice. Unfortunately, it looks like since the shooting started—and since Kolokoltsov put him in charge of the SLN—he’s gotten a lot more wary about the Manties and a lot less enthusiastic for any more of the ‘Mandarins’’ adventures. The man’s an actual Solarian patriot, too, which surprised me a bit, since he never seemed particularly averse to picking up a little extra pocket change along the way. He’s changed his tune on that, too, though. In fact, he’s officially terminated his relationships with half a dozen lobbyists whose credit vouchers had access to his ears. That means we can’t manipulate him as readily as we’d hoped, which means we can’t predict that he’ll jump at the opportunity the same way we could have gotten Rajampet to.”
“But in that—” Daniel began, and Benjamin waved one hand at the com.
“We think we’ve found the bait to encourage him, and Gweon will hardly have to lie about it at all. Besides, whatever he may think about our proposal, he’s not the one calling the shots, ultimately. And he’s not a ‘Mandarin’ himself. He doesn’t quite have a seat at the high table, and do you really think they won’t jump at the opportunity? We can give them a pretty powerful military argument, but as far as Collin’s analysts can tell, we probably wouldn’t actually need to. They can see which way the plebiscite’s going to come out just as well as we can, and the political arguments—especially since they’ve already embraced Operation Buccaneer—should be pretty overwhelming.”
“And how do we expect the Grand Alliance to react?”
“Now that, Daniel, is the sixty-eight million-credit question.” Benjamin showed his teeth. “I’d say they’re likely to react…poorly from the Mandarins’ perspective, but none our analysts are prepared to predict how poorly. The access we’ve lost in the upper strata of their governments isn’t helping, either. We’ve got a range of opinions, running all the way from immediate reprisals in kind or an actual blockade of the Sol System to an intensification of efforts to bring more and more of the Fringe and the Protectorates over to their side of the ledger. Part of how they respond will depend on the Solly battle plan and any modest tweaks we might add to it, though. My staff’s in discussions with Collin’s PsyOps people about how we might want to go about that.
“On the other hand,” he showed those teeth again, “even if they aren’t idiotic enough—or enraged enough—to create a few counter-atrocities of their own, we still come out ahead. If they are stupid enough to opt for reprisals in kind, they’ll guarantee enough Core World hatred and resentment to keep them occupied for the next fifty T-years, even if they win in the end. But whether they do that or not, it’ll definitely hurt their military capabilities in the short term, and all Collin’s indications are that they don’t see Hasta coming or have a clue about the other info we’ve fed into Technodyne’s R&D. That being the case, they may not realize how their window of technological supremacy is shrinking, and the Solarian League’s basic tech and educational system are a hell of a lot better suited to making up the difference between the SLN’s capabilities and the Grand Alliance’s than the People’s Republic’s were to making up the difference between the RMN and the Peoples Navy. I don’t think the Mandarins can stay afloat fiscally much longer, but if we can entice the Grand Alliance into genuinely enraging Core World opinion—into lighting something like a real fire in the Solarian League’s belly—somebody or something will replace Kolokoltsov and his crew. I don’t give a damn what their precious Constitution says. Scare them enough, piss them off enough, convince them this is a genuine fight for survival, and then throw in a hefty dollop of revenge, and whoever kicks the Mandarins out will find the resources to use the League’s industrial capacity to build enough ‘almost as good’ weapons to bury the Manties and their friends. And while they’re doing that, they’ll go right on shedding Fringe and Verge systems.”
Daniel nodded slowly. He didn’t like the thought of “counter-atrocities” one bit, but he couldn’t refute Benjamin’s logic. Except, that was, for the fact that the People’s Republic had believed the same thing was true in its favor against the Royal Manticoran Navy. And for the fact that the Detweiler Plan had always called for the League’s dissolution, not for driving it even more tightly together against an outside threat.
But that’s not what’s going to happen, really, he thought. Ben’s right about that, too. Whatever the Core Worlds may do, the Fringe and the Verge are going up in flames. At best—from the Sollies’ perspective—the League will be busy for decades trying to put out one fire after another while people like Hurskainen and the rest of the Renaissance Faction—and Barregos; let’s not forget him!—bite off chunks. We need chaos outside the Core for the plan to succeed, and that means the one thing we don’t need is Manticore, Haven, and the Andermani combining to put out the fires before the SLN ever gets around to them. And that means the “Grand Alliance” has to go. Either that, or we need it locked in a war against the League that goes on and on and on while we gather up the pieces around the periphery.
So either way,
He wished he felt better about being able to collect the credit for that.
“Sounds good,” he said, rather more cheerfully than he actually felt, then deliberately shifted gears.
“And now that we have that out of the way, and noticing the time, may I suggest you and your lady join me and my ladies for that lunch? I’m thinking in terms of Goryachev’s, my treat. Only seems fair, since I’m planning on bringing two adolescent appetites with me!” He chuckled. “You and I can talk about those other projects this afternoon, after we get everyone fed.”
“Works for me,” Benjamin told him. “Just let me com Roxy. I don’t think Susanna’s in Leonard this afternoon, but she can probably bring Tabitha along. I’ll ping you back in five minutes. That good?”
“As you say, works for me. Talk to you then. Clear.”
The Golden Olive Restaurant
City of Old Chicago
Sol System
Solarian League
“As far as I can tell, Kolokoltsov and the others actually believe their own story, at least as far as first causes go,” Weng Zhing-hwan said after the server had deposited her order of Měnggǔ kǎoròu in front of her and withdrawn. The savory scent of pork, mutton, and chicken rose to greet her, and she picked up her chopsticks.
“Hard to blame them, really, I guess,” Lupe Blanton replied. She’d been in the mood for something lighter than Mongolian barbecue, and she frowned as she picked at the salad in front of her. “Depressing, but hard to blame them. Especially with dear Rajmund stirring the pot.”
“I know.” Weng popped a bite of chicken into her mouth and chewed appreciatively, but her blue eyes were unhappy. “I pulled Yucel’s record back when you and I first started worrying about this. Based on what she’s done in the past, I can’t say anything in the Manties’ version of events strikes me as unlikely.”
“Zhing-hwan, there isn’t an official ‘Manty version’ yet,” Blanton scolded.
“Oh, excuse me!” Weng rolled her eyes. “I meant the version the Manties are going to present when they get around to it. You know, the one that happens to be the truth?”
“Oh, that one!” Blanton snorted. She sprinkled a little salt onto her salad. “I’m just pointing out that so far all anyone’s hearing is our esteemed superiors’ version. Which, as you just suggested, wouldn’t recognize the truth if it walked in the door.”
Weng chuckled, but neither of them found any real humor in the situation.
“It’s a given that Abruzzi’s lying about it,” the colonel said then. “His lips are moving. The thing I find most interesting, though, is the fact that according to Captain Weaver, Terekhov disclaimed any pre-existing promises of naval support.”
“That’s not quite what he said,” Blanton objected.
“Oh yes, it is,” Weng disagreed. “He specifically apologized for arriving so far behind Yucel because nobody on the Manties’ side knew anything about the Mobian situation soon enough to be more proactive.”
“What?” Blanton lowered her fork and cocked her head. “I didn’t see any of that in the com record Weaver brought home.”
“No, you didn’t.” Weng smiled. “On the other hand, and without wishing to cast any aspersions on the gaping holes in Frontier Security’s intelligence net, is it possible that—unlike the always-efficient Gendarmerie—you didn’t have a stringer aboard Rudolfo Kalokainos?”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying you did have somebody aboard that ship?”
“Not exactly,” the colonel admitted. “What we had was somebody who knew somebody. Rudolfo Kalokainos’s purser has a sister in the Gendarmerie. He made it a point to look her up as soon as he could catch a shuttle from orbit. And given the spectacular way all the Mobian crap is likely to hit the Gendarmerie right in the face, the sister kicked his version upstairs fast. She’s over in Davenant-Prydmor’s Analysis shop, not Operations, but Noritoshi made sure what she had to say got distributed to everyone in Intelligence Command. Well, all the division chiefs and senior analysts, anyway.”
“That was a lucky break,” Blanton said.
“Nonsense. It was all the result of careful prior planning.”
“Say that again with a straight face,” Blanton challenged, and it was Weng’s turn to snort. Then her expression sobered once more.
“Fair enough,” she said. “But the key point is that according to our source—who, admittedly, doesn’t have any recorded official com traffic to substantiate it, but who also has no reason I can see to lie about it—Terekhov told Breitbach and his senior lieutenant, somebody named Blanchard, that no matter what Breitbach might have thought, his ‘Mobius Liberation Front’ hadn’t been talking to the Manties. Now, Breitbach and Blanchard obviously both believed they’d been in contact with Manticore, and somebody sure as hell provided them with heavy weapons and covert support. But if it was the Manties, wouldn’t Terekhov have said so? I mean, he was theoretically talking to people who’d expected his arrival. Seems to me Manticore would want the credit for being a reliable ally, wouldn’t you think?”
“Your source says Terekhov actually told this Breitbach that?”
“That’s what he says.” Weng shrugged. “He was dirt-side when the balloon went up, and he got swept up by the locals early on. His wife’s a Mobian. Apparently, the locals arrested him at the same time some of his in-laws were picked up on suspicion. So until he was released by the new regime and allowed to return to Rudolfo Kalokainos, he had an inside seat for a lot of what was going on.”
“And, as someone with Mobian connections, especially if he spent time in custody as a suspected rebel, a motive to…cast your late, lamented colleague in a less than favorable light,” Blanton pointed out.
“Which, I’d argue, is offset by the fact that he’s talking to his own sister,” Weng countered. Blanton thought about that for a moment, then shrugged agreement.
“I could see Manticore denying any connection to an unsuccessful rebellion it had helped instigate,” the colonel continued then. “But a successful one? One where the new people in charge think the Manties were in their corner from the very beginning?” She shook her head. “That one I find harder to accept.”
“So you see it as more evidence of the Other Guys’ involvement.”
“I do.”
Weng plied her chopsticks as they sat in thoughtful silence. Then Blanton leaned back on her side of the table.
“I’m inclined to agree,” she said. “Mind you, I can see an upside for the Manties if they’re taking the position that they’re so noble they’re ready to come to the rescue of people who only think they’ve been talking to Manticore. I suppose that could be a subtle part of their master plan, if they really are behind it and there aren’t any Other Guys. I mean, it would let them foment unrest and rebellions all over the Fringe and Verge without having to provide real support to most of them.” She shrugged. “They turn up for two or three, announce they ‘just happened’ to hear about what was going on and—being the noble and selfless souls which all the galaxy knows Manticorans to be—rallied to the defense of the people who’d been misled into believing they had promises of Manticoran support. That insulates them against the claim that they’re using ‘disposable tools,’ on the one hand, and gets them all kinds of credit for rushing to the rescue when they’re under no moral obligation to do anything of the sort.”
“I thought about that.” Weng nodded. “And I’m sure that’s what someone like our friend Rajmund’s going to argue is happening. I don’t think it is, though. I keep going back to how early this operation started. I’m convinced—I think all of us Ghost Hunters are convinced—that the Manties never saw direct conflict with the League coming, even after Monica, until Byng screwed up. And all of us know this crap about ‘Manty imperialism’ would make really good fertilizer. Manticore had exactly zero reason to start trying to build some kind of interstellar empire. Hell, it already had one; it’s just that it was comme
She shook her head.
“I could see a policy of destabilizing the Protectorates as a response to an existential threat to their Star Empire’s existence, Lupe. In fact, in realpolitik terms, that would make an enormous amount of sense. But this started too early to be a response to us. To me, that only reinforces the likelihood that it was the Other Guys all along.”
“You’re probably right.” Blanton reached for her iced tea. “Pity it’s going to ‘prove’ exactly the opposite when it all finally hits the boards.”
George Benton Tower
City of Old Chicago
Old Earth
Sol System
“The problem I have, Admiral,” Malachai Abruzzi said, “is that selling what happened at Hypatia as anything besides a frigging disaster will be just a bit difficult for my people over at Information.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mister Abruzzi,” Winston Kingsford replied politely.
“We need something to work with,” Abruzzi said in a more pointed tone. “The way this is working out doesn’t help our narrative one bit.”
Kingsford only looked at him, and Abruzzi’s face tightened.
“Malachai,” Innokentiy Kolokoltsov said, “Admiral Hajdu wasn’t sent to Hypatia by himself.” Abruzzi transferred his unhappy glare to the Permanent Senior Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs, but Kolokoltsov went on in the same level voice. “Ms. Yang-O’Grady had primary direction of the mission. Admiral Hajdu assumed responsibility only after she decided—and formally informed him—that she’d failed in her own mission, at which point the situation was…complicated. We’re in no position, at this remove, to second-guess his understanding of that situation. I may agree with you that some of his decisions were…less than optimal, but he was acting within the parameters of his mission as he—and Yang-O’Grady—understood it.