A Rising Thunder

Chapter Thirty-Two

“So we’re agreed?” Kolokoltsov asked, and looked around the faces of his fellows.

“I’m still not sure this is the best policy,” Agatá Wodoslawski said unhappily.

“I’m not wildly enamored of it myself,” Malachai Abruzzi told her, “but we’ve damned well got to do something. Something that looks at least moderately aggressive, I mean. And after what happened to Filareta, I don’t see a lot of other options.”

“And at least Kingsford’s being more realistic than Rajani was,” Nathan MacArtney put in. The permanent senior undersecretary of the interior was unwontedly subdued. Rajampet’s suicide had hit him particularly hard. It wasn’t so much that he’d liked the CNO, but they’d worked together for far too many years in policing the Protectorates, and they’d had far too many shared priorities, for MacArtney to take his sudden demise — and its circumstances — in stride.

“Yes, that does seem to be the case,” Kolokoltsov agreed in a tone of deliberate understatement, and MacArtney flushed. He looked as if he might be about to say something, but then he bit his lip. Kolokoltsov gazed at him for a moment longer, then sighed.

“I’m sorry, Nathan,” he said. MacArtney looked back up quickly, and Kolokoltsov shrugged. “We’re in a hell of a mess, and Rajani had a lot to do with our getting here. And, yes, you and he were our point team for the Protectorates. But the two of you didn’t act alone, and it’s obvious Rajani wasn’t keeping you fully informed any more than he was keeping the rest of us fully informed. So I suppose it’s about time I got past taking out my own fear and uncertainty — and I am scared, don’t doubt that for a moment — on you.” He smiled thinly. “Trust me, there’s been more than enough screwing up involved in getting us to this point to go around. And a lot of it comes to roost right here.”

He tapped his own chest, his expression grim. MacArtney gazed at him for a few seconds, then nodded. No one else said anything else, and Kolokoltsov didn’t blame them. Quartermain and Wodoslawski had persistently cautioned all of them about the potential economic consequences of a conflict with the Star Empire of Manticore, yet all of them — including Quartermain and Wodoslawski — had disastrously underestimated the Manties’ military capabilities. That was Rajampet’s fault, in many ways, yet that didn’t absolve them from their own disastrous mistake in accepting his assurances that Battle Fleet’s numbers were more than enough to compensate for any “minor” Manticoran advantages.

Especially not when we should’ve known — when I should’ve known — how much our own attitudes were being influenced by wishful thinking and arrogance. We walked into this one step — one avoidable step — at a time, and now we’re stuck with it.

“The only thing I wonder about,” Quartermain said now, her tone more hesitant than usual, “is whether we shouldn’t still be pursuing a back burner diplomatic resolution?” She looked at the others. “After what’s happened in the Assembly, especially, I’m more worried than ever about the long-term consequences of the Manty blockade. The political consequences, I mean. If there’s any way to get them to back off on that…”

Her voice trailed off and she grimaced unhappily.

“We all know what you mean, Omosupe,” Kolokoltsov told her. “But if I were the Manties, I wouldn’t be real interested in negotiating with us at the moment. Not when they know how badly that blockade has to be hurting us. And not when they’ve got the momentum and the combat advantage, either. I’m sure they’d be prepared to give us terms, but I’m also pretty sure any terms they’d be willing to accept would do us more harm than good in the Assembly. Not to mention what people who think Beowulf has a point about what would’ve happened to Tsang if they’d let her through their damned terminus might do if the news got out we were negotiating with one hand while ‘sacrificing Navy ships and lives’ with the other.”

Quartermain nodded slowly, although he wasn’t certain she fully agreed with him. For that matter, he wasn’t certain he fully agreed with himself. But he was certain they dared not show any evidence of weakness.

“We do need to be prepared to sit back down at the table with them,” he went on. “In fact, I think it’s essential that we put together a proposal we could live with and update it constantly, keep it current, so we can send it to the Manties as soon as the opportunity offers.”

“‘As soon as the opportunity offers’?” she repeated, and he shrugged.

“Before we can expect them to give any ground, entertain a peace settlement we could accept without the internal political situation coming apart completely, we’re going to have to score at least some victory.”

“Excuse me, but that doesn’t seem likely to happen any time soon,” Wodoslawski pointed out a bit sharply, and Kolokoltsov shrugged again.

“Not in any pitched battle between fleets, no,” he conceded. “On the other hand, that’s not the sort of campaign Kingsford is proposing, is it? If we can do an end run around their battle fleet and start hammering their star systems and their commerce, inflict some of the hurt their blockade is inflicting on us, they may become more amenable to reason. And if we can do that and sell it to our own public as proof we’re actually accomplishing something militarily, then we could probably risk opening negotiations without sending the League’s morale and confidence even further into the crapper.”

Both women looked dubious, and he leaned forward, his expression intense.

“Right now, there’s a lot of floundering around in the Assembly and on the news channels. If Reid’s motion succeeds the way I think it will, it should refocus a lot of that blathering and posturing, though. At the very least, it will refocus it on Beowulf and off of us for at least a few T-months, and that should help a lot. If nothing else, it should drive Hadley back onto the defensive and lower the temperature of the debate about our policies and competence. And I think reminding people about beowulf’s ‘treachery’ is going to get quite a few of the other system governments started looking around fearfully at the threats outside the League. The ones that are most comfortable with the existing system are worried about the example Beowulf’s actions represent. In fact, they’re likely to see Beowulf’s decision to let the Manties in as an act of aggression, one aimed directly at them, since it threatens the integrity — and defense — of the system they’re so invested in. And even better, from our viewpoint, the uncertainty, the sense that the entire galaxy is coming unglued, should make even systems whose governments are unhappy about our policies nervous about rocking the boat at a time like this. We may have gotten hurt, and they may not like everything we’re doing, but we’re still the biggest, most powerful haven around, so there’s a herd instinct at work in our favor at the moment. But we have to accomplish something, or at least be able to sell something as an accomplishment, if we want to keep that instinct working for us instead of against us. That’s why Kingsford’s approach offers us the best chance in terms of military options.”

“And how good do you think that chance really is?” Quartermain asked softly.

“Frankly, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone does.” Kolokoltsov leaned back once more, raising his hands as he admitted his uncertainty. “I only know every other option looks even less likely to succeed. And if this does manage to buy us enough time to push the development on those new Technodyne missiles, the situation’s going to change radically. We’re still way too damned big for them to possibly think they could occupy all of our star systems. We just have to hold everything together long enough to get weapons good enough to give us a chance against them into production. If we can do that, that ratio of force to volume that Kingsford was talking about comes into play on our side, not theirs.”

He looked around the table again and inhaled deeply.

“So, I repeat the question. Are we in agreement that we should authorize Admiral Kingsford’s commerce and infrastructure-raiding strategy?”

No one spoke. But then, slowly, one by one, heads nodded all around the table.

* * *

The Chamber of Stars, the official meeting place of the Solarian League Assembly, was enormous. It had to be for something which seated the delegation of every single star system which claimed League membership. Every system was entitled to a minimum of one delegate; additional delegates were apportioned on the basis of population. The majority of delegations consisted of no more than two or possibly three members. Indeed, almost a third of all delegations boasted only a single member. More populous systems, obviously, had a greater representation, however, and the Beowulf Delegation consisted of nine members, headed by Felicia Hadley.

At the moment, all nine of those members were on the floor of the Chamber. Most were gathered around Hadley in their delegation’s box, but three of them were out circulating. The delegation’s staff reviewed every poll, clipped every editorial, and reviewed the majority of op-ed pieces every day, but Hadley was a firm believer in taking the pulse of the Assembly one-on-one and face-to-face.

Especially on days like this.

“Felicia.”

Hadley turned and found herself facing Hamilton Brinton-Massengale, the delegation’s third ranking member. He was a pleasant, unassuming man, with brown hair, a ready smile, and a certain amiable lack of focus which was highly deceptive. That made him one of Hadley’s best pulse-takers, and she felt her nerves tighten as she absorbed his expression. The usual quick smile was nowhere in evidence.

“Yes, Ham?”

“I think the rumor was right,” Brinton-Massengale said quietly. “An awful lot of people don’t seem to see me when I signal for a word.” He grimaced. “I don’t think they’ve all been struck blind, either.”

“Depends on what you mean by blind, doesn’t it?” Hadley smiled thinly.

“I made a special effort to check in with Heimdall, Cyclops, Trombone, Strathmore, and Kenichi,” Brinton-Massengale told her, and she nodded. All five of those star systems were within thirty-five light-years of Beowulf. In fact, Heimdall was barely fourteen light-years away, and all had been trading partners and (usually) political allies for decades.

“And?” she asked when he paused.

“And Routhier, Reicher, and Tannerbaum were some of the people who seem to be having vision problems. Fang Chin-wen was at least willing to exchange a few words, but I had this sense she was looking over her shoulder the entire time. In fact, the only one who seemed ready for an actual conversation was Gook Yang Kee.”

Hadley nodded again, although not happily. Kjell Routhier was one of Cyclops’ delegates. Aurélie Reicher was from Heimdall, and Charlotte Tannerbaum was from Kenichi, while Fang Chin-wen was the assistant delegation leader for Trombone and Gook Yang Kee was the junior member of the Strathmore delegation.

Hadley wasn’t that surprised about Tannerbaum, since Beowulf’s relations with Kenichi had never been particularly close. Routhier was more of a disappointment, especially after the way Hadley and her delegation had helped grease the skids for his delegation chief to meet personally with Permanent Senior Undersecretary Kolokoltsov a few T-months back. The real disappointment, though, was Aurélie Reicher. Heimdall and Beowulf did a tremendous amount of business with one another, given their proximity, and there was more intermarriage between Beowulfers and Heimdallians than almost any other star system except Manticore itself.

I don’t like the possibility that Heimdall’s decided to pull the plug on us, Hadley thought. Still, Reicher’s a pain in the ass on her best day. And she resents the fact that our delegation’s got two more members than hers does. Talk about petty! So it’s possible she’s simply decided on her own that there’s no point getting splashed if we’re about to get whacked.

“What did Fang have to say?” she asked.

“Not a lot, mostly just everyday platitudes. I had the impression she was making conversation to be polite. On the other hand, that may have been for the benefit of the rest of her delegation.”

“Why do you say that?” Hadley’s eyes narrowed intently.

“Because she’s the one who told me to go have a word with Yang Kee…and she did it very quietly, when no one else from her delegation was in easy earshot.”

“Okay.” Hadley nodded in understanding.

Despite the Chamber’s size and the thousands of human beings who inhabited it when the Assembly was in session (and its members bothered to attend), its magnificent design included sound baffles around each delegation’s formal box. The baffles couldn’t completely deaden the never-ending, rustling surf of that many human voices, but it did reduce the background noise to just that — a background — within each box against which voices inside the box were clearly audible. So it would have made sense for Fang to babble away meaninglessly as a time killer until she could find a moment no one was close enough to overhear her.

Assuming she had something to say she didn’t want the rest of her delegation to know about, at least.

“So what did Yang Kee say when you found him?” she asked.

“Not a hell of a lot,” Brinton-Massengale replied frankly. “But that was because he didn’t know a hell of a lot. He says the senior members of the delegation seem worried, and nobody seems really eager to talk to any of them, either. One thing he did find out, though.”

“What?”

“He’s not on the official list, but Tyrone Reid’s going to move a special motion.”

“Yang Kee’s certain of that?” Hadley felt herself leaning towards Brinton-Massengale, her expression tight. She knew her body language was revealing too much to anyone watching her closely, but she couldn’t help it.

“As certain as he can be.” Brinton-Massengale shrugged. “You know how it is, Felicia. But he says the fix is definitely in. Reid isn’t on the Speaker’s List, but Yung-Thomas is, and Yung-Thomas is going to yield in Reid’s favor. That’s what Yang Kee had from someone on Neng’s staff.”

“I see.” Hadley thought for several seconds, then inhaled deeply. “Ham, I want you to go back to the residence.”

“Can I ask why?” There was no argument in Brinton-Massengale’s tone, but he looked surprised.

“I want an official member of the delegation, not just one of the staffers, to sit on Sir Lyman. Someone nobody with an official position is going to try to shove his way past.”

“You think somebody’s going to try to put the arm on the Ambassador?” Brinton-Massengale looked even more surprised, and Hadley shook her head.

“No, not really, but I don’t want to take any chances. Make sure you’ve entered your proxy code in my favor before you go, so I can cast your vote if I have to. Not that it’s going to do much good.”

“Sure,” Brinton-Massengale said again. He entered the appropriate code, then looked at her before leaving the delegation’s box. “What do you think this is all about? Other than something we’re not going to like, I mean?”

“It could be several things,” Hadley said grimly. “With Reid fronting for them, though, they’re probably going for something fairly heavy. Probably—” She broke off and shook her head. “No, I’m not going to speculate. We’ll know soon enough. Now scoot!”

* * *

Jasmine Neng, the Speaker of the Assembly, was a native of the Sol System (speakers tended to be chosen from mankind’s home star system). Born and raised in one of the belter habitats, she was tall and very slender with a pale complexion and striking dark eyes. She also knew exactly where the real balance of power lay in the Solarian League, or she would never have been chosen for her current position.

She sat in the Speaker’s luxurious chair at the Chamber of Star’s central podium. The Speaker’s position was a towering pinnacle mounted on a twisting, faceted column of varicolored marble — honey and cream, obsidian black and golden, warm green and umber — eight meters tall. It loomed above the closest, floor-level delegation boxes, although the upper perimeter of the Chamber rose even higher above it. The Chamber’s indirect lighting was designed to provide a soft, muted ambience under the huge, hemispherical dome of its ceiling, where Old Luna rose in the east and the glittering wealth of stars stretched out endlessly overhead. In the midst of that dim lighting, the Speaker’s marble column gleamed, picked out and illuminated by floor-mounted spotlights, and a beautifully detailed hologram of Old Terra’s blue and green globe floated above Neng’s console.

Hadley had always thought the Chamber had a beautiful, magnificent presence. And so it should, as the meeting place of the democratically elected delegates of the most powerful human nation ever to have existed. But beautiful though it was, magnificently though it had been reared, it was all a sham, and the woman sitting atop that marble spire knew it.

The delegate who’d been speaking — droning away about something one of his constituents had wanted in the ORA, the Official Record of the Assembly — came to the end of his allotted time and sat back down. Hadley had no idea if he’d finished what he meant to say, but he could always sign up for additional time and take up exactly where he’d been interrupted. It wasn’t as if most of the delegates had anything more important to do with their time.

She looked around the Chamber again. It was always difficult to tell, since many of the delegations didn’t illuminate their boxes or even chose to engage the privacy shields, but it looked to her as if more delegates were present than usual. It was normally a tossup as to whether or not there’d be enough attendees to make a legal quorum, although attendance had averaged higher since the crisis with the Star Empire had blown up. If her impression was right, however, more delegates than even that could account for were either in their boxes or wandering about the Chamber’s floor.

“Thank you, Mr. Terry,” Neng said to the delegate who’d just seated himself. She had a strong, resonant voice which always seemed a bit strange coming from such a slender frame but was probably part of the reason she’d been chosen for her position. Her hugely magnified image in the HD projection hovering just below the Chamber’s ceiling looked down at the display at her console.

“The Chair recognizes Mr. Guernicho Yung-Thomas, of Old Terra. The Honorable Delegate has requested ten minutes of the Assembly’s time. Mr. Yung-Thomas.”

Her image disappeared, replaced by that of a somewhat portly, dark-complexioned man with sandy blond hair and gray-green eyes. He was a familiar sight to most of the Assembly, and more than one of the delegates either groaned when they saw him or decided the next ten minutes would be an excellent time for them to visit the men’s room or the women’s room or something else equally important. Yung-Thomas had a veritable passion for hearing his own voice, and he could be counted upon to put his name on the Speaker’s List at least every couple of T-weeks. Worse, his seniority in the Assembly meant he usually got the time he’d requested. Which he then used to give what he fondly imagined were ringing orations on the most boring topics imaginable.

Hadley had never really understood what made Yung-Thomas tick. Did he simply want go down in history as the delegate who’d single-handedly put the most words into the Official Record? Was he trying to prove it really was possible to bore a thousand human beings to death? Or did he actually believe he was the magnificent orator he caricatured whenever he rose to speak? She didn’t know, but the fact that he was allowed to use up the Assembly’s time — whatever his motivation — was one more proof of how utterly irrelevant that Assembly truly was.

Yet today, Yung-Thomas’ expression was different. It was more intent, almost excited, and Hadley felt her nerves tightening.

“Thank you, Madam Speaker,” he said, then looked out of the HD at the Chamber floor. “I thank you for the opportunity to speak to you, my fellow Delegates, but a matter of some urgency has been brought to my attention. Accordingly, Madam Speaker, I yield the balance of my time to the Honorable Tyrone Reid.”

Neng actually managed to look a bit surprised when her image replaced Yung-Thomas’ on the HD. Perhaps acting ability had been another qualification for her position.

“Mr. Reid,” she said, “Mr. Yung-Thomas has yielded to the balance of his time to you. You have the floor.”

“Thank you, Madam Speaker. And thank you, Mr. Yung-Thomas.”

Reid’s image appeared — tall, with the bronzed complexion of a skier and yachtsman, carefully arranged black hair, and Nordic blue eyes which Hadley knew (although she wasn’t supposed to) he’d had altered from their original brown coloration. He was certainly physically impressive. She’d give him that. And the newsies loved him.

“Fellow Delegates,” he said now, his deep voice grave, his expression somber, “I apologize for coming before you under somewhat irregular circumstances. I realize this time is officially designated for addresses to the Assembly, not for the transaction of business. Nonetheless, I feel I must claim privilege for an emergency motion.”

The background murmur of conversations ebbed suddenly. It didn’t quite cease — Hadley couldn’t conceive of anything short of a kinetic weapon strike that could have accomplished that! — but it certainly dropped to one of the lowest levels she’d ever heard. Not surprisingly. There were very few circumstances under which a motion took privilege over the scheduled addresses from the Speaker’s List.

“May the Chair ask the basis for your privilege claim, Mr. Reid?” Neng asked.

“The basis for my privilege claim, Madam Speaker, is a threat to the security of the Solarian League,” Reid replied soberly. “And a grave matter of constitutional law.”

The silence intensified, and Hadley had to restrain a sharp, fierce bark of laughter. Constitutional law? Kolokoltsov and his accomplices were suddenly concerned about constitutional law? If the idea hadn’t made her want to vomit, it would have been hilarious.

“The Honorable Delegate has requested privilege for a motion on the basis of a threat to the League’s security,” Neng intoned. “Does anyone second his request?”

“Seconded!” a voice called from the Seacrest delegation’s box.

“A request of privilege has been made and seconded,” Neng announced. “The Chair calls the vote.”

Hadley thought about voting against the request, but it wouldn’t have made any difference in the end. The fix, as Brinton-Massengale had said, was obviously in.

Several minutes passed while the delegates who were bothering to vote punched the buttons in their boxes. The computers tallied results, and Neng looked down at them.

“The request of privilege is granted,” she said. “The Honorable Delegate may proceed.”

Her image disappeared once more, giving way to Reid’s. He looked out across the Chamber for several seconds, then cleared his throat.

“Fellow Delegates,” he said, “I’m sure there’s no need for me to recapitulate the grievous events of the last few T-months. The League has found itself at odds with the so-called Star Empire of Manticore over what should have been a relatively minor dispute on the frontiers. Unfortunately, the Star Empire has chosen to adopt an increasingly aggressive and militant response to the League’s efforts to insist upon the sanctity of national borders, to safeguard fair and impartial elections, and to protect neutral third parties from unilateral aggression on the part of apparently imperialistic naval powers.”

He paused, and Hadley rolled her eyes. She supposed that was one way to describe what had been happening.

“As you know, Fleet Admiral Sandra Crandall’s task force was attacked and virtually destroyed by Manticoran naval forces in the Spindle System in what the Star Empire has dubbed the Talbott Quadrant and seen fit to annex as the result of a highly questionable ‘constitutional convention’ in the Talbott Cluster. We are still seeking to determine precisely what happened in Spindle, but the fact of Fleet Admiral Crandall’s ships’ destruction and the massive casualties inflicted by the Manticorans is beyond dispute. They themselves acknowledge the shocking death toll. Indeed, their leaders, their news media, and even some of their friends here in the League have actually boasted of the overwhelming nature of their victory. As if the deaths of so many men and women were a matter for celebration rather than regret and grief.

“In the face of such heavy losses and the obvious intransigence of the Manticorans, of their refusal to meet the League’s proposals for compromise on our competing claims, the Admiralty dispatched a fleet to the Manticore Binary System under the command of Fleet Admiral Massimo Filareta. We all know what happened to that fleet once it had been duped into surrendering and destroying the missile pods which represented its best weapon for inflicting damage upon its enemies. According to the Manticorans, Eleventh Fleet did not send the self-destruct command to its missile pods. Instead, for some unknown reason, Fleet Admiral Filareta, although fully aware of the ultimate hopelessness of his position, chose to fire…leaving the ‘Salamander’ no option but to open fire and cold-bloodedly massacre almost two million—two million! — Solarian spacers.”

There was a sound from the Chamber, a sort of low, deep growl, and Hadley’s jaw tightened.

“I realize there are some Manticoran apologists who would argue with my interpretation of events,” Reid continued. “And in the tradition of presumed innocence until guilt is proven, the Admiralty has declined to officially state that the visual records so kindly provided to us by the Star Empire have been edited. Despite that, I’m sure most of us have heard the opinions of acknowledged technical experts to the effect that they were. In the fullness of time, I feel certain, the truth of that matter will be sifted and the League will respond fittingly to the slaughter of so many of our uniformed personnel. I leave that for the future, and for the impartial determination of formal inquiry into all the facts of the case.

“There is, however, another matter. One which requires no access to a hostile star nation’s records for determinations. I refer, of course, to the Star System of Beowulf’s refusal to allow a Solarian task force under the command of Fleet Admiral Imogene Tsang to transit the Beowulf Terminus of the Manticoran Wormhole Junction in support of Fleet Admiral Filareta. It is, of course, impossible to know now how the sudden appearance of an additional hundred superdreadnoughts would have affected the Manticorans’ murderous intentions. We will never know, because Beowulf refused to allow her passage. Not only that, but Beowulf had knowingly permitted Manticoran warships to pass through the Beowulf Terminus without warning Fleet Admiral Tsang of their presence. And Beowulf had done so for the purpose of actively collaborating with those Manticoran warships in barring Fleet Admiral Tsang’s transit.”

His beautifully trained voice had grown progressively harsher as he spoke, and his somber expression had turned into one of anger.

“I am not a naval officer. I have no special expertise in these matters. Nonetheless, it strikes me as likely that the sudden and unexpected appearance of a twenty-five percent increase in Admiral Filareta’s combat strength would have at least forced the Manticorans to stop and think. And, if nothing else, it would have provided us with independent witnesses — records we knew were reliable — of exactly what happened when the infamous Admiral Harrington called upon Fleet Admiral Filareta to surrender and then opened fire.

“None of that happened because a member star system of the Solarian League collaborated with a hostile star nation to prevent it from happening. It did so on the basis that its constitutionally mandated autonomy within its own territory superseded the federal authority. This, mind you, despite the fact that the Beowulf Terminus is not the territorial space of the Beowulf System — a point the system government itself made to the Admiralty messenger sent to acquaint them with the details of Fleet Admiral Tsang’s planned movement ahead of time. At a time of such critical urgency, Beowulf chose to present the specious argument that its autonomy extended to a volume of space outside the twelve-minute limit and then actively committed its own military units to assist a hostile star nation in threatening units of the Solarian League Navy acting as a vital component of a major operation.”

The ugly sound from the Chamber was louder than it had been, Hadley noted.

“We cannot demonstrate that Beowulf’s actions led directly to the massacre of so many of Fleet Admiral Filareta’s brave men and women,” Reid continued heavily. “The possibility clearly exists, however. And whether that may be true or not, there’s no question of Beowulf’s actions. And so I rise to move that this Assembly impanel a special commission to investigate and determine the basis and full extent of Beowulf’s actions. To specifically examine whether or not those actions constitute — as I believe they do — treason under the Solarian Constitution. And to determine precisely what Beowulf was promised by Manticore in return for the opportunity to plant a dagger in Eleventh Fleet’s back by preventing Fleet Admiral Tsang from moving to its support!”

“Second the motion!” someone screamed, and then bedlam broke out.

* * *

It took some time for Speaker Neng to restore order, and Felicia Hadley sat very still, waiting, looking straight ahead and ignoring the shouts and loud conversations raging back and forth across the Chamber floor.

Reid’s motion wasn’t really a surprise, even though they’d managed to keep her from learning it was going to be presented today. And she’d expected him to present it effectively. But she hadn’t counted on the degree of genuine anger she’d heard coming back from the floor. She was pretty sure there were more delegates who hadn’t shouted than who had, yet that was remarkably cold comfort at the moment.

She’d already pressed her own attention key, requesting the floor. In fact, she’d pressed it before Reid rose to speak, since she’d gotten enough warning to realize what was coming. The rules of the Assembly required that the first request for the floor received it, and her own panel showed she’d gotten in before anyone else. Despite which, she wondered if Neng was going to obey the rules this time.

She was almost surprised when Neng’s image replaced Reid’s and the Speaker looked directly at the Beowulf delegation’s box.

“The Chair recognizes the Honorable Delegate from Beowulf,” Neng announced, and sudden quiet descended upon the Chamber. The vast room was hushed, closer to silence than Felicia Hadley had ever heard it, and her image appeared on the huge HD.

“Mr. Reid,” she began flatly, with none of the customary ceremonial formulas, “has leveled serious and inflammatory accusations against my star system and its government.

“While hiding behind a pretense of impartiality and fair-mindedness, he’s obviously already reached his own judgment as to precisely what happened to Admiral Filareta’s command when it invaded the Manticoran Binary System without benefit of any formal declaration of war and following repeated warnings from the Star Empire of Manticore that it was aware Admiral Filareta was coming and was prepared to destroy his entire fleet if necessary to protect its own people and sovereignty. In case any of you are in any doubt about that, the Manticoran Ambassador has made public the recordings of his entire diplomatic correspondence with Senior Permanent Undersecretary Kolokoltsov in which he repeatedly requested — almost begged—the League to send an officer to Manticore with orders for Filareta to stand down while a diplomatic resolution to the disputes between the Star Empire and the League was sought.

“The federal government refused to send that officer. Ambassador Carmichael’s requests, his formal diplomatic notes, weren’t even responded to. So far as we know, none of the official ministers of the Solarian League’s government ever even saw them! Although no one is in a position to prove that at this time, it’s the firm belief of the Planetary Board of Directors of Beowulf that the decisions regarding those notes—and Admiral Filareta’s and Admiral Tsang’s movements — were made at the permanent senior undersecretary’s level by bureaucrats. Men and women who’d never been elected to their positions, without any sort of open debate, committed the Solarian League Navy to an act of war against a sovereign star nation without ever requesting a formal declaration of war as our own Constitution requires!”

She realized her voice had risen, sharp as a battle steel blade as fury at Reid’s cynicism and the opportunity to finally speak her own mind clearly, without any circumlocutions, fueled her anger. She made herself stop, draw a deep breath, and heard one or two lonely voices raised in angry rejection of what she’d said. Aside from those voices, the Chamber was silent, and she wished she could believe it was the silence of thoughtfulness and not the silence of sullen anger.

“Completely irrespective of any actions on Beowulf’s part,” she continued after a moment, “the action of those bureaucrats in committing the Solarian League — without the constitutionally required declaration of war — to war against a star nation whose war-fighting capabilities were far superior to the League’s surely constitutes an act of treason against the League.

“I observe, however, that Mr. Reid has not moved to investigate their conduct. No, he’s chosen to accuse Beowulf of treason and collaboration with the enemy. Although he’s been very careful never to call Manticore ‘the enemy,’ hasn’t he? He’s referred to the Star Empire repeatedly as ‘a hostile star nation,’ but not as a formal enemy. And the reason he’s avoided that term is because there’s been no formal declaration of war.”

The last seven words came out slowly, precisely spaced and enunciated, and she let them fall into the Chamber’s silence.

“I remind all of you that while the Constitution recognizes the paramount authority of the federal government in time of war, in time of peace, the self-defense forces of the League’s member star systems are not subject to the federal authority. They remain answerable to the star system which buids, mans, and maintains them. And the territorial autonomy of member star systems is absolute except in time of war. Precisely how is Beowulf supposed to have committed treason while acting solely and entirely within the letter of the Constitution in time of peace?

“Yet let that question lie for the moment. Instead, let’s consider the question of system autonomy and our actions in conjunction with Admiral Truman’s task force to bar Admiral Tsang’s passage through the Beowulf Terminus.

“There were Beowulfan personnel on the terminus traffic control platforms. Solarian citizens, employed by the Beowulf Terminus Astro Control Service, a joint Beowulfan and Manticoran Corporation. They were civilians, not subject to the orders of the Solarian military, and with all the civil rights of Solarian citizens. Yet Admiral Tsang had made it clear she intended to take possession of the platforms by force and to compel those citizens — against their will — to pass her vessels through the terminus. Indeed, she specifically said that in so many words. Not only that, when Admiral Holmon-Sanders announced her intention to defend her fellow citizens from the assault of their own military, Admiral Tsang informed her that her hundred-plus superdreadnoughts would open fire on Admiral Holmon-Sanders’ thirty-six. Clearly the decision of a fearless naval officer fully aware of her constitutional obligations and the need to avoid loss of Solarian lives.”

Hadley’s tone cut like a scalpel, and her nostrils flared in contempt which was not at all feigned.

“The only thing which prevented Admiral Tsang from carrying through on her courageous threat against an enemy she outnumbered three-to-one was the sudden discovery of the presence of a Manticoran task force. A Manticoran task force which could, had there been any truth to this bizarre notion that Admiral Filareta was massacred for no good reason after he’d surrendered, have annihilated Admiral Tsang’s entire command from stealth before she even knew those ships were present. Instead, the Manticoran commander gave warning of her presence and allowed Admiral Tsang to withdraw without the loss of a single life on either side.”

She paused once more, letting her words sink in, then straightened and squared her shoulders.

“Mr. Reid has made what he obviously believes is an eloquent case for how the sudden appearance of Admiral Tsang’s fleet in the Manticorans’ rear might have somehow prevented the destruction of Eleventh Fleet. He’s been very careful to avoid saying unequivocally that it would have, yet he’s clearly implied that the sudden appearance of a twenty-five percent increase in Admiral Filareta’s strength would have influenced the Star Empire and its allies. He was also careful to say that he is no naval officer. That much, at least, is obvious…since any trained naval officer would have known that no more than thirty to thirty-five capital ships — less than a ten percent increase in Admiral Filareta’s strength — could have been put through the Beowulf Terminus in a single transit. And that putting that many ships through the would have destabilized the terminus for many hours before any additional vessels could be passed through it.

“It would have been possible to pass them through in a sequential transit, instead of a simultaneous transit, of course, had not Admiral Holmon-Sanders and Admiral Truman prevented it. Had Admiral Tsang done so, however, her ships would have emerged one by one, at intervals of several seconds, into the concentrated fire of the Manticoran fortresses protecting the Junction. Fortresses which each have many times the firepower of a regular Manticoran ship-of-the-wall. The truth is, it wouldn’t have mattered whether she’d attempted a simultaneous or a sequential transit; in either case, anything which passed through that terminus, as my government has repeatedly pointed out since the event, would have been annihilated. By preventing her from making transit at all, Admiral Holmon-Sanders and Admiral Truman saved the lives of well over a hundred thousand Solarian military personnel. If you wonder what malevolent, Machiavellian motives we might have had for allowing those Manticoran warships to transit a terminus of the Manticoran Wormhole Junction without informing Admiral Tsang of their presence, look no further than those lives. If we had slavishly rolled over before the unconstitutional assertion of federal authority over Solarian citizens and an autonomous star system government in time of peace, those people would be dead today.”

She looked out across the Chamber, huge holographic eyes sweeping scornfully over the men and women seated in the boxes spread across its floor, and shook her head.

“We all know what’s happening here. We all know the script, although the exact schedule may still be in some doubt. And we all know where this little play is headed and who’s directing and producing it. So I don’t expect truth and rationality to be any sort of effective defense. But the record will show what actually happened in Beowulf that day. Someday, the record of exactly what happened to Admiral Filareta will also be clearly and undisputedly available to anyone looking back at Mr. Reid and his motion and its consequences. A clean conscience and a reverence for the truth may not be much in demand in this Assembly today, but both of those are very much in demand in the Beowulf System. So bring on your inquiry. Present your case, and we’ll present ours. Not because we give one single solitary damn for your prepackaged, predetermined ‘impartial conclusions,’ but because we care about history. Because unlike you, we do care about truth. And because someday your successors, whoever they may be, will have a record of what you actually do here and will revile your memory with all the contempt and all the disdain your actions will so richly merit.”