The Lotus Eaters

Anno Condita 472 Executive Mansion, Hamilton, FD, Federated States of Columbia, Terra Nova

The Shimmering Sea was, as far as the Federated States and her Navy were concerned, their pond. Oh, the Taurans could come in and play, but they'd do so—had done so—with an FSN nuclear sub shadowing them from a distance. Unseen, unheard, the FSS Oliver Meredith had tracked the Gauls long before they'd passed the island of Cienfuegos. The Meredith had recorded the whole engagement between Orca and the Gauls.

That record, digitally sent to Hamilton and reduced to script, now sat on the desk of the President of the Federated States, Karl Schumann (Progressive), brought there by none other than his Secretary of War, James K. Malcolm.

"The Gauls fired first?" was Schumann's only real question.

"Yes," Malcolm admitted, reluctantly, "but they had reasons. That sub was attempting to get into a firing position against their carrier. After being spotted. That indicated hostile intent."

"That's speculation," Schumann answered, calmly. "Moreover, it's speculation colored by your affection for the Gauls. Though why you have that affection after they let us down in Pashtia, I admit I do not quite understand, James."

Malcolm opened his mouth as if to speak, then suddenly closed it again and went silent. Though silent, he thought, What is it? The fucking spics in Balboa do a mission and let Schumann take credit for it and he suddenly takes their side? Or is he afraid they'll reveal the truth after he took credit for it? Whatever it is, he should be slapping the Balboans silly and he won't.

Far worse, from Malcolm's point of view, Schumann picked up his phone and dialed a number. In French not quite so good as Malcolm's own, Schumann said, simply, "About the Balboans, Mr. Ambassador? Tell your country to back the fuck off."