Chapter Thirty Nine

"It's good to see you, Arnold," Eloise Pritchart lied as a member of the Presidential Security Detachment escorted Secretary of State Giancola into her office.

"Thank you, Madame President. It's always good to see you, too," Giancola replied equally smoothly for the benefit of the bodyguard. Not that anyone Kevin Usher had handpicked to protect the President of the Republic was going to be fooled by the surface exchange of pleasantries. Still, there were appearances to maintain.

The Secretary of State seated himself in the same chair Thomas Theisman preferred for his visits to Pritchart's office, and the PSD man withdrew.

"Would you care for some refreshments?" Pritchart inquired.

"No, thank you." Giancola grimaced. "I'm going straight from here to a dinner for the Ambassador from Erewhon. I'm afraid that means I'm going to have to tuck into that disgusting pickled fish dish they're all so proud of and pretend I like it. I'd just as soon not put anything down there that might surprise me by coming back up."

Pritchart laughed, and somewhat to her own surprise, her amusement was genuine. It was a real pity she couldn't trust Giancola as far as she could spit. Much as she disliked the man, and distrusted him, she wasn't unaware of the charm and magnetism he could exude whenever it suited his purposes.

"Well, in that case, I suppose we should get down to business," she said after a moment, and there was no more temptation to humor in her voice.

"Yes, I suppose we should," he agreed, and cocked his head at her. "May I assume you've already read my report?"

"I have." Pritchart frowned. "And I can't say I much cared for it, either."

"I don't much care for my conclusions myself," he told her, only partly truthfully.

"From the tone of Descroix's note, it sounds as if their position's actually hardening." Pritchart regarded him intently. "Is that your conclusion, as well?"

"It is," he replied. "Of course," he added in a voice which carried just a hint of satisfaction, "I may be a bit predisposed in that direction, given my earlier analysis of the Manties' foreign policy priorities."

"It's always good to be aware of the way expectations can sometimes lead us astray," Pritchart observed pleasantly.

Their eyes locked for just a moment. The challenge hovered there in the air between them, and the office seemed to hum with tension. But the moment was brief. Neither of them maintained any illusions about their relationship, but neither was quite ready for an open declaration of war, either.

"In the meantime," Pritchart resumed, "I'd have to agree that Descroix's note comes very close to rejecting our most recent proposals out of hand."

"Yes, it does," he agreed in a carefully neutral tone. In fact, the Manticoran Foreign Secretary's note had been the next best thing to perfect, from his perspective. The formal diplomatic language had been suitably opaque, but it was obvious Descroix was using it as a way to officially agree to "consider" Pritchart's initiatives while actually telling the Republic they were dead on arrival. Giancola could have kissed the woman when her note was couriered to the capital.

"Actually," he continued, "I'm inclined to believe that the Manties don't really appreciate the fundamental shift in the balance of military power which has occurred since negotiations began."

He'd been careful, Pritchart noted, not to suggest that announcing that shift earlier might have inspired the High Ridge Government with a more accurate appreciation of the military realities. On the other hand, his failure to mention the possibility aloud was simply a more effective way of making the same statement.

"I really don't want this to turn into a matter of who has the bigger gun, Arnold," she said coolly.

"Neither do I," he said with apparent sincerity. "Unfortunately, in the end, effective diplomacy depends on a favorable balance of military strength more often than we'd like to admit." He shrugged. "It's an imperfect universe, Madame President."

"Admitted. I'd just prefer not to make it any less perfect that it already is."

"I've never advocated pushing things to the brink of an actual resumption of hostilities," he told her. "But star nations can stumble into wars neither of them want if they misread one another's strength and determination. And at the moment, the Manties seem to be busy underestimating both of those qualities where we're concerned."

"I don't believe our last note to them could have been much clearer in that regard," Pritchart observed, that edge of chill still frosting her voice.

"Not if they're actually bothering to listen to anything we say in the first place," Giancola replied.

And there, Pritchart was forced to admit, he might well have a point. She didn't like how hard it was for her to make that admission, because she knew why it was. Her personal antipathy towards Giancola was making it increasingly difficult for her to listen to anything he said without automatically rejecting it. It was one thing to maintain a healthy sense of suspicion where someone who obviously had his own agenda was concerned. It was quite another to allow that suspicion to begin dictating an auto-response rejection of anything he ever said. Unfortunately, it was much easier for her to recognize that danger than it was to find a way around it.

In this instance, it was just a bit easier for her to concede that he might be correct, however. Previous experience with the Star Kingdom's diplomacy—as practiced by the current Government, at least—provided a more than sufficient counterirritant.

Her most recent set of proposals had been more than reasonable. She still hadn't actually offered formal recognition of the Star Kingdom's annexation of Trevor's Star. The Republic's permanent renunciation of all claims to San Martin was simply too valuable a bargaining chip to give up until she got at least something in return. And although she'd dropped her previous offer of a plebiscite in that system, her suggestion that she might accept the same sort of arrangement the Star Kingdom already enjoyed with the Andermani Empire in Gregor for the Trevor's Star Junction terminus had constituted a significant hint that she was at least open to the possibility of an eventual, formal recognition of the system's annexation. Moreover, she'd also conceded that legitimate Manticoran security concerns might well require at least some additional territorial adjustments, particularly in the area immediately around Trevor's Star. And she'd offered to cede the former Havenite naval bases in the systems of Samson, Owens, and Barnett outright, as permanent RMN bases to deepen the Manticoran Alliance's defensive frontier.

Of course, she admitted, the Star Kingdom was already in possession of all of those systems . . . not to mention all of the other systems currently in dispute, including the Tequila System, less than fifty-five light-years from the capital system itself. And Tequila was one of the systems she was not prepared to leave under Manticoran control.

The Manticoran Alliance actually controlled a total of twenty-seven star systems which were technically claimed by the Republic of Haven. Six of those twenty-seven were effectively uninhabited; most of them had boasted naval bases, which explained the Alliance's original interest in them, but possessed no habitable planets to attract civilian development. Another three had been sufficiently recent acquisitions of the People's Republic to leave the local inhabitants with an extreme dislike, even hatred, for anything coming out of the Haven System, regardless of any reforms which might have occurred there. Those three had already expressed their firm intention to seek annexation on the pattern of Trevor's Star, and Pritchart was prepared to let them go. The readopted Constitution gave them the right to do that, and even if they hadn't, she would have been perfectly willing to use them as bargaining chips. Assuming the Star Kingdom had shown any desire to bargain.

It was the other eighteen star systems under Manticoran occupation that created the stumbling block. Each of them, for its own reasons, was of special importance to the Republic. In most cases, those reasons were economic or industrial, but some of them were critically placed for military bases which would either protect the heartland of the Republic . . . or provide a highway for its invasion. And most, though not all of them, had been member systems of the PRH long enough to think of themselves as Havenite territory, whether they were entirely delighted by the prospect or not.

The biggest problem was that at least three of them—Tahlman, Runciman, and Franconia—did not so regard themselves and had no desire to return to Havenite control. Two or three more were probably wavering, but the majority appeared to prefer the notion of being restored to the reformed Republic to ongoing occupation. In fact, a half dozen of them were obviously eager to rejoin the rest of the Republic before they missed out on the opportunities presented by the political and economic renaissance it was currently enjoying.

Those were the star systems Pritchart was unwilling to supinely yield to the Star Kingdom. She recognized that Tahlman, Runciman, and Franconia were going to require special handling, and it was entirely possible that in the end she would have to reluctantly allow them to go their own way. If it all possible, she preferred to do that by seeing them as independent single-system star nations in their own right rather than as additional Manticoran bastions so deep in Republican territory, but if she absolutely had to, she would agree to their voluntary annexation by the Star Kingdom. The return of the others to Republican sovereignty, however, was not negotiable.

A point Elaine Descroix and Baron High Ridge seemed determined to ignore.

"If they aren't listening to what we say," Pritchart told her Secretary of State, "then it's up to us to find a way to . . . get their attention."

"That's precisely what I've been saying for some time now," Giancola observed mildly, while inside he savored the delicious pleasure of watching her move in the direction of his piping.

"At the same time, Madame President," he continued in a more somber tone, "I think we might want to exercise a little caution in precisely how we go about 'getting their attention.' "

"I thought you were in favor of finding ways to turn the screws on them," she said, eyes narrowed, and he shrugged. That was before it became your policy, he thought. And truth to tell, he was still perfectly willing to do just that, as long as it could be done on his own terms.

"In many ways, I still am in favor of being as firm as possible," he said aloud, choosing his words carefully while he wondered if Eloise Pritchart had ever heard of an ancient, obscure Old Earth folktale which had always been one of his own favorites as a child.

"However," he continued, "I believe our most recent offer was just about as explicit as it could possibly have been. Both in terms of what we were willing to concede, and in terms of what we clearly were not willing to concede. And in the clear implication that our patience isn't unlimited." He shrugged. "Speaking as the Republic's Secretary of State, I would be most hesitant to become even more openly confrontational."

Please, he thought, managing somehow not to smile. Oh, please, don't throw me in that briar patch!

"Firmness," Pritchart said, "isn't necessarily the same thing as being 'confrontational.' "

"I didn't mean to imply that it is," he lied. "I'm simply saying that I don't see any way to make our position clearer without explicitly telling the Manties we're prepared to resort to military action if our demands aren't met."

"I don't think we're so far along that our only options are to accept something like Descroix's meaningless response or go to war, Arnold," Pritchart said frostily, her eyes hard. It was interesting, she thought mordantly, the way that Giancola the firebrand had suddenly cooled off when the polls showed she was the one garnering public support for "standing up" to the Star Kingdom.

"I'm sorry if you think that was what I was saying," he replied, his expression a carefully crafted blend of frustration and mild disappointment even as a voice deep down inside was exulting Gotcha! "All I'm saying is that we've already made our feelings and our position amply clear. Obviously, the Manties haven't been impressed by that, however. So it seems to me that if we intend to continue to press them for concessions in the negotiations, we have to find some way other than still more diplomatic exchanges to increase the pressure on them. I probably overstated my position by mentioning military action, but let's be honest. What means do we have for exerting more pressure besides the potential threat of a resumption of hostilities?"

"I think we've already made them fully aware of that threat's potential," Pritchart said. "I see no reason to escalate tensions by waving the Navy in their direction even more explicitly. But I do intend to continue to press them on the diplomatic front. Do you have a problem with that?"

"Of course not," he said in a voice which implied exactly the opposite. "Even if I did, you're the President. However, if you—I mean, we—intend to maintain the diplomatic pressure, I believe we have to pursue all other avenues, as well. Which is why I would like to very strongly urge once again that we announce the existence of our CLACs, as well as the SD(P)s."

"Absolutely not," Pritchart said, then grimaced mentally. Her refusal had come out rather more forcefully than she'd intended. Partly, she suspected, that was because she was trapped between Thomas Theisman's position and Giancola's and resented it. The fact that Theisman was a friend while Giancola was something else entirely only made her resentment worse.

And, she reminded herself yet again, another part of it stemmed from her growing tendency to see anything Giancola suggested as a bad idea simply because it had come from him.

"No," she said in a calmer tone, and shook her head. "I'm not prepared to override Tom Theisman on that—not yet. But I do intend to reply to Descroix in no uncertain terms."

"It's your decision to make," Giancola conceded unhappily. Really, he reflected behind the cover of his frown, this was turning out to be even easier than he'd expected. It was like the old fables about "leading" a pig by tying a string to its hind leg and pulling in the opposite direction from the way you wanted it to go. The last thing he wanted at this point was for someone in the Star Kingdom to wake up too soon to the reality of the military threat it faced, and telling it about the CLACs was likely to accomplish just that.

"Yes," Pritchart told him, looking him straight in the eye, "it is my decision, isn't it?"