“But having said that,” he continued, “and even conceding that this information appears to have reached us at least partially through the Ballroom’s auspices, I believe it. A lot of odd mysteries and unexplained ‘coincidences’ suddenly make a lot more sense. And as Madeline says, if any star system in the galaxy is corrupt enough to have given birth to something like this, it’s sure as hell Mesa!”
“And on that basis we’re supposed to believe there’s some kind of centuries-long conspiracy aimed at us and the Republic of Haven out there?” Davidson rolled her eyes. “Please, Abraham! I’m entirely prepared to admit the Mesans are terrible people and genetic slavery is a horrible perversion, but they’re basically nothing more than examples of the evils of unbridled capitalism. And, no, I’m not saying capitalism automatically produces evil ends. I’m simply saying that where Manpower is concerned — and looking at all the other transstellars headquartered in Mesa with it — we’re talking about something that makes the worst robber barons of Old Terra’s history seem like pikers. People like that don’t try to destabilize something like the Solarian League when they’re doing so well swimming around in the corruption of its sewers!”
“Then why do you think President Pritchart made this unprecedented, dramatic voyage to Manticore?” Prince asked, and Davidson turned back to the hostess with a shrug.
“There could be any number of reasons. It’s even possible — however unlikely I think it is — that she genuinely believes Mesa is after both of us. On the other hand, I think it’s also possible she and her intelligence types, possibly with the cooperation of the Audubon Ballroom and its…allies”—she pointedly avoided looking in Alverson’s direction—“concocted the entire story. Or least embroidered it, shall we say?”
“For what possible reason?” Spencer demanded. Davidson looked at him, and it was his turn to shrug. “As Kiefer himself pointed out a moment ago, the Republic’s standing with us against the Solarian League. Could you possibly suggest any logical motive for people we’ve been fighting for twenty years to suddenly decide, completely out of the blue, to get between us and something the size of the Sollies at a moment when we’re more vulnerable than we’ve been in over a decade? Forgive me if I seem obtuse, Rosalinda, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why any Machiavellian worth his — or in this case, her—‘I-am-devious’ Evil Overlord’s badge would do something that stupid!”
* * *
“I believe Abraham, to use Hamish’s delightful phrase, is about ready to rip someone a new anal orifice,” Emily observed.
“Odd,” Honor said, “I don’t seem to recall his using those two words.”
“That’s because he doesn’t,” Emily replied with a smile, then elevated her nose with a sniff. “I, on the other hand, am far more genteel than he is.”
“That’s one way to describe it.”
“Hush!” Emily smacked Honor on the head with her working hand. “I want to see if Rosalinda has a stroke on system-wide HD.”
“You wish,” Honor muttered.
* * *
“I just acknowledged that Pritchart might genuinely believe all this,” Davidson told Spencer tightly. “I think there are other possibilities, as well — convincing us we’re both on someone else’s ‘hit list’ in order to extort such favorable peace terms out of us comes to mind, for example — but of course she could really believe it. Which doesn’t mean someone else hasn’t sold her a fabricated bill of goods and used her to sell it to us. You just mentioned the Ballroom. Surely if it would benefit anyone in the galaxy for us and the Republic to turn on the Mesa System with everything we’ve got, it would have to be the Ballroom and its ideological allies, don’t you think?”
“That’s the most paranoid thing I’ve ever heard!” Alverson snapped. “And I can’t believe the mental hoops you’re willing to jump through to avoid admitting even the possibility that this McBryde might conceivably’ve been telling the truth! For that matter, the treecats verify that Dr. Simões, at least, definitely is telling the truth. Which means—”
“If you’re prepared to take the treecats’ word,” Mallory interrupted. Several of the others looked at him incredulously, and he scowled. “What I mean is that we’ve had plenty of experience with people who’ve been brainwashed — or simply misled—into genuinely believing something that’s demonstrably false. So far as I’m aware, not even the treecats’ most fervent champions have claimed they can know when that’s the case. Suppose for a moment Rosalinda’s right about someone like the Ballroom wanting to fabricate a story like this. I’m not saying that’s necessarily what happened; I’m just asking you to consider the possibility. In that case, knowing you were going to have to sell your story to the Star Empire, wouldn’t it make sense to brainwash your ‘star witness’ into absolutely — and honestly—believing what you’ve primed him to tell us?”
“Oh, for the love of—!” Richter began.
“And, on that note, we have to go to break,” Prince interrupted, smiling brightly at the camera while DuCain struggled mightily not to laugh. “Don’t go away! Into the Fire will be back in just a few moments to continue this…lively exchange.”
June 1922 Post Diaspora
“I want him hammered so hard even Sollies have to get the message that this…is a war — their war — and that wars have consequences!”
— Admiral Lady Dame Honor Alexander-Harrington,
Steadholder and Duchess Harrington
Chapter Twelve
“Well, this is unexpected.”
Admiral Stephania Grimm, Manticoran Astro Control Service, looked at Captain Christopher Dombroski and cocked her head.
“Since this is all you’re showing me,” she continued, without looking away from him as she twitched a thumb at the terse message he’d relayed to her display, “and since you’re a reasonably competent sort, I assume you queried them for additional details and they declined to provide them?”
“That’s about right, Ma’am. They were polite, but they wouldn’t say a word about who they’re sending. They just repeated that they’ll be inserting ‘an unscheduled diplomatic courier’ into the queue. They did apologize for any ‘inconvenience,’ but that’s about it. Given everything that’s been happening, I thought I should call it to your attention.”
“I see.”
Grimm looked back at her display. A little explanation would have been nice, she reflected, but it was hardly his fault he didn’t have one.
Dombroski’s official title on the Junction Astro Control Service’s organizational chart was “Senior Officer, Traffic Management Division.” That made him responsible for imposing order upon thousands of Junction transits, and his usual, unflappable composure had begun to fray. Grimm wasn’t even tempted to hold that against him given how hectic his task had become. First there’d been the torrent of recalled merchantmen. Then, as Lacoön Two hit its stride, there’d been the scores of Solarian-registry vessels — most with indescribably irate skippers — who’d suddenly discovered they were going to have to make it home the long way. And as if that hadn’t been enough, there’d been the need to accommodate the movement of all the warships and mobile repair platforms the Navy was juggling in the Yawata Strike’s wake.