He paused until Benjamin nodded, then he shrugged.
"In its own way, this meeting's going to be even more critical than Oyster Bay was. No one's going public, but we'll be very quietly activating the Alignment as an actual star nation. That's going to represent a huge step, and one we're not going to want to make public until the League's started to show a few surface fissures, at least. But once we begin the process, we're going to have to bring in successively lower levels in all of our members star systems' governments. The fact that we're up to something is, frankly, likely to leak out a lot sooner than we'd really prefer. I doubt very much that anyone on the outside is going to figure out what we're really up to, but that's not going to guarantee we won't have a few dicey moments in the not too distant future. And most of the people who're going to be in Mannerheim for our little meeting didn't get where they are by being stupid. It's going to occur to them, too, that we're looking at what's in many ways our greatest period of vulnerability over the next T-year or two. That being the case, I'd like them to feel as reassured as possible about the hardware we used in Oyster Bay."
"And if they ask me whether or not we have all that hardware really and truly operational ?"
"If they ask you that, you admit the Sharks were originally intended primarily as prototypes and training vessels, and you don't pretend we have more of them than we do," Albrecht said promptly. "The last thing we need to do is to trip ourselves up by lying to these people—or to ourselves. But at the same time, I think you should point out to them that our plans always envisioned their 'system-defense forces' as the real basis of our joint naval strength, at least in the opening stages. There are eleven of them, for God's sake! None of them may be all that huge in isolation, but when you combine them, they get a hell of a lot more impressive. What the MAN represents at this stage is our hole card, the ace we have stuffed up our sleeve just in case we need it. I want them to be aware we have that card and that we can play it if we have to. And I'd like them to recognize that the fleet we're building will have exactly the same capabilities—only better—and be a hell of a lot bigger. I don't want them worrying about whether or not we'll be ready to take center stage as planned when the time comes just because we moved Oyster Bay ahead."
"I see."
It was Benjamin's turn to sit thinking for several seconds. At length, he looked up, met his father's eyes again, and nodded.
"All right, Father. I see what you're saying, and I think Dan and I can probably provide the . . . comfort quotient you're looking for. As long as they're not expecting us to sail our invincible fleet of invisible superdreadnoughts right into Old Earth orbit next week, at any rate!"
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Albrecht Detweiler sat back in his chair and contemplated the true crown jewels of the "onion" his ancestors had spent so long building.
The conference room in which he sat was probably, at that moment, the most carefully protected, eavesdropping-proof conference room in the entire explored galaxy. If it wasn't, he reflected wryly, it certainly wasn't for lack of trying. This meeting was just as important, and probably even more critical, than Oyster Bay had ever been.
For all its security, it was a large, comfortable chamber, decorated with light sculpture masterpieces carefully chosen from each of the star systems represented by the people in it. Each of the chairs around the enormous table at the center of the room had cost enough to put a student through college on most Fringe planets, and the console in front of each of them was equipped with every conceivable feature . . . including the very latest in security systems.
The people seated around the table looked right at home in the understated elegance and clean beauty of the conference room's decor, and for very good reason. Every one of the others was actually rather more physically attractive than Detweiler himself, offering a level of physical beauty that was really quite remarkable. In fact, it was even more remarkable when one saw them all gathered in one place, but that was inevitable. The advantage which physical attractiveness bestowed upon any politician, regardless of the political system in which he worked, appeared to be one of the unchanging verities of the human condition.
Counting Detweiler himself, there were an even dozen people seated at the table and, extraordinarily unusual though it was, none of the others was accompanied by a single attendant or aide. It was probably the first time that had been true for most of them in at least twenty T-years, Detweiler thought, which was fairly amusing. He himself had always been as hands-on as possible, and he actually treasured solitude in which to get on with his current project. Most of the others had succumbed, to one extent or another, to the desire to underscore their importance (if only to themselves) by surrounding themselves with at least a small core of assistants. Yet this time around, he was flanked by three of his sons—Benjamin, Collin, and Daniel—while the others sat unaccompanied.
On the other hand, it wasn't as if his sons were there to bolster his importance. There was no need for that, not in this room on this day, and all the others knew the younger Detweilers were present as working members of their council, not mere aides or go-fors. In fact, they were effectively cabinet officers in an extraordinarily powerful star nation . . . even if none of the rest of the galaxy happened to have heard of it.
Although that, of course, would be subject to change . . . at the right moment.
Which was approaching rapidly, he thought, and cleared his throat.
It wasn't a very loud sound, but the conference room's acoustics were as phenomenal as the rest of its design. Various small, quiet-voiced side conversations came to an abrupt end, and heads turned as their owners looked in his direction.
"Well," he said in a deliberately understated tone, "I suppose it's time we get down to business, isn't it?"
Every one of the nine men and two women seated around that table with him was the head of state of a star system-wide government, whereas Albrecht Detweiler had no official title. For that matter, the number of people who even knew he existed was minute. But there was no question, as they nodded in response to his comment, who was in charge in that conference room.
"I know all of you have heard preliminary reports on the success of Oyster Bay," he continued. "Benjamin here"—he nodded sideways at his oldest son—"will give you the official report in a few minutes. I can tell you already, however, that the preliminary accounts have actually understated the damage we did to the Manties and the Graysons. I'm not prepared to call it a total success, but that's more because I always want that little bit higher level of accomplishment than because of any failure or shortcoming in the way this operation was planned and executed.
"Benjamin and Collin will also be briefing you on Kolokoltsov and the rest of the Quintet's decision to sign off on Rajampet's attack on the Manticoran home system." He smiled thinly. "Needless to say, that operation's going to be somewhat less successful than our own was."
A quiet chuckle ran around the table, and his smile grew broader for a moment. Then his expression sobered.
"What all this means, of course, is that it's time. I'm sure none of you are surprised to hear me say that I'm formally activating the Alignment's constitutional agreements today."
It was very, very quiet in the conference room, and he let the quiet linger. There was no need for any theatrical emphasis with these people. Every single one of them was the product of an alpha line—most of them of lines almost as old and highly developed as the Detweiler genotype itself—and they'd been aware for the better part of two decades that the end towards which they and their ancestors had worked was almost certain to come in their own lifetimes.