Translated, High Ridge thought sardonically, my wife thinks we have to be careful.
Stefan Young was much smarter than his older brother, Pavel, had been before Honor Harrington killed him on the Landing City dueling grounds. Not that being smarter than Pavel would exactly have required a genius IQ, but at least Stefan could usually zip his own shoes without assistance. Neither of them, however, would ever amount to more than a pale shadow of their father, and High Ridge was just as glad of it. No leader of the Conservative Association could have crossed Dimitri and survived, and all of them had known it, for his extensive, painstakingly assembled files had contained far too many devastating political secrets.
When Dimitri died, his eldest son had shown disturbing signs of an ambition which would inevitably have challenged High Ridge's own position. Fortunately, Harrington had eliminated that threat along with Pavel, and Stefan, although ambitious enough and possessed of the same deadly files, was also wise enough to be guided by his wife. Lady North Hollow was a most astute tactician and strategist, and she clearly recognized that Stefan was not the material of which charismatic political leaders were made. Before her marriage to him, Georgia Youngthe former Georgia Sakristoshad been a senior aide to both Dmitri and Pavel, however. Officially, she'd been their security chief, but it was common knowledge, though never openly discussed, that she'd actually been the "dirty tricks" specialist for both of them, which was the reason High Ridge had selected her to chair the Conservative Association's Policy Coordination Committee. The fact that placing her at the head of the PCC might also help bind her loyalties to the Association's current leadership had played a not insignificant part in his decision, and while he was never likely to forget she was a two-edged sword, it had worked out well so far.
Which was why recognizing that the concern North Hollow had just raised actually came from his wife suggested that it was at least potentially a valid one, the Prime Minister reflected.
"Edward?" he invited.
"I fully recognize that the Admiralty is proposing a not inconsiderable change in priorities," Janacek said a touch pompously. "But the realities of the current situation require a systematic reconsideration of our previous posture."
He did not, High Ridge noted, specify even here exactly why that was. No one else seemed to notice that minor fact, and the First Lord continued in the same measured tones.
"The deployment policies and force mix we inherited from the Cromarty Government might have made sense as the basis for prosecuting the war against Haven. Mind you, I believe our force mix was badly skewed in favor of the older, less effective capital ship types. Like certain other officers, I'd wanted to change that mix for years, even before the war broke out, but it was probably too much to expect any Admiralty to recognize the validity of such new and radical concepts."
He let his eyes circle the conference table, but no one chose to comment. All of them knew he was referring to Admiral Sonja Hemphill. It was a habit of his to give Hemphill and her so-called jeune cole full credit for the enormous changes in the Royal Navy's hardware, since, after all, she was his cousin. Of course, that overlooked the fact that the success of the new ship types which had revolutionized combat had resulted at least as much from people who'd managed to restrain Hemphill's enthusiasm by opposing her most radical suggestions. And the fact that she'd all but publicly disassociated herself from the Janacek Admiralty because of her fundamental disagreement with the Government's policies. That disagreement was probably the only reason he didn't mention her by name. It might also have been an unwonted exercise in tact, however. It was an open secret that it was Hemphill who'd cast the decisive vote at the court-martial leading to Pavel Young's dismissal from the Queen's service, which probably wasn't something to remind Pavel's brother of just at the moment.
"But whatever might have been the case before the war began, or even as recently as four or five T-years ago," Janacek resumed, "the Cromarty military posture is hopelessly out of date in light of the new realities of naval warfare and our current fiscal constraints. Our plan will hold the number of battle squadrons up to approximately ninety percent of the current totals."
By, he did not add, reducing each squadron from eight ships to six. Which meant that a ten percent reduction in squadrons represented a thirty-three percent reduction in hulls.
"As for the ships we're talking about taking out of commission, whether by scrapping or mothballing," he continued, "the truth is that they would be no more than obsolete deathtraps if they were committed to combat against the new missile pod superdreadnoughts or LAC carriers. Not only would it be unconscionable for us to send our men and women out to die in ships which were little more than targets, but every dollar we spend on manning or maintaining those ships is a dollar not spent on the new types which have proven their combat superiority so decisively. From every perspective, including that of maintaining a lean, efficient fighting force, the inventory of useless older types has to be reduced."
"But in favor of what?" North Hollow pressed. However bright he might not have been, he was extremely good at projecting the attitude he wanted, and at the moment, he was earnestly questioning, certainly not criticizing.
"The Navy has been badly in need of lighter units for years," Janacek replied. "For the most part, the relative drawdown in those types was unavoidable, especially in the early years of the war. The need to build the largest and most powerful wall of battle we possibly could diverted us from the construction and maintenance of the light cruisers and cruisers required for things like commerce protection. Those we did build were never sufficient to meet the scouting and screening requirements of our main battle fleets, let alone police commerce in places like Silesia. As a consequence, piracy activity everywhere in the Confederacy beyond the immediate reach of Sidemore Station is entirely out of hand."
"So you intend to concentrate on building up the forces we need to protect our shipping," North Hollow said, nodding sagely. "As Secretary of Trade, I can only approve of that objective, and I do. But I'm afraid of what some so-called 'expert' working for the Opposition might be able to make of it. Especially given the decision to suspend work on the SD(P)s which haven't yet been completed."
He cocked an eyebrow at the First Lord, and Janacek made a sound which the less charitable might have described as an irritated grunt.
"No other navy in space has so far commissioned any pod superdreadnoughts," he pronounced with the infallibility of God. "Admiral Jurgensen and his analysts at ONI have amply confirmed that! We, on the other hand, have a solid core of over sixty. That's more than sufficient to defeat any conventional navy, especially with the CLACs to support and scout for them."
"No other navy?" North Hollow repeated. "What about the Graysons?"
"I meant, no potentially hostile navy, of course," Janacek corrected somewhat testily. "And while no one but a planet full of lunatic religious fanatics would be idiotic enough to pour so huge a percentage of their gross planetary product into their naval budgets at a time like this, at least they're our lunatics. Exactly why they think they need such an out-sized navy is open to different interpretations, of course, and I, for one, don't happen to believe their official explanations are the whole truth."
In fact, as all of his colleagues knew, Janacek nursed more than a few dark suspicions about Grayson. Their religious ardor made them automatically suspect, and he did not find their argument that the lack of a formal peace treaty required them to continue to build up their defenses convincing. It was entirely too convenient a pretext...as he and the rest of the Cabinet had already discovered. Besides, Graysons were uppity, without the proper respect and deference such a planet full of hayseed neobarbs ought to show the Alliance's senior navy. He'd already had three venomously polite exchanges with their High Admiral Matthewswho'd only been a commodore, for God's sake, when Grayson signed the Alliancethat amply demonstrated Grayson's overinflated opinion of its interstellar significance.