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All of that combined to explain why most premierships lasted less than a single T-year before the current prime minister was turned out and replaced by someone else—who, of course, had to dole out cabinet positions all over again. Which was why Kolokoltsov had so much trouble remembering the faces of all the men and women who'd officially headed his ministry over the years. All of them—including Roelas y Valiente—had understood who truly made the League's policy, just as all of them—including Roelas y Valiente—had understood why that was and how the game was played. But Roelas y Valiente resented it more than most of the others had.
Which doesn't mean he thinks there's any way to change the rule book, Kolokoltsov thought, and felt a moment of something almost like regret. Buthe wasn't the one who'd deliberately created a constitution, all those centuries ago, which had precluded the real possibility of any strong central government. He wasn't the one who'd created a system in which the permanent bureaucracies had been forced to assume the roles (and the power which went with them) of policy-setters and decision-makers if the Solarian League was going to have any sort of administrative continuity.
But at least we can give him an illusion of authority, the permanent senior undersecretary bought almost compassionately. As long as he's willing to admitthat it isan illusion, anyway.
"We've considered at some length, Sir," he said, "and it's our opinion that this is a time to exercise restraint and calm. What we'd recommend, Minister, is that—"
Chapter Forty-Eight
"You're putting me on," Admiral Karl-Heinz Thimár said.
"No, Karl-Heinz, I'm not," Fleet Admiral Winston Kingsford replied, sitting back in his chair and frowning at the commanding officer of the Solarian League Navy's Office of Naval Intelligence.
"You're serious," Thimár said almost wonderingly, as if he found that difficult to credit, and Kingsford's frown deepened.
"I'm sorry if you find this humorous," he said. "Under the circumstances, though, I'd appreciate it if you could find the time to give at least a little personal attention to the problem."
Thimár's face stiffened, and a slight flush stained his cheekbones. Anger flickered at the backs of his eyes, and his jaw muscles tightened, but he sat back in his own chair and nodded.
It was a bit jerky, that nod, but Kingsford decided to let that pass. He'd made his point, after all, and there was no need to rub the other man's nose in it. Especially because despite the fact of his own seniority as the commanding officer of Battle Fleet, Kingsford wasn't blind to how high Thimár's family co
"Thank you," he said rather more warmly, and produced a wry smile. "And, believe me, Karl-Heinz, I found it just about as hard to believe as you did when they first sprang it on me, too."
"Yes, Sir." Thimár nodded again, and this time his expression was thoughtful.
"All right." Kingsford let his chair come back upright with an air of briskness. "I haven't had an opportunity to thoroughly review the data myself, but I've skimmed the summary and read the 'note' that came along with it, and I find myself pretty much in agreement with our civilian 'colleagues' . . . even if the assholes didn't even do us the courtesy of mentioning it to us before they settled on 'our' response."
He grimaced.
"I don't think the Manties would have given this to us in the first place if it wasn't going to show what their note already says happened," he continued. "Kolokoltsov and the others want us to analyze it thoroughly, anyway, of course—give them our independent assessment of its reliability and implications—but I don't think they expect us to find any real surprises. For that matter, I don't expect us to find any. But it's also our best chance to figure out what the hell Josef thinks he's doing out there, and it's always possible the Manties have slipped up and let something useful get past them."
Thimár started to say something, then visibly stopped himself, and nodded once again.
"To be honest," Kingsford continued, "what I'm most concerned about is the potential for setting an unfortunate precedent. I don't think the Navy wants to find itself with pissant neobarb navies thinking they can get into the habit of popping out of the underbrush to make 'demands' on us. If this looks likely to head anywhere in that direction, we may just need to step on it—hard. In that respect, at least, I think Kolokoltsov has an excellent point. And so does Rajani."
Thimár nodded again, recognizing an oblique instruction when he heard it.
Fleet Admiral Rajampet Kaushal Rajani was the Solarian League Navy's chief of naval operations. In theory, that made him merely the uniformed commander of both Battle Fleet and Frontier Fleet, as Minister of Defense Taketomo Kunimichi's deputy. In fact, however, Taketomo's real command authority was sharply circumscribed (despite the fact that he himself was a retired admiral), and since Battle Fleet was the senior of the SLN's two branches, Rajampet was the de facto Defense Minister.
On the other hand, even Rajampet's actual, direct authority over Battle Fleet and Frontier Fleet was, itself, largely illusory. In no small part, that was because his time was too occupied with the day-to-day affairs of keeping the entire Ministry of Defense ru
Some navies' CNOs might have resented that attitude on the part of their uniformed subordinates. Some might even have attempted to do something about it. But the force of precedent had set iron hard over the centuries, and Rajampet had always been more of an administrator than a fleet commander, anyway. He was a hundred and twenty-three T-years old, one of the very first wave of first-generation prolong recipients, and he hadn't held a space-going command in over fifty years, so it was entirely possible—even likely—that he didn't resent it at all. But that didn't mean he was completely out of the loop. Thimár knew that . . . just as he knew that Kingsford's last remark had been deliberately intended to remind him of it.
"You know," he said after a moment, "I never have really understood why Josef accepted that command in the first place. I mean, Frontier Fleet?" He shook his head. "That's just so wrong, somehow."
Kingsford snorted in amused agreement, but he also shrugged.
"Don't ask me," he said. "As far as I know, that was Rajani's idea. For that matter, it could actually have come from Takemoto, himself. You'd probably have a better chance of finding out by asking Karlotte."
Thimár looked at him for a second or so, then decided Kingsford was telling him the truth. Which only made the entire question even more perplexing, and—particularly as ONI's commanding officer—he found that irritating as hell. He supposed Kingsford was right. It would take months for him to get any letters back from his cousin, but Karlotte's position as Byng's chief of staff probably did put her in the best position to answer his question.
And maybe, while she's at it, she can explain to me just what the hell Josef thought he was doing blowing three Manty destroyers out of space, he thought rather more grimly. Not that the irritating bastards didn't have it coming, likely as not. But still . . .