“General?” Beemody prompted.
“Assuming that the Union was fully under Libert’s control, and that the Chosen went along with a naval blockade?” Beemody nodded. “Supplying their forces would be just possible. Daily demand would go down and they could supply more from Union resources. It would certainly take some time for a squeeze to be effective, in terms of logistics.”
“We can interdict the Gut,” Admiral Farr said. “That I can assure you gentlemen.”
“But the role of the Sierra will be crucial,” Beemody said. “Senators, I move that the Foreign Ministry be directed to dispatch a special envoy with sealed plenipotentiary powers to secure the assistance of the Sierra Democratica y Populara in a preemptive blockade of the Union to enforce the neutralization and removal of all foreign troops. It’s risky,” he said to their grave looks, “but I sincerely believe it’s our only chance. Otherwise in six months’ time we’ll be confronted with a choice between a war that might destroy us and accepting a Land protectorate on our border, which is intolerable. A show of hands, please, Senators.”
This time the vote was less than unanimous. McRuther kept his hand obstinately down, switching his pouched and hooded blue eyes between Beemody and the Farrs.
“Fifteen ayes. Five nays. The ayes have it. The recommendation will be made. I remind the honorable senators that this meeting of the Foreign Affairs Committee is strictly confidential.”
“Agreed,” McRuther said sourly. “Its no time for a war of leaks.”
“Then if that’s all, Senators?”
The big room seemed larger and more shadowy when only Beemody, Farr, and his sons were left. The faces of past premiers looked down somberly from oil paintings on the walls; the old-fashioned small-paned windows were streaked with rain. Branches from the oaks around the building tapped against the glass like skeletal fingers. John Hosten had a sudden image of men—men not yet dead, the dead of the greater war to come—rising from their graves and traveling back to this moment, tap-tap-tapping at the windows, pleading for their lives. Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, millions.
observe:
Center showed him a vision he’d seen times beyond number, since that year on the docks of Oathtaking. Visager from space, the globes of fire expanding over cities, rising in shells of cracked white until they flattened against the upper edge of the atmosphere and the whole globe turned dirty white with the clouds. . . .
His stepfather cleared his throat. “You don’t really think the Chosen will swallow a blockade of the Union?” he said to the head of the Foreign Affairs Committee.
Beemody shook his head. “About as likely as a hyena giving up a bone,” he said frankly. “But it’s as good a casus belli as any, the Senate will swallow it because they’re desperate and desperate men believe what they want to, and the public will go along, too. Even McRuther will go along; he knows we can’t dodge this much longer. But we do need more time, and we do need the Sierrans to come in on our side. They should; if we fall, they’re next.”
“But it’s easier to see that when you don’t have someone ahead of you in the lineup to the abattoir,” Jeffrey said with brutal frankness. “Hope springs eternal—and the Sierrans aren’t just decentralized, they’ve got the political nervous system of an amoeba. Getting them to agree where the sun comes up is an accomplishment.”
“Perhaps,” John said slowly, “we could get the Chosen to do our arguing for us.”
His foster-father frowned in puzzlement. Jeffrey shot him a glance, then tilted his head slightly towards the older men.
There comes a time when you have to use an asset, John said. If you won’t risk it, what bloody use is it?
Center? Jeffrey asked.
probability of success is in the fifty percent range, the machine voice said. chaotic factors render closer analysis futile at this point. success would increase the probability of a favorable outcome to the struggle as a whole by 10%, ±3.
John nodded mentally. “Here’s what I propose,” he said. “First, sir”—he nodded to Admiral Farr—”Senator, you should be aware that we have a very highly placed double agent who the Chosen—Land Military Intelligence, to be precise—think is their mole and who they rely on implicitly for analysis of the Republic’s intentions. I can’t be more specific, of course. And this is entirely confidential.”