There was a moment of absolute silence, with every set of eyes turning to him. Except for Honor’s, that was. Unlike any of the others, she (and Emily) had already discussed this with their husband, and while she wasn’t certain she shared his and Emily’s logic completely, she was certain she agreed with what he was about to propose.

“Perhaps you’d care to explain that, My Lord?” Eloise Pritchart invited after a moment, topaz eyes narrowed intently.

“Of course, Madam President.” White Haven looked around the conference table. “It’s possible Filareta really does have a secret clause directing him to back off if it turns out he’s likely to get reamed. It’s also possible that even without any such clause, he’d be smart enough to do it anyway. But if he does, and he just turns around and sails back off homeward without a shot being fired, where does that leave us?”

“Well, to begin with,” Mikulin observed, “it leaves a lot of people alive who’d be dead otherwise. And it pretty conclusively demonstrates that their navy can’t stand up to Manticoran weapons technology.”

“Does it?” White Haven asked. “Demonstrate they can’t stand up to our weapons, I mean?”

“Excuse me?” Mikulin looked perplexed, not incredulous, and White Haven shrugged again.

“What happened to Crandall’s already demonstrated that to anyone with a working IQ,” he pointed out. “Despite which, they’ve sent this entire fleet all the way out here. The damned ‘Mandarins’ are still that willing to risk getting millions of people killed—and that unwilling to even consider admitting they might conceivably be in the wrong. The name they’ve assigned this abortion is proof enough of that! ‘Operation Raging Justice?’” The scorn in his voice was withering. “Pretty much shows how they plan on selling this to the League, doesn’t it? They’re still trying to game the system, and they don’t give a single solitary damn about the fire they’re playing with as long as it’s someone else who gets burned!”

He paused and looked around the table, his eyes like fiery blue ice.