“You may actually have a point, although I find it hard to believe I hear myself saying that.”

“I always have a point,” her uncle replied with dignity. “It is, alas, simply my fate to be surrounded by people unable to fully appreciate the needle sharpness and rapier quickness of my intellect. Now trot it out!”

Honor made a face at him, then sighed.

“All right. I was just watching Chairman Benton-Ramirez, looking at how cheerful and unconcerned he seems, and thinking about the vote on Reid’s motion.”

The others looked at her. Simultaneity was a slippery concept when applied to interstellar distances, but the vote on Tyrone Reid’s motion to investigate Beowulf’s “treason” against the Solarian League would be occurring on far off Old Earth in less than twenty-four hours.

“There’s not much point worrying about it,” her uncle said after a second or two. “We all know how the vote’s going to come out, after all. And Felicia has her instructions for what to do when it does.” He twitched his shoulders. “And it’s not as if there’s much question about how the electorate’s going to respond in the end. Every single opinion poll and electronic town meeting we’ve held underscores that, Honor. And you’ve seen the editorials and the public postings!”

“I know. Remember, I am half-Beowulfan, Uncle Jacques. But it’s just such a big step, and I’m worried about how the Mandarins are going to react.”

“There’s not a lot they can do about it,” Jacques pointed out.

“The problem is whether or not they realize that,” Honor countered, “and their track record to date doesn’t exactly inspire me with confidence in their judgment. I keep reminding myself that they’re not really stupid. Blind, arrogant, bigoted, and so far out of touch with us uppity ‘neobarbs’ that they act stupidly, but within the limits of their worldview, they truly aren’t idiots. And that means they have to be able to see the writing on the wall when their nose gets rubbed in it hard enough, doesn’t it?”

“Probably.” Jacques nodded. “You’d think so, at any rate, wouldn’t you?”

“And that’s what worries me,” Honor said frankly. “It’s obvious to me—to us—where Beowulf’s actions are going to lead. I think we have to assume it’s going to be obvious to them, too. And if it is, based on their actions to date, I think we have to assume they’ll try to do something about it before that happens.”

“I don’t think there’s a great deal they can do about it, in the short term, at least,” her uncle replied.

“Maybe not, but I’d feel a lot better if we had a couple of dozen Invictus-class wallers in Beowulf orbit.”