“We let the erring sister go—for now, at least—more in sorrow than in anger, you mean?” Abruzzi asked, his eyes narrowed in thought. “And when we do, we leave ourselves the option of deciding later that Beowulf was wrong and taking whatever remedial action seems appropriate then?”

“More or less.” Kolokoltsov nodded. “What I’m trying to do here is to defang the emotional aspects of the issue. I’d love to get this resolved before anybody else starts holding referendums on secession, you understand, but I doubt we’re going to be that lucky. So what I’m looking to do right this minute is to avoid handing any extra ammunition to the people who’d be likely to agitate for secession in the referendums we may not be able to prevent in the first place.”

MacArtney and Quartermain still looked profoundly unhappy, but Wodoslawski actually looked a bit hopeful, Kolokoltsov thought.

“All well and good,” MacArtney growled after a moment, “but it doesn’t do diddley about Beowulf right now.”

No, and it’s not going to make any of those transstellars any happier with you, either. Not right now, at least, Kolakowski thought trenchantly. Unfortunately, all we can do is all we can do!

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t take any action at all against Beowulf, Nathan,” the permanent senior undersecretary for foreign affairs said coolly. “Mind you, I’m not sure what kind of action we’re going to be in a position to take, but I’m in favor of doing anything we realistically can. I just don’t want it to be over the legality or illegality of secession at this point.”

“That’s what you meant about not making it about whether or not secession is legal,” Wodoslawski said.