“Believe me, Shannon, you can’t be more aware of that than I am. On the other hand, there are things going on back at Nouveau Paris that may not leave me much choice about accelerating the deployment schedule.”

“May I ask what sort of things, Sir?” she inquired even more cautiously, and he snorted.

“Nothing catastrophic!” he reassured her. “Probably not even anything serious… yet, at least. But basically, and for your private information, the President and I are finding ourselves more and more likely to be locking horns with Secretary Giancola. That,” his eyes narrowed and his voice turned just a bit crisper, “doesn’t leave this day cabin, Shannon.”

“Of course not, Sir,” she reassured him, and inwardly she felt an undeniable glow of pleasure that he trusted her enough to share what he obviously considered sensitive information with her.

“I don’t know that anything is actually going to come of it,” he went on after a moment. “In fact, it’s entirely possible that the President and I are worrying unduly. But the Secretary of State is becoming more and more impatient with the Manties, and it looks to us as if he’s in the process of building a block of support for his position in Congress. As a part of his efforts, we believe he’s been dropping a few hints here and there about Bolthole.”

Foraker’s expression tightened indignantly, and he gave her a crooked smile.

“I know. I know! He’s not supposed to be doing that, and if he is, then he’s in violation of the Classified Information Act. But even if he is, we can’t whack him the way we would some underling. Or, rather, we could, but the President feels that the political cost might be extremely high. Both because of the support he’s managed to build in Congress and because if we acted to punish him for violating the Information Act, at least some people would see our charges as no more than a justification for purging a political opponent. We’d have every legal right to proceed against him—assuming he’s guilty of what we think he is—but the practical consequences of doing so might very well be to undermine the legitimacy we’ve worked so hard to earn.”

“I understand that, I suppose, Sir,” Foraker said. “I don’t much like it, but I can see what you’re saying.”

“I don’t much like it either,” Theisman told her with massive understatement. “But whether we like it or not, we still have to decide how we’re going to respond. Obviously, my original concerns about coming out into the open too soon and panicking the Manties into doing something hasty still apply. On the other hand, you’ve done much better than I’d hoped at tweaking the production queue. How many Sovereigns are you projecting by the end of this quarter?”

“Assuming we don’t hit any more bottlenecks, I believe we’ll be looking at right on sixty-six of them, Sir,” she told him with simple, well justified pride. “We have thirty-eight currently in full commission, with another sixteen in various stages of working up, and the yard is supposed to hand a dozen more over to us next month.”