“If she wants to know, there are proper channels through which she may inquire,” Janacek snapped. “This isn’t one of them!”

“Unfortunately,” White Haven said icily, “ ‘proper channels’ seem to be somewhat… constricted these days.” He smiled again, his eyes cold. “Think of this as the Gordian knot and me as another Alexander, My Lord.”

“Fuck you!” Janacek snarled. “Don’t you dare come walking into my office and demand information from me! You may think you’re God’s gift to the fucking Navy, but to me you’re just one more pissant admiral without a command!”

“I find myself singularly unimpressed by your view of me,” White Haven replied contemptuously. “And I’m still waiting for an answer I can deliver to the Queen.”

“Go to Hell,” Janacek growled.

“Very well,” White Haven said with deadly precision. “If that’s your final word, I’ll go and deliver it to Her Majesty. Who will then, I feel certain, call a news conference in which she will inform the press of precisely how forthcoming her First Lord of Admiralty was.” His smile was colder than ever. “Somehow, My Lord, I doubt the Prime Minister will thank you.”

He turned away, striding towards the door, and Janacek felt a sudden stab of panic. It wasn’t enough to overcome his fury, but it was sharp enough to penetrate it.

“Wait,” he said flatly, and White Haven paused and turned back to face him. “You have no right at all to demand an accounting from me, and Her Majesty is fully aware of the constitutional channels through which she should request any accounting. If, however, you’re truly prepared to spew such sensitive matters into the media, regardless of their potential effect on the military security and diplomatic posture of the Star Kingdom, I suppose I have no alternative but to tell you what you want to know.”

“We may differ on just what would be affected if I spoke to the newsies,” White Haven said coldly. “However, other than that, I find myself unusually in agreement with you, My Lord.”

“What, specifically, do you want to know?” Janacek grated.

“Her Majesty,” White Haven stressed, “would like to know the Admiralty’s official reaction to Duchess Harrington’s report of Havenite Naval activity in Silesia?”

“At the moment, the Admiralty’s official reaction is that the Sidemore Station commander’s report contains far too little detail for any definitive conclusions to be drawn.”

“Excuse me?” White Haven’s eyebrows rose.

“All that we—or Admiral Harrington—know,” Janacek retorted, “is that a single Republican destroyer engaged—or was engaged by—an armed merchant auxiliary of the Silesian Navy commanded by a half-pay Manticoran officer who was dismissed his ship for cause forty T-years ago. That virtually the entire crew of the destroyer was massacred in the ensuing action. And that the captain of the armed auxiliary in question handed over fragmentary records which he claimed to have obtained from the wrecked destroyer’s computers.”

White Haven stared at him, as if momentarily bereft of words. Then he shook himself almost visibly.