“Fresh reductions?!” Hamish repeated, then muttered something vicious under his breath which Honor was just as happy not to have heard clearly.

“How can they possibly justify cutting the Fleet even further?” she asked William, and she was more than a little surprised that she sounded so calm herself. “We’re already down to a lower number of hulls than we had before the war started,” she pointed out. “And as they’re fond of reminding people, the war still isn’t over.”

“Not officially, anyway,” Hamish growled.

“They plan to justify it exactly the way they’ve justified all the other reductions,” William replied to Honor’s question. “By pointing to how much of the naval budget they can save through the increased effectiveness and combat power of the new types. They don’t need all those ‘obsolescent’ older ships getting in the way of the new, lean, efficient Navy Janacek has single-handedly created.”

Despite her own total agreement with William’s opinion of High Ridge and Sir Edward Janacek, Honor winced at the ferocious sarcasm in his bitter voice. His brother, on the other hand, was too furious to pay it much attention.

“That’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve heard in months,” Hamish grated. “Even for them, it sets some new record!”

“It’s a logical progression from everything else they’ve done, Hamish,” Honor observed. Her voice was by far the most serene one in the room, but there was nothing particularly serene about her agate-hard eyes. “Still, I’m a bit surprised at the size of this reduction. They’ve already cut away every bit of fat and muscle; now they’re working on the bones.”

“That’s a depressingly accurate analysis,” William agreed. “And you’re right, this is a direct, straight-line extension of the same justification they’ve used every step of the way. The new ship types are more powerful, more survivable, and less manpower intensive, and with the demise of the income tax, their budget is suddenly so tight something has to give.”

“ ‘Give,’ is it?” Hamish repeated savagely. “I’ll give that lying, conniving, pigheaded idiot Janacek something! In fact, I’ll—”

“Calm down, Hamish,” Honor said, never looking away from William… and not even thinking about how casually she’d addressed White Haven. “We already knew they regard the Navy budget as some kind of piggy bank they can keep raiding forever for their precious ‘peace dividend.’ Losing our tempers and frothing at the mouth while we chew pieces off of them in debate the way they deserve is only going to make us look like we’re overreacting. Which will only make them look more reasonable. However stupid their policy may be, we have to stick together and sound calm and rational when we oppose it. That’s especially true for the two of us, and you know it.”

“You’re right,” he said, after another brief, fulminating pause. Then he drew a deep breath. “So they’re going to reduce our combat power even further, are they?” he said. His brother nodded, and Hamish snorted. “And I suppose Jurgensen and his pet analysts at ONI are going to back Janacek up?”