“Of course they are!” She glowered at him. “What is this? Twenty Questions? I know you’re a lot more interested in interstellar power politics than I am—at least where the slavery issue isn’t a factor—but even I can see that those idiots are heading us right back into some stupid fucking confrontation with the Havenites. And that they’re in the process of wrecking the Alliance before they do it. And that they’re too goddamned blind even to see it coming! Or to realize the electorate isn’t nearly as stupid as they think it is. When the shit does hit the fan, and the public finds out just how right White Haven and Harrington have been about our naval preparedness all along, there’s going to be Hell to pay. And even the rank and file Liberals are going to realize that New Kiev’s been High Ridge’s willing political whore. They’re going to look at all of the ‘Building the Peace’ social spending she’s so busy congratulating herself over right now, and they’re going to recognize it for exactly what it was. And they’re going to understand how funneling all that money into her pet projects took it away from the Navy. And while we’re on the subject of stupid, shitty political maneuvers, let’s not overlook what she—and the rest of the Liberal leadership right along with her—are perfectly prepared to help High Ridge do to Harrington and White Haven. You think there’s not going to be a backlash against that when everyone finally figures out what a put up job it was? Please!”

She rolled her eyes in exasperation and folded her arms.

“There! Did I pass your little quiz?” she demanded.

Zilwicki chuckled as she bestowed one of her patented glares upon him. Then he nodded.

“With flying colors,” he agreed. “But I wasn’t really trying to find out whether or not you already knew water was wet. What I was doing was laying the groundwork for another question.”

“Which is?” she asked.

“Which is,” he said, and every bit of humor had vanished from his crumbling granite voice, “why the fuck you’re letting her take your party down with her?”

“I’m letting her?! My God, Anton! I’ve been hammering away with everything I’ve got ever since I got back from Sol. Not that it’s done any damned good. Maybe I could’ve accomplished more if High Ridge hadn’t replaced Cromarty and I’d gotten my seat in the Lords back, but I’ve certainly done everything I can from outside Parliament! And,” she added moodily, “made myself almost as unpopular again as I was the day they first excluded me, to boot.”

“Excuses,” Zilwicki said flatly, and she stared at him in disbelief. “Excuses,” he repeated. “Damn it, Cathy, haven’t you learned anything from all you managed to accomplish working with Jeremy and the rest of the Anti-Slavery League?”

“What the hell you talking about?” she demanded.

“I’m talking about your inability to separate yourself from the Countess of the Tor now that you’re back home.” She gazed at him in obvious incomprehension, and he sighed. “You’re trying to play the game by their rules,” he explained in a more patient voice. “You’re letting who you are dictate the avenues available to you. Maybe that’s inevitable given your title and family connections.”