Chapter 18 begins with...
sigh...more Treecat stuff:
That, she thought bitterly as he escorted her stiffly to a ground car, was one good thing about a first-class military disaster. Like the prospect of hanging, it concentrated one's thoughts wonderfully.
Nimitz shifted on her shoulder, ears flattened and one true-hand plucking nervously at her white beret as the tension about him assaulted his empathic sense, and she reached up to stroke him. She'd intended to leave him behind, but he'd made his reaction to that idea abundantly plain, and truth to tell, she was glad he had. Even now, no one understood exactly how a 'cat's empathic link to his human functioned, but Honor, like every human who'd ever been adopted, was convinced it helped her retain her own stability.
And she needed all the help she could get with that just now.
Frankly, if I were an editor, one of my first suggestions would be "cut the cat stuff, it adds nothing to the story." Unless the cat is going to be critical to the plot somehow ("Space Kitty Saves The Day!") then it should warrant no more than a paragraph or two.
As she speeds off to the embassy, she thinks to herself that Grayson's fears about being destroyed by the Masadans just might come true, and their only hope lies with a squadron of warships commanded by someone who is FOREIGN and a WOMAN. The horror!
Also, I wonder if she's ever going to face any consequences for leaving the system and getting Admiral Cognac (and numerous others) killed?
Inside the embassy, she meets Houseman, and already I'm grimacing in anticipation of the rampant strawmanning that will likely ensue.
"Just a moment, Captain!" Houseman's interrupting voice was strained, almost strident, unlike the polished enunciation whose edge of smug superiority Honor remembered so well, and he leaned forward over the conference table.
"I don't think you understand the situation, Captain Harrington. Your primary responsibility is to the Star Kingdom of Manticore, not this planet, and as Her Majesty's representative, it's my duty to point out that the protection of her subjects must take precedence over any other consideration."
"I fully intend to protect Her Majesty's subjects, Mr. Houseman." Honor knew her personal dislike was coloring her voice, but she couldn't help it. "The best way to do that, however, is to protect the entire planet, not just the part of it Manticorans happen to be standing on!"
Aww,
shit.
He's not wrong here, however. It seems to me that Honor here is making the decision all on her own to effectively go to war with Masada, but in a proper, functioning society the military is subordinate to the civilian government (which Houseman represents). Now, they WERE attacked first, however, but it seems to me that this is something that our heroine REALLY ought to check in on with the higher-ups.
Of course, plenty of milSF authors absolutely despise the idea of the military being subordinate to the civilian government, hence why so many tend to portray the civilian government as being corrupt, cowardly, or useless (or all three).
Houseman was every Manticoran vessel to pull out, and when Honor protests he reminds her that Grayson isn't her responsibility (and again, he's not exactly wrong). Their argument starts to escalate, and eventually it gets violent:
"I'll have your commission!" Houseman gobbled. "I have friends in high places, and I'll—"
Honor slapped him.
She shouldn't have. She knew even as she swung that she'd stepped beyond the line, but she put all the strength of her Sphinx-bred muscles into that backhand blow, and Nimitz's snarl was dark with shared fury. The explosive crack! was like a breaking tree limb, and Houseman catapulted back from the table as blood burst from his nostrils and pulped lips.
A red haze clouded Honor's vision, and she heard Langtry saying something urgent, but she didn't care. She grabbed the end of the heavy conference table and hurled it out of her way as she advanced on Houseman, and the bloody-mouthed diplomat's hands scrabbled frantically at the floor as he propelled himself away from her on the seat of his trousers.
Look, I'm all for giving your characters flaws, but someone who gets a "red haze" clouding their vision and who violently attacks an unarmed diplomatic who poses absolutely NO THREAT is the LAST fucking person I want commanding a starship. This is the kind of shit that would probably get you seriously reprimanded in the real military and potentially court martialled on top of that. But I'm sure Houseman's okay; after all, he's not made of flesh and blood, only straw.
There's a lengthy bit of dialogue where they decide who's going to fill High Admiral Yanakov's shoes, and Honor is ruled out because she's a woman and the more conservative elements aren't going to go along with that. Eventually, they decide to get Projector Benjamin to intervene and see if he get Honor put in command:
Then I don't know who's left." Brentworth sighed. "Not short of the Protector, anyway."
"The Protector?" Honor cocked an eyebrow at Langtry. "That's a thought. Why don't we ask Protector Benjamin to intervene?"
"That would be completely without precedent." Langtry shook his head. "The Protector never intervenes between ministers and their subordinates."
"Doesn't he have the authority to?" Honor asked in surprise.
"Well, yes, technically, under the written constitution. But the unwritten constitution says otherwise. The Protector's Council has the right to advise and consent on ministerial appointments. Over the last century or so, that's turned into de facto control of the ministries. In fact, the Chancellor, as First Councilman, really runs the government these days."
Of course, the idea of the Protector putting a FEEEEEEMALE in charge of their defences doesn't go over well:
All right then. Ambassador, you're going to tell the Grayson government that unless I'm allowed a direct, personal meeting with Protector Benjamin, I will have no alternative but to assume that Grayson doesn't feel it requires my services, in which case I will have no option but to evacuate all Manticoran subjects and withdraw from Yeltsin within the next twelve hours."
Brentworth gawked at her, his enjoyment of a moment before turned suddenly to horror, and she winked at him.
"Don't panic, Commander. I won't really pull out. But if we put it to them in those terms, they won't have any choice but to at least listen, now will they?"
"Uh, no, Ma'am, I don't guess they will," Brentworth said shakenly, and Langtry nodded in reluctant approval.
The chapter ends with a mention of Houseman sobbing in the corner, because as the designated Liberal Academic Strawman, he cannot be allowed even a shred of dignity.
