“What?” Rajampet settled the last couple of centimeters into his chair, and his expression was as perplexed as his voice. “What are you talking about?”

Despite his own irritation, Kolokoltsov could almost understand the admiral’s confusion. The repercussions of the Battle of Monica were still wending their way through the Navy’s labyrinthine bowels—and the gladiatorial circus of the courts was only just beginning, really—but the battle itself had been fought over ten T-months ago. Although the SLN hadn’t been directly involved in the Royal Manticoran Navy’s destruction of the Monican Navy, the consequences for Technodyne Industries had been profound. And Technodyne had been one of the Navy’s major contractors for four hundred years. It was perfectly reasonable for Rajampet, as the chief of naval operations, to be deeply involved in trying to salvage something from the shipwreck of investigations, indictments, and show trials, and Kolokoltsov never doubted that the admiral’s attention had been tightly focused on that task for the past several T-weeks.

Even if it would have been helpful if he’d been able to give a modicum of his attention to dealing with this other little problem, the diplomat thought grimly.

“I’m talking about the Talbott Cluster, Rajani,” he said out loud, letting just a trace of over-tried patience into his voice. “I’m talking about that incident between your Admiral Byng and the Manties.”

“What about it?” Rajampet’s tone was suddenly a bit cautious, his eyes wary, as instincts honed by a T-century of bureaucratic infighting reared their heads.

“It would appear the Manties were just as pissed off as their original note indicated they were,” Kolokoltsov told him.