a fascist pronouncement," Oanh said without looking at him. "And I suppose only the military is going to die in this moral crusade?"
"Oanh," Mr. Unsaid. "Please."
He knew it was his fault. She'd never had a proper home, even before her mother fled. Lin's duties required that he work eighteen hours on those days he didn't work twenty-four. Servants could care for Oanh and teach her—but they couldn't give orders that the strong-willed daughter of an increasingly high official had to accept.
For all that, she hadn't become wild. Just opinionated; and under present conditions, voicing the wrong opinions could be more dangerous than drunken sprees.
"Father," Oanh replied—but at least she did lower her voice so that it might not be heard over the pulse of the starship, "you know as well as I do that this war isn't necessary. It isn't even over things, it's just perceptions. There's no excuse for it!"
"There may be no war," Lin repeated softly.
To an extent, his daughter was right. A nation can always avoid war, almost always, by rolling over on its back and baring its belly. Whether that could ever be considered a valid alternative, however, was another matter entirely.
Private firms on Grantholm and Nevasa had together begun to develop Apogee, a world with a climate that was moderate and also unusually stable because the planet had no axial tilt. Nevasa saw Apogee as a rice basket, while the Grantholm entrepreneurs developed resorts on their sections.
Both plans had been set out publicly before any colonization took place. The problem arose when the Grantholm government—not the private developers—noticed that the population in the Nevasan sections was a hundred times greater than that in those under Grantholm control. Rice is a labor-intensive crop. Nevasa was importing a labor force from disadvantaged regions of Earth—from the Orient of Earth.
Grantholm claimed o
"Oanh," Mr. Unsaid. "Please."
He knew it was his fault. She'd never had a proper home, even before her mother fled. Lin's duties required that he work eighteen hours on those days he didn't work twenty-four. Servants could care for Oanh and teach her—but they couldn't give orders that the strong-willed daughter of an increasingly high official had to accept.
For all that, she hadn't become wild. Just opinionated; and under present conditions, voicing the wrong opinions could be more dangerous than drunken sprees.
"Father," Oanh replied—but at least she did lower her voice so that it might not be heard over the pulse of the starship, "you know as well as I do that this war isn't necessary. It isn't even over things, it's just perceptions. There's no excuse for it!"
"There may be no war," Lin repeated softly.
To an extent, his daughter was right. A nation can always avoid war, almost always, by rolling over on its back and baring its belly. Whether that could ever be considered a valid alternative, however, was another matter entirely.
Private firms on Grantholm and Nevasa had together begun to develop Apogee, a world with a climate that was moderate and also unusually stable because the planet had no axial tilt. Nevasa saw Apogee as a rice basket, while the Grantholm entrepreneurs developed resorts on their sections.
Both plans had been set out publicly before any colonization took place. The problem arose when the Grantholm government—not the private developers—noticed that the population in the Nevasan sections was a hundred times greater than that in those under Grantholm control. Rice is a labor-intensive crop. Nevasa was importing a labor force from disadvantaged regions of Earth—from the Orient of Earth.
Grantholm claimed o