Stetson straightened away from the wall, smiled grimly at Orne. He seemed to be understanding a point that the others were missing. Diana still glared at Orne. Polly kept her attention on her hands, the tight smile playing about her lips.
"These women probably control one out of three of the top positions in the League," said Orne. "Maybe more. Think, admiral ... think what would happen if you exposed this thing. There'd be secessions, riots, sub-governments would topple, the central government would be torn by suspicions and battles. What breeds in that atmosphere?" He shook his head. "The Rim War would seem like a picnic!"
"We can't just ignore this!" barked Spencer. He stiffened, glared at Orne.
"We can and we will," said Orne. "No choice."
Polly looked up, studied Orne's face. Diana looked confused.
"Once a Nathian, always a Nathian, eh?" snarled Spencer.
"There's no such thing," said Orne. "Five hundred years' cross-breeding with other races saw to that. There's merely a secret society of astute political scientists." He smiled wryly at Polly, glanced back at Spencer. "Think of your own wife, sir. In all honesty, would you be ComGO today if she hadn't guided your career?"
Spencer's face darkened. He drew in his chin, tried to stare Orne down, failed. Presently, he chuckled wryly.
"Sobie is beginning to come to his senses," said Polly. "You're about through, son."
"Don't underestimate your future son-in-law," said Orne.