KOINA
With a war of one kind impending hundreds of k over her head, and a war of another directly in front of her, Koina Hannish entered the crowded chamber which Abrim Len had decided to use until the Council’s formal meeting hall could be cleaned and refurbished.
This room was normally set aside for conferences with the planet’s news dogs; but the communications gear and data terminals of the video networks had been commandeered, rerouted, and coded for the use of the Members and their aides. The twenty-one voting Members and a restricted number of their aides and advisers clustered at the terminals they’d been assigned, studying UMCPHQ’s downlink, while President Len scurried around the room like a frightened hare, fussily arranging people to suit some standard of precedence or common interest known only to himself. Perhaps, Koina thought, he kept himself busy in this way in order to avoid demands or special pleading; attempts to take over the agenda of the emergency session.
In any case no one seemed to pay much attention to him. Most of the room was in the grip of a nascent hysteria which seethed from wall to wall independent of the President. The whole space reeked of visceral terrors like rank sweat.
At first it appeared that there was no place left for her. Despite Len’s restrictions, the chamber already held more people than it had been designed to accommodate. Then she spotted three vacant seats in a corner near the dais usually used by Members to address newsdogs. They didn’t offer access to a terminal; but she didn’t need one. She had two of her PR communications techs with her: one to concentrate on her private downlink, one to keep UMCPHQ informed of what happened here. Deputy Chief Ing and his guards could stand against the walls.
Unfortunately the empty seats were right beside those occupied by UMC First Executive Assistant Cleatus Fane and his staff. Apparently someone—Abrim Len, or Fane himself—thought it was time for the UMC and the UMCP to stand together. The Dragon’s FEA also had no terminal, and didn’t need one: like Koina’s, his people were all communications techs laden with gear—dedicated relays, encryption boxes, transceivers. Cleatus himself had a PCR jacked into one ear and a throat pickup patched beside his larynx. He may have been listening to the downlink, or to instructions from HO: Koina had no way of knowing.
She still reeled inwardly at the most recent news from Center—the news of Warden’s departure for Calm Horizons. And the idea of sitting near Fane made her skin crawl. He was her most dangerous opponent; more her enemy than Maxim Igensard. To postpone the moment when she would have to endure his proximity, she paused inside the doors to take stock of the chamber.
Because she wanted to see a friendly face, she looked first for Captain Vertigus, the United Western Bloc Senior Member. He didn’t appear to be present, however. His Junior Member, Sigurd Carsin, sat shuffling a sheaf of hardcopy between Vest Martingale, the Com-Mine Station Member, and Sen Abdullah, Senior Member for the Eastern Union. In their lesser ways, they were also Koina’s opponents. Sigurd Carsin seemed to attack the UMCP for the same reasons that Sixten Vertigus distrusted Holt Fasner. Vest Martingale was responsible for Maxim Igensard’s appointment as Special Counsel to investigate the Angus Thermopyle case: her constituency’s reputation depended on her efforts to tarnish the UMCP’s integrity. And Sen Abdullah—lean, hawk-faced, and fanatical, with a perpetual sneer between his dark cheeks and his sharp, silver beard—appeared to be on a personal crusade against Warden Dios out of religious fervor or prejudice. However, rumor suggested that his hatred had more to do with money than religion: his constituency had lost staggering sums when Warden had helped “arrange” Holt Fasner’s takeover of Sagittarius Exploration years ago.
Then Koina spotted Sixten. She’d missed him because he was obscured by the Special Counsel. Although Maxim sat in front of Captain Vertigus, his public posture was typically so condensed and deferential that no one would have been hidden by it. However, Sixten had slumped down in his seat until he was almost invisible. His eyes were closed, and his mouth hung open: he was clearly asleep.
Koina shrugged ruefully and continued scanning the room.
She’d only been the UMCP’s PR director for a short time, but she recognized all the Members by name and reputation. Punjat Silat, the Senior Member for the Combined Asian Islands and Peninsulas, was one of the few she believed would make decisions rationally, despite the incipient panic around him. Blaine Manse, the Member for Betelgeuse Primary, was another. Her reputation suggested that she was more interested in sex than politics. But according to Hashi’s reports—inherently more accurate than Godsen’s—Blaine’s countless peccadilloes camouflaged a keen mind with a clear sense of purpose.
Tel Burnish, the Member from Valdor Industrial, usually held himself apart from debates about the UMC and the UMCP. However, now that his Station had been threatened by Calm Horizons he might begin to take sides.
Most of the other Members kept lower profiles, especially those with any history of resistance to the UMC. The fear which poured steadily into the chamber from the UMCPHQ downlink caused them to rally around the only obvious, tangible locus of power: Cleatus Fane. This was patently more comfortable for the “votes” Holt Fasner “owned” outright: New Outreach, Terminus, Sagittarius Unlimited, SpaceLab Annexe, and both Members for the Pacific Rim Conglomerate. Men and women who’d occasionally voted against the Dragon, or who’d made efforts to disguise their loyalties, had a more awkward time approaching the only reassurance any of them could imagine.
The UMCP belonged to Holt Fasner. He possessed virtually all the effective muscle in human space. If he couldn’t save the Members—who were, after all, trapped on Suka Bator because Warden Dios had sealed the island after the most recent kaze attack—no one could.
Koina Hannish had been sent here to cause even more panic. And the mood of the Council was already against her. Many of the Members were arrayed in opposition. That tightened her own fear to a pitch she wasn’t sure she could stand.
Did she really believe that she would be able to carry out Warden’s orders? What if undermining him now proved to be the worst mistake she could possibly make? What then?
Then she might find herself praying for Punisher to fire down ruin on the island. Death would be easier to face than her culpability for a disaster of such magnitude.
But Warden didn’t consider it a mistake.
He’d had any number of opportunities to rescind his orders—yet he’d left them in force. Nothing has changed. Go ahead. He’d taken himself to the Amnioni, knowing what Koina would do on Earth: what she might do, if she had the courage; and might succeed at, if Hashi Lebwohl or Chief of Security Mandich supplied her with evidence in time. Then the question became, not, Would she be able to obey him? but, Could she bear to let him down?
Across the room, Abrim Len caught her eye and gestured frantically toward the seats he’d reserved for her. At the same time Forrest Ing stepped to her side and touched her arm.
“You’d better take your place, Director,” he said in her ear. “From the look of things, Len’ll have a coronary if he doesn’t get this session started soon.”
She nodded. “Security has this room covered, I hope,” she whispered. “A kaze here now—”
A blast in this constricted space wouldn’t leave any damage for the Amnion to do.
“We’re using all our own people,” Forrest answered softly. “We’ve screened them down to their genes. And the Members have vouched personally for everyone with them. I think you’re safe.” He paused to frown at the FEA, then added, “Unless Fane or one of his techs is full of explosives and wants to die.”
Koina nodded again. No doubt Cleatus was full of explosives—metaphorically speaking. But she was sure he had no intention of committing suicide. The Dragon didn’t attract that kind of loyalty. If Hashi was right, the recent attacks hadn’t been designed to destroy the GCES. Instead they were meant to strengthen Fasner’s hold on the UMCP.
With the Deputy Chief at her side, she shifted through the crowd toward her assigned seat When her techs were settled, and Forrest had taken a place at the wall behind her, she sat down.
Cleatus gave her an iron smile as she took her place. Ordinarily he projected the benevolence of a Father Christmas: he had a talent for it. But he’d set aside his air of expansive generosity. His eyes held a lupine glitter, and his beard bristled like wire.
“Director Hannish.” He inclined his head in a small bow. “I’m here, as you requested.” As Forrest Ing had urged on her behalf. “I must say, I’m eager to learn why you considered such a message necessary. Or appropriate. Perhaps we’ll be able to discuss it later.
“You played your part well in the last session.” His tone repaid the threat Forrest had implied for her. “But this time we aren’t ‘playing.’ I hope you realize that. Your Warden Dios has refused to speak to the CEO since this crisis started. Whether you know it or not, he’s left you out on a limb. If I have to, I’ll cut it off.
“If I have to,” he promised quietly, “I’ll reduce the whole damn tree to kindling.”
Koina replied with a smile of her own—a smooth, bland, professional expression, immaculate and meaningless. “You’re kind to warn me.” She kept her voice low. “May I ask you a question?”
Fane let her see his teeth. “Of course.”
“I’m curious. How old are you?”
He closed his mouth. His eyes widened slightly, as if she’d suggested an insult. “What does that have to do with anything?”
Her smile brightened. “Nothing at all. As I say, it’s mere curiosity. I was wondering whether CEO Fasner has shared any of his medical longevity with you.”
She meant, How long do you think he’ll keep you alive? What do you really think you’re worth to him?
The FEA appeared to understand her. He met her gaze without blinking. “As it happens, Director Hannish, I’m in exceptionally good health.”
“I’m so glad.” Behind her professional mask, she was secretly pleased—and relieved—that she could still hold her own despite her fear. “There’s already too much death in the air.”
She didn’t think he would heed her own warning. But his scowl showed that he’d heard it.
While she’d been speaking to Cleatus, President Len had at last made his way to the dais and picked up his ceremonial mace—what Hashi called his “cudgel.” Now he began to bang it on the podium.
“Order, please.” He hefted the mace as if he might need it to ward off blows. “This is an emergency session of the Governing Council for Earth and Space. Come to order, please.”
The tense exchanges of the Members and their aides were stilled almost immediately. Worry throbbed across the silence.
“You all know why we’re here.” Len sounded weary to the point of exhaustion; reluctant; beaten. His stance behind the podium seemed oddly vulnerable. Neither his personality nor his experience fitted him to lead the Council in a time of war. “You’ve been listening to the downlink. But if you’re as scared as I am”—he sighed—“you may find the whole crisis a little confusing. Just to get us started, I’ll ask UMCPPR Director Koina Hannish to explain it. She may know something we don’t.”
He turned to Koina, gestured her toward the podium. “Director Hannish?”
She stood so that she could see faces better; but she didn’t leave her place; didn’t waste time trying to dissociate herself from Cleatus Fane. She hadn’t expected Abrim to call on her. Nevertheless she was ready—at least for this.
“Thank you, Mr. President. For the moment I have nothing to tell you that you haven’t already heard. In the interest of clarity, however, I’ll summarize the situation.
“Because of the incursion of an Amnion warship into our space, Warden Dios has invoked the War Powers provisions of the UMCP charter. The alien vessel is a Behemoth-class defensive named Calm Horizons. As you’ve heard, she out-powers and outguns any of our ships. Only the recently commissioned battlewagon Sledgehammer comes close. More to the point, however, is the fact that she’s armed with super-light proton cannon.
“Director Dios has ordered a cordon of our ships to close around Calm Horizons. Already it’s strong enough to ensure that the Amnioni dies if she fires on us. Soon it’ll be strong enough to contain the damage we may suffer.”
“What does that mean, Director Hannish?” Sen Abdullah interrupted rudely. He strove to convey command; but his voice had an unpleasant whine which made him sound petulant.
“In twelve hours,” Koina answered firmly, “Sledgehammer will come into range. Then our cordon will have enough firepower to protect everything except Suka Bator and UMCPHQ.
“Unfortunately”—she permitted herself a small shrug—“unlike matter cannon, a super-light proton beam isn’t hindered or weakened by atmosphere.” And atmosphere was the island’s only defense. “Calm Horizons can hit Suka Bator directly and often. She simply cannot be killed quickly enough to save us.
“For that reason,” she finished as if she were offering her audience hope, “and because we have no way of knowing whether the Amnioni will hold fire for twelve more hours, Director Dios has gone aboard Calm Horizons alone in an attempt to negotiate for our survival.”
At once questions burst at her from the clenched gathering.
“What does he think that will accomplish?”
“What does he have to negotiate with?”
“Why hasn’t that ship opened fire yet?”
The Members were too alarmed to wait for Abrim to recognize them. And he seemed to lack the will to insist on order.
“Why aren’t you already shooting at her?”
The last demand came from Sigurd Carsin. Koina answered it first because it led naturally to the others.
“Director Dios held fire because Calm Horizons did.”
This was her job: she’d taken an oath to field questions like this. And it was easier than other things she’d sworn to do; duties she hadn’t tackled yet.
“It has been obvious from the first,” she explained, “that the Amnioni threatens Suka Bator. As soon as anyone starts shooting, all of us here are dead. But Calm Horizons hasn’t fired. Clearly there’s something she wants—and she wants it more than she wants to damage us.
“For all we know, she’s here to defect. Or to prevent a defection.” Koina suggested those unlikely possibilities in the hope that they might distract some of the dread around her. “We have many reasons to think the Amnion fear a war.
“Director Dios has gone to Calm Horizons to find out what the Amnion do want. And, if he can, to discuss ways of satisfying them without compromising our safety in human space, or bringing down unimaginable destruction on our planet—and ourselves.”
Again Sen Abdullah disdained the courtesy of Waiting for. Len to call on him. “Does your Director Dios think he has the right to make those kinds of decisions?”
Koina fixed her PR smile tightly in place. “Senior Member Abdullah, you have a terminal. If you wish, you can consult the exact wording of the War Powers provisions. Or you can trust me when I say that Director Dios is doing his sworn duty. Under conditions of war, the UMCP—and the UMCP alone—is responsible for the safety of human space and the survival of humankind.”
At last the President made an attempt to regain control of the proceedings. “Calm down, Sen, please,” he said pleadingly. “We’re all familiar with your opposition to Director Dios. I promise—you’ll get your chance to speak.” For reasons Koina didn’t understand, Abrim turned a quick glance in Maxim’s direction. “In fact, I’ll recognize you first. When I’m done.
“Until then, please don’t waste our time finding fault with the UMCP director’s mission aboard Calm Horizons. As Director Hannish says, he’s gone there to keep us alive. No matter what you think of him, you can’t believe he means to harm us with this. No one has ever accused Warden Dios of treason.”
“Until now,” Abdullah muttered darkly. Instead of continuing, however, he resumed his seat and closed his mouth.
Len sighed his relief, then nodded to Koina. “Thank you, Director Hannish. I’m sure we’ll have more questions later. For now you’ve summarized the situation admirably.”
Dismissed, she sat down. Now that she was done, she noticed that her knees were trembling. Nervous sweat ran like skinworms across her ribs and down her spine. Involuntarily she looked over at Cleatus to gauge his reaction.
He met her gaze and smiled approval.
At that moment, under the bale of his approbation, Koina Hannish reached a final decision about the meaning of her life. When she realized that her account of events had pleased the Dragon’s chief servant, she became sure of herself: who she was; what she meant to do.
As she returned his smile, some of her fear slipped from her, and her knees stopped trembling.
President Len still held his mace, but didn’t swing it. “Members,” he said to the gathering, “let’s begin.” A small tremor weakened his voice at first; but it faded as he went along. “Director Hannish has outlined the immediate crisis. It’s time for us to do the work we were elected for.”
Koina had the impression that he was delivering a speech he’d memorized. Perhaps he feared he wouldn’t be able to hold his thoughts together otherwise.
“To begin, we must distinguish between the immediate crisis and the general emergency. The immediate crisis is legally, effectively, in Director Dios’ hands. He will deal with Calm Horizons to the best of his abilities. In similar fashion, his station, UMCPHQ, has been covering the planet with preparations for disaster. Earlier we were restricted from leaving this island. You know why. Now there’s nowhere we could go in time to save ourselves.
“Apart from keeping us alive, however, there’s much that can be done, and is being done, for the people we represent. Population centers are being evacuated. Underground installations of all kinds—geothermal tapping stations, storage facilities and repositories, shielded police and military centers, deep-rock research establishments—have become bunkers. Food and water are being gathered against the aftermath of an attack. Secure communication and distribution networks are being activated. Much of the planet’s weaponry has been directed into space.
“All this is necessary and admirable. I take it as evidence of Director Dios’ good faith—and foresight.”
Again the President turned an unexplained look toward Special Counsel Igensard. As he did so, an abrupt movement brought Sixten Vertigus into view behind Maxim. At last the old Senior Member was awake and listening.
“Nevertheless,” Len continued, “it’s also desperately inadequate. For too long, we’ve believed that if we fought a war it would be”—he gestured toward the ceiling with his mace—“elsewhere. Somewhere out among the stars. Not here. We’ve planned and built and provisioned for a war somewhere else.
“In that sense, we aren’t ready for the immediate crisis. And there’s nothing UMCPHQ can do to compensate for it.”
Abrim paused. When he resumed, his voice held a note of coercion, as if he were forcing himself to make assertions which discomfited him; assertions which would produce contention rather than consensus.
“However, our unreadiness is part of what I call the general emergency. The general emergency concerns the policies, the institutions, and, yes, the personnel which have brought about the immediate crisis. If the immediate crisis is in Director Dios’ hands—as it must be—then the general emergency is in ours. If we aren’t ready for a local war, the responsibility is ours. And if any person, decision, or organization has called down Calm Horizons on our heads, we are again responsible.
“Those are the issues this session must consider,” Len finished tightly. “I propose to keep you all here until we do consider them.”
As she listened Koina was momentarily bemused. She hadn’t expected so much lucidity from Abrim. Behind his congenital fear of conflict, he apparently had a good mind. He may even have had a sense of honor. His statement was the opposite of Sen Abdullah’s accusative demands. If a simple majority of the Council could be brought to see the situation as clearly as Abrim did, there was hope: hope of avoiding panic, if nothing else; perhaps hope for one or two intelligent decisions as well.
Unfortunately Len had promised to let Abdullah speak first.
Before the President could go on, however, Cleatus interjected, “Mr. President, if I may—?”
Abrim turned to face Fane and Koina. His eyes were moist with strain and worry. If he’d allowed it, his weak chin might have trembled. Preparing and delivering a lucid opening statement must have been costly for him.
“Of course, Mr. Fane. We welcome comments from the UMC.” He nodded at Koina. “Or the UMCP.”
The FEA rose smoothly to his feet. At once everyone in the room shifted to stare at him, some avid for any reprieve the Dragon might devise, others in mistrust or disapproval. Koina herself stared, trying to gauge the depth of his game.
As he spoke, complex intentions disguised each other in his tone. She thought she heard concern, scorn, humor, reassurance, threats; but she wasn’t sure of any of them. His stiff beard surrounded his mouth with an impenetrable tangle.
“Mr. President, your summation of the responsibilities of the Council is especially apt. Some of you may be aware that apart from UMCPHQ, the UMC Home Office is the only armed station orbiting Earth. And let me say, by the way, that if they’re needed those arms will surely be used in our defense. The point I wish to make, however, is that HO is armed because Holt Fasner—no one else—sets policy for the UMC. I mean no disrespect when I say that he has always taken the dangers of dealing with the Amnion more seriously than the Council.”
Koina allowed herself to cock an eyebrow. Under other circumstances she might have asked, Our defense? Who do you mean? Those of us here against Calm Horizons? All humankind? Or do you mean just the UMC?
“I’m sure what you say is true, Mr. Fane,” Sixten remarked unexpectedly. He didn’t stand; ignored dozens of heads craning to peer at him. His voice was high and thin with age, but he managed to make himself heard clearly. “Are you quite sure that arming HO is consistent with the terms of the UMC charter?”
At once President Len intervened to deflect the challenge; the insult. “Captain Vertigus, please. I must have order, I recognized Mr. Fane out of courtesy to an interested guest. If you wish to be recognized, I can only assure you that your turn will come. Any Member who wishes to speak will be heard. But this is an emergency session of the Governing Council for Earth and Space, and it will be conducted in good order.”
“Order.” Sixten flapped his hands dismissively. “Rules. I’m too old for all this, Abrim. By the time you get around to me, I may be dead. You ask him. Ask Mr. Fane if the UMC charter provides for an armed station.”
Exasperation hunched Abrim’s shoulders. “Captain Vertigus—”
“I’ll answer, Mr. President,” Cleatus offered without hesitation. “Maybe then we can go on.” He brandished his whiskers to suggest perplexity. “Although why anyone would object to HO’s guns at a time like this is beyond me.”
Koina could think of a reason. She had no difficulty grasping Sixten’s point. An armed station could defy the law; defy the Council. But she didn’t say anything. The time hadn’t come for her to speak.
The President sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, Mr. Fane. If you’re willing, please go ahead.”
Fane bowed from the waist. “Thank you, Mr. President.” Then he pointed his smile at Sixten.
“Captain Vertigus, the UMC charter neither provides for nor disallows an armed Home Office. You can look it up if you want to. I’ll happily refer you to the relevant subsections.”
“Don’t bother,” Sixten muttered.
The FEA shrugged, “In the absence of an explicit restriction,” he concluded, “we have cannon–and shields–because CEO Fasner decided we should.”
“Are you satisfied, Captain?” Len made no attempt to conceal his vexation.
“Satisfied?” Sixten’s voice cracked; perhaps deliberately. “Of course not. But I’ll shut up anyway. Maybe you’ll be kind enough to wake me when it’s my turn.”
With another bow, Cleatus seated himself.
On impulse Koina leaned toward him and whispered, “I take it you think the government should be turned over to CEO Fasner?” She kept her voice too low to be overheard.
Fane’s eyes flashed. “We’re staring down the guns of an Amnion defensive because your director screwed up,” he replied softly. “But he won’t face the problem—or the consequences. He refuses to talk to his boss. Instead he’s aboard Calm Horizons making decisions for the whole human race. Who knows what he’s giving away to keep us alive—or cover up his mistakes? And there’s nothing the Council can do about it. He can hide behind those War Powers provisions until we all dry up and wither away.
“Don’t you think it’s time someone with a few brains and a sense of responsibility took charge?”
Koina met his gaze and smiled like sugar. “Personally, Mr. Fane, I would vote for you.”
As soon as she saw his disconcerted frown, she turned her attention back to the dais and President Len. There were times, she thought, when being a woman—and being what others called beautiful—gave her a significant advantage. Which was fine, as far as it went; but she needed more.
She needed leverage. Without it the things she’d been ordered to say might give Holt Fasner just the excuse he was waiting for; an excuse to take direct control of the UMCP.
Then he would be the only effective power in human space.
Nothing has changed. Go ahead.
Fervently she prayed that Warden had taken steps to prevent such a disaster.
President Len had made his opening statement. Apparently he had no more to say. “If we’re quite done with interruptions,” he announced now, “it’s time to address the issues of this session. I’m not going to limit the discussion in any way, except to preserve order. I hope, however, that you’ll restrict yourselves to the subjects I’ve outlined. If you don’t, I’ll accept motions from the floor to cut you off.
“To begin, I recognize the Senior Member of the Eastern Union, Sen Abdullah.”
Carefully Abrim set his mace down on the podium as if he were disavowing responsibility. Then he retreated to a seat at the back of the dais.
At once Abdullah surged to his feet. “Mr. President,” he half-shouted. “Members!” He may have been trying to camouflage his habitual whine with volume. “I was not the first to use the word ‘treason’ in this room, but I can promise you I won’t be the last. It must be said now, and it must be said often. Treason! Warden Dios has committed treason against the GCES, treason against the planet Earth, treason against all humankind.
“By the rules of order, I yield the floor to Special Counsel Maxim Igensard.”
Len steepled one hand over his eyes. Slowly he nodded.
Oh, shit, Koina thought. So that’s how it comes. Not from Cleatus. From Maxim. Of course. Cleatus didn’t want to look complicit. Or maybe he wasn’t complicit. Maybe he just knew that Maxim would do his work for him.
A moment ago she’d dreaded facing Sen Abdullah’s fanatic petulance. But now she realized that the EU Senior Member would have been a far easier opponent than Maxim Igensard. Even the FEA would have been easier—Abdullah would have undermined himself: his hate was too obvious, too partisan, and too irrational to sway the Council for long. And Cleatus made too much money in Holt Fasner’s service. Maxim had far more credibility, if for no other reason than because he had no constituency; no vested interest. As long as he did his job, he was safe no matter what his investigation uncovered.
With his ego and his intelligence, he was the perfect tool—
Rising from his seat, he moved through the crowd cautiously, like a man trying to minimize his profile. Two steps took him up onto the dais. There he approached the podium, positioned himself behind it, and gripped it by the edges with both hands as if he were anxious and needed support. Although he wasn’t as small as he made himself seem, only his head and shoulders showed above the rim of the podium.
“Mr. President.” He turned a courteous bow toward Abrim. “Members of the Governing Council for Earth and Space. First Executive Assistant Fane. Protocol Director Hannish. Thank you for your attention. I won’t waste it.
“You may think I exceed my mandate by speaking to you now. I’ve been charged to investigate the so-called ‘Angus Thermopyle case’—his arrest, conviction, and subsequent escape—not to comment on matters of war policy. For that reason, I wish to make two points immediately clear. First, I am here as the assigned proxy of Eastern Union Senior Member Sen Abdullah.” Maxim nodded respectfully at Abdullah. “I have both his right to speak and his vote. Confirmation is available from your terminals.”
A rustle of movement followed as Members told their aides to check. Koina didn’t bother, however. She was sure that Igensard hadn’t made any procedural mistakes.
“Second,” the Special Counsel said, “I am here because I believe that the ‘Angus Thermopyle case’ has a special bearing on Calm Horizons’ presence in our space. If I’m right, then what I have to say is directly, explicitly relevant to the issues of this session. And, whether we like it or not, we’ll all be forced to use the term ‘treason.’”
Koina couldn’t contain herself. “Forgive me, Mr. Igensard,” she said so that everyone would hear her. “‘Treason’ is a highly emotional word. You haven’t earned the right to use it yet.”
At once Maxim retorted, “But I will, Director Hannish. Toward that end, I mean to examine you shortly. Perhaps you’ll take my charges seriously enough to answer them truthfully. With or without your cooperation, however, I will earn the right.”
Then he returned his attention to the Council.
“As you recall, President Len called this session before Calm Horizons appeared here. He called it because he’d received a formal announcement from UMCP director Warden Dios, informing him that a Behemoth-class Amnion defensive—apparently this same Calm Horizons—had encroached on the Massif-5 system. The information had reached Director Dios by gap courier drones from Valdor Industrial and UMCP cruiser Punisher. The first, from VI, reported Calm Horizons’ incursion and Punisher’s engagement. The second, from UMCP Enforcement Division director Min Donner aboard Punisher, reported that the cruiser had broken off the engagement, in part because she was too heavily damaged to prosecute her attack successfully, and in part to supply protection for another UMCP vessel, the gap scout Trumpet, believed to be the target of Calm Horizons’ incursion.”
The Special Counsel didn’t use notes. Apparently he didn’t need them. He gave the impression that he never forgot anything. His voice sharpened as he spoke, and his physical presence seemed to expand, as if what he said made him larger.
“Because we’ve all been quite naturally appalled and alarmed by Director Dios’ information,” he stated, “we have perhaps failed to notice that much of it makes no sense. In fact, however, the director’s announcement is far more significant for what it conceals than for what it reveals.”
“‘Conceals’?” Captain Vertigus interrupted scornfully. “He was in a hurry, for God’s sake. What do you want him to do, write you a goddamn white paper on human-Amnion relations?”
“What I want is simple, Captain Vertigus,” Maxim shot back. “The truth. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
Koina applauded Sixten in silence; but she didn’t support his objection. Instead she made use of the distraction. She thought she could see where Igensard was headed. I mean to examine you shortly—Turning away, she leaned toward her communications techs. “Flare Chief Mandich for me,” she whispered carefully, hardly moving her lips. “Flare Director Lebwohl. Tell them I’m running out of time here.”
The tech responsible for keeping UMCPHQ informed of events nodded. “Right away, Director,” she breathed.
As the tech obeyed, Koina straightened herself to listen again. Cleatus treated her to a cold smile, which she ignored.
“Time and again,” Maxim was saying, “we’ve been given reason to believe the Amnion don’t desire war. Their imperialism—rampant though it may be—is of another kind. In the simplest terms, their production methods aren’t adequate to supply the ships and materiel a war would demand.
“This raises a number of questions.
“Why now have the Amnion elected to violate a peace on which they’re dependent? And why did they do so by encroaching on Massif-5, a system far better defended than Earth—indeed, quite capable of repulsing and even destroying the defensive? How can a mere UMCP gap scout justify such action? What is at stake, that having failed to kill Trumpet would cause the Amnion to compound their act of war by coming here?
“Director Dios’ announcement gives no answer. Perhaps a ‘white paper’ on the subject would have been useful.”
Igensard glared briefly at Captain Vertigus, then continued like a cutting laser.
“Neither does the UMCP director explain why Punisher was there to meet Calm Horizons’ incursion. The cruiser had just finished an arduous tour of duty around VI, and had returned to Earth for much-needed leave and repair. Her replacement, the UMCP cruiser Vehemence, had already reached Massif-5. Yet Punisher never docked at UMCPHQ. As soon as Director Donner joined ship, Punisher departed on another mission.
“My investigation has revealed—another detail omitted by Director Dios—that the cruiser was sent, not back to Massif-5, but out to the Com-Mine belt.”
Some of the Members reacted with surprise. Koina herself was surprised that Maxim had been able to obtain such information. But he didn’t pause.
“Her stated mission,” he sneered, “was ‘to guard against reports of unusual hostile activity along the frontier near the Com-Mine belt.’ Why Min Donner’s presence was required for such a mission is not explained.
“How then does it happen that Punisher entered the Massif-5 system in time to engage Calm Horizons? And how does it happen that a UMCP officer with Min Donner’s reputation for probity, valor, and determination decided to break off the engagement? Why did she conclude that Trumpet was more important than her sworn duty to defend human space?
“Above all, why was Trumpet there?” Maxim didn’t raise his voice. Nevertheless it seemed to swell until it filled the room like a shout. “What accounts for the gap scout’s presence in the Massif-5 system?”
Koina saw Sixten squirm under the pressure of Igensard’s challenge; but the old Senior Member didn’t interject a comment. He may have realized that it was already too late for him—or anyone—to defend Warden.
Quietly Cleatus murmured, “An interesting question, don’t you think, Director Hannish?” He seemed to be taunting her. “I’m afraid your Warden is in more trouble than he can handle.”
Koina kept her attention fixed on the Special Counsel; hid her tension and dread behind a mask of professional detachment.
“One other significant fact is absent from Director Dios’ announcement,” Maxim proclaimed as if he wished to draw blood. “As if he thinks we might not have noticed, he doesn’t mention that Trumpet is the same vessel in which Captain Angus Thermopyle and former Deputy Chief of Com-Mine Station Security Milos Taverner are purported to have made their escape from UMCPHQ.
“Mr. President, Members”—he paused to scan the room—“I consider the omission of these points to be as significant as their implications.”
No one interrupted him now. The Members and their aides stared at him, rapt, as if they’d fallen under a spell. They’d all received Warden’s announcement. Most of them probably remembered where they’d heard of Trumpet before. Some of them must have been struck by the strangeness of Trumpet’s role in events. But they’d been distracted by Calm Horizons’ presence; by the threat to Earth—and themselves.
Koina was sure that for most of Maxim’s audience the picture he outlined had begun to seem profoundly disturbing.
“A few days ago UMCPDA director Hashi Lebwohl informed us by video conference that Captain Thermopyle and Deputy Chief Taverner had stolen Trumpet and fled toward Thanatos Minor in forbidden space. So much is plausible. Captain Thermopyle is a convicted illegal. By implication, Deputy Chief Taverner is also an illegal. The bootleg shipyard on Thanatos Minor is an illegal installation—a natural destination for such men.
“But how does it occur that two illegals in a stolen ship at a bootleg installation countenanced by the Amnion have damaged or threatened the Amnion to such an extent that Calm Horizons was sent to commit an act of war in response?
“I’ll propose an explanation. Call it a hypothesis if you wish. I don’t pretend to have concrete evidence. Until quite recently”—he glanced at Koina—“UMCPHQ has not been open with records and information. But I have the evidence of common sense. The evidence of intelligence.
“When I’m done, I’ll ask Director Hannish if she chooses to contradict me. If she does, I’ll ask her”—now he did shout—“no, I’ll dare her”—at once he softened his tone again—“to supply facts that support her position.”
Although she’d seen this coming, Koina felt a new sting of apprehension in the palms of her hands, the pit of her stomach. Still no word from Hashi, or Chief Mandich—In a few more minutes she would have to face Maxim Igensard and the Council with nothing to go on except Warden’s orders and her own untried ability to make Hashi’s reasoning sound credible.
“Be fair, Maxim,” President Len put in unexpectedly. He sounded deeply tired; but apparently he still felt compelled to smooth out conflicts. “Do you really expect her to be prepared for a challenge like that? Without any warning?”
Maxim didn’t hesitate. “Mr. President, she’s the UMCP Director of Protocol. It’s her job to be prepared.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense,” Captain Vertigus said with an acerbic quaver. “If you’re so eager to accuse Warden Dios of treason, get it over with. Just what is this ‘hypothesis’ of yours?”
The Special Counsel faced his audience again. He looked taller, elevated by eagerness. Something inside him had reached critical mass and begun to expand toward an explosion.
“Members of the Council, the stories we’ve been told are incredible, and I think they aren’t true. I believe Captain Thermopyle and Deputy Chief Taverner did not escape from UMCPHQ. I believe they’re agents of the UMCP, agents of Director Dios. I believe they were sent into forbidden space to commit some affront or do some harm which the Amnion would be unable to countenance. And when they’d succeeded, I believe they fled deep into human space on Director Dios’ orders.
“Because it was already known how the Amnion would respond, Trumpet ran to Massif-5, a place so far inside our frontier that no act of war could be excused, and yet so far from Earth that we—and UMCPHQ—would be in no direct danger.
“For her part, Punisher went to the Com-Mine belt with Min Donner aboard to ensure that Trumpet was indeed able to flee. Thereafter she followed the gap scout to the Massif-5 system, where she awaited Calm Horizons’ incursion.
“The crucial point is this.” For the first time he let go of the podium. With the heel of one fist he tapped each word onto the surface in front of him. “I’m certain that all these events occurred because Warden Dios wished it so.
“No, let me be plainer. I believe that the director of the UMCP has deliberately precipitated an act of war.”
Apart from Koina, Abrim Len appeared to be the only person in the room who’d guessed—or known?—what was coming. He didn’t react; sat without moving. Once again his hand steepled over his eyes as if he’d seen all he could bear. It was possible that he had known. Some argument must have been used to persuade him to sanction assigning Sen Abdullah’s proxy to Igensard. Perhaps this was it: perhaps Maxim had convinced Len that he needed a Member’s stature in order to present his accusation.
But everyone else—
The director of the UMCP has deliberately precipitated an act of war.
In one corner, two or three people jumped to their feet around someone Koina couldn’t see; someone who’d apparently fainted. From wall to wall men and women turned pale as if the blood were being drained from the room. The distinguished scholar Punjat Silat clutched at his chest; groped toward an aide until the aide pressed a small vial into his hand. Silat jerked back his head to swallow the contents of the vial, then slumped in his seat, his face as gray as ash. Sigurd Carsin and Vest Martingale stared at Maxim with their mouths open. Sixten grimaced convulsively, then began to beat his forehead with the heels of his palms, trying to drive back his dismay; his sense of betrayal. Cleatus waggled his beard by pursing his mouth like a man tasting a bitter pill to see whether he could stomach it.
Deliberately precipitated—
The Council had trusted Warden too long: humankind was too dependent on him. The bare idea that he might have committed the crime Maxim suggested seemed to open a gulf deep enough to swallow the planet.
Could it be true? Even Koina considered the possibility with pain. Oh, God, Warden. What have you done?
In distress she turned a mute appeal to her techs. Her mouth shaped the word, Anything? But they shook their heads. One of them whispered, “Chief Mandich asks you to forgive him. Director Lebwohl says he doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
She bit her lip to stifle a groan. She had to have evidence; needed it desperately. Otherwise everything Warden was trying to do would recoil against him.
Beside her Cleatus subvocalized into his throat pickup: a thin, ragged sound, too low for her to distinguish words. Talking to the Dragon—
A moment later she was startled to hear Blaine Manse raise her voice. “In God’s name, why, Maxim?” the Member for Betelgeuse Primary protested. “What kind of man would do that? I didn’t think anybody was crazy enough to want a war.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Igensard retorted incisively. “Director Dios does not want a war. The Amnion aren’t the real target of his actions. We are.”
“How so?” Blaine pursued.
“To put it crudely”—Maxim paused, apparently to focus his audience’s attention—“his purpose was to frighten the Council into withdrawing support for my investigation.”
From the back of the room, Tel Burnish gave a snort of contempt. “Does the word ‘megalomania’ mean anything to you, Special Counsel? What makes you think you’re important enough for Warden Dios to risk starting a war?
“What makes you think you’re important enough to force him to turn his back on a lifetime of dedicated service?”
Maxim faced the VI Member’s challenge without flinching. He was primed for a detonation. Gathering pressure seemed to throb under his skin; glint dangerously from his eyes; echo like the clang of a hammer in his voice.
“In the pursuit of my duties,” he pronounced, “I’ve been accumulating evidence of the most malign kinds of malfeasance and corruption. Warden Dios’ probity is under question, his power is endangered. You were here—you heard him during the video conference. His back is against the wall. I pushed him there.
“Now he’s trying to protect his position by convincing us we can’t afford to threaten him. He wants us to think the risk of probing and questioning him is too great at a time when we face the possibility of war.
“And he would have succeeded, except for one fatal miscalculation. The actions of Captain Thermopyle and Deputy Chief Taverner were too extreme. They were so extreme that Calm Horizons didn’t stop when Trumpet escaped from Massif-5. Prevented from following by Punisher, the Amnioni didn’t withdraw, as Director Dios no doubt intended—preserving her own survival, as well as the possibility that peace could eventually be restored. Instead Calm Horizons came here.
“Do you think I’m wrong?” the Special Counsel demanded in the hard tones of a prophet. “Then tell me how you account for the fact that Punisher broke off her engagement with the defensive. Min Donner is famous for her unswerving sense of duty. She’s also notoriously belligerent. Why would she break her oath as the Enforcement Division director of the UMCP, if she hadn’t been given orders to let the defensive live?
“Warden Dios wants the threat of a full-scale war, not the actuality. Calm Horizons’ destruction might have been more provocation than the Amnion could endure.”
“Punisher was damaged,” Sixten objected weakly. “Calm Horizons has super-light proton cannon.”
“I’m sure that’s true,” Maxim assented. “It only confirms my point, however. Why was a damaged ship chosen for this mission? Why not this new battlewagon, Sledgehammer? Why not Vehemence, a cruiser already assigned to Massif-5?
“I think it was because Punisher could plausibly claim that she couldn’t destroy the defensive.
“Ask yourself why Director Dios has gone alone aboard Calm Horizons. Don’t you think it’s likely he hopes to convince the Amnion that he didn’t mean for events to go so far? Don’t you think he’s offering them restitution for whatever Trumpet did?
“It’s possible that because of his dereliction the UMCP is no longer able or willing to prosecute a war.”
Koina stifled a protest. She would have loved to shout at the Special Counsel, Dereliction has nothing to do with it! We don’t have enough ships! Or enough people. We don’t have the budget for a war. Fasner hasn’t given us that much money.
But that wasn’t what Warden had ordered her to say. He hadn’t offered her any excuses. His intentions were more subtle. He didn’t want to be let off the hook: he wanted to use that hook against the Dragon.
And he wanted Koina to do it for him; to him.
Without evidence—
Tel Burnish had surged to his feet: he may have been trying to counteract Igensard’s grip on the Council. “No, Special Counsel,” he insisted. “You’re going too fast. You’re getting ahead of yourself. Your argument only makes sense if you assume Warden Dios knew there would be an incursion. Otherwise all this talk about ‘treason’ and ‘dereliction’ is just so much paranoia.”
The VI Member had reason to defend Warden. More than any other station except Com-Mine, Valdor had seen the UMCP’s ships—and integrity—in action.
But Maxim wasn’t daunted. “Exactly,” he countered. Triumph rang like iron in his voice. Heavy with power and accusation, he turned toward Koina.
“Director Hannish.”
She met his glinting gaze squarely. “Special Counsel?”
“I have some questions I want to ask you.”
She opened her mouth to say, Of course. That’s what I’m here for. I have orders—But her throat closed on the words. It was too late: Hashi and Chief Mandich had taken too long. Without substantiation the things she had to reveal would make Igensard sound sane.
Abruptly Cleatus put his hand on her arm; tugged at her attention. He made no effort to keep his voice down.
“You don’t have to submit to this,” he told her. “I’ll answer his questions. Save us all the strain of dragging this out. The UMC is responsible for the UMCP in any case. I’ll just have to cover the same ground when you’re done.”
He sounded sure of himself: patronizing and impregnable. His face belied his tone, however. Instead of looking at her, he flicked his eyes around the room like a man searching out enemies. His cheeks had lost color, as if his blood had run gray. He held his head cocked slightly toward the PCR in his ear. Concentration clenched the corners of his mouth.
Before Koina could reply, one of her techs murmured, “Director,” and thrust a small communications board into her hands. Apparently the tech didn’t want to chance being overheard. Instead she pointed at a message on the board’s readout.
Instinctively Koina held it so that Cleatus couldn’t see it. Blinking hard to focus her eyes, she read the transmission.
It was from UMCPHQ Center.
It reported that Punisher had arrived.
Resumed tard not far from UMCPHQ and Calm Horizons.
With Ensign Morn Hyland in command. In command—?
The readout also stated that Hashi Lebwohl had stepped down as Acting Director in Warden Dios’ absence. Still aboard Punisher, Min Donner had taken his place.
Acting Director Donner had ordered the shutdown of Earth’s vast scan net.
In command—?
None of it made any sense. Min Donner was Acting Director? Even though she was stuck aboard a ship she didn’t command? And she wanted the scan net shut down?
Somehow Morn had—?
Koina couldn’t begin to guess what it all meant.
Nevertheless it explained why Cleatus didn’t want her to answer Maxim’s questions. The fact that Morn Hyland was here—and in command of Punisher—must have appalled Holt Fasner. She was dangerous to him; far more dangerous than Koina herself. In Warden’s absence, Morn was more dangerous than anyone.
Fasner knew he’d lost control of the UMCP. Cleatus knew.
They knew they couldn’t trust Koina.
And without the scan net, HO—like UMCPHQ—had to rely on its own instruments. To that extent, the Dragon had been blinded. He could no longer see everything that happened.
“Director Hannish,” Maxim rasped sternly. “We’re waiting.”
At once Koina rose to her feet. As if she were as sure as the FEA, she answered, “I’m ready, Special Counsel.”
That was a lie. She wasn’t ready. Without evidence, she would never be ready. Yet she accepted Igensard’s demand as if he’d challenged her to personal combat: a test of honor.
Warden had given her his orders. And Cleatus Fane wanted her to remain seated; silent. Now that the crisis was upon her, she had no difficulty choosing between them.