Starfire Saga, page 55
Pel Nostro resumed his seat at the table. “Speaking for the central Com, I feel I must apologize for the delay in our response, Governor Hatlo,” he said. “We hope to make that up to you by the unprecedented step of offering you the services of three Class A’s. In addition, of course, to Class A Jasin Lebec, you are to receive the attentions of Class A Ronica McBride and Acting Class A Jemeret Cavanaugh.”
I raised an eyebrow at the “acting” and glanced at Jemeret. He shrugged.
“We are pleased to see you so recovered from your illness, Ronica McBride,” the Planetary Governor said formally.
I inclined my head to recognize the sentiment without responding to it.
She sat down as Jemeret and I did; a full five seconds later the young men on either side of her sat as well. The governor went on, “We’re so very grateful you’ve come. We cannot stop the fighting. Our planetary enforcement corps consisted of a hundred thousand men and women. All but fifteen thousand have been lost. The rebels have six plasma disruptors.” Plasma disruptors were forbidden weapons; their possession alone would have incurred the severest penalty the Com meted out. Plasma disruptors not only had completely debilitating effects on humans, but were shielded against blasts from orbit. The Com had outlawed them when it discovered that someone inside a disruptor was nearly invulnerable from outside attack as long as the weapon’s atomic power source continued to function.
“Where did the rebels get the weaponry?” Jemeret asked.
One of the assistants answered. “We believe they were flown in disassembled in contraband shipments from one of the Nogdala worlds. The planetary administration in the Nogdala system is notoriously lax in controlling its populace.” His voice took on a level of disdain that completely ignored the fact that his own world was currently in revolt.
“Is there a leader of this rebellion?” I asked. It was a standard first question in a Class A problem. Tactics said it was best to sting the leadership.
“We believe,” said the other assistant—I never did discover which was which—”that there are two brothers involved. They received an unfavorable judgment—”
“But a fair one,” interrupted the first assistant.
“—a fair but unfavorable judgment,” amended the second, “in the Planetary Court when they petitioned for a reevaluation of their contracts. The judgment seems to have embittered them.”
I thought that was putting at least 85,000 deaths a little mildly.
“How did they persuade others to join them?” Jemeret asked. “I am assuming here that even with plasma disruptors two men would have some trouble wiping out an entire army.”
Gayli Hatlo chose to reply herself. “There are a number of our citizens who object to the Com’s payment schedule for our telusite.”
“We have a mutually beneficial trade agreement signed ten years ago,” Pel Nostro said, his calm voice belying the agitation I felt certain he was experiencing, even though I couldn’t use the sting to read him.
“Some of the citizens feel that the Com benefits more than we do,” said the assistant on the governor’s right. “We are certain the agreement is eminently fair, you understand, but some of our citizens have chosen to disagree.”
I wished I could have read him. The eftel vid showed that he looked entirely sincere, but then no one with any degree of political sophistication could make a statement like that in complete sincerity.
“When we lost most of the planetary corps and could not secure the services of a Class A, we were forced to appeal to the government for other assistance, and that resulted in a division of Drenalion attempting to quell the disturbance,” Gayli Hatlo went on. “Of course, they could not touch the people in control of the plasma disruptors, and so they—” She was choosing her words carefully now. “—attempted to dissuade those supporting the rebels.”
I felt a chill run through me. A division of Drenalion could, in theory, destroy the population of an entire world before they were stopped. Jemeret turned to look at Pel Nostro, who had discovered something interesting in his tabletop. “Exactly how much of this planet is in revolt?” my lord demanded.
“About a third,” the Com Counselor said, not meeting his gaze.
“How much was in revolt before you sent in the Drenalion?” I asked, laying a hand on Jemeret’s thigh under the table.
Pel Nostro cleared his throat, but didn’t answer.
Gayli Hatlo spoke. “About two percent.”
I felt Jemeret’s anger sweep over and through him. Jasin Lebec must have felt it, too. “It was an error in judgment, sending in the Drenalion,” he said softly. “The Com won’t make such an error again, but you see, they could not send me.”
I realized something, and I was certain that Jemeret must have seen it, too. The MIs did not know how to deal with human beings any longer without a Class A or wholesale murder. I looked at Pel Nostro closely. He was obviously uneasy. All at once, almost inexplicably, I wanted to talk with Mortel John, but there would be no chance to do that in person unless he came to Orokell, or unless we had an opportunity to go to Koldor. Providing, of course, we survived Barbin 3.
Jemeret was speaking to the three people planetside. “You will see to it that your latest intelligence information and maps are on board Megalume before we enter orbit.”
They assured us they would. Then one of the assistants described the general progress of the war so far, and it amounted to only one thing: as long as the rebels had the plasma disruptors, the war could not be stopped without using wide-beam pulses against the planet itself. The Com was against such action, not because it would have an unreasonably high cost in innocent human life, but because it would have destroyed the planet’s stock of telusite. The people were, of course, less of a consideration than the mineral, because they were a more easily renewable resource.
The other assistant then took over, reporting on the destruction of climate controls, leaving the world prey to unleashed storms that had destroyed a great many of the surface-grown crops. Agricultural, medical, and transportation equipment had been destroyed or damaged, and could not be replaced as long as the war continued. Power-generating facilities had been lost. I could almost imagine that the only things on Barbin 3 that were fully operational were the weapons.
“Are there Drenalion still on the surface?” I asked suddenly, interrupting the report.
“No, Class A,” the Planetary Governor answered, sounding a little nervous.
“Is the planetary corps still involved?”
“No again,” she said. “We pulled our skeleton troop out well before the government division landed. They’re in orbit now, as we are, on subluminal ships.”
“Then who are the rebels fighting?” I asked.
Pel Nostro cleared his throat again and replied. “They’re fighting those members of the Barbin 3 population who have remained loyal to the Com.”
Jemeret leaned forward, resting a deceptively relaxed hand on the tabletop. “If the rebels have plasma disruptors, what are the Com loyalists fighting with?”
“They have been armed with cephalic rays,” the Com Counselor said.
I was stunned, but before I had a chance to express my outrage, Jemeret’s voice went low and hard. “Those are just as illegal as the plasma disruptors. Did they come from Nogdala as well?”
“No,” Pel Nostro said evenly. “We could not leave our friends unarmed, so we armed them.”
Jasin Lebec made a quick motion of his hand, under our side of the table. Both Jemeret and I read it as a request not to pursue the matter; Jemeret pressed his lips together and looked down at the tabletop to mitigate the power of his sudden glare.
I was equally angry; I just wasn’t surprised. Giving the population cephalic rays meant that the Com had decided not to make repeated futile attempts to destroy the plasma disruptors; they would just ensure that the power to destroy all those rebels outside the weapons, on the ground, existed in the hands of the loyal population. It was not necessarily a humane solution, but it would ultimately be some sort of solution. Over a long enough period, without allies on the outside to supply them, the people in the disruptors—and there were usually two to a disruptor cabin—would probably die of thirst or starvation. If very little of the indigenous population remained, the Com would move people in to repopulate the world. The telusite would be untouched.
“Please continue with your report, Assistant Governor,” Jasin Lebec said emotionlessly.
The young man continued, almost gratefully, from where I’d interrupted him, as if dealing with unrehearsed questions was a process completely alien to him. The recitation began again, and I thought about the MIs’ logic: if the rebels could not be disarmed, the loyalists would have to be given sufficient weaponry to hold Barbin 3, or the telusite would be lost to the Com. It was a very logical decision, the kind the MIs could make without a single quibble about legality or morality.
The image of the three administrators on Barbin 3 began to waver, which could have indicated anything from a radio-generating source coming too near the transmission, to the planetary government having indicated in advance the maximum they were willing to spend on the vid call. Governor Hatlo made a hasty, professionally hopeful farewell, and that part of the conference room was suddenly unoccupied. Only the Com Counselor remained.
Jemeret turned to Jasin Lebec. “How long until we orbit?”
“Six days,” Pel Nostro said before the older man could respond.
Jemeret acknowledged the answer.
“Then we have some time to build a scenario,” I said.
“Let’s get something to eat and some sleep first,” Jemeret suggested.
“Do you think it’s solvable as a Class A problem?” Pel Nostro asked, his voice showing his hesitation.
I was nodding thoughtfully when Jemeret spoke. “I think it’s only solvable as a Class A problem. When’s the first roll?”
“Within the hour,” Jasin Lebec answered, nodding at the unobtrusive roll chronometer near the door. It was counting backward from 00:52:12.
Pel Nostro cleared his throat again. “Ronica McBride, to the best of your own ability to analyze the situation, can you tell me if it is also your belief that this problem is solvable?”
I debated several possible replies, ranging from the insupportably arrogant to the obviously ingratiating, and then I decided to simply tell the truth. “There’s a team working on the assignment, Pel, not just me.”
His reply showed how completely he devalued those of us who were not Class A. “Jasin Lebec has served with great distinction for years, but he has not the strength or quickness that was his in his prime. And Jemeret Cavanaugh—” He censored himself. “Well,” he said to me, “I have confidence in your ability to do the best possible job, and I’m gratified that you feel the Barbin 3 problem will yield to solution. Some of the Tribunal members have expressed grave concern over your ability to complete a Class A assignment.” He lowered his head in the seated equivalent of a bow, then vanished as the eftel vid link was cut from his end.
“That old ashadophed,” Jemeret said with an ironic grin. “I think he doesn’t trust me.”
“I’m amazed that he seems to trust me,” I said to him. “All he knows about me any longer is that I took the government oath, and that I love you.”
Jasin Lebec leaned on the table with both arms. “He has no choice. You are his best chance for dependable Class A talent. Even if he doesn’t believe what he’s saying, he has little choice but to say it.”
“You may not be what you were, but the Tribunal still has you. You’ve been loyal to them for decades.” I watched him shake his head even as I said it.
“I’ve lost touch,” he said wearily.
His words sparked something in me, and I gasped. “Lost touch,” I repeated to the old man. “That’s it, you know. That’s literally true. You’ve lost touch with your reserves, and you can’t work the sting without them. And once that connection’s disintegrated, it’s irreversible. But you use an entirely different faculty to touch other people. What if—”
I reached out and let him recognize my touch. Jemeret guessed just before his grandfather did, and then Jasin Lebec followed my touch back to me. As soon as he contacted my reserves, he nodded. It was something he could not have done had I not initiated the joining, because I was a Class A, but since I had laid the path, he could follow it. It was, I realized, the same kind of action that had allowed Jemeret to save my life those months ago—a two-part match that permitted one Class A to use the reserve energy of the other. Such groundwork would not be necessary if he were to try to avail himself of the energy of a lesser talent, not now that the demonstration was over and he could clearly see the path he needed to follow into another mind’s reserves.
“Now I think I know what Coney and Sandi are doing here,” Jasin Lebec said with satisfaction. “With their reserves at my disposal, I can still do the work I was trained for.”
“So then you won’t mind if we give you a large part in whatever scenario we come up with,” I said lightly, drawing back my own sting and letting him linger for a moment, memorizing the open pathways with a deliberate slowness born of age and declination.
When he withdrew, he looked at me very closely, but did not respond directly. “I sleep between rolls,” he said. “The second one will be about seven hours later than the first. I suggest we meet an hour after the second roll ends, and I’m happy to offer my cabin for that purpose.”
“What will that be, ship’s time?” I asked.
“Fifth hour, low watch,” Jemeret said. “Come along, love. Let’s spend some time in our own cabin.”
Keli was waiting outside our door, her own irised open, looking worried. She relaxed when she saw us. I touched her lightly with the sting to make her feel more confident. “Get yourself something to eat and some sleep, Keli,” I said to her as our door read Jemeret’s eye and opened for us.
“Perhaps you should let me know when you’re going someplace, Ronica McBride,” she said to me hesitantly. “It’s my duty to know, even if you don’t want me to accompany you.”
“How do you like your cabin?” Jemeret asked her gently.
She nearly started, but caught herself in time. “It’s more space than the entire barracks on Markover,” she blurted, then colored sharply.
“I’ve never had a guard before, Keli.” I had to work to keep my tone from sounding apologetic. “I’ll try to keep your responsibilities in mind if you’ll do something for me in return.”
She nodded once, as if that were a given.
“You have to call me just Ronica.” Now she did look startled. I couldn’t help smiling. “You’ll get used to it. My team has privileges I extend to no one else. Agreed?”
She nodded again.
“Keli, one thing you can do for us is keep an eye on Tynnanna when you’re awake,” Jemeret said. “He’ll probably stay put, but if he doesn’t, wake us.” He began to turn to go into our suite, and I guessed that he must have read her, because he almost immediately turned back. “You are not to stay awake staring at his cabin door. We need you rested.”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
He gave her one of his genuine smiles, and I touched him lightly, both by laying a hand on his arm and by using my sting, to show him how pleased I was that he seemed to approve of my impulsive choice to take her on.
In a minute we were inside our suite with the door shut, and I nearly fell into his arms. He laughed at me and lifted me up off my feet. “You’re doing fine.”
“We’re not even through the first roll yet,” I said. Events would at some point, I knew, begin to draw me into the inevitable vortex of having to act, and I was already fearful that if I started acting without thinking in advance, I was likely to react in ways I’d learned on Caryldon, which was almost as bothersome as thinking I’d react in ways I’d learned in the Com. I wasn’t at all certain what effect Caryldon-learned manners might have, and I hadn’t begun to come to terms with whether I could deal with that effect.
Jemeret kissed me. “Exactly,” he said. “So stop worrying until it’s appropriate behavior. We have about half an hour before the roll. Let’s order something to eat.”
I told the comsole what we wanted, and the table presented it to us. We took the dishes to the angle of the couch and sat cross-legged on the rug, eating and drinking small helpings of the various Com foods I’d ordered. I hadn’t been aware of how much I’d missed some of them until I tasted them again.
We were just finishing when the five-minute chime sounded, alerting us to the imminence of a roll. Jemeret shoved the dishes back onto the table, and I bolted the last of a lesser Ludurn wine and tossed him my glass. Then the two of us, without talking about it, moved swiftly out of our cabin and into Tynnanna’s. The klawit would never have experienced the disorientation of roll before, and while we could have stung him from our own cabin, it seemed we both reached the conclusion that he would be infinitely more comforted by seeing us while the roll was going on.
Tynnanna had curled up in a major ball in the center of the front room floor, having challenged the carpet’s self-cleaning facility by devouring his meat in typical klawit fashion. He raised his head as we came in, his eyes burning with recognition. We sat down on either side of him and I slid against his shoulder, feeling the coarse-soft fur under my cheek. The double chime of the second warning sounded.
“Do you know how long it’s been since I had to go through one of these things?” Jemeret said softly.
“I doubt they’ve improved the experience much since then,” I said a little regretfully. “We come through it uncomfortable, but unharmed, so why should the Com devote any resources to experimenting with the Lume technology?”
“The roll technology hasn’t changed since they discovered it,” Jemeret said. “They might be able to make it more comfortable—it was one of the major research projects at the Universities back when I was in training—but they couldn’t ever find a way to make it less consumptive of resources. And they wouldn’t do the one if they couldn’t do the other.”
