Come the Revolution (4 page)

Gaant turned back to us, the same soft smile on his face.

“You see? You have nothing to fear here. And I assure you, Sasha Naradnyo, you will find this meeting
enormously
interesting. Others in the meeting will be as surprised as you at the course it takes, and I think you will want to see their surprise with your own eyes.”

Something in the way he said that convinced me. He had set some sort of ambush here, but we weren’t the targets. The targets were the assholes who had been making my and Marr’s and Tweezaa’s life one drama after another for two solid years. Would I stick around and watch them brought down a peg? I nodded and we followed Gaant down the south corridor. After about twenty meters or so I heard murmured conversation behind me and turned to see ah-Quan handing his big gauss pistol and spare magazines over to Borro. I stopped until they caught up, then walked beside them and gave Borro a questioning look.

“You will look after
The’On
during the meeting,” he said.

Despite the gravity of the situation I couldn’t help but smile. I’d never heard Borro call
The’On
anything but his given name or formal title, never the nickname I’d given him. Borro saw my grin and bobbed his head to the side.

“Yes, that little slip will remain our secret, yes?”

“Where you gonna be?” I asked.

“We cannot take our weapons in, and three unarmed security guards will be no more use than two. There is no guarantee that weapons surrendered at the security station will be returned when and if needed. I will stay out here and observe. As a Varoki, I can blend into the crowd. If there is treachery, I will be free to act.”

“Yeah, good thinking,” I said. I looked back at the silent crowd which now filled the corridor, walking slowly after us. “So tell me—not that we’ve got much choice now—but is going into this meeting as stupid as I’m starting to think it is?”

“Oh, no,” he answered. “
Much
more so than that.”

Chapter Six

We passed through a security station manned by Munies and into the chambers of the Good-Soul Counseling House.
Counseling
on Varoki worlds was generally what we called lawyering, although the services offered were a bit broader and usually included legislative lobbying, mediation, financial planning, and astrology.

Varoki astrology was different from the terrestrial version, but most civilizations that start out as agricultural societies—like us and the Varoki—end up pretty interested in the seasons, moon phases, calendars, all that stuff. Early religions get built around the movement of the stars, and when more sophisticated religions displace them, the older ones turn into superstition. Superstition waxes and wanes in popularity, as near as I can tell depending upon how shitty life is. For the last dozen years it had been pretty bad for a lot of folks, and it seemed to be getting worse. The Varoki were on top of the heap and hadn’t felt the hard times right away, but they were beginning to. Trade, commerce, all that stuff just wasn’t ticking along quite as well as it used to, and it seemed like every economist had a different theory as to why it was happening and what to do about it. Some of them had two theories. I suppose that explained why astrology was a growth industry again, along with charismatic motivationalists like Gaant. It explained it psychologically, anyway. It didn’t make it any less stupid.

The meeting room’s south wall was floor-to-ceiling composite windows overlooking the Wanu River, about twenty meters down. The water was nearly a kilometer wide here. The south wall of the arcology was almost right on the river, with just a walking path between the building foundations and the bank. A mix of commercial barge traffic and small, fast-looking private boats drew long, fading white lines of wake on the dark river surface.

A smart surface covered the office wall opposite the river windows, with open floor space in front for holographic displays, either for presentations or remote conferencing. The smart surface was a neutral warm gray today, though. This meeting was strictly skin-time.

I subvocalized on my embedded commlink.

Yes. Are you there?

We weren’t expecting Gaant. Does that mean trouble?

Silence for a long moment.

Be careful,
she transmitted.

Careful? I figured I’d already blown that by not getting back into the autopod.

The polished stone surface of a long table down the center of the room reflected the afternoon sun just starting to emerge from rainclouds and overcast. Twelve chairs lined each side. The side nearest the dormant smart wall already held eleven expensively-dressed Varoki males, most of whom I recognized by sight even though I’d only met two of them. Three wore the ceremonial gray robes of an uBakai
wattaak,
while most of the rest wore colorful and expensive business suits, most of them made of shimmering metallic fabric. Our folks were, by contrast, dressed conservatively, almost austerely, in solid-color suits, gray for Gaisaana-la and
The’On
wearing the dark green of the field service uniform of the Executive Council’s Corps of Counselors.

I saw Vandray e-Bomaan, the second governor of AZ Simki-Traak, whom I’d stood five feet from at several corporate functions without him ever giving an indication he recognized my existence. I was surprised to see someone that high up in the official hierarchy. Bringing him in meant they were either confident or desperate, and I had no idea which.

A second long table backed it up with administrative staffers, also mostly male, lining it. On our side
The’On
and Gaisaana-la sat across from the opposition, the other ten chairs empty. Ah-Quan and I stood behind them, our backs to the giant windows. Ah-Quan and I were also the only non-Varoki in the place. The set-up, with all those bodies packing their side of the room, was clearly meant to intimidate us, show us how much combined power and expertise we were up against.

Gaant sat down in the remaining open chair on the opposition side of the table and a Varoki seated at the head of the table spoke.

“Ah,
I
am Counselor Rimcaant, vice-governor of the Good-Soul Counseling House, and I have been, ah,
asked
by the Group of Interest to preside over this meeting. I thank all of you for agreeing to attend. I now advise everyone to power down your embedded commlinks. This is a, ah,
private
negotiating session and the house communication jammers will activate in thirty seconds.” He sat back and waited.

I commed to Marrissa.

I love you,
she answered.

And then I was alone with the faint background hum of the comm jammers. Jamming meant that no one would be able to communicate, of course, and also would be unable to access their float memory. Everyone had hand readers or viewers with onboard memory, loaded with whatever data they needed for the meeting. But the purpose wasn’t to limit access to information, it was to keep it private and unrecorded.

“Mr. Naradnyo, would you and your, ah,
associate
care to sit?” Counselor Rimcaant asked. “There are many empty chairs on your side of the table.”

“I did not come here to sit across from a criminal,” e-Bomaan, the AZ Simki-Traak second governor, said, his ears folding back against his head. The Varoki to his left, lead counsel for the firm representing the other heirs of the e-Traak family, nodded in agreement.

“Mr. Naradnyo is
not
a criminal,” Gaisaana-la said with steel in her voice, but e-Bomaan did not even glance at her.

“That’s all right,” I said. “I’d prefer to stand.”

“What
did
you come here for?”
The’On
asked.

Governor e-Bomaan leaned back in his chair and made a vague hand gesture. “We came to negotiate a compromise.” I noticed he didn’t look around for approval to speak, so
The’On
had pegged the head guy right out of the gate, and by making it a conversation between the two of them, he’d turned this whole roomful of other folks meant to intimidate us into a bunch of spectators. He was good at this.

“Compromise?”
The’On
said. “Compromise of what? Of Tweezaa e-Traak-Lotonaa’s legal rights?”

“You mean you are not willing to negotiate?” e-Bomaan shot back.

“Please,” Mr. Rimcaant said from the head of the table, making calming gestures with his hands. “Let us, ah,
proceed
in a polite and orderly manner. I am sure all of us here want the same thing.”

I looked at him and about half the heads in the room turned as well, all thinking:
Want the same thing?
Is he crazy?
He must have noticed the reaction.

“All of you want an end to the violence, do you not?” he said. “Whatever your goals, they were not advanced by the, ah,
disturbances
yesterday. Sakkatto City is not only the capital city of Bakaa, but also the economic hub of our homeworld, and the Varoki homeworld is the, ah,
epicenter
, yes the epicenter of all major economic activity in explored space. The
Cottohazz
holds its breath, waiting to see what will happen here next.”

Well, that was a bit dramatic, I thought. Given the speed of travel and communication, even the closest other planets of the
Cottohazz
wouldn’t hear about this dust-up for a week, and it might be a month or more before the news spread all the way to backwaters like Earth. Then maybe people would hold their breath, but whatever was going to happen would probably be over. Nobody contradicted Rimcaant though, and after a pause he went on.

“Interstellar commerce has been weakening for over five years. Capital formation has withered for three years. The continuing, ah,
difficulties
on K’Tok have contributed to
Cottohazz
-wide uncertainties. To that end, I am sure I speak for everyone here in thanking the Honorable e-Lotonaa for his fine work on K’Tok for the
Cottohazz
executive council.”

The’On
nodded in acknowledgment but e-Bomaan, the Simki-Traak governor, made a disgusted sound.

“If the secret of the K’Tok and Peezgtaan ecoforms had not been revealed to the Humans,” he said, “we would have no trouble on K’Tok today.”

The’On
tilted his head to the side and spread his hands. “Secrets are revealed,” he said. “Wishing it were otherwise accomplishes nothing. Revelation is the destiny of all secrets.”

“Not
all
secrets,” e-Bomaan said and exchanged a glance with the senior representative from AZ Kagataan, Simki-Traak’s biggest rival. The Kagataan governor narrowed his eyes and his ears tightened, as if in silent reproach. E-Bomaan colored slightly and shut up, leaning back in his chair.

Now that was pretty interesting. Those two trading houses were more powerful than most governments, and they did not play well together. Two years ago they had fought a war by proxy on K’Tok, a war Tweezaa, Marr,
The’On
and I had been caught in the middle of. AZ Kagataan came out a big loser. But they and Simki-Traak Trans-Stellar apparently still shared a secret, and if the shellacking Kagataan took in the war hadn’t been enough to make them want to spill the beans out of spite, it must be a real corker. Marr was a Simki-Traak governor, at least nominally, but I wondered if even she knew what that was all about.

“Capital formation,”
Elaamu Gaant said from the other end of the table, making it sound like a curse. Everyone turned to him. “We formed the Group of Interest, this alliance of uneasy partners, to accomplish a goal of great ideological import, and now we talk of capital formation. What of the principles we share? Do we abandon them because of numbers posted in some money changer’s office?”

A stir ran through the Varoki on his side of the table, surprise turning to irritation, then hostility.

“We appreciate the assistance you provided as the, ah,
go-between
assembling the Group of Interest, Mr. Gaant—” Counselor Rimcaant began, but e-Bomaan cut him off.

“I knew it was a mistake allowing you to attend this meeting, Gaant,” he said. “Everything you planned has collapsed. You failed, do you understand? This is over your head now, and it is time to let those of us who understand what is at stake here make the best of the situation.”

Gaant laughed and stood up from his chair, but not in anger. E-Bomaan had just told him he had no further say in what went on, but Gaant looked to me like a guy who still had an ace up his sleeve.

“
You
have forgotten what is really at stake,” he answered, and then he turned to face me. “Sasha Naradnyo, the Honorable e-Bomaan called you a criminal earlier. All of them think of you that way. Do you have a criminal record?”

I looked at him for a moment, now completely confused as to what this had to do with anything. “Not exactly.”

E-Bomaan laughed, a nasty little bark, but Gaant ignored him. “What does that mean, please?”

“I was arrested for burglary but the charge was expunged when I volunteered for a hitch with the
Co-Gozhak
.”

“You fought in the Nishtaaka campaign, is that so?” Gaant asked, and when I nodded he went on. “So you have no criminal record, and according to the law itself you have met all your obligations to it. But these gentlemen all still consider you a criminal and I sense you do as well. Why?”

“Well, I guess it has something to do with once having made my living by stealing,” I answered, but Gaant cocked his head slightly to the side and smiled.

“I do not think so. The Honorable e-Bomaan and these others all steal, one way or another.”

I saw a number of Varoki shift in their chairs and ears twitch over that, anger or confusion flashing across their faces and skins.

“What does this have to do with these negotiations?” e-Bomaan demanded. The voice of Simki-Traak Trans-stellar now took on a harder edge.

“Everything,” Gaant answered, and then he turned back to me. “You see, Sasha, these honorables have a philosophy,” he said, gesturing to e-Bomaan and the others along his side of the table, “a philosophy which assures them that they are bound by no standard of conduct except
gain
, and of course following the strict letter of the law. Morality and ethics are irrelevant, so long as they follow the law.

“Their philosophy also tells them the best thing they can do for everyone on the planet is to devote their resources to
removing
any legal restraint on their actions, provided they follow the law as they do so. This they do by their support for
wattaaks
, such as the three you see here today, men who share their philosophy and work to implement it.

“They utilize the reduced restraints to extract more money from their customers, from their workers, and from the
Cottohazz
itself in the form of subsidies and reduced taxes. Their philosophy tells them the satisfaction of their unbridled greed is the means for everyone in the
Cottohazz
to prosper, even as they systematically impoverish them.

“Sasha, you are not a criminal because you stole. You are a criminal because you did not have a philosophy.”

“What is the meaning of this, Gaant?” e-Bomaan demanded, rising to his feet. I was wondering the same thing, not that I was complaining. “We did not come here to be insulted, or to listen to you flatter this murdering drug dealer.”

“No,” Gaant said, “you came here to reach an arrangement with the murdering drug dealer. In order to safeguard your own profits, you came here to trade away a part of the heritage which belongs to the entire
Varokiim
.

“For three hundred years you have stolen from the other races, and done so in the name of the
Varokiim
, and you could have done so for all eternity. Instead you stole so much from the others that they are bled dry, but the treasure must still flow, and so now you steal from the
Varokiim
themselves. When I was a child there were no slums between the arcs. Now you cannot see the ground for them, and most of the denizens of that place without hope are Varoki, not the other races.
That is your legacy!
But that stops here. It stops today.”