Empery (18 page)

“Presumably the Council has some strategy for preventing this from happening.”

“Yes. By turning their attention elsewhere while we work to break the back of this destructive pattern of socialization.“Light dawned in Sujata’s eyes. “By turning their attention to the Mizari—”

Wells nodded. “There is only one thing that goads the Nines even more than living under the rule of the Council. As egocentric and individualistic as they are, they are also fiercely proud of their humanity. And because they are proud, they are also protective. They have become the most vocal advocates on Earth of a strong military posture.”

“Which at this moment is symbolized by Triad.”

“Yes. And as long as the Council assists them in this area, they are unwilling to risk the initial chaos that even the most peaceful revolution must bring. They will tolerate us as long as our policy in this area is ‘right.’ ”

“So this is why you’ve been Wells’s ally on the Committee.”

“Yes. The Council has actively cultivated the Nines’s xenophobia. In a real sense they created Wells. Unfortunately they built too well. The fear has begun to feed back on its creators.”

“You didn’t expect Wells to become this powerful.”

“No,” Berberon said, shaking his head. “Certainly not this quickly. Though it’s not that he himself is so powerful. It’s that our fear, which he understands and uses perfectly, has made us weak. The strength of the Nines is in ideas, symbols that have the capacity to reach beyond their own membership and change the way people act. And the most powerful of those symbols—about loyalty and strength and victory—reach right past the mind to the emotions.”

“So how do I control him?”

Wyrena had not understood everything that Berberon had said—parts of it had been so foreign to her view of life as to be incomprehensible, and other parts simply had been outside the scope of her education. But she knew what Wells wanted. She understood clearly enough that if Sujata became Chancellor, she would need Wyrena all the more. And she knew that, with Sujata vacillating at last, it was time to throw her weight on the scale.

“By giving him what he wants,” Wyrena said, loudly enough to assure that she would not be ignored. Sujata and Berberon both started, confirming Wyrena’s suspicion that that they had forgotten her presence. Berberon twisted around in his seat, his eyes offering gratitude for her allegiance.

“What did you say?” Sujata asked.

“Give Comité Wells what he wants,” she repeated, emboldened. “Let him build Triad. There is more to the Service than Defense, and more to fighting a war than simply building the weapons. Give Comité Wells his head on this and manage the rest as best you can.”

“The rest—”

“Yes. Make the Chancellery strong and the Service flourish. Invest yourself with the kind of authority Comité Wells will respect. He’s vulnerable to the same kind of appeal he makes to others, because he believes. You could do it, Janell. I can help. Women of Ba’ar Tell know things about power too.”

“Your friend is right,” Berberon said, turning back to Sujata. “The only course left is to give Wells what he wants. The new Chancellor will have to give him Triad. The Committee has made that clear.”

“How can that be called ‘controlling’ him?”

“Wells is influential now. But it will take years to build the Triad force,” Wyrena said. “Fear fades. Sometime in that span a chance will come to turn him.”

“There is always that hope,” Berberon said. “As well as the hope that we will discover that the Mizari are extinct.”

“But what a waste—of time, of material, of labor—”

“We can afford to let Wells build Triad, and the weapon system after that, and the one after that,” Berberon continued.“What we can’t afford is to let him start a war.”

“That’s a very thin line to draw.”

“Yes. Appeasement is always a dangerous game to play. But as I said, we are out of options. That’s why I want you as Chancellor. The final authority is in this office, not his. And you are the only one I have any confidence will say no when he comes asking.”

“You expect me to hold the office a long time, then. As Wyrena has pointed out, it will be a decade or more before Triad will be ready.”

Berberon nodded. “I would hope your tenure is one day longer than Wells’s.”

“And if I don’t become Chancellor?”

“Then Wells will soon have not only Triad but also the authority to use it, a prospect that frightens me more than I can say.”

For a moment Sujata said nothing. “And if it’s the Mizari and not the Nines we should be worrying about?” she asked finally. “What if the right answer turns out to be yes?”

Berberon grimaced. “The right answer will never be yes. The concept of war only applies between relative equals. No one calls it war when you pour boiling water on an anthill. The Mizari were unimaginably more powerful than us sixty thousand years ago. If they still exist, it would be a miracle if the gap were not even wider now. Don’t waste time worrying about the Mizari coming looking for us, because there’d be nothing to do but lay down and die if they did. Worry about us getting cocky and going out looking for them.”

Sujata rested her chin on her folded hands and stared at the center of the floor. For long seconds no one said anything. Wyrena caught a glance and a nervous smile from Berberon.

“All right,” Sujata said at last. “I’ll take the post.”

“Thank you,” Berberon said, rising. “I wish I could promise you won’t regret it—”

“I would never expect such a promise,” Sujata said. “My eyes are open. But I have some conditions of my own. The first is that you get Erickson to wait a week. I want to go downwell, by myself, for a few days before the change takes place.”

“I understand,” he said, bowing his head politely.

“The second is that you commit yourself to staying in the Terran Observer’s Office as long as you expect me to stay in the Chancellor’s suite. I know that to some degree that’s up to the World Council. But as long as they’ll have you, you’d damn well better stay. You share the responsibility for creating this crisis. You should share the responsibility for trying to shape this stalemate that you think will be a solution.”

Berberon nodded his acquiescence. “As you note, I am not my own master. But I promise you that as long as I am able, I will be here, and I will help you however I can.” Bowing to Wyrena, he began backing toward the door.

“Observer Berberon—that gambler,” Sujata called after him. “What happened?” Berberon smiled somberly. “Not that it matters, but he lost to a stronger hand.”

From the moment he had first been informed of its terms, Berberon had been aware of a disturbing window of vulnerability in Erickson’s pact with Wells. Under the Committee’s procedures Erickson would have to forgo her post first, making her irrevocable concession before Wells was obliged to answer in kind. There was at least a possibility that Wells would renege, offering Loughridge or even himself for the vacancy.

Erickson did not share Berberon’s fear. She was confident that Wells was not only properly chary of the fight she had promised and the threat from Tanvier’s quarter, but essentially honorable. Wells was to second Erickson’s nomination of Sujata; the vote would be a formality.

Berberon would have welcomed an infusion of the same confidence. But the moment Erickson announced her resignation to a mostly startled Committee, Berberon’s stomach began to churn. As he led the Observers from the room and the chamber doors closed behind them so that the Elections Committee could begin its work in secrecy, his anxiety soared. His rubbery legs carried him barely a dozen steps down the corridor, at which point he collapsed onto the benchlike sill of a hexagonal window overlooking the Center’s main atrium.

His presence drew the others to that part of the corridor. Berberon was surprised to see how thoroughly the knowledge of what was to happen had been contained. Like Loughridge and Vandekar, whose incredulous faces had betrayed them as the two directors who had not been apprised in advance, all of the Observers except Berberon, himself, were stunned by Erickson’s resignation. They had filed out in silence, looking wonderingly at each other and back into the arena, their steps as uncertain and tentative as those of a child testing thin ice.

Now they were finding their voices—though, too proud to admit they had been caught by surprise, they had little more than idle chatter to offer.

“I’m not surprised,” Prince Denzell declared, though he had no audience. “She should have been removed years ago. She was clearly unfit to be Chancellor.”

“Odd—I seem to recall you allying yourself with the Chancellor just a couple of weeks ago,” Ambassador Ka’in said quietly.

“Even the incompetent must sometimes be right, by chance alone,” was Denzell’s stiff-necked reply. Allianora came and shared the sill with Berberon. “How will we know when they’re done?”

“There’ll be a recall page,” Berberon said in a shaky voice.

“It’s all right to leave, then?” Hollis asked. “They don’t expect us to wait here?”

“No,” Berberon said. “Good,” Hollis said gruffly, and stomped off toward the lifts.

Allianora looked around her uncertainly, then started to rise as if to leave. Berberon checked her movement with a hand on her forearm. “This will either be short or very long,” he said.“We may as well wait a bit.”

It was barely ten minutes, but it seemed to Berberon to bean hour. Heads turned as the chamber doors opened, and Berberon and Allianora rose from their seats expectantly. A moment later Erickson emerged, her back straight and head high, her expression dignified and controlled. Without as much as a glance in their direction she walked off down the curving corridor in the opposite direction, away from the executive offices and toward the residential block.

Knowing what it was she was walking away from, Berberon found Erickson’s retreating figure a poignant, forlorn sight. He felt a strong urge to follow, but resisted. It was unlikely she would welcome company just now, and his need to know that all had proceeded according to plan was even stronger.

The recall page came as they were already moving back toward the open doors of the chamber. As they filed back in and took their seats on the upper level, they saw that the remaining members of the Committee were in their customary places, with the Chancellor’s alcove empty. Sujata sat with head lowered as though in a private world. Among the others there was much intent examination of hands and nails; interspersed with many furtive, curious glances. No one spoke until a breathless Hollis rejoined them a few minutes later.

“What’s happened?” he demanded from the doorway.“Nothing. And nothing will until you come log in,” Berberon answered with faint impatience. Moments after Hollis settled in his alcove the status light on the recorder pylon changed from amber to green.

“By a vote of the Elections Committee,” the machine intoned, “the nomination of Janell Sujata as Chancellor of the Unified Space Service is confirmed.”

Berberon started the applause, which had a curious quality. As small as the group was, it was possible to distinguish varying degrees of enthusiasm, including the merely polite. Denzell did not join in at all.

Recalled from her introspective reverie, Sujata climbed out of her alcove and made the long walk around the periphery of the room. When she had settled in the seat so recently occupied by Erickson, she looked slowly around the room before speaking, making eye contact with each Observer and Director in turn.

“To those who supported my nomination, thank you,” she said. “To those of you who did not, I ask only that you will give me a fair opportunity to prove you wrong.”

Berberon was encouraged. Whether she truly felt that way or not, Sujata was projecting surprising calm and self-assurance.
I think she’s going to be all right—

“I won’t keep you here very much longer today, though you can count on seeing me often from now on. But there are two things that deserve some attention. The first is the vacancy on the Committee. I’ll begin conducting interviews immediately. If you have any candidates you would like to recommend, please forward their names to me promptly.

“The second item is Triad. Director Wells?”

“Yes?”

“The Defense Branch’s current proposal for a force of five Triad attack groups is not acceptable. I would like to see a revised budget and procurement schedule for a three-group force at our next meeting. Also, I find the description of your proposed operational communications, command, and control for Triad inadequate. Please submit a revised specification that provides more detail and clearly reflects the final authority of the Chancellor’s office.”

“Certainly, Chancellor Sujata,” Wells said with a little bow of his head. “That’s all, then,” Sujata said. “I’ll be seeing each of you individually, and I’ll see all of you back here next Tuesday.”

She rose, and others with her, beginning the exodus.

“No!” Denzell shouted, his face twisted by fury and contempt. “Wells! How can you allow this? She is worse than the last one! Not just a woman but a Maranite—her woman-organs ripped from her—bedding her aide without shame. What kind of person is this to lead us? Someone who has committed reproductive suicide. What does her kind care about the future?”

Though the appeal was to Wells, he merely crossed his arms on his chest and regarded Denzell quizzically. All other eyes went to Sujata. Above and beyond the unprecedented breach of etiquette, Denzell’s histrionics were the first overt challenge to the new doyenne, and everyone froze in place as they waited to see what she would do.

Her gaze locked on the breast-beating Liamese, Sujata allowed him to rant on for a few more sentences. Then she pounced on his first hesitation for breath, saying lightly, “We all must make allowances, Aramir. I trust you will forgive me my cultural baggage, just as I will not hold you responsible for the ritual lobotomy you obviously endured.”

The tension was broken by laughter, led by Berberon’s distinctive chortle and Loughridge’s basso guffaw. Even Wells’s face was split by an ear-to-ear grin. Seeing the last, Denzell stormed off, purpling and sputtering to himself.