Empery (3 page)

With no more provocation than the appearance of a single Weichsel iceship near their triple binary system, the black star of the Mizari had struck back across the light-years and destroyed the human civilization now known as the Founders. The punishment was so out of proportion to the offense that Wells could find no way to rationalize it. It had been deliberate, cold-blooded, unblinking genocide, an attempt to erase from existence an entire sentient species. Had the Mizari known of the colonies started by the Weichsel explorers, the attempt would doubtless have been successful.

And had it not been for Merritt Thackery’s pursuit of, and contact with, the ethereal D’shanna and the revelations that resulted, the foraging survey ships would inevitably have blundered into Mizari space once more and given the bastards a second chance.

Which we will never give you
, Wells vowed.
Never again will we allow ourselves to be victimized
.

But it was a vow that was still mostly bluster. No one knew better than Wells how precarious the strategic situation was. No one knew better than he what a woeful misnomer it was to call the elliptical array of buoys a Shield. It was psychologically appealing, and the geometry of their deployment even suggested such a shape. But the elements of the Shield were unarmed and completely passive, mere receptors for the energies that reached them and the information that might thereby be gleaned. Even active radar was considered too risky, too intrusive.

The Sentinels, which looked after the buoys as shepherds might look after sheep, were warships only in name. Carrying only a single-barreled railgun and a single terawatt lance turret each, they might hold their own in a duel against ships of their own kind, but in cold truth were little more imposing than a shepherd waving his wooden staff.

Put bluntly, if the Sterilizers came out now, USS-Defense would be helpless to stop them. That fact had become the unifying focus of Wells’s life, gnawing at him and driving him on. He was ashamed of the timidity forced on him by the weakness of the Unified Worlds, furious at those who refused to see the threat. The specter of the Sterilizers cast a shadow over everything that humankind was and did, and nothing was more important than beating back the darkness.

“Busy?” a cheery voice asked, intruding on Wells’s brooding. Even without looking, Wells knew who his visitor was—the distinctive tenor voice and presumptuous entrance were sufficient identification. Wells reflexively purged the screen of his terminal, then settled back in his chair with his hands folded in his lap.

“Observer Berberon,” Wells said. “What a surprise. What brings you over from Unity?”

Felithe Berberon beamed, as though merely being recognized was the highest form of flattery. “Oh, this, that, the little details that so fill up one’s calendar. But when I heard, I had to come up and congratulate you.”

Wells’s gaze narrowed. “Congratulate me on what?”

“Why, on your successful test of the Defenders, of course. I’m sure the Committee is going to be delighted with the news—you’re ahead of schedule and I’ll wager you’re under budget as well. Excellent, simply excellent.”

Working to keep a scowl off his face, Wells replied. “I’m glad you’re pleased. We’re ready to declare the Defenders operational, in fact.” It was bad enough to be reminded that he had thus far been unable to ferret out Berberon’s sources inside Defense, but Wells had no patience for Berberon’s endless ingratiatory chatter.

“Of course, I understand perfectly,” Berberon was saying,“though I understand the attack drones didn’t put up much of a fight, did they? Still, I assume you’ll have some spectacular video of the war for Thursday’s Committee meeting?”

What nerve
, Wells thought, and almost said.
I don’t care how many years you’ve been here, you’re only an Observer. You can’t even vote on appropriations
.

But the liquid-voiced senior member of the Terran Observer Delegation had some influence on the Committee—there was no doubt about that. Even if you never knew exactly where he really stood, there was no point in going out of your way to offend him. No matter how smarmy he was—

“If we can put it together by then, and the agenda allows,“Wells said.

“Oh, I’ll see that there’s time for you. Count on it,” Berberon promised breezily. “Well, I won’t keep you, Harmack. See you Thursday.”

Swallowing his spittle, Wells nodded acknowledgment as the door closed on Berberon. He allowed enough time for Berberon to clear the outer office, then touched a contact on his terminal. “Lieutenant Holloway? Have someone find out who Berberon talked to before he came here. Get on it right now.”

“Another leak, Director?”

“Yes, another leak, goddamnit,” Wells said, scowling.“And I want it plugged fast, before something important gets compromised.”

After the spontaneous moment of reunion, there was awkwardness. Though she hated herself for it and strove not to show it, Sujata found that Wyrena’s reappearance in her life felt like an intrusion. However warmly remembered, the Ba’ar woman was part of a life episode already put away as complete. She belonged there, on Ba’ar Tell, in the past. Not here.

There was no mistaking that Wyrena was uncomfortable, too. All the way to Sujata’s quarters, Wyrena was on the verge of blurting out either an apology or an explanation. The same insecurity that prompted the urge quelled it.

But alone, naked in each other’s arms, they rediscovered the wordless communion which they had known on Ba’ar Tell. The erotic glow enfolded them and carried them off to a private place. And after, with the distance between them erased, talk came more easily.

“I shouldn’t have come.” The words were said in a small voice muffled by the pillow into which Wyrena’s face was pressed, as if they were not really meant to be heard.

Sujata smiled to herself and shifted so that she could reach out and stroke the bare skin of Wyrena’s back. “Why not?”

“I couldn’t know you’d become this important—”

“Nor could I,” she said, remembering. The whole structure of the Service had changed while she was in the high craze to Unity, and, with it, the selection procedures for the high staff positions. “But what does that have to do with us?”

“They’ll use me against you—you’ll lose influence—”

Sujata understood the younger woman’s distress. Ba’ar Tell was a world of rigid rules and roles. There was no place for the kind of relationship she and Wyrena had enjoyed, and, in the end, that was what had separated them.

“That isn’t how things work here,” Sujata said, tracing small circles with her forefinger at the base of Wyrena’s spine.

“The way that man glared at us—”

“What, Whitehall? He’s from Liam-Won. There isn’t much he approves of here.”

Wyrena rolled on her side and propped her head on her hand. “But this isn’t your home, either. Are you sure you really know these people?”

Sujata sought Wyrena’s hand with her own. “This place is not without its prejudices. But the people who matter understand that who I share my bed with doesn’t affect how I do my job. And the others can’t reach us. No one will pressure you here. No one will judge.”

Wyrena looked away, and Sujata knew that they had reached a delicate area. “My father was not wrong to do what he did,” Wyrena said at last. “He could not have done otherwise.”

“What about me?” Sujata asked. “Were you angry with me for agreeing to leave?”

“No—oh, no. If you didn’t leave, my family’s position would have been damaged terribly.”

“But no one outside the family knew—”

“In time they would have,” Wyrena said soberly. “Besides, even if you had stayed, we never could have seen each other. Just as we never got to say good-bye.”

“You allow him that much power over you, simply because you were living in his house—”

“You don’t understand. He would have forbidden it, and I would have had to obey him. I was bound just as he was.”

“You said you loved me.” This was said in a teasing, testing voice.

“Oh, Janell—I do. But even for you—”

“Conflict is hard for you to deal with.”

“Conflict is the consequence of selfishness.”

It had the sound of an epigram, and it was one. “The Philosopher’s First Canon.”

“Yes. A very early lesson in my schooling.”

“So, then, why did you leave?”

Wyrena was slow to answer, as though there were still some uncertainty in her own mind. “Because I missed you. And because I wanted to know what it was like to live outside the rules, the way you did. A Ba’ar woman’s dreams are for her mate and sons. I wanted to dream for myself.”

Sujata opened her arms, and Wyrena came to her. They cuddled close, the feel of skin against skin comforting. “Ever since I left, I’ve been afraid,” Wyrena said. “Afraid that I’d waited too long and I’d find you gone, headed for some other world or outpost, and I’d never catch up. Afraid that you wouldn’t want me—that I hadn’t been as important to you as you’d been to me. I never was able to tell you—”

“Your mouth was otherwise occupied,” Sujata teased. “No, go on, finish.”

“I had never met anyone like you. No woman on Ba’ar Tell can ever hope to be self-minded the way you are. You know the word they use—”

“
Ka’ila’in
.”

“And it’s not only the men who would call you that but the women too. The reason they curse the
ka’ila’in
so harshly is that they are afraid of them, for different reasons. But I thought you were wonderful—”

“I never felt that from them—”

“You are not Ba’ar. You were allowed to be different,” she said, and kissed the curve of Sujata’s right breast. “No, if I were going to be angry with you, it would be for refusing to understand how great the risk was. Do you see why I’m loath to take your word that neither of us can be hurt for the same thing here? Are we really safe, Janell, or is it just that you wish we were, like on Ba’ar Tell?”

Sujata’s fingers played in the soft hair streaming down Wyrena’s back. “We’re safe, Wy—from others. We can still hurt each other if we’re cruel or careless or fall out of love.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“Nor I,” she said, and kissed her forehead. “But explain, please—how were you able to leave? Surely your father objected—”

“Oh, but he didn’t—because appearances were maintained. My father knew my feelings but never acknowledged them to me. Still, without a word being said, he saw that everything was taken care of. You see, I left, not in disgrace, but with honor. I came at the invitation of Ambassador Wen, who promised me a place in his office.”

Sujata wrinkled her nose, puzzled. “But Wen is gone—Elir Ka’in is the Ba’ar Observer now. Surely your father knew how much time would pass. Ba’ar Tell is nearly fifty cees out—”

“Of course he knew.”

“So he kicked you out.”

“But gracefully and with my needs considered.”

“Amazing, the games you Ba’ar play.”

Wyrena smiled. “We have an art for compromise and accommodation which you never did understand.”

“There’s something in the Canons about that, isn’t there?”

“A great deal of something,” Wyrena said: “I knew you weren’t listening when I explained it.”

“Because you were distracting me at the same time,” Sujata said playfully. “Now you’ll have more time to teach me.”

Wyrena laughed in her throaty way. “Especially since there is no place waiting in the Ba’ar Tell Observer’s office.”

“I shouldn’t have much trouble finding something for you if you want.” Wyrena lifted her head to look into Sujata’s eyes. “Must I?”

“No. But if not that, then what?”

“If I could just stay here—be here for you—not have to face them—would that be all right?”

“There’s no reason to hide from them—you said you wanted to live outside the rules, didn’t you? But if that’s what you want—”

“It is,” Wyrena said, and snuggled closer.

The next morning, Wells found Farlad waiting for him in his office anteroom. The adjutant came to his feet as Wells came through the outer door, then followed him into the inner office.

“Expected to see you yesterday,” Wells said as he disappeared momentarily into the kitchenette. He reappeared a moment later with a glass of ice water in one hand. “What happened?”

“Operations was having trouble with the Kleine transmissions—the data didn’t come in clean until just a few hours ago.“Wells’s forehead became creased with concern. “What kind of trouble?”

“Noise. Interference. Dropped bits. The error algorithms had a busy night.”

Frowning, Wells settled into his chair. “I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all. Reliable Kleine communications are key to our battle command and control. Were you given any explanation for the problem?”

“No, sir. According to the senior comtech, they don’t know why it’s been happening.”

“
Been
happening? Then this isn’t a one-time problem?”

“Apparently not, sir. She said it’s been cropping up more and more often, especially in the octants where there’s a lot of ship traffic.”

“Which means Boötes and Lynx.”

“Among others.”

“That’s even more disturbing,” Wells said, his expression grim. “If we were to lose the ability to communicate with the Perimeter—I want a full report on this fast. How often it happens, how long it lasts—everything. If we can’t put an end to it, we may have to revise our C3 procedures.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll put in the request.”

Wells settled back in his chair. “So what about the Ba’ar Tell exercise? Have you figured out yet why I’m not impressed?”

“Frankly, sir, no. The Defenders are tough little warships. I’d hate to have to lead an attack against them.”

“I’m not impressed because that exercise was a fantasy. We weren’t attacking the Mizari, we were attacking ourselves.“Wells touched a contact and activated his terminal. “I’m not the only one that recognizes it, either. Berberon was in here yesterday and got in a few digs about us beating up on straw men.”

“Berberon? How did he find out about the test?”

“That’s a separate problem. The point is, he wasn’t impressed.” Wells leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. “Teo, my predecessor in this office made a career out of underestimating the Mizari. I wouldn’t like to see you repeating his error.”

Farlad took a seat across from Wells. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand your thinking. If you’re convinced the Defenders can’t fulfill their mission, why did you continue the program? Why did you accelerate deployment if you don’t believe there’s any strategic value?”

“Not all strategies are directed against the enemy,” Wells said quietly. With a sideways glance he scanned the columns of numbers that had appeared on the display. “I think perhaps we can carry this off, Berberon notwithstanding.”

Comprehension dawned on Farlad’s face. “The Committee—”

“If I were to have come in four years ago and scrapped the Defenders, telling the Committee that they were useless, we would have been forced to spend the next twenty years building something to replace them.”

“I still don’t see the value—”

“Consider the deployment of the Defenders. Three for Earth., Two for Journa. One each for Ba’ar Tell and Maranit and Rena-Kiri.”

“Protecting the five most populous Worlds,” Farlad said slowly. “All of which are represented by Observers. And if the Observers believe that their home worlds are safe—”

Smiling faintly, Wells interrupted. “Only when they feel safe will they allow us to focus on building a weapons system that would allow us to carry the fight to the Mizari.”

“Triad.” Farlad shook his head. “I always thought it was a little crazy to base a Defender at Ba’ar Tell, way out in one of the safe octants, before we placed one at Liam-Won, practically in the Mizari’s backyard. Now I see—Liam-Won has sixty-one million inhabitants, while Ba’ar Tell has well over a billion.”

“That was one consideration,” Wells said, nodding. “Another is that while Ambassador Ka’in is well liked and respected, Prince Denzell is an obnoxious prig who has even alienated Comité Vandekar, his planet-kin.”

“So while on the one hand we assure enough votes to approve Triad,” Farlad mused, “at the same time we make clear that it’s good to be our friend.”

“Just so.”

“The only thing that puzzles me is that Triad can’t have any deterrent value unless we reestablish contact with the Mizari. And even if we do reestablish contact, we don’t know what level of threat would be a deterrent to them.”

“We can be sure the Defenders would not be,” Wells said, then paused. “But you’re right—we simply have to learn more about the Mizari. We can’t be confident that we’re secure until we do.”

“Director Lycom was considering a proposal to send drift probes into the quarantine zone—”

“And then cower behind the Sentinel line for another two hundred years, waiting for them to reach Mizar-Alcor? That might have been fine for Lycom but not for me. Don’t trouble yourself to mention it again.” Wells’s answer was reflexive rather than angry; he was staring past Farlad with an unfocused gaze, most of his attention elsewhere.

“No, sir,” Farlad said. “Comité, have you read
Jiadur’s Wake
yet?”

“Hmm?”

“Thackery’s book. I told you about it yesterday.”

“No.”

“I really urge you to take a look at it soon. There are some perspectives in it we haven’t seen anywhere else in the record—”

“Suggestion noted,” Wells said, returning from his reverie and straightening up in his chair. “When will the video abstract of the Ba’ar Tell exercise be ready for prescreening?”

“It’s being edited now. Should be no more than another hour or so.”

“I’ll want to see it as soon as possible. We need to make it easy for the Committee to say yes to Triad.”

“I’ll go down and check on it as soon as we’re finished here.”

“I think we’re finished. Oh—what about Sujata?”

“I haven’t been able to see her.” Farlad held up his hands as though to fend off criticism. “Not my fault. She hasn’t been in her office since midday yesterday. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have something new to tell you about her. I’m not sure that it’ll be of any practical value, but let me tell you what’s been occupying her…”

Felithe Berberon frowned to himself and stared down at the hallway floor as he waited, listening to the chimes sound on the far side of the apartment door.
Why did the Chancellor want to see me here?
he wondered.
The last time I was here was the party Chancellor Delkes threw after resigning—was that seven years ago or eight?

The soft whir of the security camera brought his head up again, and he flashed a vacant smile in its direction. A moment later the lock unlatched with a buzz, and Berberon stepped forward and into the apartment.

Inside, it was about as he had expected, considering the personality of its occupant: elegant, practical, uncrowded. Unlike some of her predecessors, the Chancellor clearly maintained the suite as a comfortable retreat, not a showplace for entertaining. Other than the sheer size of the suite, the only real touch of luxury was the viewpit, with its cushion sculpture and floor-to-ceiling windows, which occupied the far end of the rectangular greatroom.
Arvade had that installed
, he recalled fondly.
I was young enough to enjoy it then
.