Faith (6 page)

“Yes, go on, Commander. Say it. And?”

“And the battleship
Thomas Cromwell
.”

“Yes, that’s the pile of radioactive rubble that’s still in orbit above us and fouling up our communications, isn’t it?”

“Over two hundred people died on that ship. I think,” Ansah said carefully, “that you didn’t mean to sound so dismissive.”

“I had friends and colleagues among those two hundred, Commander.”

“I think,” the Chairman said, “this would be a good time to adjourn for lunch. It’s been a long morning. I suggest we reconvene in ninety minutes.”

Chairs scraped, heels clacked on the parquet, and voices resumed then receded.

The Chairman continued sitting for a moment after everyone left. He was thinking about the wording of Ansah’s orders, and her apparent indifference about where she stood trial. The wording of her orders was unusually explicit and constraining; someone would have to be primed to ask her why. As to her indifference about where she stood trial, he’d initially thought she was being theatrical; now, he wasn’t sure.

Desertion and Cowardice. It seemed a simple case when he first read the pleadings, and that should have warned him. Most things, he had learned, were not simple when you saw them up close.

They took her in an unmarked flier to the De Vere Highlands, a few miles north of the city. Highlands was something of an exaggeration: they were more like gently rolling hills, but they did give a good view of De Vere and its surrounding countryside. They landed in Marling Park, a small formal garden, far enough into the Highlands to make it unlikely that there would be many lunchtime visitors from the city. Ansah walked at leisure, taking in the view, and the Sakhran maintained a discreet distance.

De Vere was an elegant, formal city of white marble and stucco, with palladian architecture, piazzas, colonnades and garden squares. It was the legislative and financial centre of Isis 2, and of the whole Isis system. It was not the biggest city, but was arguably the most beautiful and well-kept; though almost everywhere on Isis 2, city or parkland or country, was beautiful and well-kept. The De Vere Highlands were just far enough, and high enough, to afford a pleasing view of the city’s more expensive districts, without seeing the stains on its buildings or smelling its air.

The Sakhran took out his lunch: dried shredded meat in a leather pouch. He caught up with her and offered her a piece. It tasted vile, as she expected, but she smiled her thanks. Again she thought, Those Wonderful Hands.

Thirty seconds later, she was still chewing. She considered discreetly spitting it out when the Sakhran wasn’t watching her, but realised there was never a moment when he wasn’t watching her; so she steeled herself, swallowed it, and signalled her relish to him. Deadpan, he acknowledged with a brief nod. She walked on.

A little further, she encountered two families—four adults and five children—picnicking under some wireweave trees. The Sakhran momentarily grew wary, but nobody even looked at Ansah, much less recognised her. This was not surprising. Outsider officers kept low public profiles, and in any case Ansah was supposed to be already heading back to Earth for her trial.

She genuinely didn’t care where her trial was held. Its outcome was inevitable, as inevitable as that stupid engagement where five stupid ships had stupidly believed that they could go up against
Her.
Those five ships had been more than just a task force, they were actually the bulk of Isis Fleet: quite a large Fleet, considering the size of Isis, but that reflected the wealth and political connections of the system’s leading citizens. Isis attracted such people.

The Commonweath’s most characteristic state was one of orderly turbulence, in which Fleets played a central part. Its twenty-nine solar systems had all kinds of conflicts: political, religious, cultural, historical, economic. The last one tended to be the root of the other four, so that trade wars between the systems often blew up into real wars. Hence the Fleets, which were funded partly by the systems themselves and partly by Earth. Earth used its funding to dispense favours, create obligations, and play the systems against each other.

Most of Isis 2’s wealth came from its finance houses and banks. Of the four ex-Sakhran systems in the Commonwealth, Isis had by far the highest per capita income and standard of living, if you excluded Sakhrans from the calculation. And it showed, not least in the view of De Vere which Ansah was admiring.

The exclusion of Sakhrans from the calculation also showed in the view; unlike the other ex-Sakhran systems, Isis almost ghettoised Sakhrans in residential areas outside the cities. The irony was that Sakhrans themselves preferred living separately. The authorities had preferences of their own: they preferred that Sakhrans’ relative poverty, and their blocky functional buildings, be kept at a distance. Accusations of racism, which came regularly from other Commonwealth systems, were mainly but not entirely justified.

Mainly But Not Entirely. Most things, Ansah reflected, were not as simple close up. Her time on the Sirhan had taught her that. When you look close up, simple issues pass out of focus, dissolving into Ifs and Buts. She even sensed that the Chairman might be realising this; there were things she had noted, detailed nuances of his voice and body language…

No, enough of that. The outcome of this trial is inevitable.

She suspected that the Department had already forgotten Isis and was concentrating on how to defend Horus, where She’d probably appear next. There were rumours that they were sending Foord there. It made sense; Foord was the second best of the nine. The best was Anwar Caal, who commanded the
Albert Camus
, leadship of the Outsider class, but they’d keep him in reserve; if Foord failed at Horus, Earth would be next.

Ansah once had a relationship with Foord. Given their two natures it worked well, with only occasional violence on either side. Foord, despite all his obsessions and compulsions, had given her something she still valued: a quiet friendship of equals. Ansah had heard that he didn’t do relationships anymore; apparently his affections were now directed elsewhere. A shame: she could have done with some of his quiet friendship now.

The pilot leaned out of the flier and gestured to her to return. She nodded. None of them—pilot, Sakhran, or Ansah—had said a word to each other.

Second Voice resumed.

“Commander, you were telling us your ship was assigned to a task force of four heavy cruisers and the battleship
Thomas Cromwell
. The
Thomas Cromwell
was destroyed, as we’ve heard. What happened to the others?”

“They made it back, but they were all damaged and suffered casualties.”

“Would you say heavy casualties, Commander?”

“Compared to what?” The moment she said it, she realised where she’d been led.

“Why, compared to
your
ship, Commander! But then, your ship was hardly an active participant in the events, was it?”

Ansah did not reply, and Second Voice went on.

“Let’s go back to those orders from the Department, Commander. They placed your ship specifically under the command of Isis Fleet, didn’t they?”

“Yes. They were quite specific.”

“And they said that if the unidentified ship was detected entering Isis system, the task force was to move out and engage it, directed and led by the
Thomas Cromwell
. Is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“So what happened when the unidentified ship
was
detected entering Isis system?”

“The task force moved out and engaged it, directed and led by the
Thomas Cromwell
. Four hours later Faith had completed Her attack, and five Isis ships were destroyed or damaged.”

“And what of your ship? The
Sirhan
?”

“It returned undamaged, and with no casualties, after taking survivors off the
Thomas Cromwell
.”

“It returned
after
it took survivors off, because
after
it took survivors off you ordered it to leave the scene of battle. You deserted, Commander! You ran away! That’s correct, isn’t it?”

“Everything except Deserted and Ran Away.”

“And how would you characterise what you did?”

“I can only answer that by going back to my orders. I’d like to say something about my orders.”

“In good time, Commander. Let’s not leave what you actually
did
, not just yet. I want to be clear about this. If you never Deserted, and you never Ran Away, how would you characterise what you did?”

“A moment, please” said the Chairman, to Second Voice. “We can come back to that. Let’s hear her first. Commander, you wanted to say something about your orders?”

She paused before answering.

“The Department made a stupid decision. Those orders cost you most of your Fleet. All Outsiders fight best alone.” She noted the stirrings and mutterings among the silhouetted figures, and added for good measure, “We’re like Sakhrans. We don’t work in teams.”

“Commander, if it was so stupid…”

“Which it was. I bet it won’t be repeated at Horus.”

“…If it was so stupid, why was the Department so insistent that you should be under Isis Fleet’s command?”

“I don’t know. Maybe your leading citizens used their political connections.”

Second Voice resumed.

“You’re the one who’s on trial here, Commander. For your life. Let’s return to the issue. If you never Deserted, and you never Ran Away, how would you characterise what you did?”

“I was protecting my ship. And giving the next Outsider, when it faces Her, a better chance than I had.”

“Commander—”

“No, let her go on,” the Chairman said. “I want this, for the record.”

“During the engagement I realised that She can never be stopped by conventional people in conventional ships. She can only be stopped when an Outsider engages Her alone, without any constraints like those on me. I don’t know who She is, where She comes from, or why She’s doing this, but I know that nothing except an Outsider, alone, will be good enough to stop Her.”

She paused, almost embarrassed: it was one of her longer speeches to the Court, and it sounded like it was turning into a defense, which she hadn’t intended.

In front of her, Isis was starting to set. Shadows of dusky pink and dark red were settling over De Vere; evening light slanted through the great curving bay window, enriching the dark reds of the furniture. That, and the lengthening silence of those in front of her, broken only by a couple of murmurs, reminded her of the Bridge of the
Sirhan
.

“We’ll return to these matters in detail tomorrow, Commander,” the Chairman said eventually. “We have much we need to ask you about the engagement.”

“And,” Ansah said, “about what She did
after
the engagement.”

The Chairman glanced up at her sharply. “That too,” he snapped. “Court is adjourned.”

•

The following morning statements were taken from some of the surviving officers and crew of the
Thomas Cromwell
and the four cruisers. They gave detailed accounts of how the engagement had been fought, and how the
Sirhan
left them. They generally tallied, and Ansah placed on record her agreement that in all material respects they were accurate. The Court asked her if she wished to reserve her position in respect of any discrepancies, but she declined.

“And that is it, is it, Commander?” This was Fourth Voice.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, genuinely confused by the grammar. “What is what?”

“That’s what you want to tell us about the events of the engagement, is it?”

“Oh, I see….Well, I’ve acknowledged that those statements are substantially correct, and there’s what I said at the end of yesterday’s session. Did you want me to add something?”

“How about, you know, something along the lines of a defense?”

“Just questions, please,” the Chairman reminded Fourth Voice, “and not rhetoric.”

“So you’ve agreed with the survivors’ accounts, and you’ve referred us to what you said yesterday. What you said yesterday boils down to this: your orders tied you to our ships and stopped you fighting Her properly. Is that it? You think that’s enough from you?”

“Yes.”

“Well it isn’t, Commander. Frankly it stinks.”

“You’ve recently acquired knowledge of things that stink.”

There was a silence.

“Perhaps,” the Chairman said, “you should have thought before you said that, Commander.”

“No, Mr. Chairman,” Fourth Voice said. “That’s all right. Let her have that one, on us.”

After the engagement with the five Isis ships, which She had won so brilliantly and shockingly, and with the
Sirhan
having left the scene of battle to pick up survivors, there was nothing to stop Her turning towards De Vere. She did so.

It was a matter of record that She never attacked undefended civilian targets. This time, however, She did attack a civilian target, but in a most unexpected way.

She went first to one of the city’s poorer southern suburbs, consisting mainly of Sakhran ghettoes, where She hovered mysteriously over one area for a few minutes, then turned and set off towards the city centre. Later it became apparent that She had scooped up some faecal waste—both human and Sakhran—from a sewage treatment plant, synthesised it in large quantities, carried it stored under high pressure back to De Vere, and released it as a spray above the city. Then She left, and passed out of the system.

The effect was incalculable. It was, as the Chairman had described it, unprecedented and humiliating. It was also particularly apt: Isis was famously obsessive about the beauty and fragrance of its cities, and of its people. The story spread rapidly over the other twenty-eight systems. Isis, and De Vere, would forever be known as the place where She had done
this.

And the smell and stains absolutely would not go away. Sakhran faeces smelt many times worse than human faeces, and left stains on De Vere’s palladian facades and colonnades and piazzas which responded only gradually to even the most high-powered of hoses. The city’s renowned formal gardens also suffered; Sakhran faeces killed rather than fertilised.