Starbase Human (30 page)

Odgerel looked at him. She had assumed, because he had fallen for the hazing, that he was stupid. She had also assumed that, because he was the latest appointee in a string of relatively incompetent appointees, that he was similar to them. And finally, she had assumed, because he apologized too much, that he always made mistakes.

She had probably assumed incorrectly. Now that he had relaxed into the subject he had intended to discuss, his eyes glimmered with intelligence. He seemed stronger than she realized, and most people did not seem strong when they met with her. They allowed her power to reflect their weaknesses.

“You felt the need to tell me this privately,” she said, “and outside of our offices. May I ask why?”

He took a deep breath, then glanced over his shoulder. Those movements told her more than any words would. Either he had not been in Beijing long enough to learn to trust anyone or he believed no one worthy of his trust.

“I read data differently than a lot of the staff,” he said. “It’s one of the reasons I got promoted. I make leaps—”

“Of intuition, I know.” She remembered him now. She had seen his results in various documents. He had headed a small division near the Outlying Colonies and had managed to dissolve two criminal syndicates that had operated out of the Outlying Colonies since the days when the Colonies were at the edge of the known universe (and were actually colonies), instead of places squarely inside of Alliance territory.

Odgerel had asked for him a year ago, and then forgotten about the request. She often forgot about requests because so many of the people she requested did not want to return to Earth (if they had ever been to Earth at all), believing the “action” happened at the edges of the Alliance rather than in its very heart.

“The attacks are focused on the Moon,” Brown said, “but they use resources from all over the Alliance.”

Odgerel nodded. She knew that.

“Because of its proximity to Earth,” he said, “the Moon is considered a human place. If you ask anyone from the Outlying Colonies about the Moon, they would tell you that
only
humans live there. They do not know about the large alien populations or the way the port brings in species from all over the known universe.”

“The perception is correct,” Odgerel said softly. “Humans govern the Moon, just as the Disty govern Mars. There are human enclaves on Mars, but they are not the center of Martian life.”

He frowned a little. “The enclaves are the center for the humans on Mars.”

Odgerel noted that piece of information. He was human-centric as well. That did not disturb her. She encouraged that among her staff. Even though the Earth Alliance Security Division handled security for the entire Alliance—humans and aliens—her wing only focused on humans (or focused as much as it could).

When humans had to interact with other species, she watched the line between whether the interaction belonged in the Human Coordination Department or went back to the Security Headquarters for reassignment in the Joint Department (Humans and other species) or into a strictly alien department (such as the Peyti Coordination Department).

Watching that bright line was part of her work, seeing where the impact on humans was and whether or not her people could deal with it without involving aliens at all.

She actually encouraged the reluctance of her staff members to involve aliens. She liked to keep human issues human, because she knew that deep down, humans cared more about themselves than they cared about any other species.

“Nonetheless,” Odgerel said. “Your point about Mars is a side issue. You were making a much larger point.”

Brown nodded, then watched as a group of earnest children walked by, name badges flaring in a square on their lapels. A school group. So many came here. She liked to watch them as well, and to remember that the future started with them.

Always, the future. And keeping that future safe.

“The human point is an important one,” he said. “The first attacks used human clones—and clones of a type that would scare humans, if they know their history.”

Odgerel nodded. She knew that. It was one of the most discussed points whenever the Anniversary Day bombings became the topic of conversation in the overall staff meetings.

“But the attempted bombings last week,” Brown said, “those used Peyti clones of a mass murderer not known to humans. Had the murderer been known to humans, the Peyti clones could not have hidden in plain sight for decades.”

Odgerel shifted slightly in her seat, turning her body toward him. He was making points she hadn’t considered.

“So, if the attacks were designed to scare humans,” he said, “they would have used other clones of human mass murderers. This is something bigger, and something much more complicated.”

Odgerel leaned her head back, considering. He was right.

And she had missed it, precisely because of her focus on the human angle inside the Alliance.

“And here’s the other thing,” Brown said. “These attacks used slow-grow clones. The Peyti clones lived on the Moon and integrated into society there. These attacks were planned for
decades
. I’ve spent my life combatting criminal enterprises, and none of them has a decades-long view of their work.”

Brown leaned just a little closer to Odgerel, and the movement didn’t bother her. He had engaged her mind in a way that no one had for some time.

“That’s been my experience, as well,” she said. “Criminal enterprises may have plans that last a few years, but never decades. No leader can expect to maintain control that long.”

She truly had been looking at these attacks incorrectly. It irked her to think how wrong she might have been.

“And if the leader does expect to maintain control that long,” Brown said, “he won’t tell someone his plans, because it would be easy to thwart them. But these plans? The ones that led to the attacks on the Moon? Just to raise and train the clones would take a large staff, and a lot of investment up front.”

“Which is something else criminal enterprises generally do not do,” she said as she thought aloud.

She looked at the nearby pagoda. Ironically, it was surrounded by a tour group that had two Peyti, a couple of Imme, and a handful of humans wearing clothes too bulky for the weather.

“A war on the Moon,” Odgerel said softly.

“No,” Brown said. “The Moon is the gateway to Earth. And Earth is the heart of the Earth Alliance. If you want to destroy the Alliance—”

“You destroy Earth,” she said quietly.

That was an old adage of the Alliance, which came from the early years. The Earth was under threat so often back then that its defenses became rigid, and the Earth became difficult to travel to. It still was.

If someone wanted to go to Earth, they had to go through the Moon first. And even then, getting to the Moon did not mean that someone could travel onto Earth.

The Moon’s ports were relatively open; the Earth’s were closed.

“You think this is a proxy attack,” Odgerel said. “The Moon substituting for Earth.”

“I’m not sure,” Brown said. “But I think ‘war’ is a much more accurate term than ‘crime’ for those attacks.”

Odgerel almost nodded, but caught herself in time. She needed to think about this.

“I scan the reports from the Military Division,” she said. “I have not seen any credible threats from communities outside of the Alliance. The Alliance has grown so big that no single culture can attack it. No one would consider trying. If cultures do not approve of us, they do not do business with us. They do not travel through our space. But they don’t attack us. What would they gain?”

Brown shrugged. “It’s not my area of expertise. But I do know human history.”

She looked at him. He had caught her attention.

“In the past, in places like this and in the West—all over Earth—empires rose and fell. They fell because of hubris, yes. We were taught that quite young. But sometimes the fall was initiated from outside. When a group saw the cracks in the empire, saw the places where the right amount of pressure applied in the right way would make certain the empire would collapse.”

“I know the history, as well,” she said. “Generalizations do not help.”

“Please forgive me, ma’am, but don’t dismiss this. Guerilla warfare has existed throughout human history, and the warfare often looked just like this. Hit a pressure point, then hit it again, and in tiny ways that would reverberate throughout the government.”

Odgerel looked at him. “I understand that. What I don’t see is why anyone would attack the heart of the Earth Alliance. There is no profit in it. Destroying the Alliance would destroy billions of lives and more money than anyone can conceive of. The peace we have lived under for most of the life of the Alliance would disappear, and relations between various species would collapse. So, what would someone gain in destroying the Alliance?”

“I don’t know.” Brown shook his head, then bit his lower lip, and glanced at the tour group near the pagoda. The leader, a slight woman with long, dark hair, was gesturing wildly. “I think we have to look, though. We can’t assume that because we believe something is good, others do as well.”

Odgerel let out a small breath. She had been making that assumption, hadn’t she? And history had shown over and over again that what one group believed were benevolent conditions, other groups did not.

“Do you believe it’s important that we’re looking at clones who have done this?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Brown said. “I think we need to discover who believes they’re being harmed by the Alliance, and who feels strongly enough to take action to destroy the Alliance in order to alleviate that harm.”

“I’m sure that the Political Department has information about dissident groups,” she said, “and the military will have information about those outside of the Alliance who want to destroy it.”

“They’ve had that information for years,” Brown said. “But is the Earth Alliance Military Division using it to investigate the Moon? And really, can the military legally investigate inside the Alliance? Conversely, can our Political Department investigate adequately? I think we should get the information from them and then coordinate the investigations, maybe through our Investigative Department.”

So that was why he wanted to talk with her alone. He was, in effect, suggesting something that would cause all sorts of interagency rivalries, and he was smart enough to know it.

“It’s not as simple as that,” she said. “The divisions are territorial. We don’t share information easily.”

“Even when the fate of the Alliance is at stake?” he asked.

“Prove to me that it is,” she said, “and then I can run interference for you.”

He shook his head ever so slightly, head down. His shoulders rose and fell as he sighed.

She could actually see him make a decision.

“I came here,” he said, “because I had heard you were a risk-taker, someone who would go against the internal Alliance mechanisms if necessary. I don’t think we have the time to ‘run interference.’ I think we have to get these organizations to work together. We need to share information, and we need to filter it through the prism of who wants to harm the Alliance and who has the means. We need—”

“I’m aware of what we need,” she said quietly. “I can do none of this without proof.”

“I can’t get you proof without the cooperation of the Military Division and our own Political Department,” he said.

“Then you are not as creative as your work record implies that you are.” She stood, smoothed her blouse, slipped on her sandals, and picked up the container for the noodles. She left him, without bidding him farewell.

The tour group was walking from the pagoda to the gardens. One of the Peyti looked over its shoulder at her. Their eyes met.

She felt a shiver run through her.

She had never liked aliens.

She liked them even less now.

THIRTY-NINE

THE CONVENTION CENTER
inside Garner’s Moon went on for kilometers. Deshin owned both the center and the moon, although he rarely came here anymore. One of his corporations rented the facility out on an almost daily basis. In fact, they’d had to cancel the contract for a trade show of black marketeers just so that he could hold this meeting.

His accounting staff told him the hit would cost him millions. He didn’t care about the money. He had more than enough money to last his lifetime, Paavo’s lifetime, and the lifetime of Paavo’s great-great-great-grandchildren, even if they worked hard at spending all of it. Deshin was more worried about clearing out the trade show attendees before his cohorts arrived.

Fortunately, his staff had managed to cancel the trade show, and they had managed to clean up the convention center, closing off the non-human wings and getting rid of the dining and bathroom accommodations set out for a wide variety of aliens who could handle Earth Normal.

Deshin’s staff had asked if the trade show could continue in another part of the gigantic center, but he had said no. He instructed his staff to inform the trade show attendees that a show which paid considerably more would be taking the space.