The ethos effect, p.37
The Ethos Effect, page 37
“No, thank you. Not at the moment.” Van surveyed the two again before turning to Roberts. “There is a new Ministry of Economic Security? When was that established?”
“Shortly after Marshal Eamon became acting prime minister, after the assassination of Prime Minister O’Kane. The emergency cabinet enacted it in order to prevent financial dislocation.”
“I must admit,” Van said, turning back to Addams, “that I’m somewhat confused. Under Republic law, a takeover requires advance notice of at least three months to all stockholders at their main place of business. Neither DIS nor AmalGS provided such notice as required by law. IIS is a principal stockholder, and its main offices received no notice, and now a government ministry is involved in ratifying such a takeover. This seems irregular.”
“Irregular times often require unconventional actions,” Roberts interjected. “You certainly do not have to convince me that the Economic Security Act was unconventional, but the assassination of the government was even more unconventional. Ideally, one would like to follow the old and well-established patterns. That is not always possible in a time of crisis, and this certainly is a time of crisis.”
“It would seem, only from what I have seen,” Van said carefully, “that however inadvertently it may have happened, this act amounts to a repudiation of long-standing rights and principles.”
“Director, you don’t have to convince me,” Roberts replied sympathetically. “I understand. I certainly do. Whether I understand is not the question, however. At times, actions are taken in the best of causes which later prove to have been unwise, and at other times, actions which seemed most unwise and unpopular when taken prove to be far wiser. And when something so tragic happens, someone must be to blame, and something must be done.” Roberts shrugged. “That is most unfortunate, but it is human nature. You understand that, I’m certain.”
“I’m still a bit bewildered, Sub-minister,” Van replied. “IIS engineered the revitalization and strengthening of AmalGS from a continental multi on the verge of bankruptcy to an economic power. I find it hard to see how an outside takeover strengthens either AmalGS or the Republic.”
“Ah, yes,” Roberts said softly, almost hissing. “Here, too, we have a problem. As you know, as you must know, representing as you do, a Coalition multilateral—pardon me, a Coalition foundation, all systems in the Arm are facing a threat from Revenant expansion, and that expansion is both economic and military. As a system with a unique culture and contribution to the Arm, we cannot afford to allow ourselves to be weakened.”
“I do understand that,” Van replied politely, “but I fear that I may have missed something that is obvious to you, but not so apparent from studying the accounts. AmalGS is in a strong financial and economic position here on Korkenny. In fact, it is stronger than any other formulation enterprise.”
“Exactly! Exactly, my dear Director. Unfortunately, due to the past unethical and government-supported subsidization of various multilaterals in New Oisin by the Revenants, DIS was in danger of collapse. So, in order to strengthen the economic structure of the Republic, the Ministry of Economic Security used its powers to effect a number of consolidations, and the terms of the consolidations, of course, will ensure that the revenue flows out of the Republic will be reduced to a more ... reasonable level.”
“Despite contractual agreements?”
“Contractual laws are set by the system governments. That is a principle that dates back to Old Earth. And while such legal... differences ... have occasionally caused disagreements, at this time, it would seem unlikely that the Coalition would wish to extend itself around Revenant territory over such a trifling matter.” Roberts smiled again.
Van returned the smile. “It is an interesting proposition, but you are obviously quite politically astute. I do have a question. Did anyone consider the ethics of a legal maneuver that is designed to confiscate the assets of anyone whose business is deemed so vital that it receives this kind of attention?”
“Ethics, now, Director? The first ethic is survival, and the Republic, make no mark about it, is in a conflict that will determine its survival.”
“There is survival and survival.”
“You sound like that old moralist—what was his name ... Exton something or other. I had him for a professor. That was before your time, I fear. He harbored this illusion that there was an absolute morality to any situation. Of course, he couldn’t ever define it, and what good was that? In the end those with the power define the ethics.”
Van wasn’t about to argue with Roberts. “And the Republic has defined them.” He nodded and stood. “I appreciate the clarifications and explanations, and I wish you both well.” He looked to Addams.
Neither man replied or spoke until they thought Van was out of hearing distance.
“... not happy...”
“... can’t do anything ... have to live with it, like everyone else...”
Van and IIS might indeed, but he wanted to find out more about what Morgan Henry had been up to before he left Korkenny, and he still had six hours before the shuttle to orbit control.
Although it was still before noon when Van returned to the local IIS office, it was closed, and Morgan Henry and his aide had left. Van walked in, used his passcodes for access, and reset all the security features so that only he—or Trystin— had access to the accounts and the data.
The moment he looked at Henry’s office, and saw that all personal items had vanished, he knew that he had locked the doors far too late. Still, he needed to find out just what had happened. After a deep breath, he accessed the files, half-wondering why Henry hadn’t just blanked them. Then he shook his head. That would have alerted IIS headquarters even sooner, and it wouldn’t have done any good, because the files were automatically duplicated and stored through Cambrian Holdings. Any attempt to change that might have been successful in destroying part of the files, but it would have triggered an immediate alert. Van got to work.
The AmalGS takeover had occurred three months earlier, but there was no record of any message or notification to the IIS main office on Perdya. Nor was there any record of any communication to either Van or Trystin.
Van began to search, going through all the IIS clients on Korkenny.
The three largest had been acquired by larger New Oisin-based multilaterals, and all in the last few months.
Then Van began to study the office accounts themselves. There was also a pattern there. Large sums had been charged to the office operating accounts, and all to a company that had not appeared on the books before nine months previous—H. Morgan Company—clearly a sham front set up by Henry. That certainly confirmed Van’s initial impression of the man. The invoices were for proprietary information research.
Van kept digging. There were no deliverables from H. Morgan, and no records of anything except the invoices themselves. He tried the contact links, but those simply led to a simmie receptionist who delivered a perfunctory request to leave a message.
While there was no way that Henry could have diverted the revenues from the clients, because those were paid directly to the transfer account of Cambrian Holdings, with only a percentage coming back to the local office, in the short run, no one would have objected to invoices for research. That was the IIS business. But Henry must have known that someone would check, and that meant he hadn’t expected to be around that long.
Van leaned back in Henry’s chair.
What could he do? IIS had effectively lost the majority of revenue from the larger clients, except what it might receive in dividends—if any of the merged multilaterals even paid such. The way the revenue streams were being diluted, within a year, seventy percent of all revenues from IIS investments in Korkenny would vanish—legally under the new Republic law. Without IIS support and information, AmalGS would be far less profitable, but that didn’t seem to matter to Sub-minister Roberts.
Van had felt like murdering Roberts, but killing one snake in the pit wouldn’t solve the problem. In fact, it would probably make matters worse, because the politicians would quickly seize on such a murder as vindication of their charge that the Republic’s economy was under siege.
For the moment, Van’s best bet was to transfer all assets of the office to the accounts in Cambrian Holdings and arrange for the office to be closed. He doubted that even Sub-minister Roberts would take on Cambrian Holdings—not as the largest Coalition financial institution and one of the largest, if not the largest, in the Arm.
And then he needed to leave Watford and Korkenny.
Chapter 60
Van sat in the cockpit, trying to use his implant to find out what was wrong with the jump generators, but the diagnostic stated, Jump generator is normal. No deficiencies detected. He tried again and got the same message. No deficiencies detected.
“The jump system is fine,” stated Baile from the command couch. His silver hair glinted, as though it were almost blond, and his face was unlined and composed as he reached for the red jump button.
Van flipped off his harness and lurched to grab the commander’s hand, but he was too late.
“No!”
Pain red flared across him.
Abruptly, he sat up in his too-wide bunk, sweating.
Once more, the nightmare had seemed all too real. He sat there in the bunk, blotting the sweat off his forehead, trying to cool down and dry off.
The Joyau was on the outer leg of the outbound transit to the jump zone—the part above the ecliptic and well away from the inner planets of the Korkenny system—and Van was trying to get some sleep, with the system set to wake him if the monitors detected anything remotely within range.
Absently, he linked to the ship, but the Joyau was still three hours from the earliest possible jump point, and there were no ships in the outer part of the system, except for a handful of belt miners, and they were a quarter of the way around the system and inward.
Van blotted his forehead again.
Why was he having nightmares about the Fergus—and Commander Baile?
Abruptly, he stiffened, finally recalling what had eluded him before. Baile had said he was from Weathe. Was that important? His subconscious seemed to feel it was, but the more rational side of his mind couldn’t say why.
He stretched out on the bunk once more in the darkness. There was something else about the dream... but he couldn’t place that either.
After a time, he drifted back into an uneasy doze.
Chapter 61
Just before heading out into Weathe orbit station one, Van stood by the ship lock and looked at Eri. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. If you don’t hear from me in two days, seal the ship and send the emergency message.”
“I won’t have to do that.” Eri’s look was somber. “Do not stay planetside too long.”
“I hope I don’t have to. I’m not going as me, and I’m not announcing my presence in advance.” Just before leaving the Korkenny system and jumping to Weathe, Van had retuned the drives of the Joyau to Argenti standard, then called up the matching registration. The Joyau had become the Palabra, registered out of Silvium.
“Good,” Eri replied.
Van made his made along the gray corridors of Weathe orbit station toward the shuttle. No one paid him much attention, and even with his implant he could detect no unusual communications around him. As in the case of Korkenny, his news searches had revealed little at all, except that membership in the Christos Revivos was increasing and that the Economic Security Act was also in place in Weathe, but from the general sources, Van couldn’t possibly tell to what degree it had affected IIS.
As he had told Eri, Van had not sent word ahead. At two o’clock in the afternoon, local time, he just appeared outside the small office off Marquis Boulevard and walked in, past the bored attendant in the main lobby.
The woman inside the IIS office looked up as Van stood there. “How did you get in? We’re closed.”
Van reached out with his implant, and froze the entire system, except for the comm net “I’m Director Van Albert, from IIS headquarters.” Trystin didn’t call it that but Van had already discovered that it helped. “I’m looking for Jameson Pettridge.”
“Ah... Mr. Pettridge ... he isn’t here. He won’t be back today.”
“Can you reach him?”
“Ah...”
“I left the communications link open. Tell him I’d very much like to see him. Now. I’ll wait in his office.”
Pettridge had added a protocol to his door locks, but they were simple enough that Van only stood there for a moment before the door opened. He could overhear the woman.
“Mr. Pettridge ... there’s a Director Albert here ... has to be him. He took control of the entire system ... doesn’t look too pleased, I have to say.”
Van wasn’t pleased, although he hadn’t yet discovered whether Jameson Pettridge was someone with whom to be pleased or displeased. He settled into Pettridge’s chair and unfroze the system, beginning to search through the records.
By the end of the first client record—that of Weathe Mercantile—Van was nodding, especially after he noted Pettridge’s successful thwarting of a proposed acquisition by—once again, DIS. Van had to wonder who was behind DIS, relatives of the military cabal under Marshal Eamon? Or was the Ministry of Economic Security just trying to consolidate as many multis as possible to simplify oversight and control?
Van had just started on the records for ForCom when he sensed someone entering the office. He stood and walked to the door.
“This is Mr. Pettridge,” offered the assistant whose name Van did not know.
Pettridge was a thin, earnest-looking man, neither young nor old, wearing a conservative blue singlesuit.
“Van Albert.”
“I’d hoped someone would come,” Pettridge offered, “but I got no response...”
“How did you send it?”
“Standard interstellar, encrypted. I’ve sent one almost every week with updates.”
“If you’d show me.” Van gestured toward the office, closing the door behind them.
Pettridge called up the comm files, and Van ran through them, projecting a holo of each as he read them. Then he looked over at the younger man. “Very thorough. The only problem is that we never got any of them. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“You think... the government...?” Pettridge shook his head. “I knew they were pushing for nationalization of outside assets. They aren’t calling it that, but that’s what it amounts to.”
“That was when you tried to send the first message.”
“I sent it.” Pettridge frowned, then fumbled through the office net to the accounts. “There.” He projected the communications billings. “We were billed for each of them.”
Van nodded. That was something that Pettridge was unlikely to have been able to fake, and Van had the feeling that the man was truly honest. “So you’ve opposed these efforts?”
“I’ve managed to throw up every legal block that I can,” Pettridge said. “So far, we’ve kept all but Ensign from being acquired. With the Ensign deal, the terms were so advantageous there was no real way to block the acquisition, but we were able to insist on cash rather than equity. That was closed last week. The IIS share was significant, close to twenty million, and that was deposited directly in the local Cambrian Holdings. I checked on that to make sure.”
Pettridge looked almost defiant.
Van laughed. “Actually, Mr. Pettridge, from what I have already seen, you’ve been very resourceful, and very industrious.” Not to mention honorable, Van reflected. “I don’t have as much time as I would like. So why don’t you take me through each of the clients quickly, and give me a quick report?”
“Yes, ser.” Pettridge cleared his throat then called up the Weathe Mercantile account. “DIS was here on Weathe before the ink was dry on the economic security regulations. They’ve had—DIS, I mean—terrible cash flow problems, and they’ve been looking for smaller multis with cash potential all over the Republic...”
Van listened for almost two hours. His own cross-checking through the records convinced him that Pettridge had been both honest and effective.
“... so, even with all the troubles, we’ve managed to generate revenues around seventy percent of the previous year, and that doesn’t count the cash from the Ensign acquisition. That, I feel, is a solid effort in difficult times...”
More like miraculous, Van thought. “Mr. Pettridge. You’ve behaved honorably and well. Unlike some. For that you’ll be recognized and rewarded. Director Desoll and I will do our best to see to that.”
“I’ve done what I thought best, ser.”
“You’ve done well,” Van said. “Very well.”
“Thank you.”
“We need to handle one other matter.” Van accessed the office systems, which had far greater scope than anything available to the Joyau through the orbit station, and put in an inquiry for Commander James Baile, RSF. The response was near-instantaneous. There were only two references.
Van read the first, then the second, frowning.
“What is it?” asked Pettridge.
Van had the office systems print both even as he reread the second article once more.
James P. Baile, Commander, RSF. 14 Quatre 1131 N.E. James P. Baile died suddenly of natural causes while on home leave between RSF assignments... survived by Merilee Watkins, former wife, and three children...
Both articles had the same date, and that date was one month before the Fergus had been transferred to Scandya.
Van studied the accompanying holo of the late commander. So far as he could recall, the man was the same, except Baile looked older in the holo image than he had in relieving Van.
Abruptly, Van understood the meaning of his nightmare.
He rose quickly, then stopped. He couldn’t catch the up-shuttle to orbit control any sooner.
“What’s the matter?” asked Pettridge.
“It’s something involving another project,” Van replied. “I never thought it would come up here, but it’s something I’ll have to deal with much sooner than I’d ever thought.” He tried to offer a smile that didn’t appear forced. “You’ve done a praiseworthy job here under very difficult conditions, and I will make sure the managing director knows this. Thank you very much.”
