The ethos effect, p.46
The Ethos Effect, page 46
Joyau, you’re cleared to delock and depart.
Stet. Delocking. Will maintain low-power departure.
Thanks, Commander. Like to keep those towers for a few more years.
Van laughed. Like to see them when we get back.
He used the barest touch of the steering jets to ease the Joyau away from the tower and the asteroid to which it was attached. The monitors still indicated a heightened level of Coalition warships in the Perdyan system, and a lesser amount of commercial travel.
Once the ship was headed out-system and well clear of the Belt and any other traffic, Van turned in the command seat “Can I ask you ... what Trystin said ... when he put you off?” Van’s words were tentative.
“He didn’t say much,” Alya replied. “He said that what he was doing was dangerous, because the technology hadn’t been tried. He said that he’d already felt too guilty for all the others who’d suffered for him...”
“I found out about his sister,” Van offered.
“His mother was killed in the anti-Rev riots of the Coalition-Revenant War. She looked Revenant and she died protecting a niece. That bothered him.”
When he heard Alya’s words, although he knew how long ago that had been, the time frame was still a shock to Van. “He told you that?”
Alya shook her head. “Eri did. He never spoke about it to me.”
“What about his wife?”
“No one knows. Or no one will say.”
Van pondered as he checked the screens and systems again. “Did he give any hint that he was going to... deliver the device... personally.”
“No. He even talked about taking some time off later.”
Had Trystin just run out of time, and made a decision on the spot? Trystin had also made contingency plans of all sorts, so that his arrangement for Van to succeed him didn’t necessarily mean that he had planned a suicide attack.
Van wondered if he’d ever know.
Chapter 79
Van glanced around the cockpit, knowing something was wrong, terribly wrong.
Countdown beginning at sixty... fifty-nine, fifty-eight... The numbers marched down slowly, and Van struggled to think... Something ... there was something wrong about those numbers, something he should know. He tried to recall... to remember what he should do...
... thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two...
The transmission from the Elsin broke off, and the Elsin had vanished.
Van sat up abruptly in the wide stateroom bunk, his ship-suit soaked through. He’d just tried to get a short nap on the inbound leg to Dharel, but the same nightmare had caught him. It wasn’t every time he slept—when he could sleep, and at times, he couldn’t—but it was still all too often.
He peeled off the damp shipsuit and took out another, as well as clean underwear, and headed to take a shower, not that he would feel that much cleaner. Less than ten minutes later, he was back in the cockpit.
Alya looked at him. “You’re not sleeping that well.”
“No,” Van admitted. “I’m worrying a lot.”
“So did ... so did Commander Desoll. He only slept in snatches.”
“Did he ever say why?”
“Not directly. He talked about how people kept repeating the same patterns. He said that the Revenants were locked in an unethical pattern, but they perceived it as ethical, and that nothing short of a catastrophe or divine action would change them. Then he laughed, and said that made it difficult, because in his long life, he’d never seen any direct divine actions.”
Van nodded. He could see Trystin saying that. “I haven’t either.” Then, Van recalled, Trystin had once been a prophet, and prophets acted for deities. But for what deity?
A silence settled over the cockpit, and Van went back to scanning screens, systems, and monitors—and found nothing out of the ordinary.
Another hour passed, and the Joyau neared the Farhkan outer orbit station.
Farhka Station Two, this is Coalition ship Joyau, code name Double Negative, pilot Albert, patron Rhule Ghere, inbound for consultation and information.
The minutes passed, and then more minutes passed. Would the Farhkans even acknowledge his transmission? Van studied the monitors. There were no ships in the system except two Farhkan vessels in-system of the station, both with EDI signatures that resembled dreadnoughts. Neither had changed its course, and neither was headed anywhere close to the Joyau.
Another five minutes passed.
Ship Joyau, pilot Albert, you are cleared for approach and locking. Do you have the beacon?
Farhka Station Two, that is affirmative. We have the beacon. Proceeding as cleared.
Van tried to ensure that his approach and docking were smooth, although he couldn’t help worrying. Trystin had said that the Farhkans could be standoffish, and that their technology was vastly superior to the best of human developments. The solar flare device had proved that Human pilot Albert, you may proceed to the first conference room. You will be met.
Station Two, thank you. Proceeding this time. Van nodded to himself.
“They’ll talk to you? That’s something,” Alya offered, as Van unstrapped. “What they might say is another matter.”
“You’ll know what to do.”
“Let’s hope I do.” Van slipped from the command couch.
He took a few minutes in his stateroom to clean up again before he walked back to the lock and opened it. When he stepped into the gray-green and featureless corridor of the Farhkan station, the musky odor that he had forgotten washed over him. Not unpleasant—just different. He pulsed the lock closed and began to walk. The corridor was empty, as it had been before.
A single doorway lay open ahead. The Farhkan who waited in the room—a space devoid of furnishing and furniture—did not feel the same as the one who had operated on Van.
Van bowed. Thank you. I do not believe we have met.
We have not. You may consider me as Erelon Jhare. Your patron remains Rhule Ghere.
Van Cassius Albert. Van wasn’t quite certain where to begin.
Why are you here? Pilot Desoll applied technology beyond your human capability. The results killed many hundreds of millions.
Van thought for a time before he answered. To seek some understanding.
Jhare barked the Farhkan laugh. You seek... absolution ... for what you did not foresee and did not do. None can grant that.
Are you one of those who studies humans and ethics?
Anyone who truly studies anything must study ethics. After a moment Jhare added, I study technology, the technology that Pilot Desoll... There was a long pause before the Farhkan continued.... used in an unethical manner in the hope of achieving an ethical resolution to an insoluble difficulty.
The Revenant culture was an insoluble difficulty?
Is it not obvious? That culture is predicated on the existence of a deity. Rules of conduct are ascribed to that deity. Those rules preclude free choice. No deity can preclude free choice. The society developed under the ascription of those rules is fatally flawed.
Societies must have rules. They do not survive otherwise, Van protested.
The Farhkan laughed. You are correct. Societies must develop rules. Rules that are imposed in the name of a deity are always flawed. They are flawed because they are inflexible. The universe changes. Even the laws of the universe are not inflexible.
Van had to think about what sort of flaws the Farhkan meant. Without firm guidelines, human beings can bend anything in any fashion.
Is that not true of any creature that develops intelligence and the ability to reason?
That wasn’t exactly an answer, was it? You’re saying that there are no moral absolutes?
A solar flare explodes from a sun. A culture, a species dies. This happens in the universe. Is this unethical? How can it be? That is how the universe is. A human finds a way to create a solar flare; he uses it to destroy a world. Why is that any different from what the universe does time and time again?
It is different, Van protested.
The result is the same. Do you claim the universe is unethical?
Intelligent beings have the right... the duty... to create order and ethics.
For whom? The universe? Do you have this duty to create or impose your order upon me? Or upon all Farhkans? Do I have the duty to impose such order upon you? Upon all humans?
Van could sense a combination of irony, coldness, and yet even humor in the projections of the Farhkan.
Are you saying that there is no such concept or requirement as ethical actions? he asked.
Did I ever suggest that? You are confused if you think so. Think upon what Pilot Desoll did. Until you do, there is little more that you will learn.
Van doubted that he had learned anything—except that the Farhkans seemed strangely indifferent to Trystin’s use of the nova device.
We are not indifferent. There was a sense of both regret and amusement. Never have we been indifferent to those who struggle with ethics. Why would you think we are indifferent?
You helped... you allowed...
Is there any difference between imposing a rule or forbidding an action? When are either effective or useful?
Van knew he had an answer, but was still struggling with what it might be.
We have allowed you to question. That we never allowed Pilot Desoll. The universe changes. You must ask yourself why he acted as he did not us. There was a long pause. You may go.
The room shifted, and Van blinked.
When he finished blinking, the room was empty, the door leading to the corridor open once more. He looked around, but the room remained. He left the chamber and began to walk down the musky, clean-smelling corridor back to the Joyau ... slowly.
Why had he come? What had he hoped for?
Answers. He had wanted answers.
The Farhkan had thrown the questions back at him as if to say that Van knew or could find those answers. Or the answer to why a man Van had thought ethical had murdered five hundred million people.
He frowned, realizing that they had given him something. Jhare had as much as said that there was an answer.
But was there? Or were the Farhkans playing a far deeper game, one that menaced the entire human race? Yet why would they do that? They clearly had the resources and the technology to wipe out any human system they wanted.
Van kept walking. Questions or not, answers or not, he had too many systems to visit, beginning with Keshmara. And then Meroe.
But there were answers ... weren’t there?
Chapter 80
A tall man in shifting white robes and a turban—probably the same aide Van had seen the last time he had been in Keshmar—ushered him into the fifth-floor waiting area.
“The minister will be with you shortly.” The tall man bowed and turned, leaving Van alone.
Van made his way to the wide armaglass window offering a west-facing panorama of the planetary capital. The morning sun gave the River Khorl a deep blue appearance that highlighted the plaza beyond and the domed and templelike buildings that seemed to be everywhere in Keshmar.
“Director Albert?” offered a heavyset man in white robes, who stood by the doorway to the inner chamber. “The minister will see you.”
Van entered the minister’s receiving office, with its circle of stools set around a low table.
Minister Sahid, a good head shorter than Van, stood before the chairs and table. “Director Albert ... a pleasure to see you again.”
“It is equally one to see you, too, Minister Sahid” Van bowed.
“Please be seated.” The minister gestured to the stools.
Van waited until the older man seated himself. Almost as soon as he had, a young man carried a tray with two small cups upon it into the room, presenting the tray first to Van. Van could smell the strong black café even before he picked up the cup.
“I was most sorry to hear of the death of Director Desoll. You are kind—and diligent—to come to see us.”
“You have always been supportive of IIS, and we share the same objectives in seeking to maintain the independence of smaller systems.”
“Your efforts have been most valued in the past.” The minister offered a crooked smile. “There are some who would say that times have changed and that we have no need of them now.”
“There are those, I am sure,” Van replied. “There are always those who advocate throwing away that which has served well following any apparent success.”
The minister laughed. “You sound just like him. Not in your words, but in the sentiment of those words. I share that sentiment. Yet...”
Van nodded gravely. “There is a time where one must bend. You believe that perhaps a token reduction in the annual retainer...”
“My opponents, and I do have such, Director, they would wish more than that.”
“I am most certain that they would. Yet there are many who need our services ... and once we are committed...”
“I have said as much, and they asked if I would request more than a token reduction.” The minister offered a helpless shrug. “You can see that such places me in a difficult position.”
“Most difficult. That I can understand.” Van smiled, although he hated the kind of bargaining that he was being required to do. “There are many systems regaining their independence, and they will also need services such as IIS provides. We must supply those who are willing to pay for our services, much as we would prefer to continue to work with those whom me know and trust.”
“Ha! You would make a strong man weep, and I am not a strong man. The Council of the Sidarte, they would need some changes, some hope that we would not need to spend so much...”
“IIS can be flexible over time,” Van replied, with a shrug.
“A lower retainer, but a higher charge for emergency services. It would need to be a much higher charge.”
The Minister sighed, dramatically. “The council... fifteen percent less, they might accept for the retainer...”
Van considered, recalling the options he had calculated earlier. “Fifteen percent... that would require a fifty-five percent increase in emergency service charges, based on the past probabilities of services. That will be difficult, because there is a higher probability that you will need those services more than once in a year.”
“A higher probability?” Sahid was clearly puzzled. “When the Revenant forces can no longer raid our systems?”
“When renegades are more free to operate? When you have the Republic of Tara taking over the Keltyr systems? When both the Argenti and Coalition forces are occupied in pacifying and controlling the new protectorate? With your experience, I am most certain you have thought of these possibilities, but have the members of the council?”
“They may not fully understand what you have explained. Under these circumstances, it might be possible that they would consider a decrease of as little as ten percent in the retainer, if there were no significant increases in the emergency charges...”
“I would have to calculate, but perhaps we could work an offset...” Van smiled politely, once more. He had hoped for a relatively quick renegotiation; but like everything, it seemed, that process was going to be neither quick nor easy.
Chapter 81
As soon as the Joyau was docked at Meroe orbit control, Van put through a link to the Taran embassy. He was fortunate, because Emily was there. Her image filled the holo screen in the stateroom. Van took in the short and severely cut blond hair, the straight features, and the gray eyes. The severity vanished from her face with her words. “Van ... where are you?”
“At the moment, I’m locked to orbit station one. We’ve just arrived.”
“Are you coming planetside?”
“I’d planned on that. Is there a possibility we could have lunch or dinner, or something? What time is it there?”
“It’s midafternoon.” Van frowned. “Is that bad?”
“No ... but I need to meet with my sister...”
“That’s Sappho?”
“Yes, and thank you for helping her.”
“I was glad to.” Emily paused. “I was sorry to hear about your fathers. I really was.”
“Thank you.” After a moment, he asked, “Do you know any more? She only told me that they had... been executed.”
Emily’s face clouded.
“You think it’s something you’d rather discuss in person?”
“That might be better. I’ll meet you. That would also be best.”
Van understood. “A late dinner? Twenty hundred local? You name the place.”
“D’Oro Real—it’s not that far from the embassy, on the Plaza Dulein. I’ll make reservations.”
“Thank you. D’Oro Real on the Plaza Dulein at twenty hundred...”
Van held her smile in his mind for a moment after the link faded.
Although he had Sappho’s codes and physical address in Kurti, he wasn’t about to call her until he talked with Emily. There was too much he didn’t know. So his next link was to the local IIS office.
He got the simmie receptionist. “If you would please...”
“This is Managing Director Albert. I’d like to speak with Miryam Adullah as soon as possible...”
The simmie vanished, to be replaced with Miryam’s oblong dark face. “Van. Where are you?”
“Orbit station. We just docked a few minutes ago.”
“We heard about Trystin...”
“That’s one reason why I’m here.”
“How long will you be here?”
“How long do you need me here?”
Miryam smiled, but there was a sadness in the expression. “He picked well. We do need to talk.”
“Tomorrow morning?”
“You have something?”
“There’s another problem. I’m meeting with someone from the Republic embassy tonight. And I’m trying to track down my sister.”
“Your sister? The one—”
“Yes. She and her partner left Sulyn, but I haven’t talked to her since our fathers died...”
“I understand.” Miryam nodded. “We do need to talk. Nine o’clock tomorrow morning?”
