The ethos effect, p.51
The Ethos Effect, page 51
“That is most kind of you.” The general’s voice conveyed gentle irony. “So few do these days. It will be generations before the Revenant problems are resolved, if they ever can be, and doubtless my successor will insist that I could have done everything better.” He snorted. “Of course, today, no one has any suggestions. But, after I fail, there will be many who insist they did.”
“I don’t see you as failing,” Van said.
“It does not look that way. For that, I am grateful, but... one must take care not to delude oneself. We have millions of people who believe and cannot think if anyone raises a single word that conflicts with that faith. We have millions to whom the word of an ancient deity must be followed to the last syllable, even if it means killing or enslaving those who are exactly like them, except for their faith. And those who have been enslaved know—from then bitter experience—that one cannot reason with millions of fanatics. One can only kill them” Marti shrugged. “What am I to do? What is any general to do? I cannot command the resources to isolate and educate every child of each side for generations—and that is what is necessary.”
Van nodded slowly. He wasn’t certain he agreed fully, but Marti had a definite problem.
“It is barbaric. It is cruel. But who is to say that if the flare that destroyed Orum had occurred five hundred years earlier that the Arm would not be a more peaceful and worthwhile place?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“My friend, that I do. How many millions have died? How many millions have had their lands, their businesses, and their children taken from them? We are human. We do not ever wish to admit that some people and some beliefs will always lead to evil and cruelty. We believe, or we convince ourselves, that in some way, if we could only reach such fanatics, that we could change matters. But one cannot reach an entire culture of fanatics. When such a culture has grown as vast as the Revenants did, the result is always death and disaster, if not by a solar flare and then by our fleets, then eventually by disintegration and collapse and greater violence, dragging down an even wider net of peoples. Let us just say that the Revenants had learned to create such flares. Then what could others expect? If we, the Argenti, obtained such power, would you trust us?”
“Probably not,” Van replied.
“Good, because I would not. Nor would I trust the Coalition. And, pardon me, my friend, but I would certainly not trust the Republic in these days and times.”
With that, Van certainly agreed, as he slowly finished the remainder of his duck. He hadn’t fully trusted the Republic as it had been. He took another sip of the ale.
“But... my friend,” Marti said with a smile. “I have been far too serious, and in this uncertain Galaxy, who knows when we will next share a meal. Did I tell you that next month ray wife and I will get a week together? And that I do not intend to talk of ships and sealing wax, or faith or fleets...?”
“You deserve that time together.” Van thought that Marti deserved more than that and hoped that the general would get it He tried not to think about Marti’s words about how some cultures were doomed to create evil, tried to avoid equating them to the RSF and the Republic.
Chapter 89
Van closed the stateroom door, although he remained fully linked to the shipnet. The Joyau had come out of jump from Neuquen well outside all system bodies, and well clear of all system traffic. The marginal standing wave equipment had taken in three short messages from IIS headquarters. Two had been quick updates on Nynca’s efforts.
In turn, Van had sent his own updates. He’d scanned Laren’s other message, but he wanted to read it again, even though he was so tired that his eyes were beginning to blur.
He called it up and began to read. Certain phrases and paragraphs leapt out at him.
... reports confirm that the Keltyr warships that survived the initial Revenant-Republic assault were later destroyed to the last man and vessel. RSF sources claim the Keltyr ships refused to surrender... some doubt of that... likely that surrender was not allowed... RSF has not disclosed its own losses to date.
... martial law remains in force on all Keltyr planets. All outspace installations now held and controlled by the RSF...
... Keltyr political leaders and families allowed to depart Keltyr systems... reports indicate that departure was not voluntary in all cases, but no political deaths have been reported.
Van understood that. Without political deaths, there were no martyrs, and seldom did the deaths of military forces generate much political unrest. He didn’t like the rest of the implications, not at all. But he couldn’t dictate to the Republic.
From what he’d seen recently, no one was successfully dictating much to anyone.
He stood and walked to the bed. He could use some sleep. After a moment, he lay back on the wide bunk. He closed his eyes, still thinking, although he remained linked to the shipnet. The Joyau still had a good four hours on the inbound leg before he would need to be in the cockpit.
Marti’s words kept coming back to Van... “If we do nothing, nothing changes ... None of the Keltyr ships survived ... one cannot reason with millions of fanatics ... one can only kill them ... some beliefs and some people will always lead to evil and cruelty ... always lead to evil... always lead to evil...”
Always? Were people that stupid and shortsighted?
Van tried not to yawn. It had been such a long day, and he probably should not have left Neuquen so soon ... but there was still so much to do. So ... much to... do...
Darkness swirled around him, and Van stood in the rain before the Parliament House in New Oisin, thunder buffeting him. He watched once more as a tree grew from the center of the building. The oak slanted as it grew, both more angled, and more gnarled.
As quickly as it had grown, the giant tree—towering over the plaza and the city—began to topple. The trunk and roots pulled out of the soil beneath the city with such force that the stones of the Parliament building flew in all directions. Before the topmost branches of the tree struck the scattered building stones, the twisted limbs and shattered trunk had burst into flames, and ashes showered down around Van.
Van rolled over breathing heavily. He should have expected the nightmare. He was tired.
He checked the time. Less than fifty minutes had passed. He got and stretched, walking around the stateroom and cooling off.
He needed the sleep. He knew that, but he was reluctant to lie down again.
In time, he did, and his sleep was dreamless—until he found himself back in the cockpit, in the command couch, wondering how he had gotten there.
Had he been so tired that he had been sleepwalking?
He squinted, trying to focus his thoughts on the shipnet and the monitors. He felt himself frown. Something was off, not quite right.
... thirty-six, thirty-five, thirty-four, thirty-three, thirty-two...
The numbers, in Trystin’s voice and from the Elsin, stopped. The Elsin had vanished. Energy flared through the cockpit, searing Van.
He sat up slowly in the bunk and checked the time. He’d gotten another two hours’ sleep before the second nightmare.
A shower might help. It might.
Chapter 90
Van had debated going back to Korvel in order to see Sherren Myller, but there was no real reason to do that. She doubtless had the situation in hand, and there were other systems where IIS needed to reestablish its presence. That was why Van had brought the Joyau to Denaria and why Alya was still on board monitoring any possible communications.
Denaria had been one of the systems that Van had meant to check out before the Revenant attack on the Keltyr systems, but he’d never gotten there. Since it had never been under Revenant control, although close to the ill-defined border of the de facto protectorate, it had remained an open system.
Van had not had any trouble in getting cleared into orbit control or arranging shuttle transport, and he was walking out of the shuttle terminal at nine-fifteen on a threeday morning—local. Under a clear blue-green fall sky and carrying just a datacase, he moved toward the line of groundcars for hire, to get a ride to the IIS office in Aureum Plaza, when he was brought up short by the piercing ululation of a siren. Van looked to his left to see an open lorry—filled with men and women—moving down the boulevard. Military vehicles with riot cannons preceded and followed the lorry.
As he watched, he listened to those lined up in front of him for groundcars.
“... last of the Revvie bastards, I heard...”
“... just people, Imri...”
“... can’t trust ‘em... would have taken everything...”
“... they have children, like we do...”
The couple entered a groundcar, and Van took the next one.
“Where to, ser?”
“Aureum Plaza, Moon Tower.”
“Moon Tower... You must be out-system.” The ground-car eased away from the terminal. “Why do you say that?” asked Van. “That area’s high-trade.”
“How has business been?”
“Much better the past week. Off until the government rounded up the last of the Revvies.”
Van just nodded and sat back, wondering how many Denarians held the same attitudes.
In less than ten minutes, the groundcar pulled into an underground and enclosed reception portico.
“Fifteen, ser.”
Van pulsed the credits and stepped out. He walked through the entry, pulsed an ID to the system. After a moment, a lift door opened, and he stepped inside and rode up to the seventh level.
A dark-haired man with ivory skin stood waiting.
Van recognized him from the holo images when he had set up the appointment. “Director Vincenzio. It’s good to finally see you.”
“And you, Director Albert...” Vincenzio turned to his left, leading Van down a wide corridor floored in highly polished green marble. Vincenzio had a corner office twice the size of Van’s office in Cambria with a view of the city to the south.
“Quite impressive,” Van acknowledged, adding, “I’d hoped to be here earlier, but when I got off the shuttle and was going to get a groundcar, there was a slight delay. A lorry full of prisoners—”
“Those were probably the last of the alien Revenants—the ones who never applied for Denarian citizenship. The government is sending them to an internment camp in the Mysera Islands until they can be repatriated somewhere.”
“Had they caused a particular problem here?”
Vincenzio smiled indulgently. “What didn’t they do? Without IIS and the Ghendi Foundation, Denaria would have been an occupied world under the protectorate.”
“It’s a good thing that didn’t happen.” Van smiled politely. The reports he’d received and reread before coming planetside indicated that there had been recent Revenant investments, but nothing to compare to the sort of problems systems like Islyn had faced.
“Good for us and good for IIS. I have to tell you that next year looks especially good. We put in a bid on Wyal, and the government accepted it.”
“I can’t say I’m familiar with that multi,” Van temporized.
“You wouldn’t be. I should have explained. The Revvies pumped credits into a group of local sympathizers starting about ten years back—not that we knew any of this back then—and they began to acquire smaller formulators in the high-end building supply business, folding them into Wyal. By last year, Wyal controlled thirty percent of the building supply trade...”
“They were Denarian citizens or Revenant citizens?”
“They claimed Denarian citizenship, but the government invalidated it when it discovered the plot to monopolize the industry and run out true Denarian businesses.”
Van forced himself to nod.
“Anyway, IIS Denaria now owns Wyal.”
“I see. Have you done anything about changing the management?”
“Well... we’ll need new top managers. Most of them were interned.”
“I’d suggest, then, that you don’t make any significant changes among the employees...”
Vincenzio looked puzzled. “But they’re Revvie sympathizers. They have to be.”
Van looked squarely at the younger man. “They had thirty percent of the business. The government took care of the ones they thought dangerous. If you get rid of any more, you’ll lose both too much talent and the institutional memory those employees hold. They’re scared. You keep them and treat them well, and they’ll line your pockets. You don’t, and what you bought won’t be worth a third of what it was in less than a year.” Van smiled politely. “I know that with everything that’s gone on, that might take some considerable political skill on your part, but it’s clear that’s an area where you excel...” As he talked, Van just hoped he could steer Vincenzio away from more useless vengeance.
Chapter 91
Three days later, Van, Alya and the Joyau had left Denaria and headed out-system. Just before jump, Van had retuned the drives to Argenti standard and changed the ID and authorization packages.
“Ser?” Alya had asked.
“We’re headed for trouble—Setioni—one of the fringe Keltyr systems. I need to see what’s happening there.”
“You know best, ser.” Alya’s tone conveyed great doubts about the wisdom of Van’s decision.
Entering a Keltyr system wasn’t necessarily wise, especially if the RSF had ships deployed, but, the way Van felt, it was necessary. Are you sure it’s necessary, a part of his mind asked. Van pushed the question away and jumped the Joyau.
After the black-turning-white and white-turning-black endless moment of eternity, the Joyau dropped back into normspace and headed in-system. Van scanned the monitors, the EDIs, and the farscreens. After almost fifteen minutes, he had picked up a small Republic flotilla—two battle cruisers, four frigates, and six corvettes. The two nearest corvettes had changed to a course line and inclination that would intercept the Joyau in less than a standard hour.
Van checked the other vessels, but none followed the corvettes.
“I don’t think we’re going to make Setioni orbit control, ser,” observed Alya.
“Probably not, but I’d like to see what they have to say.”
“Are you certain that they won’t use their torps to begin the conversation?”
“I don’t think they’ll fire on an Argenti vessel without giving a warning, and our shields are strong enough to handle two corvettes.”
“I need some tea, ser. You?”
“Café, if you will.”
Van continued to wait and watch, sipping first one mug of café, then a second.
In time, he walked to the galley for a moment, washing and racking the cup, before returning to the cockpit, where he strapped in.
So did Alya. “How long?”
“Any moment.”
Unidentified vessel, Setioni is a closed system at present. Interrogative registration and purpose.
Van cut the internal ship gravs to free more power and stood by to throw full power to the shields. Then he responded. This is Argenti ship Palabra, inbound for commercial purposes. Interrogative ship.
RSFS Pylmer, stabilization patrol. Palabra, request registration this time.
Van didn’t intend to argue. Not yet. Pylmer, registration information dispatched.
Wait one, Palabra.
Van continued toward the corvettes, ready to use his heavier shields and his torps, as necessary, although he hoped neither would be.
Palabra, your registration is cleared. You may depart system this time.
Pylmer, interrogative departure. Palabra bound for Setioni.
Palabra, Setioni system is closed to non-RSF vessels at this time. Request your immediate departure, or we will be forced to fire.
Stet. Commencing turn and departure.
The corvettes followed only another few minutes before turning in-system.
“Where to, now, ser?” asked Alya.
“Back to Perdya.” Van doubted he’d like what the IIS staff had discovered there, either.
Chapter 92
Once the Joyau was locked to Perdya orbit station two, Van had given Alya two weeks well-deserved leave, sealed the ship, and headed to Cambria. The first night there, he’d tried to get a good night’s sleep, but even planetside in the penthouse quarters above the IIS offices, he had had more of the nightmares.
In the end, he was one of the first in the offices the next morning, and that was after he’d run five klicks and done a half hour of exercise, then cooled down. His first task was to review the IIS financial figures—the ones he almost feared to see, given the events of the past year.
Fortunately for him, Laren wrote well, and while the numbers were not wonderful, neither did they reflect a complete disaster. Laren did offer the caution that the negative results caused by the collapse of the Revenant government would drag on for at least several years. The reason why IIS was only marginally affected was simple enough. IIS only had had a handful of offices in the Revenant systems. The negative effect of the Taran Republic’s Economic Security Act promised to be far worse on future IIS revenues and operations, unless its effect could be mitigated.
There was also an update on the military situation on the Revenant planets. The Coalition was continuing to embargo and isolate systems that did not make reforms, leaving the locals to work out the details. There was one notable exception—the Leiphi system. There, some on-planet military types had modified a magshuttle, loaded it with something, and accelerated it into a Coalition frigate in orbit. The frigate commander had clearly been lax, but he had paid for that with his life—and that of the crew. The system commander sent a message back—with torps launched down at the planet. Large holes dotted numerous hilltops where once Revenant temples had stood.
The Argenti forces had opted for a case-by-case approach, leaving more options to the local system commanders. They’d also suffered more casualties, without much better results.
The problem was, Van reflected, that the Revenants had taken over so many planets, and with the high birth rate of their faith, they had always had fanatics and bodies to spare.
