The ethos effect, p.52
The Ethos Effect, page 52
Laren peered in the open door. “Do you have any questions, ser?”
“A few.” Van collapsed the holo screen onto which he had projected the information he’d been studying. “How much more will the revenues drop off?” He motioned her into the office.
Laren eased in and took a chair across from him. “We only get about two percent from Revenant worlds. I’d judge that we might get increases from some of the former border systems, especially those near the Argenti protectorate.”
“What aren’t you telling me? The Republic and Keltyr numbers?”
“The offices on Republic worlds only amount to ten percent of revenues, but we could lose all of those. Also, if the Republic starts to expand...”
“That won’t happen immediately,” Van said. “The RSF has most of its ships tied up in the Keltyr worlds. For now.”
“The Keltyr worlds... Let’s see.” Laren frowned, concentrating. “We only have five offices there, but in the independent systems surrounding them, we have eight.”
“You’re telling me that the Republic’s policies—over time—could cost us between, say, five and fifteen percent of total revenues?”
“We can’t project that... there are too many variables,”
Laren pointed out. “But, yes, we will lose revenue. We’ll also lose access, and information.” She smiled politely. “Is there anything else?”
“Not for right now.” Van had thought he understood. For the moment, he didn’t need hard numbers, just an understanding of the overall picture. But before he made any hard decisions on operations, he would need those numbers.
Chapter 93
On fiveday, Van was in his office early again, as he seemed to be every day since he had arrived in Cambria. He’d called up a holo projection of the Arm, one that presented the areas of political control in color, and was studying it.
Incoming out-system for Director Albert. Sender, IIS office, Meroe.
Accept. Van wondered what Miryam Adullah had for him.
The face that appeared on the holo projection was not Miryam’s, but that of Emily Clifton, her blonde hair pulled back severely.
Van waited.
“I couldn’t let all this come without a personal message,” Emily’s image declared. “I used my personal leave as terminal leave so that I wouldn’t have to go back to the embassy. The ambassador understands. Miryam Adullah said it would be acceptable for me to give the Meroe office of IIS as a return, since I don’t have a commcode of my own yet.”
A somber look followed.
“I’ve enjoyed being with you, more than you could know... this is hard... Please don’t shoot the messenger, Van. I care, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
Without another word from Emily, the holo began to display what were clearly media images, stock scenes of locales, interspersed with talking heads.
With great regret Prime Minister Eamon announced that the unrest in Bannon has been resolved. In a written statement, he deplored the self-indulgence and treasonous behavior of those in Bannon and throughout Sulyn who had no understanding of the dangers that had faced and continued to confront the Republic...
... the use of heavy weapons by Republic Marines in house-to-house fighting turned more than ninety percent of the city of Bannon and the outlying residential areas into little more than rubble ... The Ministry of Internal Security expressed regret that the rebels had not seen fit to accept the rule of law that governs all civilized societies... but had tried to take that law into their own hands ... preliminary estimates indicate that more than ninety percent of all structures and dwellings have been destroyed...
Van swallowed. Sulyn had the highest percentage of black Tarans in the Republic, and Bannon had held most of the more distinguished figures—such as his fathers.
Emily’s face reappeared, and her voice trembled slightly as she spoke. “I managed to get some of the casualty figures ... it appears as though over three thousand RSF Marines have been killed, and more than three million civilians. That could be low ... there are twenty million people in the areas attacked, and independent media reports are claiming death rates of eighty to ninety percent...”
Emily’s image vanished and was replaced by a talking head, and then by a scene of smoking rubble, klick upon klick of it. Van recognized the badlands at the northern edge of the screen as those beyond where his fathers’ house had stood—as had Arturo’s. Had stood, because it was clear nothing had been left standing.
A report from the Argenti news service Verdad claims that the Taran Republic executed scores of media personnel during the crackdown on unrest on the planet of Sulyn. The executions centered on those reporting the high levels of casualties, now estimated to exceed five million... Among those executed was noted mediacaster Ashley Marson —
Ashley, too? Was that because Ashley had been unbiased? Or because he had been tied to the Albert family?
... Verdad states that unidentified sources have confirmed that the Ministry of Internal Security had held secret military trials for a number of media types, including Marson. Marson was allegedly convicted of treason on the grounds that he had incited civil unrest and rebellion in Bannon. The Ministry of Internal Security had declined to open the military trials to the media, citing Republic security, and has kept the verdicts sealed, despite widespread reports of executions of scores of mediacasters, advocates, and academics who had opposed the government’s actions to restore what it termed civil order...
... Verite reported yesterday in Marsay that virtually all Taran professionals of color or ‘external ethnicity’ had either fled the Republic of Tara, been placed in work camps, or executed under the pretext of treasonous activities. This report was immediately denounced as untrue and as inflammatory propaganda perpetuated by the enemies of the Republic by the Taran ambassador to the Frankan Comity...
Taran Prime Minister Eamon announced that elections will take place tomorrow...
Van calculated that with the time delays those elections had doubtless already taken place.
“... and that the new parliament will be sworn in and be ready to take up the government’s agenda for social and economic reform, as well as the prime minister’s proposal for strengthening the Republic Space Force. High on the government agenda is a proposal to strengthen the Economic Security Act...
“... Minister of State Shirlen dismissed as sheer fabrication reports that two ambassadors had defected and that more than thirty diplomatic personnel had sought asylum in other systems...”
When he had finished the message, Van collapsed the holo projection. He sat there, thinking.
Then he began a series of searches. Had there been any comment from the Argenti government? The Coalition? The Hyndjis?
The best he could find was a statement from the Coalition Assembly’s minority leader.
“We are deeply concerned that, in an effort to deal with internal instability, the interim government of the Republic may have resorted to the use of more force than necessary. We would hope that such will not continue...”
That was it.
More than five million casualties ... almost all of them black Tarans. Mediacasters who tried to reveal what was happening. The Keltyr fleet massacred to the last officer and tech. Was it just the Republic government?
Almost no one was saying anything. Why? Because the Coalition and the Argenti were unwilling to get involved in another war so quickly? Because it didn’t affect them and wouldn’t for years?
And how had it happened so quickly? Except had it? Hadn’t the signs been there all along? Ashley had certainly called them to Van’s attention. And now... Ashley was dead, and probably Arturo as well.
Van shook his head.
Was it just the RSF takeover? How could it be? The government hadn’t put lasers to the heads of groundcar drivers and told them to avoid blacks. It hadn’t demanded that street gangs terrorize foreigners on the streets of New Oisin. And there weren’t protests from anywhere outside Sulyn or the minority community—except for a handful of mediacasters and outsiders.
What could IIS do?
Another series of assassinations? That wouldn’t work— not when it was clear that the officers underneath the marshals believed the same way. Not when most civic-minded citizens agreed with the prime minister. Besides, Trystin had tried that—and regretted it for centuries.
Van looked out the window for a long time.
Then, he pulsed Joe Sasaki. Do you have a moment?
I’ll be right there, ser.
Sasaki walked into the office and stopped. He looked at Van.
Van looked back. “I’m going out to Aerolis this afternoon. I want to talk to Mason Jynko about the possibilities for another ship.”
“Laren said that the financials are better than we had thought, but starting construction now...”
Van forced a grin. “I didn’t say I was going to authorize starting another ship, Joe. I understand the numbers. But I need to see if I can get some more flexibility from Aerolis. I also want to see if some modifications can be made to the Joyau, things I’ve thought about over the past year and kept putting off.”
“You don’t have to go out there...”
“It’s better in person.” Van laughed. “That’s what I do best You and Laren are the analysts. I can’t do that much here.”
“You provide the fire and the leadership.”
“I provide it best I suspect, in small quantities of personal presence here, and by example traveling in obscure systems.”
“You aren’t doing yourself justice...”
“I’m doing you all justice. Trystin didn’t spend much time here, and that was for years on end, and matters continued just fine.” Van smiled again. “You can always reach me at Aerolis, and I can be back in a matter of hours.”
“Ah ... yes, ser.”
“If there’s anything that absolutely needs my presence or approval, you’ve got until fifteen hundred.”
“Yes, ser.”
Van felt simultaneously worried and relieved as Joe left the office.
Chapter 94
On sevenday, Van stood in a maintenance shipsuit in the conditioned and full-gee warehouse room within the asteroid headquarters of Aerolis. Somewhere above him was the locking tower that held the Joyau. Before him were ten sealed containers, set in racks in a row.
“You sure you don’t want any technical help with that equipment there?” Mason Jynko asked.
“If I do,” Van said with a smile, “I think I can find you.”
Jynko laughed. “Sound just like Trystin, you do.” He cleared his throat. “About the design of the new ship. That’s going to cost a good twenty percent more than the Joyau did. Could be more, if we’re not going to start for another nine months. Have to check out the specs for certain.”
“Let me know. You know where I’ll be.” With a nod, Jynko turned and left.
Van walked over to the line of containers. There were no external labels on the gray sides, except a single numeral on each. The numbers ran from one to ten, predictably. Van studied the first container, then noted the almost flat pouch below the numeral “1.”
He eased back the opening strip to find a sheet of permabond—addressed to him. Although he nodded to himself, he could still feel the shock of finding the message.
After a moment he smoothed out the sheet and began to read.
Van—
If you are reading this, one way or another, I’m not around The boxes contain a complete duplicate of the various components of the sun-flare device that I attempted to employ against Jerush. Obviously, if I’m not here, something went wrong, and you’ll need to be exceedingly careful.
Please make certain that, if you are thinking about using this device, there are no other alternatives.
Just think about whether there are any alternatives. The perfunctory nature of the caution told Van a great deal, including the fact that Trystin himself had come to feel that at times there were no viable alternatives. At the thought of “viable alternatives,” Van smiled ironically.
Under the pouch in which you found this is a concealed cardreader. It is designed to accept your IIS card and no other, and will read the card against your biometrics. If any other card is used, and if the biometrics do not match, the contents of the first case will melt down. Without them, the other cases are effectively junk.
“More suspicious than he ever let on,” Van murmured to himself.
Still, Van found it interesting that Trystin was only willing to turn the duplicate device over to Van, and to no one else. Why?
Because he felt only Van understood? Or because Van was the only one who might actually consider using it? Either way, it was a chilling thought.
Van looked at the container, knowing the hell it contained. Yet... what was he supposed to do? Spend the rest of his life on useless palliatives while the Republic replicated the mistakes of the Revenants, sowed the seeds of greater oppression while everyone else stood by, because they had bigger issues or domestic concerns?
The strongest words expressed against the Republic had been “deeply concerned” with a vain hope that the atrocities would not continue.
Van took out his IIS datacard.
Chapter 95
By sixday of the following week, Van had a far greater appreciation of Trystin’s abilities. Without the detailed instructions that had come with the flux generator, it would have taken Van weeks, if not months, to assemble the equipment and set it up within the Joyau’s escape pod.
Even with what amounted to a step-by-step manual, and with equipment that had been designed and created in a modular structure, Van had worked sixteen-hour days for over a week. On more than one occasion, he’d had to call in Jynko for technical help. He had managed to explain the equipment as an out-system emergency power generation system, although he wasn’t sure that Jynko believed him. Jynko had looked dubious, but at least had not called Van on the description, which was, in a fashion, correct.
By late afternoon, Van had finally returned the escape pod to its normal position at one end of the Joyau’s main cargo lock, where he was resetting the emergency quick-release restraints.
Message from incoming vessel—that was the relay from the shipnet Accept. Van had a good idea who that might be. Van... you’ve got no image. That’s because I’m not near a scanner, Nynca. Where are you?
In the cargo bay, checking things out. Dock at the other tower and come on over.
I’ll be there in thirty minutes.
Van finished resetting the last of the quick releases, and then, given his sweaty condition, returned to his stateroom, where he quickly showered. He’d pulled on a clean shipsuit and ship-boots, and had even gotten into the galley. The café and kettle were beginning to steam when Nynca appeared at the tower lock. Van slipped from the galley to the lock and opened it.
She looked at his still-damp hair and laughed. “You and Gramps.”
“What about us?”
“He didn’t like to meet people unless he was clean and groomed and dressed.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” Van pulsed the lock shut behind Nynca.
“No. It’s a pleasant formality, but one that’s not always followed these days.”
“When formality vanishes, so do ethics,” Van quipped. “That’s a quote from Exton.”
“He might have something.”
“Do you want tea or café?” he asked. “The kettle’s on, and the café’s made.”
“Café.”
Van led the way to the galley, where he poured two mugs, then walked to the stateroom. He took the console chair and let Nynca have the more comfortable reading chair. Van’s eyes strayed to the shelf on the far bulkhead, where the restrainers held the decorative box from the prime minister of Scandya. He wanted to shake his head. That had been so long ago, and he’d been so innocent.
Nynca looked at him. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about how much has happened in the last few years.”
“It has.” She paused. “Joe said I’d better meet you here. He didn’t say why. He did say that you came out here without Alya.”
“He doesn’t know why,” Van said. “He just knows that I’m here, and that I didn’t give him a good enough reason. I didn’t bring Alya because I’d given her two weeks off, and for what I’m doing, I didn’t need her, and she didn’t need just to sit around. I’ll need her more later.”
“That’s good to know,” Nynca said dryly. “That you’ll need her later. Why are you here?”
“Checking out equipment, and going over the Joyau with Morgan.” All that was true.
“You’re sounding more and more like Gramps.” Nynca laughed. “Everything you say is the truth, and I don’t know any more when you finish than when you started.”
“That’s possible. I think we had a few things in common. Tell me more about him,” Van suggested.
“About what.”
“Start with more about why he felt the way he did.”
“I don’t know. Not really. I’m not sure that anyone could know, except maybe Ulteena. From what I’ve heard, she didn’t say anything either.” Nynca sipped the café. “This is good.”
“Thank you. Who was Ulteena?” That was a name Van hadn’t heard.
“She was his wife. She was also a senior commander in the Service. They were married late, and only had one child.” Nynca smiled. “I come from a long line of single children, and, like all the others, I have one.”
“A daughter?”
“A son actually. He’s at Cambria University.”
“And he’ll be a Service pilot, too?”
“He says not.”
“Was Trystin around when you were growing up?”
“He was there, but usually not when my father was. He made my father nervous.”
“Your mother’s the Desoll, then?”
“Yes. He—my father—didn’t like the idea of the name going down, but there were a lot of things he didn’t like.” Nynca straightened in her chair. “Something’s nagging at you.” She didn’t ask what. She just looked at Van.
