Thompson’s good humor never faltered. “Then I’m sure we’ll manage to find something that will convince you before you leave.”
They went through to the main dining room for the evening meal. Justine had arranged the seating as best she could given the state of play so far. Not that she expected much maneuvering during the meal, but the options were open. This time she wound up next to Campbell, though she frowned when she saw Isabel seating herself beside Ramon, who appeared more than happy with the arrangement. Isabel had taken Gerhard’s seat, leaving the DRNG Senator to sit next to Patricia, who Justine had wanted to place with Rafael. The Halgarths had done remarkably little in the way of negotiations so far. She knew Larry had talked to her father that morning, offering provisional support for the agency, but that was all. No doubt their cards would be on the table by tomorrow.
Text rolled down her virtual vision. YOUR EX IS BEING A PAIN, Thompson sent.
DON’T MAKE IT SO PERSONAL, she shot back. WHAT DOES HE WANT?
I’VE NO IDEA. I THOUGHT WE’D GOT HIM WITH THE HIGH ANGEL ASSEMBLY PLATFORM CONTRACTS. NOW HE’S SEEN HOW EVERYONE IS LINING UP BEHIND THE AGENCY, HE’S ANGLING FOR MORE.
I ALWAYS KNEW HE’D MAKE A GOOD POLITICIAN ONE DAY, YOU AND GORE NEVER BELIEVED ME. WE’RE PLAYING OUR HAND TOO OPENLY. IT LEAVES US VULNERABLE TO THOSE WE NEED TO ALLY.
YOU’LL HAVE TO BRING HIM BACK IN.
I’LL DO WHAT I CAN, BUT I’M MORE CONCERNED ABOUT THE HALGARTHS.
THEY’RE SOLID.
CARE TO BET ON THAT?
When the meal was over and the party had broken up, Gore went back to the study. With his latest retrosequenced modifications he needed at most three hours out of every twenty-four to sleep, and often managed on a lot less. As he prowled along the ceiling-high bookshelves he smelled the others as they went back to the lodges in the garden. Isabella, with her residual scents of the many men who for one reason or another had brushed up close against her that evening, herself redolent with the delicate smell of lily and orchid from the daubs of perfume on her neck. Her aroma stretched thin as she hurried across the grass, avoiding the paths, moving away from Patricia’s metallic tang. Ramon DB’s mélange of cologne and alcohol-laced perspiration awaited her, the two merging together as his lodge door closed behind her. Their combined odor built up heavily within the tight confines of the master bedroom, saliva pheromones and the sugar acid whiff of champagne mingled with it.
Behind Gore’s impassive gold face there was a stirring of amusement as the hot stench of sex began to gush out from their bodies. While in Patricia’s bedroom there was only the overpowering smell of pine soap as she drew her bath. No alcohol, no bitter salts of disappointment prickling her skin. She was content.
So Isabella was the go-between, the one who would bind Ramon back into the deal, making him the promises her mistress had preauthorized to secure his vote. And of course, she had a passing resemblance to Justine. A seduction of both mind and body. Poor, lucky Ramon.
Gore found the book he was looking for, seeing the leather spine behind the continual stream of sparkling scarlet information that enveloped his world. He reached out a hand swathed in glowing bands of silver and platinum, sliding The Art of Financial Warfare by James Barclay off the shelf. Not that he needed to read it, all the wisdom it contained now flowed freely among his thoughts and management routines. But the physical touch was a strange comfort. This book had been his Bible during his first life, and was still regarded as a classic text for anyone going into finance. He could probably do a good job updating it himself.
For some reason he always found himself searching it out when he was performing difficult placements; and this was one of the most complex. The starflight agency had so many variables, many more than the usual political-economic ventures he was accustomed to. By rights, it ought not to work, or at best be another cash-starved government institution that limped along on poor performances and missed quotas. This was too grand for today’s drab careerist politicians to make work. And yet … the people who would normally be tearing each other apart were actually cooperating and accommodating each other to facilitate its inception.
What am I missing?
Every formidable instinct he possessed was singing through his brain that something was wrong. He would have loved to believe that the human race was worthy and mature enough to behave so splendidly. To see a problem and address it with logic and resolution. There had been progress along the social evolutionary scale, he was the first to admit. Thanks to rejuve, people did take the long-term view very seriously indeed nowadays. The starflight agency was a perfect example of that.
So maybe I am the anachronism.
Untrustworthy, suspicious, always looking for the worst in people. The barbarian who had no need to invade the city, for he had watched it grow up around him. He still wouldn’t believe the agency could be birthed so easily.
Unless the manipulators themselves are being manipulated.
That notion was even harder to accept. He had been on this right from the start, watching with his usual Olympian detachment as Justine caught the implications from her own contacts and convened this weekend. As the most cursory reading of Barclay showed, to manipulate this situation earlier than he had, you would have to know the outcome of the Dyson mission before it was launched. Nobody possessed that kind of knowledge.
With a dismissive sigh he replaced the book, and went to sit in front of the small pile of embers that the fire had reduced to. If Isabella’s sweet body and wicked promises didn’t do the trick, he would need to outflank Ramon DB by midmorning tomorrow. Names flared within his private data casement, contacts within the African caucus who would not take kindly to their leading Senator turning down the subcontracts that re-siting the agency at High Angel would bring to their worlds. He sniffed the air, infusing the bouquet of Justine and Campbell and clean cotton sheets in mellow combination. Now that would be an advantageous union given what was expected to unfold over the next few years. Virtual hands reached out, purchasing shares in companies around the peripheries of where the larger starflight agency contracts would fall amid the African caucus planets. Preparing the family. Strengthening the family.
“I have to tell you,” Campbell said, “Nigel isn’t happy about moving the starship assembly platforms to High Angel.”
Justine stroked his nose in reply, moving her finger down to his lips so he could kiss the tip. She was lying directly on top of him, with the duvet flung somewhere on the floor. The ancient logs of the cabin were thick enough to retain the bedroom’s warmth against the chilly night outside, she didn’t need covering just yet. Candles in bulbous glass bowls flickered in various alcoves, filling the air with a musky scent of lavender and sandalwood.
“Poor Nigel,” she said with a pout, then smiled happily as his arms tightened around her, one hand was sliding sensually down her spine toward her rump. “What’s his problem?”
“He gave clearance for everything that’s been agreed so far, but moving to High Angel will delay the project by several months, and that includes the new scout mission. He won’t shift on that.”
“What about the ground defense segments of the navy? Do you mind losing out on them?”
“We don’t envisage losing out, exactly. We’re doing what your family is doing, and positioning ourselves. The primary contracts will be handled by the DRNG, but we’ll still come out ahead. Augusta is the largest of the Big15, everything is proportional.”
She looked around to find the bottle of Dom Perignon vintage 2331 was empty and neck-down in the ice bucket at the side of the bed. A quick order to the house array sent a maidbot hurrying to bring another. “It’s going to be interesting to see the New York market board on Monday morning. This weekend is going to see so many stock acquisitions and movements the traders are going to know something’s up.”
“Yeah, we can’t hold off introducing the agency for much longer.” He looked up as the maidbot slid toward the bed. “Ah. More?”
/>
“Yes please!”
He moved his head back to find her grinning devilishly at him. “My God, remind me never to be around the week after you leave rejuve. I doubt any man could survive that.”
The delicious memory of those few days spent in a glade on the side of Mount Herculaneum came back to provoke a warm tingle of satisfaction inside her. “One did,” she murmured contentedly.
Campbell lifted the cold bottle from the maidbot’s grip. “Shall I open it?”
“Afterward.”
“What about the High Angel problem?”
“We’ll find a fix in the morning.”
There was no specific time arranged for breakfast on Sunday morning. The guests arrived as they woke, drifting in across the lawns. For once the day had started without any clouds. Strong sunlight cast the estate’s exuberant vegetation in a pleasant aspect; there were even a couple of red squirrels bounding about over the lawn. Justine sat with Campbell, relishing the tired but happy feeling that was soaking her body. Thompson had said a polite good morning when he came in, although his tone told her he was quite aware of what she’d been up to during the night. Not quite disapproving, but close. She and Campbell shared a secretive grin as her brother walked away. The grins reinforced each other, threatening to become the kind of unstoppable giggles that afflicted school kids.
“May I join you?” Ramon asked.
“Please do,” Justine said. There was no sign of Isabella. Nor Patricia, she realized.
One of the house staff brought Ramon a pot of fresh English breakfast tea. Justine remembered introducing him to that drink, she always found it the best way to start the day. Coffee was too abrupt for her.
“I may have an idea that would smooth the way to move the agency to High Angel,” Ramon said.
Justine and Campbell exchanged a brief look. Everyone was remarkably well briefed this morning, she thought. It was barely thirty minutes since she’d updated Gore.
“We’d certainly appreciate anything which could help,” Campbell said.
“Parallel development. You continue building the first five scoutships at the Anshun facility, while the High Angel shipyards are being put together. That would provide the whole agency concept with the kind of positive outlook which the African caucus can support.”
Campbell was surprised by the notion. “I suppose that would work. There certainly wouldn’t be any of the delays which we’re resistant to. But it would also incur much greater start-up costs than we envisaged.”
“You should speak with Patricia, but I think you’ll find Doi’s team is open to raising the budget to accommodate us.”
Justine waited until they’d all finished eating before cornering Ramon as he walked back to his cabin. “What did she offer you to achieve that little strategic alignment?”
“Who?”
“Patricia.” She so nearly said Isabella.
“The original agreement was that Buta supplies the new High Angel shipyards. It is a logical extension for the construction companies to be awarded the support contracts as well.”
“Smart move,” Gore said later. “Support contracts can ultimately be worth more than construction in the long term. Which I guess is what we’re looking at here.”
“I’d love to know which one of them suggested it,” Justine said.
“Me, too. I’m becoming concerned by just how much money Doi is prepared to sign over. I’m not denying it will be good for us, but it shows a degree of desperation I hadn’t expected from her.”
“I’m not surprised at all,” Justine said. “She’s using this to buy herself the election, and it’s all paid for by tax money. She’s a politician, what did you expect?”
“More subtlety. The senators will know what’s happened here, even if the electorate doesn’t care. If it turns out the Dyson aliens are no threat, then the amount of money she’s offered the starflight agency is excessive and they’ll react to that. It’s not like a politician to support something so radical so wholeheartedly; they safeguard their own careers before anything.”
“But you’re the one that claims the Dysons will prove hostile, and we’ll need to evolve the agency into a navy.”
“I know. But I’m not standing for election. There’s a small part of me that’s tempted to sink this whole venture here and now.”
“What? You have to be joking.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. But something’s not right.”
“Care to be more specific?”
“I can’t. I’ve analyzed this all night, compared it to a dozen similar guiding weekends this family has been involved with. There’s nothing tangible except my gut feeling.”
“You’re just worried about what the Halgarths will pull. They’ve been biding their time ready for this moment when the rest of us have reached a broad agreement, then they’ll make their bid.”
“Maybe you’re right. I hope so.”
Justine got the opportunity to find out soon enough. There was a general “progress review” meeting scheduled for midmorning. They held it in the library. It was Larry who requested it be limited to those who held level one Commonwealth security clearance. That meant Justine herself only just scraped in, due to her directorship of several companies that supplied equipment to Directorates that avoided the public view. But it certainly excluded everybody’s partners and aides, along with Isabella. There was a short sharp argument at the door when she was turned away. Patricia came in looking slightly flustered. Everyone inside had heard what the girl had shouted.
“Sorry about that,” Patricia said as she sat at the table.
Justine stifled her own smirk, seeing quite a few others doing the same. As soon as the doors were closed, Thompson stood up. “I expect this to be the final session for this weekend. We all seem to be in broad agreement over the principal structure which the agency will follow. This gives us a chance to iron out any final problems; I’m sure none of us want any show-stoppers at this stage. I for one have a number of Senate votes to attend on Monday, and I’d appreciate getting to them.” He sat down beside Gore, whose polished gold face turned expectantly to Justine.
“The major development this weekend seems to be moving the agency’s primary base to High Angel. Given that we’re foreseeing that it, or possibly a navy, will be in operational status for a long time, it does make sense and certainly has our family’s approval. Does anyone disagree?”
“As you said, Justine, we’re all in broad agreement with what’s been negotiated this weekend,” Larry Halgarth said. “The High Angel move, the preliminary work for navy defenses; my family will certainly add its rubber stamp to all this.”
“Here it comes,” Campbell murmured to Justine.
“However, there is one facet to all this planning which has been overlooked.”
“What’s that?” Gore asked sharply.
“Giving the navy an offensive capability. If, God forbid, the Dysons do turn out to be hostile, simply sitting underneath force field domes and hoping they’ll go away isn’t realistic. We would have to carry the fight into their territory.”
“Just hold on a minute here,” Gerhard said. “Since when have we included invasion in our hostile encounter scenarios? All my briefings have concentrated on possible clashes over colonizing new stars in the direction of the Dyson Pair. In other words it’s all going to be down to agreeing on the direction and limits of expansion. And that’s assuming they do want to expand.”
“They filled an entire solar system,” Larry said. “Their culture is just as expansion-based as ours, if not more so. Make no mistake about it, the two of us will meet out there in space.”
“They’re seven hundred light-years away,” Ramon said. “And it’s a big galaxy. Defensive capability is only going to be a sop to public opinion anyway, at least that was my understanding.”
“That’s very comforting. But what if we really need it?”
“Why?” Campbell asked.
“Excuse me?”
“Ramon was right in saying that any future clash with them will be over establishing borders to our respective spheres of colonization. Any navy we create will be a long-term venture. I doubt we’ll need it within a century. There isn’t exactly a rush to fill up phase three space like there was with one and two—more’s the pity. Even if they expand at our rate, we’d be in phase five or six space before the possibility of clashes arose.”
“And if they don’t stick to your timetable?”
“Then we stop at phase five space in that sector, and continue outward everywhere else. Like Ramon said, it’s a big galaxy.”
“Somebody was so concerned about them, they tried to quarantine them off from this big galaxy. And we’ve seen for ourselves how aggressive they are. That tells me we have to prepare for trouble.”
Campbell regarded him as a teacher would a particularly awkward pupil. “What do you think they’ll invade us for, exactly? If they want mineral or chemical resources, they can get them from any star system. Energy? Their fusion systems looked more advanced than ours. There is no economic or logical reason for them to invade us, especially not with a navy in place. It’s a deterrent.”
“Fine, then make it a working deterrent. Give it some teeth.”
“What sort of teeth would you like it to have?” Justine asked. “I take it this is why you wanted everyone here to be security cleared?”
“Yes.” Larry nodded at Natasha Kersley.
“My Directorate has been reviewing the data which the Second Chance came back with,” she said. “You were right to say their fusion systems are more advanced than ours. So are their force fields. If Captain Kime hadn’t pulled back, we estimate that the Second Chance would have been destroyed within a minute of their missiles reaching attack range. The only thing that saved them was the FTL capability. If we are going to confront the Dyson aliens in the future, even if it is solely to establish boundaries, we will need a lot more firepower than we’ve carried so far.”
The Commonwealth Saga 2-Book Bundle Page 69