Scornful Stars

by Richard Baker

  Ruiz nodded, and turned back to her window. “This is really something. It’s like the bottom of the atmosphere is a three-kilometer-deep ocean.”

  “Oh, there’s an actual ocean down there, too. It’s even mostly water. But humans don’t go down to sea level unless they have to, and when they do, they go in pressure suits or armored crawlers. Some of the native wildlife is, well, big and hungry.”

  “There’s a sightseeing tour if you are interested,” Sikander suggested, setting aside his frustration with the effective end of the patrol. “I haven’t done it myself, but I understand it takes three or four hours and doesn’t cost too much. They do make you sign a waiver, though.”

  “Really? I’m in.” Ruiz elbowed Girard. “What about you, Michael? Want to come?”

  The fair-skinned operations officer turned red. “Umm, that’s not for me. I can see the clouds just fine from up here, thank you.”

  When they landed at Mersin’s transit hub, they found that the Aquilan consulate had sent a flyer to meet them. A short hop across the city brought them to the consulate itself, a spacious office that occupied two floors in an expensive high-rise. Special Commissioner Eric Darrow waited for Sikander and his officers at the building’s rooftop landing pad. Beside him stood a graceful white-haired woman dressed in a long, flowing Daharan kaftan.

  “Commander North, a pleasure to see you again. Welcome to Dahar,” said Darrow, extending his hand to greet Sikander as he climbed out of the flyer. A lean, angular man of forty-five with close-cropped hair and a short goatee, Darrow served as something of a regional ambassador for the Aquilan Foreign Ministry; he tended to split his time between Dahar, the Velaran world of Meliya, and Neda, where Sikander had run into him on a couple of occasions. “Allow me to introduce you to Nola Okoye. She’s our consul-general in this system.”

  “Mr. Darrow.” Sikander shook Darrow’s hand, then turned to the consul. “Ms. Okoye, it’s good to meet you. This is Lieutenant Girard, Dr. Ruiz, and Chief Reza, my personal assistant.” A quick round of handshakes followed.

  “Why don’t you all come inside?” Okoye said. “We’ve got a little time before we’re expected over at the palace, and as it turns out we have excellent coffee here.”

  Sikander and his officers followed the diplomats to a comfortable sitting area inside the consulate; a coffee service was already set out and waiting. “How has your patrol been so far?” Darrow asked as he personally poured for the consulate’s guests, serving the coffee in tiny cups after the local style.

  “Eventful. We stumbled across a recently pirated ship in Bursa, and while we were bringing her into port, we received a distress call for a separate attack on a mining station.” Sikander briefly summarized Decisive’s adventures over the last couple of weeks, describing the pursuit of the pirate vessel to Tunis and his reluctant decision to abandon the chase after his quarry’s escape. “This is my fifth cruise in this sector, but it’s the first time I’ve even come close to catching a pirate in the act. We were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, but not quite lucky enough to catch them.”

  “A shame they got away,” Darrow observed when he finished. “It would be useful to our position here to present the pasha with some measurable antipiracy successes. Several other powers are cozying up to Marid Pasha and looking for ways to impress him.”

  “Dremark and Velar?” Michael Girard asked. “We saw Polarstern and Vashaoth Teh in orbit.”

  “Among others—Montréal and Cygnus have interests here too, even if their ships aren’t in-system at the moment.”

  “I suppose I’m missing something,” Carla Ruiz said. “Zerzura is just one province of the Caliphate, isn’t it? Why does everyone care about impressing one provincial governor?”

  “The Caliphate isn’t like the Commonwealth, Dr. Ruiz,” Okoye answered. “Their imperial system developed centuries ago when interstellar travel time made it impossible to exercise much in the way of central authority, so they built a government that dispersed power. Each sector is more or less on its own. The Caliphate appoints a vali, or governor, who stands in for the Caliph and runs the sector more or less as he sees fit.”

  “Which means that if a foreign power wants something in a particular sector, we have to talk to the official who runs that sector,” Darrow added. “Our ambassadors at Terra are mostly ceremonial. The Caliph’s court expects all of us so-called lesser powers to abase ourselves before the splendor of Old Earth, of course, but in fact very little of what is decreed on Terra matters. The only real decision made on Terra is choosing who they send to run things out here. In the Caliphate, the person is the policy.”

  Sikander nodded. It seemed that Dr. Ruiz wasn’t afraid to ask an elementary question or two—a rare quality in an officer still fairly new in her duty station. For his own part, he’d come to understand something of Zerzura’s relationship to Terra during his time on Pleiades Station, but he’d never heard it explained in quite that way: The person is the policy. “In that case, what kind of person is Marid al-Zahabi?” he asked the diplomats. “This is my first opportunity to meet him.”

  “A problem-solver,” said Okoye. “He’s a highly regarded military commander—something of a war hero, really. He fought with distinction in the Suhail War twenty years ago, and later commanded the landing force that put down the Yeni Süphan uprising. That earned him his noble title and put him on the Caliphate court’s radar. Six years ago he was appointed to assume the duties of governor here in Zerzura after his predecessor’s corruption became too much for even Terra to overlook. He’s been aggressive in dismissing some of the worst and most incompetent local officials, and since he doesn’t get a lot of help from Terra, he’s done what he can to encourage foreign business investment here.”

  “He sounds like exactly the man for the job,” Girard said.

  Darrow shrugged. “Marid Pasha is certainly about three cuts above the typical well-connected idiot who secures an appointment of this sort, but believe me, the Caliph’s handlers didn’t send him out here because they were concerned about Zerzura. I think that they saw a capable, well-liked leader with a lot of support in the army and decided that a fellow like that might start to get ideas if they let him get comfortable too close to home.”

  Sikander raised an eyebrow. “Have we seen any evidence of those sorts of ambitions?”

  “Not really, no, but you’ll notice that Marid Pasha doesn’t get much backing from the Caliphate,” said Darrow. “No one on Terra seems to be in a hurry to send him extra troops or warships or the sort of budget he needs to run Zerzura properly. Whether they want him to fail or they’re scared of him succeeding I couldn’t say, but either way Terra is laying the groundwork for an even bigger problem in Zerzura: It’s an open secret in Dahar’s diplomatic community that Marid Pasha is thinking about declaring independence.”

  “I see. Why take orders from Terra if you could just run the show yourself, and deal with problems as you see fit?”

  “In all fairness, not all of us in the Foreign Ministry agree with Mr. Darrow’s assessment,” Okoye said. “I see Marid Pasha as a man trying to make the most of what little he gets. I think that he’s content to let the independence rumors incubate in the hopes they’ll encourage Terra to take more interest in his sector. Then again, I’m an optimist.”

  “And on that note, it’s about time to head over to the palace for our luncheon,” said Darrow. “Marid Pasha is nothing if not punctual—we don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  * * *

  The pasha’s palace was only a few kilometers from the consulate, a flight of less than five minutes. Caliphate soldiers in khaki dress uniforms and wide blue sashes stood guard at the entrance by the vast landing pad; the mag rifles slung over their shoulders gleamed with gold filigree. A dark-haired man in a civilian business suit greeted the Aquilan party at the door and introduced himself as Jahid Saif, one of the pasha’s advisors. He escorted them through echoing hallways to a splendid dining room
where a mix of high-ranking Zerzuran officers and well-dressed civilians waited, and announced their arrival.

  “Mr. Eric Darrow, special commissioner of the Commonwealth of Aquila. Commander Sikander Singh North, commanding officer of CSS Decisive and Nawabzada of Ishar. Ms. Nola Okoye, Commonwealth consul to Dahar.” Then Saif nodded toward a silver-haired Zerzuran in a plain high-collared tunic. “Please allow me to introduce His Excellency the Pasha Marid al-Zahabi, Vali of Zerzura and honored servant of the Caliph.”

  “Ah, come in, come in!” Marid Pasha said in good Standard Anglic. “Mr. Darrow, Ms. Okoye, a pleasure to see you both again. And welcome to you, Commander North.” Tall and square-shouldered, the pasha certainly possessed the bearing of a military man; Sikander could well believe that he’d been a commander of some distinction before accepting his political appointment. He stood half a head taller than the other Zerzurans in the room: Saif, a middle-aged woman in a modest business suit, a balding army officer who wore a general’s stars, and a stocky admiral in a Caliphate naval uniform.

  “Thank you, Your Excellency,” Sikander replied. Then, to his surprise, Marid Pasha crossed the room to shake Sikander’s hand firmly.

  “I have hoped to meet you for long time now, sir,” the pasha said. “Your actions during Hector’s fight at Gadira showed exemplary courage and leadership. This is truly an unexpected honor.”

  Sikander faltered in surprise. “You’ve heard of me?”

  “Oh, yes. At the time of the Gadira incident I commanded the Caliphate’s Fifth Military District. The tensions between the Empire of Dremark and the Aquilan Commonwealth naturally caused us some alarm, so I directed my staff to follow the story closely. I am quite familiar with the part you played by continuing to fight your ship after Captain Markham’s death. Extraordinary, really!”

  “Er, thank you, Your Excellency. I merely carried out my duties to the best of my ability.” Sikander glanced over at Eric Darrow, who gave him a subtle nod of approval. If the senior diplomat had expected anything like Marid Pasha’s remarks, he was doing a masterly job of hiding it. “I had no idea the story had been published in the Caliphate.”

  “Duels between the warships of major Coalition powers are few and far between,” the pasha said. “Tell me, Commander, why exactly did the Dremish force break off the action? I’ve watched tactical reconstructions of the battle a dozen times, but it’s never been clear to me why Captain Harper withdrew. Damaged as his ships were, he still outnumbered you.”

  Sikander paused a moment, measuring his response. He supposed that he should feel flattered by the pasha’s admiration, but he remembered the battle as something he’d survived, not as some daring exploit to boast about later. In fact, he rarely spoke of it—too many of his shipmates had died that day. “I’m not sure whether I can shed any light on that, Marid Pasha,” he finally said. “I only know what I saw on Hector’s bridge, and I’m not at liberty to disclose some of the details. But I can tell you that Mr. Girard here landed a hard salvo on Panther and disabled her torpedo battery just before she withdrew. He was Hector’s fire-control officer at Gadira, and his excellent marksmanship likely influenced Captain Harper’s decision to withdraw.”

  The pasha turned to Girard, taking stock of him. “Indeed? I hadn’t realized that we were entertaining two Hector veterans today.”

  “Mr. North played a more important part in things than I did, Your Excellency,” Girard said. “I was only an ensign at the time—I engaged the targets I was directed to engage.”

  “With some skill and coolness under fire, I suspect. Well, I am honored to meet two such noteworthy officers. Perhaps I can prevail upon you to share your recollections of the encounter at some point. I am sure there are a hundred details you could add to what the rest of us think we know about—oh, excuse me, I am neglecting my introductions!” The pasha motioned toward the other Zerzurans in the room. “Jahid Saif you have already met; he’s my chief political advisor. My appointment secretary, Nenet Fakhoury, and General Karacan, commander of the Mansur Guards. And of course my naval minister, Admiral Torgut al-Kassar.”

  Another round of handshakes and pleasantries ensued, and then the pasha led them to the room’s generous table. “Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable—lunch will be served momentarily. How was your voyage from Neda, Commander North?”

  I suppose I’m going to tell this story a few times this week, Sikander realized. “It was eventful, Your Excellency,” he said, launching into a somewhat abbreviated account of Decisive’s patrol. True to the pasha’s prediction, lunch appeared while he spoke—a dish of roasted vegetables stuffed with rice, accompanied by traditional-style flatbread, tahini, and mashed beans. Jahid Saif followed him in Anglic, but the other Zerzurans relied on translation devices; Sikander didn’t trust his own Jadeed-Arabi well enough to try it out in front of a high official like the pasha. “Regrettably, the pirate vessel we pursued managed to elude us in Tunis,” he concluded. “We resumed our planned patrol route, returned to Bursa, and then proceeded here.”

  “I am sure you’ll have better luck next time,” Marid Pasha said. “If nothing else, it seems that you interrupted the attack on the United Extraction station. That’s better than nothing.”

  “I believe Decisive’s success, limited as it may have been, illustrates the value of vigorous antipiracy patrols, Your Excellency,” Eric Darrow said. “Imagine how much more effective they would be if we kept units on station in the systems that are actually under threat. An Aquilan base of operations in Bursa or Tunis would make it much easier to monitor local conditions, and prevent pirates from slipping back into the traffic patterns of legitimate shipping after they carry out their attacks. It would also bring all of Zerzura’s major worlds within a single short transit of an Aquilan post. A few light patrol vessels in the right spot could be exactly what you need to deal with Zerzura’s piracy trouble.”

  Admiral al-Kassar snorted and spoke in his native Jadeed-Arabi. “We take our sovereignty seriously, Mr. Darrow. You forget that your ships are granted passage through our territory in the spirit of cooperation, not because we require your protection.”

  “I do not mean to suggest otherwise, Admiral,” Darrow said. “But piracy is, by definition, a crime that threatens everyone engaged in spaceborne commerce or industry, and we are all obligated to do everything in our power to put an end to it.”

  Sikander shifted in his seat, but said nothing. Sovereignty over the empty space that made up the vast majority of a planetary system was a complicated question. Everyone recognized that planets and stations belonged to someone, but different powers held to different standards about those parts of a system that weren’t actually inhabited or exploited by some form of industry. The Commonwealth of Aquila defined sovereignty rather narrowly—in fact, by Aquilan rules, Decisive had spent most of its voyage in open space. Other powers tended to claim the entirety of a system. Sikander didn’t share Torgut al-Kassar’s view that Aquila’s ships required permission to just pass through the Caliphate’s systems, but he doubted that he’d help Darrow’s point by bringing that up.

  “Of course pirates are everyone’s enemy, Mr. Darrow,” Marid Pasha observed. “In principle I have no objection to what you propose. But I do have some practical concerns.”

  General Karacan nodded seriously. “Whatever facilities we make available to Aquila will certainly require extensive renovation or new construction. The expenses could be significant, and Zerzura’s resources are limited.”

  “Terra doesn’t provide us with much help, as the general points out,” said the pasha. “I am not sure we can afford to build the sort of base you’re thinking of.”

  “Improved security in Zerzura would certainly entice Aquilan companies to consider new investments in your systems, Your Excellency. In fact, I know of several major manufacturers that are looking for opportunities to expand their operations into this area.” Darrow smiled thinly. “Our government could perhaps assist Zerzura by providing some dev
elopment loans to help create the sort of security infrastructure we think is needed here.”

  That sounds a lot like a bribe, Sikander decided. He kept that thought to himself, too—it wouldn’t be the first time the Commonwealth secured what it wanted by writing a check to the right person. At first blush, it seemed ridiculous to pay the Zerzurans for the privilege of taking care of their piracy problem. Then again, if Darrow aimed to establish Aquilan influence over affairs in this corner of the Caliphate, the polite fiction of a “loan” that Marid Pasha could use to buy the loyalty of whomever he needed to buy might be the cheapest and most efficient way to attain his goal.

  If Marid Pasha read anything more into Darrow’s suggestion than a sincere offer to help, he gave no sign. “We would be happy to examine any proposal you’d like to share with us. Simply forward your suggestion to my office, and I will review it with my advisors. Now, Commander North: Tell me about your Decisive. She is one of your Dauntless-class ships, isn’t she?”

  Nola Okoye grinned. “Be careful, Your Excellency. If you ask a captain to talk about his ship, you might have a hard time ending the conversation.”

  A ripple of laughter ran around the table; Sikander joined in. “I will try to limit my remarks to a few short hours, I promise. Now, what would you like to know?”

  The luncheon moved on to a discussion about life on a warship, and from there to comparisons of the various homeworlds of each of the guests—the working part of the meal was evidently over. Sikander didn’t mind; Marid Pasha was a gracious host, and he sensed that Darrow and Okoye were satisfied to have at least raised the possibility of strengthening Zerzura’s ties to Aquila. Sikander extended an offer to provide the pasha and his staff with a personal tour of Decisive. Marid Pasha seemed very pleased, but deferred on setting a specific time.