"His father was killed in a Navy accident when he was just a boy," Vicki said, almost to herself. "So I did the single-parent thing for a lot of years. Then Lan appeared and we started the consultancy in Texas, and he was probably the nearest thing to a father that Robin ever really knew. But he was always more of the loner kind of a kid—forever with his head in a book, or immersed in some project that he'd found on his own. Finally, he did start getting something of a life and friends together . . . and promptly lost all of it. Of course, everyone was affected. But Robin never really got over it. He was bitter and withdrawn the whole time we were on Dione. Nothing seemed to get through to him. Lan tried, so did Leo Cavan—he was a friend we'd known since Earth. Joining the Security Arm seemed almost like an act of defiance sometimes—as if he was trying to get some kind of message across. But then maybe it was just a way of escaping. I remember when he said he was going on the Jupiter mission, Lan and I thought it might have been the best thing that could have happened."
Tanya sat, letting her talk it out. At least she wasn't insulting Vicki's intelligence by reciting inane things like "no news is good news," or any of a dozen other platitudes that the occasion might have prompted.
Vicki contemplated the situation, conceding defeat, and shuffled up the cards to begin dealing out the array again. "Did you ever meet Sariena?"
"The Kronian scientist who was with the delegation that Gallian took to Earth?" Tanya shook her head. "No, but I've heard of her. Why?"
"She used to talk about the Kronians' belief in us and the universe being here for a purpose—the opposite of what they used to teach on Earth. You were on Kronia long enough to know. Is that the way you see things too?"
"You mean about there being some kind of intelligence at work at the back of it all, that it was designed for a reason?"
"That's part of it, yes. But more than just that. The whole experience of existence serves a purpose. Not so much what you become or who you end up being in worldly terms; but the experience itself. Period."
"Well, yes, that's how I was raised to think back home, so it comes pretty naturally to me. So many things make more sense that way. The particular person that you happen to be right now isn't especially significant—like a vehicle that you use for a while, and then you're done with. But there's a more permanent something behind them all."
"You mean a soul?"
"I'm not sure. I don't know if people mean the same thing when they use words like that. But something that creates personalities of the right nature and in the right circumstances to undergo the experiences that it needs to learn and to grow. At least, that's the way the Kronians I've talked to described it. I'm not really sure what I think, though."
"Yes, that's what I was getting at," Vicki said. She wanted especially now to believe that there were good reasons why things happened the way they did; she needed to talk and hear about such things. Before she could put it into words, however, a buzz sounded, signaling that someone was at the door. Tanya touched a button on the remote lying near her.
"Yes, who is it?"
"Jan Wernstecki here. Is that Vicki?"
"Hi, Jan. No, it's Tanya. But Vicki's here too." As she spoke, Tanya touched in the number to open the door.
Wernstecki came inside. "Hello," to both. "How are you feeling, Vicki?"
"I'll get by," Vicki said.
"What is it?" Tanya asked.
Wernstecki looked mildly perplexed, as if at a loss to explain something. "I never believed in jinxes before," he told them. "But you know, I'm beginning to think there's one over this whole thing that we're involved in. I've just heard it from the Bridge. Now there are communications problems with Earth. Electrical disturbances are swamping the whole region and affecting the links to both the Varuna and the Surya. They're restricting traffic to official use only—and that's very intermittent. The last that came in beamed at us said to hurry up with the lithoforming gear. They think maybe they're going to need it."
Which meant there would be nothing more coming in from Lan either—at least, for a while. Vicki's dismay must have shown on her face. Tanya leaned forward and rested a hand lightly on her arm. "I know. Don't let it get to you, Vicki," she said. "Just try and believe it's all for a reason."
* * *
Keene and Shayle did a good job of simulating problems with the Agni's delivery system, which they solemnly diagnosed as being due to instabilities in the plasma focusing fields. Keene concocted a line of mumbo jumbo to the effect that they would need cooperation from the engineers up on the Varuna to rectify matters, and Zeigler authorized a communications channel to be opened. But the Varuna engineers were unable to make a lot of sense out of what Keene was telling them, not the least reason being that it didn't make any sense, and he was unable to clarify things further because Zeigler's people insisted on monitoring the link closely.
For the same reason, it quickly became clear that he wasn't going to gain access to anyone connected with the ship's communications, let alone initiate any kind of outward-going message for the Aztec. So, after playing the charade through for what he judged was long enough to be convincing, he announced the problem to be magically cured and signed an engineering report to that effect, leaving the Varuna crew bemused and confused—and Zeigler's observers, he hoped, none the wiser.
He then went out to the edge of the landing area to stand staring at the hills and brood on his own.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A bulletin put out by Zeigler's office the following day brought the news that Dru had died from chest wounds; Erskine and one of the two Kronians involved were wounded but not critically; Ida and the other Kronian were unhurt. The four survivors of the incident were being held under arrest according to the martial law condition that had been proclaimed. By the same terms, perpetrators of further such attempts would be liable to execution by shooting automatically. Entry to the extended secure zone around the Operations and Communications Dome and its annex was not permitted without authorization; a general curfew would apply to anyone not having business outside after 22:00; and until further notice, outside gatherings of more than five persons other than for recognized work groups was prohibited. The design of a triangle pierced by a lighting flash, along with the words Together, we will build Earth again! were appended.
* * *
Keene and Adreya Laelye drove out with a relief crew in one of the general-purpose site runabouts to view progress with the shuttle silos and launch pads being constructed on the far side of the landing area. The runabout had four wide wheels on independent axles like the larger Scout, an enclosed cab that could hold three with a squeeze, and an open rear section like a pickup, but which could be tipped to function as a dump truck also. The work going on currently involved forming revetments and foundations from a ceramic foam that dried a fraction of the weight of concrete but with strength of the same order. It was intended as an intermediary measure until heavier construction and full industrial startup capability arrived with the Aztec. The talk, however, as most of the time, concerned the takeover and its implications. They stood by one of the trenches, watching the skeleton of alloy mesh being emplaced, around which the foam filling would be blown.
"We've all read about it," Adreya said. "But to actually witness it is something completely different. Even the idea of a minority having control without general support of the followers is inconceivable. Never mind imposing it."
"Yes, I know," Keene told her. "Sariena's been saying the same thing."
"The obsession for amassing wealth beyond any conceivable need is something we just can't relate to. To us it's as pointless as compulsive eating." Financial obesity, Keene thought to himself as he stood with his hands thrust into the pockets of his parka. That was an interesting way to put it. Jon Foy had said something similar. Adreya went on, "But now that I've seen it, and what people can be driven to in pursuing it, I think I know what it is that motivates it." Keene cocked an eyebrow at her inquiringly. "It's insecurity. Fear. Th
ey have nothing to offer that anyone freely wants, but they depend totally on others for everything they need. So to feel secure, they must have the power to compel."
Keene had listened to similar things from Kronians but never heard it put quite that way before. He remembered being told in earlier times that one of the big fears of the fabulously rich was very often that of finding themselves penniless, even when simple arithmetic showed it to be something they'd have a hard job achieving if they devoted the rest of their lives to trying, but he'd never really understood it. "Well, they can always build bureaucracies," he commented. "That way, you create lots of rules that don't benefit anyone, and then make a comfortable living catching people for breaking them. And you do it at their expense. Pretty neat when you think about it."
"I never understood how someone could possess ownership rights to the wealth created by another." Adreya sighed. "It seems that whenever things reached the point of there being money in something, that always destroyed it."
How true, Keene thought, looking back. Small wonder the Kronian leaders were set on the unique economic system that their experiment had brought into being. He was about to respond, when he saw Pieter Naarmegen approaching beside the low wall forming the top of one of the molds. He was wearing a quilted cap with ear muffs, his face pink in the wind behind his straggly beard. He looked at Adreya uncertainly for a second, seemingly trying to convey that he wanted to talk to Keene privately; but then his expression changed to one that seemed to say, Heck, if I can't talk in front of the representative of SOE . . .
"What is it?" Keene prompted.
It was a good place to bring up subjects that weren't for general audiences, since the guards hadn't attempted to secure the far sector of the pad area. For one thing, there weren't enough of them to spare any for such a task; and for another, there was little out here that it was necessary to guard against. None of the ships could move without clearance codes from ground control, and there was nowhere to bring unloaded cargos back to except the base. And the background of construction noise made a good privacy screen against other ears that didn't need to know.
"A group of us have decided to split," Naarmegen said, directing himself at Keene. "Your name is one that was voted to be invited."
"Split? Where to?"
"Anywhere. Just out. We're not prepared to play ball or live like this. There's no way they can seal this part out here. We arrange to leave a Scout here at the pad, stock it with gear and supplies, and then move out to it in small groups early in the evening. Hell, Lan, there isn't anyone out here to stop us. We take off at night, in the opposite direction from the base. By daybreak we'll be miles gone."
"When?"
"We haven't fixed it yet. When we've got the Scout fitted out. Probably tomorrow or the night after."
"How many?"
"A dozen so far."
"Big load for a Scout."
"This is Earth, not some moon without an atmosphere. We can put some on the trailer. Zeigler doesn't have the manpower to come after us."
"He can still send out probes and recce drones. They'll find you in an hour."
"And what would they do? They're not armed. And even if they were, what would be the point?"
"Who knows with someone like Zeigler? Maybe just to demonstrate who's in charge, and that you don't step out of line."
"That's a risk we'll take," Naarmegen said.
Keene eyed him dubiously. The practicalities were a secondary issue, he could see. It was a gesture that Naarmegen needed to make. He wasn't asking for Keene's endorsement—just a simple yes or no as to whether he wanted to be included.
"I wish you luck, Pieter, but I don't think it's the way," he said. "I need to be here."
"To do what?"
"I don't know yet."
"So what is the way, Lan?" Adreya put in.
Keene made a shrug that said there was no glib, ready answer. "You observe, you organize, you prepare . . . and wait for your opportunity."
"And if one doesn't happen?" Naarmegen asked.
"Then you find a way of making one happen."
* * *
In the Communications Room of the Trojan, Captain Walsh viewed a decoded message from Grasse's assistant on the Eskimo that the consignment of boosters had been retrieved successfully, and they were being fitted to the vessel on schedule. There was also news from Zeigler that the situation at Serengeti was stable and under control after some minor reactions. There was still no indication of why Zeigler had moved the date forward from that originally planned.
* * *
Kurt Zeigler had made a name for himself around Europe in the circles connected with arranging finances for international sales of sophisticated weapons systems. The deals that he specialized in were frequently engineered to bypass the laws and technology-transfer regulations of the governments involved, sometimes making expedient use of third parties; at others, by contriving ingenious shell games involving holding companies and transfer agencies to confound audit trails of exactly who was being paid by whom and for what; and on occasions, resorting to outright falsification of documents describing the equipment involved or its intended purpose.
Larger-scale conflicts deserving of being called "wars" had become a rarity by the time of pre-Athena Earth, not so much as a result of any marked advance in the direction of humanitarian restraint on the part of the world's governing eminences, but more because military solutions to capturing markets essential for continuing capital expansion and denying them to non-approved economic systems were becoming too expensive and unpopular. However, ongoing tensions in various places between ethnic groups that had been inappropriately mixed or forcibly separated, and the reluctance of many local populations to appreciate the benefits of the global financial and economic order that was going to bring the Millennium, had kept business buoyant and profits respectable. Zeigler had graduated to the big league by buying out the interests of a pair of overly-trusting business partners at a discount when a negotiation was cooling, and then making a killing on a fast sale to a second buyer, whose existence he had been less than forthcoming about. That was when he came to the notice of Valcroix and his associates, and his rise to a position of influence in the international political-military scene quickly followed.
The same processes shaped business and politics as produced people who were fit to rule others and build empires. The weak and the inept were consumed to make room for the strong and the skillful. Dominance and survival were the rewards of excellence. The rules might be harsh, but it wasn't he who had made them. They were the same rules that had directed life's upward struggle from its emergence out of primeval ooze, and through ruthless competition and selection eventually produced minds capable of comprehending them. They were the rules of the real world. The world of the Kronians was a dreamland based on a naive ideology that could never survive outside the artificial protectorate they had created. That was why they rejected things that science had known for two hundred years and invented fanciful, supernatural purposes to account for inconvenient facts and contradictions they were unable otherwise to explain. Ironically, the "primitives" who had survived understood reality better than the sophisticates who would presume to teach them.
But then again, was it so ironic? They were both products of their respective worlds, after all. The Kronians brought airy ideals from the starry, uncontaminated halls of Kronia. The survivors had already qualified by every test Earth had to offer.
Accompanied by Leisha and two guards, Zeigler walked out with Rakki, Yobu, and Enka, to where the flyer was waiting inside the OpCom perimeter fence. He had had red shoulder tabs sewn on his tunic as a mark of his rank. It was just after dark. Lieutenant Jorff and the two troopers who would also be going to Joburg to commence the weapons training were standing outside, silhouetted against the lights—a small enough number, but as much as could be spared. Rakki turned as they got to the machine, and raised a hand toward Zeigler in salutation in the way he had learned. Zeigler r
eturned it. He had declined to introduce the custom of shaking hands.
"When we meet next, your guards will carry weapons like these too," Zeigler said.
The reply came back as, "He will make sure they are worthy. . . . I think he means worthy to be sent here to help out."
"I'm sure he will perform the task well."
"And then we will make him ruler of the caves?"
"And then he will rule the caves."
Leisha joined the departing party as they climbed aboard. Zeigler watched with his guards while the flyer taxied away a short distance before opening to full power and climbing steeply to clear the fence. Then he turned and led the way back to the OpComs Dome.
These natives were material that definitely had potential, he reflected. And yes, he could use the additional manpower. But beyond that, the existence of such a force, armed, trained, and loyal to him, could prove a factor very much to his advantage when the Party leadership arrived, and the internecine disputes and clashes of interest that reality said were inevitable sooner or later began breaking out. And now there was news from the Varuna of more survivors, numbering possibly several hundred, spotted on the eastern coast of the Raphta peninsula, trekking northward toward the warmer zone. He didn't have the time or the resources to create a trained army. But if he moved fast enough to at least get them aligned with him in the way he had done with Rakki, it would go a long way to making him a formidable force to reckon with indeed.
* * *
On arriving back in his office, Zeigler was informed by Kelm that Naarmegen and a group of others were planning to desert either tonight or tomorrow. Their plan was to use a Scout vehicle that would be left for the purpose among the constructions in progress on the far side of the pad area. How did Zeigler want to deal with it?
"Do we know who they are?" Zeigler asked.
"A dozen in all. I have six of the names other than Naarmegen so far. All from the scientific and clerical staff."
"Where do they think they're going?
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