by JCH Rigby
“Something else caused the Enhanced to drop out of sight. I’m remembering more and more. But you know what? I’m sure ARTOK was already using us on the minor worlds, hitting anyone who tried for independence and they did a deal to make sure they could keep on using us.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Verifiable Other Means
“It is better to jaw-jaw than to war-war” –Winston Churchill, 1954
2337
"And there will be one further price for our cooperation.” Anders Bakken felt he was on an unstoppable roll.
A further price? In addition to the concessions already made? In addition to demilitarization? To the reductions in sentencing? To the release of prisoners? To abandoning the pursuit of justice for the bombers, the assassins, the paymasters? To prostrating ourselves before your medieval political goals? How bloody dare you. But you couldn’t say such things. Sanura Sekibo had spent decades working for the United Nations, rising to be one of the UN’s premier diplomats, and she was too smart to allow his disgust to cause her to walk into that one. Such things were meant to be thought, not said. Not to be given up as a weapon which would be turned against her in the media skirmishes which would inevitably follow the conclusion of these negotiations. Instead, you said the things which might, just might, help in the long run. Anders Bakken, the Earth First negotiator would not succeed in provoking her. Fixing her best non-threatening smile in place Sanura kept her voice neutral when she spoke.
“Of course, there will. And, may I ask what that further price will be?”
The elderly Bakken was slight of build, and tough-looking. His skin both the color and apparent texture of old leather, wore his hair in a short grey fuzz. This was a summit, not a social gathering, and Bakken exuded an aura of skepticism and contempt, which might have been a negotiating ploy. He’d spent decades in angry activism for the Earth First Party.
Sanura settled in for one of Bakken’s vitriolic statements. “The people have been justifiably outraged by the actions of your out-of-control armed forces, especially by those grotesque creations of yours, the cyborgs. Those disgusting machines must be removed from your service at once, disarmed, and destroyed. There is blood on the hands of their creators—you must understand what a significant concession we make in denying the people’s righteous demands for the trial and execution of those who launched these obscene machines against the civil population.”
The naked man next to Bakken, Zarmayr Bedrosian of Pure Bred People’s Party nodded vigorously at each of the Earth First speaker’s points. Bedrosian claimed to be capable of passing a message to—but not in any way to represent—Humanity Pure. Utter nonsense. He was far more than that, and everyone gathered around the table knew it.
Bedrosian’s arrival as a member of the negotiating team provoked some gasps and shocked looks, and some stifled giggles. Sanura had initially been put a little off-balance by the man’s naked appearance, but regained her composure with a vague recollection of a quotation from a British politician: something about going naked into the conference chamber. The quotation referred to a political leader who lacked the military force to back up his negotiating position. The unabashed and confident Bedrosian, however, repeatedly demonstrated his group’s deadly capability and global reach.
Sanura saw Bedrosian’s nakedness for what it really was; a political statement and an additional weapon in his negotiating arsenal. Employed to make his opponents uncomfortable and distracted. When they had been introduced, Sanura calmly studied him from head to foot before simply shrugging. With a discreet word to her aide, Sanura arranged for the room temperature to be lowered by a few degrees. Uncomfortableness came in various forms.
Interestingly, Bakken’s body language suggested he considered the naked Bedrosian to be somewhere between a dilettante and a pervert. Brother Nehemiah, the cold-faced monk representing the Brothers of the Divine Mind, merely sniffed and looked away. From that moment on, Bedrosian’s nudity had been disarmed, and Sanura was handed an unintentional extra weapon. Bedrosian had unwittingly alienated his fellow negotiators. Divide and conquer, isn’t that what the Romans used to say.
Sanura returned her attention to Bakken. “And if we do not?” No point in not asking she thought.
Bakken locked eyes with Sanura. “If you do not meet the people’s minimum requirements for justice on the streets, then we cannot guarantee there would not be spontaneous displays of justifiable outrage against all manifestations of the apparatus of the repressive state. Those perverted scientists can expect summary justice at the hands of the people.”
Sanura had had enough of Bakken’s thinly veiled threats. “Spontaneous? Hmm. In order that we can discuss co-operation on all these matters, we would expect your leadership to keep their followers under control, and make them effective parties to any future accord. If you are unable to deliver, then perhaps we are not actually talking with the true representatives of the groups with which we wish to engage.” Sanura made a show of gathering up the various slates spread over the table before her.
“You will understand I am a very busy woman, and I wish to concentrate solely on these important matters. This is a fascinating discussion, but I require it also to be a useful and productive one. If you believe you cannot deliver compliance with any theoretical eventual agreement, say so now and we can cease wasting each other’s valuable time.
“These negotiations must lead us toward a sustainable cessation of hostilities, or the united governments which I represent will withdraw my authority to continue talking, through yourselves, with your various sponsors.”
Sanura paused in her collection of the slates. Meeting Bakken’s angry look with calm, unblinking eyes. Her action a clear indication that unless Bakken was willing to be flexible then the UN to walk away and the bloodshed in the streets would continue.
Bakken’s eyes narrowed, Sanura had always said that he had the whiff of reformed thug about him. Political activist nowadays, maybe; but no stranger to the fist, the bullet, and the bomb. This man had killed people in his time. Now, however he had to make the decision to continue these negotiations or allow the chance to get the UN to acquiesce to the majority of the Earth First demands to slip through his fingers. With a low grunt he nodded his agreement for Sanura to continue.
The diplomat continued as if nothing untoward had occurred. “As to the Enhanced Special Forces soldiers—you realize we are talking about a corps of highly loyal, committed, and dedicated men and women of unique talents and skills. However, while we do not consider that they have any general case to answer in a criminal court, it is conceivable some specific incidents might merit reinvestigation.”
The civil servants known sardonically as the Sherpas—the anonymous toilers whose task it was to clear a route to the summit—forewarned Sanura that the issue of the Enhanced had the potential to be a sticking point. Sanura needed room to maneuver and she believed she had come up with an eloquent solution. “Perhaps an inquiry might be set up, headed by some universally-respected and neutral figure of unquestioned authority.”
“That may be an acceptable.” Acknowledged Bakken.
Sanura sensed a tipping point in the hard-fought talks had been reached and she allowed herself a small, internal smile. Let Bakken think he had won a small victory while you gain the greater one.
“It is of course possible that, if these enhanced humans—not machines—were executed, not destroyed, or otherwise disciplined without due process of law, then some of their colleagues in the various government forces might likewise take matters into their own hands. Leading to serious and, of course, lamentable consequences for any former enemy leader or political figure whom they considered responsible for the fates of their colleagues.” I just threatened to have someone killed. Out loud. In a conference. I can’t believe I said that.
Bakken’s eyes narrowed further, and Sanura knew her priority on whatever death list the Earth First faction was harboring had increased. If th
ese talks failed, she would need to have her personal security reviewed. Perhaps she should have it done anyhow.
Before Bakken could reply, the naked Zarmayr Bedrosian broke in. “And you should also consider whether you can keep your followers under control. Or are you threatening to unleash your death squads, as a clear hallmark of the gangster state’s your United Nations represents attitude to popular protest?”
Bedrosian looked around the table for support from Bakken or Nehemiah. Taking their silence as implicit support, he plunged on. “However, since you appear to understand the essential principle that these individuals are unacceptable to the people, then The Pure Bred People’s Party is prepared to discuss other means by which they might verifiably be put beyond use.”
Not killed, then mused Sanura. It was becoming apparent that the boundaries between the Pure Breeds and their armed allies, Humanity Pure, were vague and shifting. There was no evidence Bedrosian had ever personally taken up arms, but it hardly mattered; he had been a part of their cause for his entire life, and was known to wield almost direct control over the terrorist group. Despite the not-represent disclaimer Bedrosian had made earlier, his words mattered very much to the organizations leaders fatuously-named Struggle Command.
If the Pure Breeds could accept the Enhanced staying alive, Earth First wouldn’t try too hard to oppose it. Progress.
The monk Nehemiah shifted in his seat. “The Lord will not be mocked!” Oh God, here we go. Sanura mentally rolled her eyes. The monks’ allies looked bewildered. At least this heterogeneous bunch of grotesques sufficiently understood the norms of negotiation to avoid talking over each other, but they had plainly not prepared themselves adequately enough to present an effective united front.
Nehemiah rummaged around in his coarse brown robes and produced an iron hammer, laying it on the conference table alongside three iron nails. Nehemiah regarded Sanura as if he had just played an unbeatable card, or unveiled a checkmate which he had been covertly building.
Medieval oaf. Sanura knew it was an abomination to the Christian fundamentalist that he faced a woman in the negotiations, and she cherished the thought. Bless the Sherpas for their diligent pre briefing. Placing the nails on the table meant the monks were ready to talk tough. The subsequent appearance of the hammer signified a non-negotiable issue. Nehemiah turned the crude tool around so its head faced her.
“Christendom has suffered enough. These clockwork demons of yours must return to the hell from which you have summoned them, or the hammer will fall again upon the heads of the nails. The brethren will pour forth from the monasteries and nail up the unbelievers on high.”
Across the planet, U.N. peace-keeping forces were under enormous pressure. Where donor governments were failing to deliver on their commitments to provide troops, the Enhanced special forces proved a way out of the numbers crisis. But they were too few, and too expensive, worse they provoked hatred and suspicion wherever they deployed.
Sanura knew there wasn’t the political will to continue with the Enhanced Human Program, and if she could settle for putting aside a discredited weapon then she might at least be able to keep those people alive. However, if she stonewalled, her own political masters might yet decide to overrule her. Some appearance of movement was necessary. They couldn’t win on this one, but perhaps she would not lose. Sanura may not be able to look herself in the mirror for a while, but it was worth it to maintain the slimmest chance the delicate balance which could lead to a lasting peace might be maintained just a little longer.
“The Enhanced troopers may still be of great service to us beyond Earth’s orbit, if we withdraw them from Earth itself. Their deployment may be negotiable; their lives are not.” All those deaths, all the years of suffering on every side, all the stupid waste when they could be doing something about the poverty and hunger and ignorance that still dishonored this world. If there was the slightest chance this concession would bring about a sustainable cease-fire, an end to the bombings and the savagery and the genocide, it had to be worth it. On whatever cosmic scale, it had to be.
The monk paused for a moment considering Sanura’s proposal. His reply, when it came, was typically tinged with religious connotations. “‘Beyond Earth’s orbit’? Your obscene and deluded dreams of cities in the sky are a mockery to God. Know thou that the Lord rules the heavens, and He will visit his wrath upon your demons at the very instant they try to rise into the firmament. If this is how you seek to cleanse the Earth of this vile presence, the brethren will dance for joy in the streets as the Lord takes his vengeance upon such uncleanliness.”
Well, that could be a show worth paying to see. Depends on the music. But at least it sounded something like agreement.
The words left a foul taste in Sanura’s mouth, even as she spoke. “Then, if this matter is the last remaining sticking point between us, I believe we might be approaching a basis for further negotiation. Discussion on some form of ‘verifiable other means’ would be acceptable to the United Nations Security Council, purely as a gesture of good faith, without this being an admission of any culpability.”
Bakken though, the Earth First negotiator, wasn’t going to let go of his earlier point. “No. We are not complete. We will continue to expect you to enact a withdrawal from the colonies. That appalling waste of money and resources must cease. Earth must see a benefit, and quickly.”
He was a trier, Sanura gave him that. “That was not precisely the basis of our concession. The record will show we agreed to suspend the further expansion of the colonies, not to withdraw from the existing ones. A cessation of expansion will, however, result in a comprehensive diversion of funding away from the colonies and back into Earth-facing projects. The money will return to Earth.”
Sanura fully understood the UN’s imperative to save the colonies; a moratorium on spending now would still permit a re-expansion later. However, if they abandoned them, no one would ever again find the money to regain them. Who was going to invest in slow-liners? And if humanity allowed itself to be trapped on Earth…
Sanura played her last card. “In return for this significant concession—” the tension in the room, already quite considerable, ratcheted up still further, “—the participating governments would require an immediate, total, and permanent cessation of armed hostilities by all represented groups and sub-groups. A significant reduction in the levels of military presence would then ensue. The governments would be agreeable to the appointment of a neutral monitor to ensure compliance by all parties.”
The Enhanced troopers would live, for the moment. Was the momentum now with her? Could she reach her ultimate objective of disarmament? Just let these firebrands get a taste for the ministerial residences and the trappings of power. Their demands for radical changes in policy would be extinguished by contact with very icy water: the difficulties of delivery.
The three men looked at each other, clearly unable to proceed. Behind them, their advisors rummaged through papers or peered at slates, as if trying not to meet their principals’ eyes. They had nothing to offer.
The grizzled Earth First representative Bakken repeatedly opened and closed his mouth as if to speak. The monk Nehemiah appeared to be praying. While the nude Bedrosian’s expression shifted from bewilderment to understanding. None of them comprehended the value of remaining deadpan.
Sanura’s major advantage was her own sponsors did their bickering elsewhere, and then provided her with clear authority within specified limits. Her opponents’ sponsors could agree on how to manage a paramilitary conflict, but conflict resolution required negotiation, and that demanded some delegation of authority to the negotiator, hence a level of trust between the various factions. It was blatantly obvious that trust did not exist.
This weakness of mutual distrust might therefore become the weakness of any subsequent agreement. Sanura needed to ensure no combinations of groups overwhelmed the interests of any other. At times, she felt like she was arguing on both sides. S
hould she push this point? Or give them more room?
Screw it. The governments she represented were all on the back foot. She needed an agreement, almost any agreement, now. Sanura covertly studied each of her opponents faces in turn, noting the fractionally nodding heads. Around the table the notion took root that they had achieved withdrawal of their most hated enemy, the Enhanced, and it would cost them only as much as they were already prepared to pay.
She gave them another moment to fully grasp the victory they believed they had achieved before speaking. “If we can agree to this, we can press ahead to a date for partial demilitarization. May I suggest we reconvene at a future date to discuss a mutually satisfactory arrangement for withdrawing the Enhanced troopers, and a subsequent process for building trust and reconciliation? Our staffs can arrange details, and I suggest a further enabling meeting tomorrow.
“I believe we have made considerable progress today, but there is still much to do.”
As the mismatched group of negotiators consulted their aides and then each other, Sanura relished in the few moments of quiet. Flaherty, her own adviser, leaned forward to speak to her, but she raised her hand. Feeling drained, Sanura needed to reflect.
If Bakken had pressed his demand for summary justice for the Enhanced would she have done it, for the price of peace? If he pushed hard enough would she have sacrificed the lives of those men and women, negotiated an agreement based on their decommissioning, their execution? Was a possible peace for billions worth a few hundred murders? She wondered what sort of woman could even think such things, and was horrified to realize she could. Worse still was the knowledge a tiny but persistent portion of her mind was still feeling that perhaps it was acceptable, she was sentimental and foolish to think differently.
Chairs were pushed back around the room, papers and slates were gathered, and the negotiating teams stepped out to face the waiting media.