by Chris Walley
“No!” Delastro paused, and then the voice began again in a much smoother tone. “At the moment, I simply want you to research something, Colonel. Some ‘accident’ that will do the trick and leave no complications. Remember, it’s for her good, too.”
“But it would be a sin.”
Delastro moved closer now. “A sin? Would it? Trust me, Colonel. Theology is my expertise. You’d kill an enemy on the battlefield and be counted a hero. How does this differ, except that it must be a private matter?”
Zak made no answer.
“By this you will show me what the Guards of the Lord are made of.”
“Sir, I don’t like this. I really don’t.”
“And neither do I. And you may not need to do it. But you must prepare for it.”
“What does Dr. Clemant say?”
A good question to which you will shortly find out the answer.
“With that fine logical brain of his, what do you think he would say? ‘Necessity’ is what he would say. But don’t talk to him about it. You take orders from me on this. Purity and obedience! Now, Colonel, go about your work; make the preparations.”
“Yes . . . yes, sir.”
“You are dismissed.”
As Zak left, Clemant switched the screen off and walked to the door. His hands were shaking. With fear or rage? It is irrelevant; Delastro must be stopped. He would see Zak and cancel that order and then deal with the prebendant.
Yet as he grabbed the door grip, he suddenly stopped. Doubt filled his mind.
Fool! Analyze the situation.
He sat down on the edge of his bed. Two voices seemed to speak in his mind. This is murder; I must act. But the other was just as insistent. Delastro was right. Captain Huang-Li is putting everything in jeopardy.
Then a trickle of disquieting thoughts came to him. How can I intervene? To reveal that I know what has been said would be to reveal I am . . . a what? Communal had no words for it; he had to use older languages. A snooper, a voyeur?
He put his head in his hands as he realized he could do nothing. Delastro and I are so interlinked that if he falls, I fall too. He was a man of my choosing; he and I collaborated to try to neutralize D’Avanos; he and I seized this ship together.
As he considered the subject further, matters became plain. Perhaps Delastro is right and there is a clarity in Below-Space. But if we are to save the Assembly, then we must protect our mission. The documents on this ship imply there are thousands of vessels the size of the Triumph of Sarata being readied to attack the Assembly. Any hope against such a desperate threat must come from us. Desperate times do indeed require desperate measures.
He gave a groan.
Much as I might wish to, I can do nothing for the captain. The only way I can stay in control and help the Assembly is to stay silent.
Clemant sighed deeply and rose to his feet. “The Assembly must be saved,” he said under his breath, and then added, “Whatever the price.”
10
On Ancient Earth, Ethan Malunal sat in his office in Jerusalem—that room that seemed increasingly to be where his life was centered—trying to reconcile the irreconcilable demands of the worlds and the military. Sighing, he leaned back in his chair and looked out the window, his eye taking in the courtyard with its wall of age-worn brown stones and, beyond, the untidy but fascinating jumbled lines of houses. I have explored so little of this city. Another regret!
He heard footsteps approaching on the smooth limestone floor of the corridor and checked the schedule that his aide, Hanif, had given him. He was expecting no one for an hour. There was a sharp knock on the door.
He tapped the intercom button. “Who is it?”
A woman’s voice answered with a short monosyllable that he heard as Kaye.
“Kaye who?”
“K. The controller of DAS.” Exasperation tinged the voice. “Dr. Malunal, can you just let me in?”
He pressed a button, and a dark-haired woman entered and closed the door behind her with a sharp, decisive movement. Although she was not a tall lady, Ethan, as always, felt that Kirana exuded a powerful presence.
Ethan began to rise to greet her, but she raised a dismissive hand.
“Don’t get up.” It came over as an order rather than a concession to weakness. Kirana’s expression, always rather severe, now looked even more so. Her face was pale, and there seemed to be a hardness to it, as if the bone was only just below the flesh. Irrelevantly, Ethan wondered what it must be like to be her husband.
Kirana handed him a slim folder. “Your latest security briefing, Dr. Malunal.”
“Thank you.”
“I like to give them to you promptly and personally.”
Is it an accident that this gives you an opportunity to see me without an appointment? Or am I being too cynical? “Kind of you.” He opened the folder and pulled out a document that was perhaps twenty pages long. Paper; for security. “So what’s the latest?”
“The coreward worlds are protesting again. I can guarantee that a delegation is coming to visit you next week.”
I may not get on with this woman, but her warnings make her worthwhile. “The usual problem? They object to having to contribute heavily for the defense of the Assembly when any attack is likely to fall on the outer worlds?”
“You may get that.” Ethan noticed again Kirana’s short, sharp sentences. She treats language the way she treats people—with brusque efficiency. “My information is that you are going to get something different. You’re going to get the allegation that they are totally undefended. This is a view particularly prevalent in the coreward worlds. They are concerned that the Assembly defenses are so narrow that an enemy could sneak around and hit them and there’d be no one to defend them. They will complain that the nearest military vessel is a hundred light-years and three Gates away.”
Ethan put the document down and stared at the director. “I think they need a lesson in geometry. We don’t have anywhere near enough vessels to cover the volume of space that we occupy, and—for the moment—we know very little about our enemy. But it makes sense that he will be coming through from Bannermene and straight toward Ancient Earth. We had assumed Bannermene would be the next world to be attacked even before this monstrous appearance occurred.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, thank you for this warning. Have you included any suggestions?”
I know what she is going to say: that it’s not in her job description. Kirana is the perfect bureaucrat.
“Dr. Malunal, the role of the DAS is to warn the stewards of any internal threats to the Assembly.”
“Of course. Primarily. But I need advice and so—‘privately and off the record,’ as they used to say—give me some suggestions.” Ethan found his gaze drawn to the framed diagram of the triple spans of the Elmuthar Bridge that hung on the far wall. The first project I worked on; a long, long time ago. He decided the diagram was crooked. Then he looked back to Kirana, who seemed to be mulling something over.
“Dr. Malunal, we do have a suggestion,” she said quietly. “Create dummy warships, painted up in military livery with artificial missile pods—”
“Good grief! Sorry; continue.”
“Crewed by men and women with military uniforms. Have them circulate round the worlds. They need never stay anywhere longer than a few days before they move on.”
“I’m sorry, Kirana; are you suggesting that we lie to our own people?”
“K. Dr. Malunal, I think the word lie is unhelpful. I am fully prepared for you to find such ideas offensive. I just suggest that you take some time to think. Consider the virtues: Such a plan would reassure the worlds and would encourage the military spirit. And, should the enemy be in some way watching, they give an impression that our power is greater than it is.”
“Kir—K, would you take it very badly if I suggested this was utterly immoral?”
She nodded as if to say it was an expected objection. “No. It is, quite simply, an extension of mi
litary subterfuge. I suggest you consider the matter. But, of course, you must keep such a matter quiet.”
“Quite. If it is known that decoy vessels exist, then their value is immediately lost.” Ethan leaned back in his chair. “K, a question for you. How do you know all these things?”
“The DAS is now on all the worlds. We listen; we attend meetings.”
“And all this . . . is done in a way that is appropriate? That upholds the values that we all stand for?”
Kirana’s lips flexed into something that resembled a smile. “Dr. Malunal, the DAS is a large organization with many representatives. We are dealing with many critical issues. We have guidelines and we do our best to adhere to those guidelines. But I would be dishonest if I said that we would keep to the letter of such rules in the event of an issue that threatens the security of the Assembly.” She paused. “Then, as you would, we would adopt the rules of war.”
“My understanding is that the rules of war allow you to do anything. They are not rules.”
The apparent smile faded away to be replaced with a look of utter resolve. “War, Dr. Malunal, raises many, many issues. I am not a philosopher or a moral theologian. But I understand that under these circumstances we must adopt a slightly more pragmatic morality than might be desired by armchair theorists.”
Yet another person trying to tell me how I should do my job.
Ethan merely nodded. Then he picked up the document and riffled through it with a finger. “And what else is in here that you want to draw my attention to?”
“A report on the state of the body that is being called the Counter-Current. You asked for it.”
“I did. Your evaluation?”
“Potentially troublesome but small in number. We have the names of the leaders.”
“I see.” This woman’s attitude chills me.
Kirana continued. “We are watching them. They could give us trouble, especially if we need conscription. Your friend Andreas is battling with them as we speak. If he defeats them, well and good. If we think he is not going to win, we will get involved.”
Yet again, the language of conflict and warfare.
“You are very blunt, aren’t you, K?”
“I see no point in hiding the truth in words.”
Wanting to move on, Ethan changed the subject. “Tell me, do you consult with the sentinels?”
He thought he saw a brief frown but it was quickly suppressed. “To be honest, no. Not really.”
“Why not?”
“The sentinels are a small fringe group; they would be the first to admit it. They are not part of the administrative process of the Assembly. We appreciate that the first warning that the Assembly had came from them. We don’t see a future role for them. But we are watching the situation.”
“Watching the situation, or watching them?”
“Frankly, both. And you would not expect otherwise.”
“No.”
He looked at his watch and she caught his gesture. “Now, Dr. Malunal, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go. If you want to talk with me about anything in the report, you can always get me. I’m never far away.”
Why does that sound like a threat?
“Thank you . . . K.”
After she left, Ethan got up from his chair, walked over to the wall, and mechanically adjusted the picture of the bridge. He heard himself sigh. Once upon a time, I worked with people I liked. Then he realized that his sigh reflected more than nostalgia. I fear her and what she could do.
Five days later, Ethan was being driven back from a long meeting with the military on the south side of Jerusalem when his driver turned off the main road. Without explanation, he drove down a narrow winding street of tall, elegant houses in the neo-Ottoman style. Then, in a corner that was deep in the shadows of early evening, he stopped by a red-painted wooden door in a wall.
More puzzled than alarmed, Ethan asked, “Why are we here?”
The driver gave him a wink. “Someone wants to meet with you. Inside. But don’t be long. Fifteen minutes, max.”
Still puzzled, Ethan got out of the vehicle and pushed on the door. It creaked open to reveal a small, high-walled, private garden crammed almost to overcrowding with flowers and trees. At the far end, just below the balconied house, was a seat on which sat a large, dark-skinned woman dressed in a long yellow dress and reading a bound book.
“Eliza!”
She put the book down and rose to meet him. They embraced.
“I had no idea you were in town. Why didn’t you tell me?” She gave him a weak smile. “And the secrecy?” The smile slipped away.
“I am sorry for the secrecy. It was the lesser of several evils.”
“A concept I am constantly grappling with.”
“As you must. Take a seat, Eeth; we don’t have much time. I just wanted to talk with you without being noticed.”
He sat down next to her. “Noticed? By whom?”
“By the DAS.”
Why am I not surprised? “They are on our side.”
“I was expecting a more sophisticated analysis from the chairman of the Council of High Stewards.”
“Sorry.”
“Eeth, it’s not just about being on ‘our side’ now. It’s how people are on our side.”
“You are getting concerned?”
“Yes.” The word was emphatic. “Some of us in the sentinels are getting worried about the DAS and Kirana. I take it you find them of use?” Her look was sharp.
“Yes. Given the complexity of everything that is going on, I find their ability to tell me what’s about to land on my desk invaluable. K is frankly useful. But . . .”
“But?” Her eyebrows rose.
“Ethically, they do trouble me.” A nod from Eliza encouraged him to continue. “But every case I raise with K is argued away. Basically, it all comes down to this: ‘Dr. Malunal, this is a war situation.’ And in a war, it seems you do whatever you need to do.” He shook his head. “But what’s your specific concern?”
“Eeth, we think someone is listening in on us. Monitoring what we say, what we do. We think we are being checked out. To see if we will toe the line; to see if we may make trouble.”
She gestured to the garden, where high on the right wall the last gleams of a ruddy sunlight could be seen. “Hence the secrecy. I’m concerned. I see why it’s happening, but the DAS is becoming very powerful.”
“I understand your worries, Eliza. Entirely. But let me try to reassure you. The DAS is under the control of the high stewards and is acting within the guidelines set out for them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. . . . I think so.”
“I hear your hesitation, Eeth. But supposing, one day, that changes?”
“That’s an imaginary threat, and I have enough real ones, Eliza. But I am concerned at your warning. If you can get me information that they are overstepping what is right and proper, then let me know.”
“And if you felt they had gone too far, what would you do about it?”
This is not a conversation I want to have. “I would present the evidence and the stewards, as the governing body of the Assembly, would probably restructure the DAS. Or even close it down.”
Eliza stared into the night. “Eeth, sentinels are obsessed by history. But let me warn you that there were times in the past when intelligence organizations grew so powerful that when it came to a battle with the authorities, it was they that won, not the administration.”
“A salutary warning.”
Eliza turned to him. “I know you are not a historian, but have you ever heard of the Doctrine of the Indispensable Power Void?”
“No. It sounds more like engineering.”
“It is an inelegant phrase. But in a way it is, or was, engineering. Let me quickly tell you about it.”
“Please.”
“When, after the War of the Rebellion, the framework of the renewed Assembly was being laid out, those who drafted it agreed that there ought to be a
void of authority within the Assembly. We were the King’s people, and as in a physical sense the King was missing, it was felt that the structures should echo this. So the administrative structures were designed, as it were, to orbit around an empty space: the King who rules from heaven.”
“In that form, I am familiar with it. In the Chamber of the Great King, it is implied with Njalstrom’s sculpture of symbols: the empty throne and the crown and scepter that await the King.”
“Exactly. You need to meditate on that empty throne, Ethan.”
“Expand.”
“A deliberate void exists at the center of the Assembly power system. There are no kings, empires, or hegemons. Just men and women who chair committees. The Doctrine of the Indispensable Power Void has made it impossible for power to be seized by one man or one organization.” He saw her glance at her watch. “Such a framework has served us well.”
“Indeed. We have had no political crises.”
“But, Eeth, these structures were designed for days of peace and this is now a time of war. What was a virtue in peace may be a vice in war. It is not just nature that abhors a vacuum.” She rose to her feet. “You’d best go now. I shall visit you formally tomorrow and we can talk of health and families. But not this.”
“But any meeting will be in my office,” he protested.
“A very important place. Just the sort of place that a microphone might be placed.”
Ethan felt seized by a sense of outrage. “You are not seriously suggesting . . . !”
Eliza returned a stern smile. “Indeed I am. Now go. And be wary.”
Later that evening, Ethan found himself struggling with his briefing notes for the looming major conference of the military command with the high stewards. It was not going to be an easy meeting. Seymour was a tough negotiator, and Ethan anticipated arguments and bad feelings. By way of taking a break he called Andreas, who was in South America. Seeing him on-screen, he felt the man seemed tired. But what do I look like?
Hating himself for his caution—or was it subterfuge?—Ethan was careful to let the conversation center on generalities for some time. Then, trying to make it sound as casual as he could, he said, “Oh, one question, Andreas: does anybody in the Custodians of the Faith have any concerns about the DAS?”