Oh, this discarnation of Anson Guthrie was no god. It had gained some powers, it had lost some. Was it subject to blind rage or despairing recklessness? She didn’t know. But certainly it was fallible. That she knew, how very well.
She shook herself. “We’d better keep busy,” she said aloud, as if Kestrel shared her sudden exhaustion. With numb hands and tingling lips, she set about trying to raise Fireball on Luna.
37
THE SEPO IN Port Bowen were few. Guthrie’s command that they lay down their arms, withdraw to their quarters, and wait for transport home had not been excised from his speech. Bewildered and demoralized, they obeyed. Company police kept an eye on them.
Isabu conveyed Guthrie to Fireball headquarters there. “You would perchance invite Niolente or me to stay,” Rinndalir had laughed. “Delightful though that would be, I think best we postpone it. We can render more assistance where we are.”
“Assistance especially to yourselves,” Guthrie snapped.
“I think that upon reflection, you will find antagonism toward us inexpedient.”
“As practical politics, no doubt. Allow me my private fun. Now let’s for Christ’s sake move!”
Isabu carried Guthrie in a silver box set with jewels. He gave the box to the guards at the Fireball entrance and sauntered off to reclaim his vehicle. After some worried debate, the guards called a safety officer, who took the box to a strong-walled room and spent several minutes discovering how to get it open.
Half an hour after that, Guthrie had a body. He wasted little time rejoicing in limbs and a full panoply of senses. There was work to do.
It did not take him long to establish his identity beyond question. He need but remind various associates of half-forgotten trivial incidents which his copy could not possibly know about. They brought him up to date on the most recent sensational events. When he heard that Kyra Davis still kept watch alongside her capture, his tongue-lashing ran for a measured three minutes and forty-eight seconds, with never a repetition. “Dispatch a tow,” he ended curtly. “I want them both back straightaway.”
Otherwise he required little briefing. In Rinndalir’s custody he had stayed au courant, more than if he merely watched the news. The Selenarchs had their own sources of intelligence. To his staff he explained how his broadcast had been altered, but didn’t go into detail. “Later, when we have time. Right now we’ve got to cover the bet that went down when the dice were cast for us. Next we’ve got to make a throw for ourselves.”
Eventually he stood in the office reserved for him on his visits here. It was a big chamber, stone-floored, sparely furnished though everything state of the art. Above low walls, a viewdome reproduced the scene outside, stars and Milky Way brilliant above wasteland, Earth almost full, regnant alone in azure and argent. His robot body hulked over Jacobus Botha, who sat as if strapped into his chair. The port director was a strong man, but today everybody was dominated.
“Holden isn’t surrendering yet, is he?” Guthrie growled. A renewed demand had been transmitted an hour ago.
“N-no, sir. He insists on orders from his government. Helledahl and Stuart think they can force an entry, but advise against it.”
“Of course they do. Liberate a lot of corpses in a ruin? No, we’ll keep their ships on station to discourage any ideas of making a sally—not that Holden could manage one, but let’s stop him from bugging the L-5ers about it—or ideas of reinforcement from Earth.”
“Those aren’t torchcraft, and they’re full of men.”
“I know. But they can interdict the approaches, and the men can stand to be crowded together in free fall for a while. You see, I have hopes those Sepo will quit soon, orders or not. I suspect their morale is down around their boots, and we’ll feed ’em news and propaganda to lower it further. If that works, we’ll want our occupation force handy to take over. If it doesn’t work, we should have a couple of torches to relieve Bruin and Jacobite in another daycycle or two.”
Botha forced his eyes up toward the lenses in the turret. “Do you truly mean to call in our ships and attack North America?” he asked raggedly. “That is—that is war.”
“No, I don’t mean to attack,” replied implacability. “I mean to present a credible threat. For this, we need the power, in being and in position.”
“But the Covenant—the Federation—you’d make us outlaws.”
Guthrie’s tone softened. “I don’t like the situation any better than you, Jake. We were hornswoggled into it, and all we can do is tough our way out.” Sharply: “No arguments. We’ve got a Paul Bunyan job of organizing ahead. Get cracking.”
Botha rallied his nerve. “In conscience, sir, I can’t join in this.”
“Okay,” said Guthrie without anger. “You’re fired.”
“Sir?”
“You are hereby dismissed from Fireball. I’ll miss your skill and experience, but I haven’t time to argue and Barbara Zaragoza should be able to fill in.”
Botha half rose, fell back down, and cried, “Dismissed from Fireball? No, sir, no, I gave troth, you always told us we are free men, put me on latrine duty but—no, not from Fireball!”
Guthrie stood for an instant motionless before he answered low, “‘My country, right or wrong,’ huh? Okay. I was too hasty. Never had a rat’s nest like this before. Consider yourself on leave of absence. Log in your disagreement with my policy. Then stay out from underfoot. That’ll be honest troth.”
Botha swallowed. “Perhaps I can—after all—”
“No. I don’t want fanatics, but neither can I use people who’re wrestling with their superegos. Think what indecision or miscalculation could cost. We’ll discuss morals and ethics and your status and everything else after this is through. Go.”
Botha obeyed, stiff-jointed. Once his back was turned, he knuckled his eyes.
The hours passed. Guthrie drove his staff nearly as hard as he drove himself. He would have been higher-powered, every recorded datum instantly available to him, every computation done precisely as he envisioned it, had he linked directly into the main hypercomputer. However, he wasn’t dealing with abstractions but with individual human beings. Best he too be clearly an individual, bearing a shape akin to a knight in armor. Yet when he transmitted, that was the image he sent, not the appearance of the once living man. He intended a symbol accenting that this was not a matter that could or in any slightest way should be mitigated.
He gathered information, conferred with persons he considered wise, spoke with his directors around the globe of Earth, sent beams a-wing over the Solar System from the antimatter plant at Mercury to the outermost comet station beyond Pluto, called his ships and captains, his men and women, to bid them stand fast or to summon the nearer ones back to him.
Nonetheless, when Kyra Davis arrived she was conducted in according to the instructions he had left. As she entered, he chanced not to be in talk. On a screen before him unrolled a spreadsheet, the latest strategic analysis from the group he had appointed to that task. He turned from it and strode across the floor to take her hand. It lay in his like a bird returned weary to the nest.
“God, it’s great to see you again, safe,” he rumbled. “As spent as a sailor’s pay, aren’t you? No wonder, after what you’ve been through. Well, we’ve reserved you a suite at the Armstrong in Tychopolis. Sleep till you wake, order whatever tickles your fancy, and sleep some more. I just wanted to say welcome home.”
She lifted her head and smiled. “That’d be understood,” she answered, hoarsely and mutedly. “But gracias, jefe.” She sighed. “Home. Yes.”
“When you’re ready, but not before, I want your input about L-5. That might show us how we can regain it if Holden’s stubborn—” The phone chimed. “Bloody damn! I’ve restricted that thing to the real urgencies. ’Scuse me.” He went back to respond. Kyra sank into a chair.
“Señor, you have a personal call from the President of the World Federation,” the instrument reported.
“Hm? Well, no sur
prise.” Guthrie glanced at Kyra.
“Stick around, honey. This should interest you Okay, connect her.”
A handsome dark visage appeared in the screen. “Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Anson Guthrie of Fireball Enterprises?” asked Sitabhai Lal Mukerji ritually, in Asian English.
“Yes, Señora—uh, Madame President,” he replied. “This time, the genuine article and nobody editing.”
Transmission lag passed, for Kyra about four heart-beats.
“There has been much deception and many allegations.” Mukerji’s tone was cold. “One cannot be certain what to believe.”
“You’ve studied the communiqué I issued when I got back here, I’m sure.”
Lag time.
“Yes. It is not very informative.”
“I tried to give the basic facts, Madame President, to the entire human race. The details can wait. They must. Not only are they a max-entropy mess, but I admit not yet knowing a great deal, and shouldn’t throw statements around that may be unfounded. The bone truth is plain, though. Agencies of the North American government stole my duplicate, reprogrammed it in violation of human rights written into the Covenant, and passed it off as me in an attempt to take over an international association of free men and women.”
—Mukerji frowned. “That is a grave charge to bring against a government.”
Guthrie laughed. “Ma’am, no charge has ever been too grave to bring against a government. Any government. It’s the nature of the beast.”
—“You are entitled to your opinions. You are entitled to press charges and produce evidence. You are not entitled to break the law.”
“What’ve I done except escape from their efforts to murder me? My communique explained how that call to arms was a put-up job by the Lunarians. Complain to them, please, not to me.”
—“We shall, sir, we shall.” Mukerji’s image leaned forward. Her forefinger pointed like a lance. “But you have not disavowed that criminal incitement. On the contrary, your statement makes demands on North America that no government could accept from a private party. Your ships are blockading the North American troop in L-5. The Peace Authority’s surveillance and intelligence units report every indication that you are mobilizing your company for violence.”
“Ma’am,” Guthrie said, “you’re an intelligent and reasonable lady. Must we, between the two of us, use loaded words? Fireball hasn’t delivered any ultimatum. We’ve simply warned the Avantist government that we can’t—we cannot, ma’am—stand idly by while it arbitrarily imprisons people of ours and, considering what’s going on thereabouts, unnecessarily exposes them to danger. The seizure of our property without due process is an outrage too, but minor compared to this. Likewise, the occupation of L-5 is illegal, having been carried out under false pretenses, and the hazard it poses is intolerable.
“We beg them in Futuro to set matters right. We realize this can’t be done in a single stroke, and we offer to negotiate and cooperate at every step. For instance, if they’ll evacuate L-5, we’ll provide ferry service to Earth. As for mobilization—ma’am, politicians chronically remind me Fireball is not a nation and its directorate is not a government. How could we mobilize? I’ve requested our consortes to prepare for whatever action may prove necessary in the present emergency. They’re starting to do so. That’s all.”
—Lustrous eyes narrowed. “What action have you in mind?”
Robot shoulders shrugged. “I said, whatever proves necessary. Isn’t that pretty much up to Futuro?” Weightily: “If you hadn’t called me, I’d have appealed to you before this daywatch was over. Use your good offices, Madame President. Bring the Avantists to their senses.”
—Mukerji smiled bleakly. “You have a clever way with your bluff words, Mr. Guthrie. But let us not play games.
Your communique said nothing about the call to rebellion and the pledge of aid to it that were in the earlier broadcast you call false.”
“What’d you expect, ma’am? Obviously I’d like to see the Avantist government replaced. Whether or not that happens, I’d hate to see a lot of people who wish for freedom butchered, jailed, or brainwashed because they trusted a promise made in the name of Fireball. So, yes, I did propose”—He and Kyra saw her wince at the foregoing sentence, then quickly, dutifully recover.—“a cease-fire, a general amnesty, and in due course a convention of all parties to work out new arrangements. I offered our good offices toward this end. Meanwhile, though, the uprising is still going on. Lives and treasure are being squandered. If your Peace Authority mustn’t intervene in a purely domestic affair, how may poor, private Fireball? The one right we claim, if neither the North American government nor the Authority will do it, is to assure the safety and well-being of our consortes, and, secondarily, secure our property.”
—“That is a considerable claim.”
“Sure. We’ll affect the course of events. How could we not, even if we do nothing? We’ll discharge our obligations as we see them, as best we’re able.”
This pause was longer than light speed imposed.
“Your concern for your personnel in North America is in itself commendable,” Mukerji said, as solemnly as if she spoke at a funeral. “Perhaps it has caused you to forget that there are many more of them elsewhere on Earth, and each is a citizen of some country belonging to the Federation.”
“And they could become hostages or the objects of reprisal? Ma’am, I can’t believe you’d dream such a thing. They’re totally innocent.”
—Mukerji’s voice went dry. “Is that why your General Director Almeida ordered every Fireball spacecraft on Earth into orbit, and every regional chief concurred?”
“That order came from me. They just executed it. I won’t insult your intelligence. It’s obvious where their sympathies lie. But they and the rest of our folk on Earth did nothing illegal, nothing their governments or your office had forbidden, and from now on, whatever happens, they’ll scarcely be in a position to flout your laws.”
—“Their sympathies, you say. Their loyalties? … Well, a general conflict would certainly endanger them.”
Guthrie lifted his hands. “Ma’am, please! Who spoke a word about that? Surely it can’t be what you’re planning. And we in space want a conflict like we want a hole in our helmet. I’m amazed that the Council and the Authority aren’t working to free and safeguard our people in North America. The moment that’s done, everything else becomes negotiable.”
—Mukerji’s lips tightened. “The effort is being made, I assure you. It cannot be carried out in a glare of publicity.”
“I understand, and thank you, and wish I were religious so I could pray for you. I hope you understand that Fireball cannot abandon its trothgivers to their fate, and therefore must make ready to help them if other attempts fail. Maybe that fact will be a useful bargaining chip for you. Meanwhile we’ll do nothing that might embarrass you, and whatever you ask that might assist you.”
—“Very well, sir. Cancel this mobilization of yours.”
“Madame President, I repeat, it is not a mobilization, and with respect I disagree that unpreparedness on our part would serve any good purpose.”
—Mukerji sighed. “This has gone as I feared. But I was obliged to try.”
“I hoped you’d see we’re reasonable folks here. That should have a little value to you.”
—Mukerji smiled sadly. “Reasonable people too can be at odds with each other. I trust you will receive future calls from me or my office immediately, day or night, as I will yours?”
“Of course. Vaya con Dios.”
—“Farewell.” The screen blanked. Guthrie stared into it a moment before he turned back to Kyra.
“Is, is it war, then?” she stammered.
“I hope to Christ not,” he sighed, “We’ll know in a couple more daycycles.”
“I should think … Mukerji will need longer than that … to persuade the Avantists.”
“I’m afraid so. She’s capable and well-intentioned. But
if I were that regime, I’d stall her till the Kayos have been stamped out, while maneuvering to bring the Peace Authority actively onto my side against contumacious Fireball, which has given me such a lot of woe.”
Kyra brought fingers to mouth. “You mean—your action is helping them?”
“Well, they can at least appeal to the herd instinct in their fellow governments. If they provoke us into taking the role of villains, their antics with regard to us can be swept under the carpet and several important persons among them won’t be hauled before an international court. If they can bring it about that the Federation declares us outlaws, they can confiscate everything we have in the Union. That would be quite a boost for the ramshackle economy they’ve created.
“But I don’t see how we could’ve stayed passive. Nor can we wait long. Suppose those ‘relocation centers’ are next to militia bases, political headquarters, or wherever else it’d hurt to be struck, whether by the Kayos or us? However that turns out, you know that consortes of ours will be going into the interrogation labs.”
Guthrie smote the table beside him. “No, Kyra, we’ll honor our troth. Afterward I’ll take the blame and the consequences.”
She rose, went to him, and caught both his cold, heavy hands. “Like hell,” she said. “We will.”
Above and beyond his turret, the galactic belt gleamed. She remembered hearing that in Swedish it was named the Winter Road.
38
FOR SECONDS KYRA could only stare. Her head felt as though she had suddenly gone into free fall. “Is this real?” she whispered at last.
“‘What is reality?’ said jesting Pilate,” Rinndalir answered. “The invitation is quite sincere, no ruse or entrapment. How could my nation gain by that? Fireball already has ample grudges against us. You shall return whenever you choose, your dignity intact. The visit may cause you to look on us less unfavorably. Since you have evidently become rather close to the lord Guthrie, that would be furthersome to us—and, you may agree, to him. However this proves out, I can promise you a unique entertainment.” Damn him, that voice and that smile were enough to melt your back teeth. “And, naturally, I shall savor your presence.” The beautiful face went serious. “But if you wish to come, you must at once. Events approach their perihelion. They will pass it soon and swiftly.”
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