Fire with Fire, Second Edition

by Charles E Gannon

  “And then what? These human servitors were simply abandoned? Were allowed to die out?”

  “Mr. MacGregor, why should we be surprised by an aftermath of neglect? Did the Spaniards remain as game wardens for the horses they left behind? No: empires rise and empires fall, and in their wake they leave fragments of their long-forgotten actions and ambitions. The main ruin on Dee Pee Three may be just such a fragment.”

  “And so what about our old masters? Are they all dead and gone—or tarrying around some distant star, ready to re-adopt us if we find our way back home to them?”

  “Possibly. Or possibly, they’d just see us as a species gone feral. And of course you all know what we do to feral dogs.”

  “Oh,” said MacGregor. Who fell as deathly quiet as the rest of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  ODYSSEUS

  Gaspard was the first to break the long silence. “Mr. Riordan, I wish to return to the less esoteric matter of your experiences on Delta Pavonis Three. It is said that you are the first person to encounter an exosapient—but in fact, you are not: correct?”

  “Technically, correct. However, as far as I know, I am the first human to communicate with an exosapient—unless you consider Mr. Bendixen’s shotgun a communication device. In which case, it surely does bear out the axiom that the medium is the message.”

  “Er . . . yes.” Gaspard cleared his throat. “I wonder if you could tell us what happened after your encounter with the Pavonian.”

  “Certainly. I decided that I couldn’t risk normal communication channels anymore. So I activated the orbital beacon/transceiver that Lieutenant Brill had given me and called in a Commonwealth military assault boat, which extracted me within the hour. I was flown directly back to Downport, where I spent the next three days preparing for my journey back home.”

  “‘Preparing’?”

  “Yes, Mr. Gaspard: I suspected that the threat to me would not end when I departed Shangri-La. After my last chat with the head archaeologist, I surmised that well-groomed versions of Mr. Bendixen would be following me all the way back to Earth.”

  “Hmm . . . I recall reading that there was also a final exchange between you and Mr. Helger, just before you spoke to the archaeologist.”

  “Yes, that is correct.”

  “In which you threatened a great deal more than simple interdiction of traffic and messages.”

  “That is true.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “On the grounds that I had to force him to end his campaign of xenocide, sir.”

  Gaspard moved back an inch: Caine couldn’t tell if it was from his words or his tone. “Xenocide? I’m afraid I don’t understand why you—”

  “Then I will explain it—sir. Admiral Silverstein gathered detailed orbital images of Site One immediately after I was extracted. Thermal lookdown showed a number of humans, all in pairs, pushing well north of the main site, and in the direction of my encounters with the locals.”

  “Prospectors?”

  “I doubt it.”

  “What then?”

  “Hunters. CoDevCo was trying to finish the program that Mr. Bendixen had started.”

  “What program do you mean, Mr. Riordan? I do not follow you.”

  Caine was sure Gaspard did, but he wanted it on the record. “They were trying to exterminate the Pavonians, Mr. Gaspard. Before I arrived, it was clear that they had already hunted them like animals and killed them by the dozens. If CoDevCo was going to have a free hand developing Shangri-La, it had to eliminate all evidence that they existed. And once they began that campaign, it became more urgent that they complete the job.”

  “Why?”

  “Because there was overwhelming evidence that the Pavonians were not merely an interesting species: they were intelligent. Which meant that, in any practical sense of the word, CoDevCo’s crime was not environmental abuse: it was premeditated mass murder. And the only way CoDevCo could cover it up was to get rid of all the evidence and all the witnesses. That meant every single Pavonian—and me. So in my last conversation with Mr. Helger, I mentioned that he might want to consider voluntary cessation of those activities, lest he be brought before the Hague for the equivalent of crimes against—well, not humanity, but intelligent beings.”

  “And this worked?”

  “The hunter teams returned to Site One. The Pavonians were not molested after that.”

  “And so it has been concluded that it was CoDevCo that tried to kill you aboard the Tyne?”

  Nolan interrupted. “Mr. Gaspard, that investigation is ongoing and the confidentiality essential to that process precludes discussing it in this forum.” He stood up. “Ladies and gentlemen, our time together has just about come to an end.”

  CIRCE

  Seated at the same table, in the same sidewalk café, the tall man looked up as the same young waiter rushed past. “I will have a few last olives.”

  The waiter stopped as if one of his feet had suddenly been nailed to the floor. “Last? You are leaving us?”

  “After I finish my work today.”

  “Well, I hope you will return.”

  The man smiled. “We will see. My olives. Please.”

  The young waiter hurried away, scattering two flies off the tabletop with a quick swish of the towel he usually kept draped over his forearm.

  The tall man checked his watch, looked up.

  Toward the tip of the Sounion headland.

  ODYSSEUS

  Nolan stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’d like to close these proceedings with a few strictly personal thoughts.” He began a slow-paced orbit around the table. Heads turned with him. “Yesterday’s creation of a true world congress is a laudable achievement—but it was brought about by fear. Fear of war, fear of change, fear of the different and the new. Fear of a universe where we are no longer alone, no longer certain of our future, and not even entirely sure about our past. Sadly, then, it is due to fear that one of the oldest hopes of humanity—world government—has begun to move from being a dream to being a reality.”

  “Family disputes are frequently put aside when the neighbors become a threat.” Gaspard smoothed his tie.

  “Yes, so they are, Mr. Gaspard. But the wise family learns an important lesson from the experience: that it has the ability to lay aside old squabbles and to forget past hurts and insults.”

  Medina of Brazil smiled and brushed his pepper-and-salt moustache. “An apt metaphor, but the purpose?”

  “The purpose is to take this as an opportunity for action, Eduardo, not re-action. All our talk has been framed in the anticipation of dire necessities. Defense against extraplanetary exploitation, invasion, even extermination. But what if, when you all meet again, you were to use this unity as the foundation for taking proactive steps for the betterment of our species, our world? Why allow history to characterize Parthenon as a gathering of cunning old wolves? Why not give posterity a legacy of something better: something that will prompt the teachers of our descendants to say; ‘And on that day, they strove to actualize their ideals, even as they prepared for unknown threats.’”

  Gaspard released a slow, exasperated sigh. “Impressive propaganda.”

  Ching’s response was quiet but swift. “I do not think so, Mr. Gaspard. It is true that we started this meeting with fear in our minds, but who is to say that we may not have something different—nobler—in our hearts as we leave? It is propaganda only if we ourselves are too cynical to believe it.”

  CIRCE

  He heard the noise of the waiter approaching, did not open his eyes, but let the sun continue to shine full upon his face. He heard the expected plate of olives touch the tabletop. Then he heard a heavier thud. He opened his eyes, looked down.

  A ceramic jug. Just below the rim of its wide mouth, red wine oscillated from side to side.

  He looked up. The waiter’s hand—lowering a glass to the table—stopped. So did his smile.

  “Just olives. I gave no final order f
or wine.”

  The waiter opened his mouth—but then closed it, picked up the jug, half-bowed himself away from the table in haste.

  When he was gone, the tall man smiled and picked up an olive. He rubbed it against his teeth, feeling it slide smoothly back and forth. He pressed harder: the slick skin of the olive began to squeak, like a trapped animal being tormented by a capricious predator. He smiled more widely and opened his mouth . . .

  ODYSSEUS

  Nolan walked to his chair before he spoke again. “One of our American presidents stated that a house divided against itself cannot stand. What he knew is that unity is not a tangible object or commodity, not something that can be made or unmade by convening councils and signing accords. It is an idea, and you either subscribe to it in your innermost heart, or you don’t. The trade agreements and military cooperation pacts that you’ve made here will all fall into obscurity and be forgotten. What shall endure is the influence of the belief you take back home with you: that we can collectively protect and better our species—or that we cannot. That belief—and your commitment to it—is what will last, and will determine all our fates.” Nolan sat, the creak of his chair echoing in the high corners of the meeting hall.

  Ching lowered his head slightly, as if staring at the table in front of him. After five silent seconds, he began to speak, without raising his head. “Mr. Corcoran speaks a great truth when he points out that we stand at a crossroads in the history not just of our nations, but of our entire species.” He turned his gaze slowly about the table. “Two days of meetings have not changed the world, or us, for the better. But there is nothing to prevent us from deciding that today is the day on which those changes should begin. The wisdom I would offer has been made trite by inclusion in fortune cookies throughout the West, but it is no less true for all of that: a journey of a thousand miles does begin with a single step. Is this the time to commence such a journey? I answer with a Western axiom: if not now, when? And if not us, who?”

  Caine was surprised—and misled—by the unprecedented Sino-American solidarity for only a moment before he realized what it really signified: Ching is going to be the first Proconsul. He and Nolan worked it out ahead of time: a public burying of hatchets, and a mutual testimony of faith from the two most culturally disparate of the blocs. And if the Commonwealth and the Developing World Coalition can swear their separate oaths to the same ideal, which of the other three blocs would—could—decline to join?

  And Caine could tell, by looking around the table, that the tactic had worked. Scattered nods, thoughtful stares at the tabletop, a few smiles. Even Gaspard, his eyebrows a pair of matched, surprised arches, tilted his head slowly from side to side, as if weighing the merits of a mostly attractive investment.

  Nolan stood. “Honored delegates, these proceedings are concluded.”

  CIRCE

  Using thumb and forefinger, he extracted the fourteenth and final pit from between clenched teeth. He let it fall to the center of the plate: the impact upon the china made a dull musical sound.

  The waiter looked up, wary.

  “I am finished,” the tall man said. He rose, reached into his pocket, scattered the fistful of remaining euros across the pit-littered plate.

  He turned, spied the second story of his duplex above the other buildings, walked in that direction.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ODYSSEUS

  Nolan, Caine, and Downing emerged into a stiff breeze. Nolan squinted up the slope, leaned into the ascent. “You have a knack for this, you know.”

  Caine looked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You asked me not to be coy, yesterday. Now I’ll ask the same of you. You’re good at this, and people saw it. You’re going to be on a lot of watch lists.”

  Downing smiled ruefully from Caine’s other side. “You’re caught well and good, and only yourself to blame.”

  “Thanks.”

  A light tread behind them: Downing turned, veered away from Caine. Ching nodded his appreciation as he stepped into the vacated space. They walked on. And on. Then:

  “Mr. Riordan, I hope when you are speaking to the media that you will not include any political speculations.”

  “Why? Are you afraid I will reveal what was said here?”

  “No: I fear that you will reveal what was not said here.” Caine turned toward Ching—who looked him full in the face. And smiled: it was possibly an invitation to further acquaintance; it was definitely a sign of respect. “Mr. Riordan, you have much skill at a diplomatic table for one so young and so unaccustomed to it. But I saw your eyes when I offered my closing comments. You understood. You know.”

  Nolan’s voice came from the other side: the tone was casual, pitched so as not to attract notice as Demirel passed them. “Nothing to worry about; Caine knows how to keep a secret.”

  Walking between these two men, calmly discussing undisclosed manipulations of the global power structure, left Caine with a feeling of greater otherworldliness than anything he had experienced on Dee Pee Three. “So I’m right: the Commonwealth has assured the Developing World Coalition that it—in the shape of you, Mr. Ching—is going to be source of the first Proconsul.”

  The silence indicated assent.

  Caine uttered the insight as it arose. “And since the DWC was given the first slot, that implies that there had to be some kind of arrangement regarding the subsequent slots.” He paused, checked the almost identical smiles flanking him, one on Nolan’s face, one on Ching’s.

  “Let me guess: since China is first, Russia insisted upon the second slot. That provides Moscow the opportunity to immediately correct any ‘imbalanced’ decisions arising from Beijing. And, since Beijing anticipates this, it will wish to preemptively cultivate a reputation for evenhandedness, and so will pursue a more temperate course, anyway. Which will in turn encourage the Russians to be more temperate when their turn comes.”

  Ching’s smile was broader. “He has promise.”

  Nolan shrugged. “He learns quickly, I have to admit.”

  Undaunted by their needling, Caine unfolded the rest. “Next will be TOCIO. Japan needs the political clout that will come from an early Proconsul slot in order to stabilize their bloc and fend off CoDevCo’s attempts to poach from their membership.”

  “And then? The order of the last two?” Nolan’s tone was amused, as if he were testing a pupil who had no chance of failing the exam.

  “Europe, then the Commonwealth.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Europe is the best bloc for stabilizing the Confederation. After the other blocs have each had their two years in the big seat, the Europeans will be the ones most able to come in and build a durable equilibrium.”

  “And the Commonwealth is forced to wait until last.”

  Caine looked at Nolan, then at Ching, whose eyes were still friendly, but also incisive, almost challenging. Caine looked back at Nolan, unsure whether he should—

  “Go ahead; say it. Mr. Ching knows.”

  Caine shrugged. “No: the Commonwealth wants to be last. Needs to be. It has the most advanced space program, the best position in terms of interstellar expansion, military capability. If it took an early leadership position, the other nations would balk, might feel that they had become satrapies of the Commonwealth. And—”

  “It’s okay; don’t stop.”

  “And it makes it possible for the Commonwealth—and particularly the US—to let the other nations and blocs take the heat for any mistakes or inequities that persist through the early years. America has been resented for its inordinate wealth and power for so long that, if it started in a leadership position, there would be a reflex to blame any problems in the Confederation upon the US.”

  Nolan looked over at Ching, eyebrows raised—but both were surprised when Caine pressed on.

  “But there’s another advantage.”

  The gait of the two older men slowed. They thought the list was done. Maybe they haven’t seen it, since
they are so focused on the political maneuvering.

  “Which is?” Ching sounded mystified, enthralled.

  “Optimal timing for logistical benefit.”

  Silence. Gravel ground and snapped under their shoes.

  It was Nolan who took the bait. “What?”

  Caine smiled at the two of them. “The US is still the leader in defense and aerospace technology. In some ways, it has too great a lead. Unless the US wants to bear the brunt of a potential interstellar war all by itself, it needs a greater diffusion of higher technological capabilities throughout the globe. Right now, there’s a good amount of that from the Federation and the Union, but—with all due respect, Mr. Ching—”

  “No, you are quite right. Continue.”

  “The largest populations, and therefore production potentials, are in the TOCIO and DWC blocs. If their general technological level can be upgraded in the first eight years, they can become integral participants in a truly global effort to establish an interstellar buffer zone. And, after eight years, those nations might be ready to follow the Commonwealth’s leadership in the energetic business of rapid expansion—which is, let’s be honest, a particularly strong trait among the nations of our bloc.”

  Nolan’s smile was surprised, a little baffled. Did I just give away some of his deeper game? Well, if I did, he should have stopped me . . .