He glanced over it, though nodding understanding anyway. The Arcadian movement was history from about seven hundred years back – a major effort over a couple of decades to develop a number of D-7 worlds for future human occupation. The idea had been to develop them with large-scale drops of terraforming seeds, scattered from orbit. The intention had been to return after a hundred years to see how things were progressing. By then, though, people had lost interest. The colonising drive was dropping off anyway, and it had become apparent that even if such worlds were terraformed sufficiently to be suitable for human occupation, there would not be any great demand for them. Government funding had been pulled, and the only legacy of the Arcadia movement was the member-funded Terraforming Society which paid spacers to drop seeds on slimeworlds they were visiting anyway.
‘Nobody has been here for centuries,’ Shion pointed out. ‘It is entirely possible that another species could have been exploring your space, either missing or avoiding contact with your ships and inhabited worlds, and settled themselves there. So, okay, there are the Urr, right there in the heart of the League, what are you going to do?’
‘Contain them, obviously,’ Alex drew a bubble around the indicated world, and a thin shaft rising directly upward from it, the shortest distance from there to the nearest League border. ‘Something like that. You’d have to allow them the ability to maintain contact with their homeworld, I think, but you’d be looking at maintaining a tight quarantine zone around them. And yes, I do see the analogy. If you accept the premise that the Marfikians consider these worlds to be theirs, and to have been occupied without their permission – which is a huge if, I should tell you, and not something many people would even let you finish saying, let alone be prepared to consider – but if you accept that premise, hypothetically, I understand that what you’re saying is that you believe the Marfikians to be policing a quarantine zone.’
‘Yes, exactly that,’ Shion affirmed. ‘And I would ask you to consider that if they truly were the ruthless killer-robots your people see them as, they would have cleansed that zone, huh? With no more compunction than you people have in calling in pest controllers to tackle a rat problem. But they didn’t do that. They re-established their borders, driving out the pests from the League who were blitzing all over the place spreading their filth and diseases, and then they set about policing the colonies which had sprung up in their space. Try to see that from their point of view – to them, it isn’t an invasion, it’s a reclaiming, sending ships to a system to tell the people there that they will be tolerated so long as they behave themselves. Worlds which agree to that, fine, they’re left alone. Worlds which kick off causing problems, they get slapped down. And just as you, your people, are prepared to do whatever it takes to protect your worlds, the Marfikians will do whatever it takes to keep control. I doubt they grieve or have any guilt about it, from what I know I do believe they’ve engineered messy, uncomfortable emotions out of their genome, but I do also believe that they have retained principles, an intellectual ethic. What they do, of course, of course, is terrible, horrific, and I am not in any way attempting to excuse the atrocities they have committed. But I do think that it is important to understand why they feel they have the right to control this space and everything in it, and how powerful that revulsion-driven imperative is.
‘Go back to this…’ she indicated the hypothetical Urr settlement in the middle of the League. ‘Suppose you went there, and found that for reasons incomprehensible to you the Urr had banded into different groups, withholding resources from one another. Suppose you could see that one such group was starving – I mean, actually starving to death, children dying in the streets, while another group nearby was hogging food and even throwing it away. I can see you – I mean you, personally,’ she gave him a little grin with that, ‘giving it to them very straight…’ she imitated Alex’s coldest, most intimidating look, the one the media called his psychotic stare, and snapped in a fair mimicry of his voice, ‘You, send them the food! No argument! Just do it!’
‘Well, yes, you’ve got me there,’ Alex admitted, though shifting uncomfortably, uneasy even at the faintest possibility that there might be any similarity between him and the Marfikians. ‘But you’re not telling me that you believe the Marfikians are acting out of humanitarian motives, are you?’
‘Humanitarian as in concerned, sympathetic, caring, no.’ Shion said. ‘But in terms of moral obligation to ensure that basic needs are provided for on worlds within their space, yes, I do think that is why they allow ship building and direct resources to worlds which need them. And maybe Prisos gets to build the ships because Prisos is the world that needs the stuff – dunno, just guessing there, but it does seem to me that they are organising essential supplies for the benefit of the occupied worlds, not for themselves.
‘So, going back to Lundane…’ she highlighted that screen, ‘I believe that addresses the argument that Lundane has nothing that the Marfikians want, that’s irrelevant since they don’t want anything from any of our worlds, anyway. Why would they? Would you pick up anything an Urr had handled, and take it home? No, of course not. You’d pick it up with an autobot and put it in a biohazard bin. For the same reason, there is no advantage whatsoever to the Marfikians in allowing Lundane to communicate and trade with the League. Sorry, but I don’t believe the League has anything that they want, either. As for them ‘just not having noticed it yet’, give them more credit than that, Alex
‘I believe that they leave Lundane alone because it is their border world.’ She highlighted the Marfikian-centred star chart again. ‘Try to imagine this as one system, and here, Lundane, as a port-entry station. Back in the day, pre-plague, this is where ships would come if they were visiting Marek. They would leave their ships there, too, with cleansing procedures, even pre-plague, as the Marek certainly wouldn’t want any seeds or insects to find their way onto their perfectly sterile planet. So visitors would arrive at Lundane and be taken on by the Marefek like some cultures in the League expect visitors to take their shoes off and use a hand-wipe as they enter their homes. When the plague did happen, that would have been where the border locked down, this far and no further. As they tried to work with other worlds on finding solutions, my bet is that Lundane would have been where that happened, their one remaining point of contact with the outside. And Lundane still has that role, huh? A strong culture of trading-post neutrality. The Marfikians have no interest in using it that way, themselves – why would they want to talk to the Urr? But they leave it alone, it isn’t a problem.
‘Cherque, however, that’s a problem.’ She tapped the star chart. ‘You see it as massively defended. I suspect they see it as massively aggressive. But that’s nothing in comparison with Samart.’ She indicated Samart, which was deep within the Marfikian zone. ‘Proportional response, yes? On average, there are two or three Marfikian patrols in border presence at Cherque, with a maximum force used in major incursions of approximately a hundred and twenty ships. At Samart, there are in excess of forty five patrols on border presence and the maximum force used in major incursions is eight hundred and sixty ships. So if their niggling at Cherque is like,’ she repeated her finger snap little poke at Alex’s shoulder, ‘then Samart is…’ a sharp two-fingered jab at his ribs made Alex flinch. ‘Sorry,’ Shion said. ‘I’m trying to use multi-sensory aids.’
Alex found himself breaking into a grin at that, despite how confused and unnerved he was feeling. Or perhaps because of it. That comment reminded him that he was in an exodiplomacy meeting here, talking with someone who had not yet fully grasped every subtlety of human culture.
‘I’d rather you stuck to audio-visual,’ he told her, with a dry note, and in some apprehension, too, as to how she might feel it appropriate to demonstrate an even bigger Marfikian attack.
‘Okay,’ she grinned back. ‘I’m just trying to make the point that Marfik throws more than seven times the force at Samart than they do at Cherque… more than seven times the force t
hey consider necessary to keep the League in check outside their borders. In that, I would ask you to consider what the response of the police would be, in one of your cities, to an area in which their vehicles were attacked on sight by stone-throwing yobs. Increased presence using riot-control vans, yes?’
‘Well, I suppose, but…’ Alex shook his head, gesturing at the array of screens she’d laid out. ‘I do see that you have the basis of a hypothesis there, if you accept the frankly appalling idea that the Marfikians have any kind of ‘rights’ in this region, but the idea that they’re not interested in conquering the League, Shion, I’m boggling at that, it goes against everything I know, all right, everything I believe, about the way things are. It’s just overwhelming.’
‘Yes, I know,’ she said, sympathetically, ‘it requires a major reversal of your cosmological view… but that, after all, is what the Samartians had to contend with, finding that their beliefs about how things are were fundamentally wrong. All I’m asking is that you consider it if might be possible for there to be another way to see this situation, yes?
‘In theory, I suppose,’ Alex allowed, academic open-mindedness at war, there, with every instinct in his body. ‘But what are you suggesting? What you’re saying implies that the Marfikians are ‘only’ blowing up cities in response to perceived threat, which is an appalling thing to say, Shion – we call that ‘blaming the victim’ and it isn’t acceptable. And it isn’t true, either – just look at Terale.’ He shifted the star chart, drawing her attention to a world in the further region of Marfikian space. ‘What you’re saying might be interpreted as that planets only have themselves to blame for the damage they take if they resist Marfikian control, that what they ought to do is surrender at once, even submit to the Marfikians as having a legitimate right to rule.
‘Terale did that, you know? And that hasn’t helped them. Their world is being devastated in an environmental disaster caused by the worst kind of surface strip mining, and the Marfikians are doing that, compelling them to fill ore ships for Prisos under threat of destroying their cities if they fail to meet production requirements. I would not say, given the state of that planet, that surrender and compliance are in any way advisable.’
‘Hmmn,’ said Shion. ‘It could be argued that the Teralians do not in fact have to strip-mine for the minerals they send to Prisos. They do, I believe, have the technological capacity to use far less environmentally damaging methods – just as you, your people, have the technical ability to use far cleaner production methods on Carpania, a world with a comparable level of industrial pollution. The Teralians mine the way they do because it’s the cheapest, regardless of the damage that it’s doing to their world, and those decisions are made by a totalitarian regime which has nothing to do with the Marfikians. No, honestly, Alex, I know they call themselves the Sons of Marfik but the regime there is one hundred per cent human.’
‘I don’t know enough about it to argue that one,’ Alex admitted. ‘I’m aware of the environmental disaster there, but I can’t claim to be familiar with the political regime.’
‘Nasty,’ Shion informed him. ‘Very nasty. The human species at its worst, quite frankly. It seems that after the first visit of the Marfikians a movement arose which actually revered them, or claimed to. This party are extreme controllers, themselves – I believe they fall into the category the League defines as fascist. They call themselves the Sons of Marfik and claim to be ruling the planet on behalf of the Great and Mighty Marfikian Empire, legitimising their regime by claiming to be authorised, chosen by the Marfikians to rule in their absence, and using the threat of Marfikian reprisals if the population doesn’t comply with all their directives. But those are human directives, Alex. Since when have the Marfikians ever cared what kind of government the grotty little Urr have amongst themselves? They never appoint any kind of governors to rule on their behalf, let alone impose flags and marches and education regimes. Making children salute the Empire, in school? What Empire? That’s a human tyranny, Alex, people using the Marfikians as an excuse and a weapon to dominate their world. You could argue that the Marfikians are still responsible for that, and you could say they have no right to require Terale to send ores to Prisos. But just ask yourself, Alex, seriously, now, what do you think would happen if the Marfikians withdrew all their forces?
She looked at him, steadily.
‘I mean, right now, suppose the Solarans managed to convince them to pull their border back and leave these worlds to their own devices, and all these worlds knew that, they’re liberated, free, independent sovereign worlds.’
She paused, giving him a minute to really think about that.
‘Do you believe that Terale would continue to send ores to Prisos?’ She said. ‘Or that the eight worlds which keep them supplied with nutrients would continue to do so? Many of these worlds hate each other almost as much as they hate the Marfikians. And Prisos certainly would not, could not, just let themselves be starved. Left to their own devices, there would be war, crisis, famine, war over territory and resources, a power struggle that might go on for centuries. And the League could not just stand by watching that happen, could you? As the Marfikians pulled out, seeing the crisis erupting, you would feel compelled to move in, sending in aid and peacekeeping forces which would put you right in the middle of it. It would be disastrous. And if you were the Marfikians, feeling yourself to be responsible for these worlds, would you do that, abandon them to that catastrophe?
‘So the Marfikians are dealing with the situation the best way that they know, and having found that what it takes to impose and keep control is to fire missiles at cities, that is what they do. Which is, of course, appalling, and if it needs to be said, I am with you one hundred per cent in doing everything possible, everything, to liberate those worlds. I just believe that we stand a better chance of doing that if we have a better understanding of what is actually going on.’ She saw his grimace, and smiled. ‘I know, it’s a big stretch, and there are a lot of ifs. This is only a theory, after all, and I understand it is a controversial one, I’m not expecting people to accept it, or to act on it. I’m just putting it out there, as a theory, for people to consider.’
‘Hmmmn,’ said Alex, and gave her a rueful look. ‘I have to ask,’ he told her, ‘please, do not say this to anybody else. I mean, obviously, we will pass it on to the authorities…’ he indicated the wall panel which, as always, was recording everything that happened in the daycabin. As Shion knew, every such record of meetings with her would be passed to the Diplomatic Corps. ‘And if you want to write it up, discuss it with them, that’s fine, of course. But please don’t talk about it on the ship, or in public, all right? Just … too sensitive.’
‘I understand,’ Shion promised. ‘And I won’t talk to other people about it. But I do have to tell you that I am going to ask the Solarans to take a message back to my people, to Her Serenity, to the Karlane.’
She spoke with calm resolve, a decision that had clearly already been made, and not one she considered she had to ask Alex’s permission for.
‘I have a duty, too,’ she said. ‘I’m not here in any official diplomatic capacity and I won’t, and can’t, undertake any responsibilities in that, in speaking for my people or anything like that. I just don’t have the right – I was Breath, you know, not Voice, and I’m not even that any more.’
Alex understood. One of her titles was ‘Breath of the Karlane’, which she’d told them was a job description, a purely ceremonial role in which she undertook public duties, maintaining traditions, as she said herself, like a living history exhibit. It was those who carried the title Voice of the Karlane who would make governmental decisions.
‘But I am still,’ Shion said, ‘a citizen of Pirrell, even though I can’t go back, it is my homeworld, they are my people. It was arranged when I came that the Solarans would carry any messages I had back to them, and your government agreed to that, too.’
‘Absolutely,’ Alex confirmed, knowing that she
did not, in fact, even have to tell him that she was going to send a message back to Pirrell, or disclose its contents, let alone ask for his or anyone else’s permission. ‘Nobody will try to stop you, Shion. And I appreciate, thank you, the courtesy of you telling me you are going to send this back to Pirrell, because I do understand, you don’t have to tell us, tell me, anything at all.’
Shion gave a little chuckle, giving him an affectionate look.
‘Am I supposed to pretend not to realise how horrified you are?’ she asked, and Alex shook his head, giving a quick, humourless grin.
‘It is frightening,’ he confessed. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t accept your theory – not just like that, anyway, though I will concede that you’ve given me a lot to think about, and I will think about it, believe me. But it is just so… breathtaking, bewildering and yes, terrifying. And the thought that you’re going to send that back to Pirrell, I am fighting a kneejerk reaction there of begging you not to. Particularly as there is a very purposeful note in the way you said that, which makes me think that it isn’t something you’re sending as purely academic information. You don’t have to answer, of course, but I do have to ask – what are you expecting them to do?’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t presume to expect them to do anything,’ Shion said, quickly. ‘I know, for a fact, that the Karlane would consider it my duty to inform her about this situation, about my understanding of this situation. We know so little of what is happening beyond the veil, only what the Solarans tell us, really, and that is rarely detailed and certainly doesn’t give any kind of understanding of the economic or political issues involved. It’s taken me the best part of a year to get to grips with the concepts of political economy, myself, and the Solarans, well, they’re well-meaning, of course, and lovely people, but between us, pretty much clueless.
‘So now I feel I have come to some understanding of what’s going on, out here, I do feel I have to pass that back to the Karlane, with all due qualification of course that it is no more than a theory based on my admittedly very limited experience and incomplete data. What the Karlane does with that is not for me to say. She may feel that it is insufficient information to even consider taking any action, just, you know, read and file, interesting but no more than that. Or she may bring it to congrave for discussion. If she does that and if my theory is accepted then the question will arise of what we as a people could and should be doing to help. That is, I can tell you, something that is talked about a lot, on Pirrell, though we never get any further than grief at the things we’re told about and feeling that there’s nothing we can do. It is possible, though – just possible, don’t think I’m speaking for the Karlane here in any way, but I do think that it’s possible that when they know how much people are suffering out here, if they do see a way in which they might be able to help, they might decide to act on that. It is just remotely possible that they may decide to send out an ambassador. A real one, I mean, not an ordinary bod like me but someone with the status to undertake diplomatic role.
Dark Running (Fourth Fleet Irregulars Book 4) Page 65