"Are you going to take an official position on this?" Harriet asked. "Or is there anything in particular you would like me to do?"
Ambassador Nantock raised his hands. "We will protest the entire chain of events—and all of the implications that go with it. We may attempt to enlist the help of Secretary General Albright. It is hardly a secret that Commissioner North and others have been pressuring us to give you up into their custody."
"No. Not a secret," Harriet said softly. Gratefully.
"Have no fear, Mrs. Mahoney. If your work is so dangerous to them that they have to resort to sending outlaw groups to stop you—"
"We don't actually have proof yet that there was any official involvement in that pursuit, Mr. Ambassador," Peter reminded him.
"Perhaps not," said the ambassador. "But we have good holo evidence of the vans that were pursuing you, and we have already linked one of them to Centrist Strength. And one link does tend to lead to another." Ambassador Nantock paused in thought. "If you were to publish your findings on the worldnet—and solicit information from anyone who might be willing to come forward—" he paused again, his neck-sail stiffening "—especially concerning the sale of weapons to Centrist Strength—"
"Then we just might flush the vermin into the light," Peter said.
Harriet nodded, thinking out loud. "Mr. North and his friends must be quite alarmed right now. And if they can be pressured into making a mistake—"
"Exactly," said the ambassador.
* * *
The detailed plan took the rest of the day to work out. Rather than posting the entire text of Counselor Corellay's reading for public view, they decided to create a summary, with a request for reply from anyone with direct knowledge of the facts. In addition, they would put up a discussion space for anyone who wanted to comment. By creating massive public awareness of the accusations, they hoped to generate as much pressure as possible on North, the Spacing Authority, and the RiggerGuild to come forward with a response. Harriet generally disapproved, in principle, of prosecution by publicity—and even now she felt a certain uneasiness in taking that route. But her reservations paled in light of the two attempts on her life.
As their preparations neared completion, Peter excused himself to take a call. When he returned, his eyes were lit up like tiny violet lanterns, and he wore a dazzling, crinkly grin on his face.
Harriet looked up from her compad. "What is it? You look like you've seen an angel."
"Almost that good," Peter said. "They have Maris! Morgan and Georgio and Pew. They're on their way back with her right now!"
Harriet whooped in delight. She jumped up and grabbed Peter and danced him in a circle. When she let go of Peter, she turned dizzily to Dendridan. "Do you think we could bring them here? Would you mind?"
"Mind?" said Dendridan. "We'd be delighted. Please send word to your people, and ask if they'd like a diplomatic escort."
Peter laughed. "I can already tell you, the answer is yes. But the way Pew drives, I wouldn't be surprised if they got here before your escort reached them."
Dendridan hissed a chuckle and spoke into his com-unit. "It is on its way," he said with a nod.
"Thank you," Harriet whispered.
"And now," said the Narseil, "weren't you almost ready to make that posting to the net?"
Harriet forced her gaze back to the screen, scanning the work they had done. "Yes," she said softly, and reached out to begin the transmission.
* * *
Jenkins Talbott poured himself a double shot of lace-bourbon and sat back in front of the com-console in his living room. The news feeds were coming in, and they were damned depressing.
Especially after his dressing down today, with Colonel Paroti and a few others, right there in the Strength offices...
"...What the hell's the matter with you people? You call yourselves soldiers? Officers? I send you on a few errands, and you can't get even the simplest, most basic things done right!" It was Ottoson North at his most arrogant—and since the man usually never even let himself be seen or associated with them in any way, you knew he was pissed. He'd been lighting into one of them after another. Now it was Talbott's turn. "You!" North pointed a finger right at Talbott's face. "You can't grab a comatose woman without getting shot to pieces—and then you come away empty-handed? Are you just incompetent, or were you trying to screw up?"
"Well, it wasn't quite like that—"
"And you!" North, ignoring Talbott's protests, turned next on Paroti. "I ask you to stop a van—a fucking van! How hard can that be? And you botched that one, too, even though I told you it was urgent, but you fucked it up, and now I've got this Mahoney bitch spreading lies about me all over the fucking worldnet!"
"We did our best, Commissioner," Paroti said, his face as red as a beet. "But since we were forbidden to use weapons..."
"Excuses! Don't give me excuses," North said in disgust. "Well, now we're knee-deep in shit. Listen, if I need your help, I expect you to be ready to jump when I say jump. Let's see if you morons can do it right, next time."
"Of course, sir," Paroti muttered. "If I might say—"
But North's holoimage had already winked out, leaving Paroti, Talbott, and other loyal Strength officers standing stunned...
Humiliated.
Angry.
They didn't deserve this kind of crap.
Talbott squinted, sighing, looking around his living room as if he'd never seen it before. God, what a shithole. Had it always been this bad? Empty food cartons, dirty clothes, and data-cubes everywhere—not quite the military spit and polish. The damned place looked like it was going to seed. But then, so the fuck what? His living room was no one's business.
Talbott was still angry, very angry. And why shouldn't he be? North wasn't even the worst of it. Everything just kept going from bad to worse. His shoulder hurt like christo from the thistlegun wound. Thistlegun, for chrissakes! The Fabri dinks! Who'd've expected them to butt in? They'd damn near killed him. And though he'd bite off his tongue before he'd admit it in public, he owed his life to Lieutenant Bitch, who'd pulled him to safety.
His pride hurt more than his shoulder, though. All these years he'd worked to get where he was in the org; and just when it was starting to count—they finally had the makings of a decent assault fleet for when the time came to use it—everything just went to shit. Not just his personal pride, either; his pride in Strength, too. They'd failed to grab Maris O'Hare; they'd failed the grab of Harriet Mahoney; and now Mahoney was just warming up with her skewering of Ottoson North, who could spill a hell of a lot more than those yokels on the outside knew. Talbott never did trust the bastard. But if North went down talking, he could take a lot of people with him—Talbott included. He'd managed to keep from being publicly connected with Strength so far (not counting that horseshit a couple years ago about the arms sales, but that had blown over). The heat was on now, though. With Mahoney putting that stuff out on the net, people were coming out of the woodwork to back it up.
Talbott paged grimly through some of the accusations that were making the rounds. Bad stuff. With the vultures of the press on it, Strength could be in some serious trouble. They weren't ready yet to make their move for control of the government—and now it might never happen.
He paused to take a long pull on his lace-bourbon. Shuddering as it went down, he morosely turned the glass in his hand, glaring at the reddish-orange liquid, waiting for the burning to subside. Why the hell did he drink this stuff, anyway? Because it feels good, once you get over that first belt... He shrugged and took another swallow.
Come to think of it, he reflected through the numbness, North was the cause of a lot of Strength's troubles—besides just being a supercilious asshole. No one in command wanted to talk about it, but it was true. Ever since that rigger escaped from Carlotta—and North blew it as far as keeping Legroeder out of trouble—everything had gone to hell in a handcart. Everything the dedicated Strength members had been working for, for years and years
... just slipping away like sand through your fingers.
Christ, look at this stuff on the net...
Talbott didn't mind if North himself went down. But somebody was going to have to watch real close, to make sure the rest of them didn't go with him.
He drew a deep breath, pulled the keypad into his lap, and began typing instructions to his group leaders. Maybe Command was paralyzed by this—he'd gotten no answers to his questions about what the hell they should be doing to respond—but at least he could get his own crews ready. "...Essential to be prepared for any eventuality. If group security is compromised, we must be ready to act independently. All militia units, ground and space, are to be at full state of readiness. This is what we trained for, people..."
When you got right down to it, Talbott reflected, it was possible that someone would have to be prepared to silence North. The thought gave him goose bumps; he didn't like the idea of removing a commanding officer, even one who fucked up this bad. But it might have to be done. And it would take someone who cared more about mission and destiny, and about Centrist Strength, than about his own life.
Jenkins Talbott had never been afraid of sacrifice. That was really what it was all about, right? Damn straight.
He squirted the message and scanned more of the news feeds with growing gloom, and hardening determination.
He took another swallow of lace-bourbon.
Yeah, sacrifice is what it's all about. No guts, no glory...
* * *
Maris O'Hare arrived that evening, brought in by Morgan and Peter's men. She looked pretty shaky, and more than a little wary, but Morgan had spent the trip back to Elmira briefing her on what their relationship was to Legroeder—and why they'd had to take refuge in the Narseil embassy. Maris was a dark-haired, muscular woman; but she looked hurt, and walking was obviously an effort. Her face was lined, her neck bandaged, her eyes tired and wary. It was a wonder she was alive at all. She followed the embassy staff to a room where she could rest while they all got acquainted. The rapid appearance of a robodoc and a Narseil physician seemed to reassure her.
"I'm very happy to meet you at last," Harriet said, squeezing her hand as the robodoc began fussing over her. "Legroeder was worried sick about you. He went to see you whenever he could, while you were in the hospital in a coma."
Maris drew a slow breath, clearly making an effort to relax. She looked both bewildered and touched to find herself surrounded by friends; at least, that's how Harriet hoped Maris saw them. Even the tentacled Gos'n and the Swert had solicitously remained nearby. "I've been worried about Legroeder, too," Maris said finally. "Where is he?"
Harriet glanced at Morgan. "You didn't tell her?"
"She told me he'd gone off-planet," Maris said. "Looking for information to clear his name."
Morgan smiled ruefully. "I didn't want to hit her with too much at once."
"Too much what?" demanded Maris, pushing the robodoc out of the way to sit forward.
Harriet winced a little. "It's complicated. He did go off planet looking for information. You see, they were going to throw him in jail here—"
"Morgan told me that."
"Yes. Well, you see—" Harriet swallowed "—he's gone on a somewhat... risky... mission with the Narseil."
"The Narseil? To do what?"
"To, uh, go back to Golen Space—"
"What?"
"—to try to infiltrate a pirate stronghold."
Maris looked as if she might faint. "He went back to the pirates?"
"Well, not to the same stronghold—but yes," Harriet muttered, remembering all too well whose advice Legroeder had been following. "It sounds crazy, I know. But it seemed the only way to make good this escape. To prove he was innocent of the trumped up charges he was facing here." Harriet shook her head. It sounded utterly mad, now. What could they have been thinking? Her voice trembled as she continued, "That was about eight weeks ago. The last report we had was that they had met and captured a pirate ship, and were going to attempt to penetrate the raider's home port."
"But why?" Maris whispered.
Harriet felt her voice growing heavy. "To try to gain intelligence about the pirates' use of starship Impris to prey on shipping. Do you know about Impris?"
Maris closed her eyes, nodding, then shaking her head. "I've heard of it, sure. I never knew if it was real, though." She opened her eyes, staring up at Harriet, then glancing at all the others, as though wondering if she had fallen into the hands of yet another group of crazies.
"Oh, it's real," Harriet said. "Maris, dear, there's a lot we have to tell you..."
* * *
The posting on the net had attracted attention at once, both from the news media and the public at large. Peter and Harriet used their connections in the news business to the fullest; stories about the implant reading and the car chase were in the late-night news, and in the morning there were news analyses of the legal status of Level 9 implant interpretations. By noon, the first denials from Commissioner North's office had replayed endlessly, and several news groups had exhumed file holos and data on Centrist Strength and begun a fresh round of investigative reporting.
Harriet found the process at once sobering and exhilarating. It was astounding how fast the press could move in response to a whiff of corruption and vulnerability in high office. And on the net, anecdotal stories poured in. Peter hired additional people to search and sort, trying to separate the wheat from the chaff. It was mostly typical net ranting...
*
***************
BREAKER29: If he's guilty, we ought to GET HIM OUTATHERE. I mean, here the guy's RUNNING THE WHOLE FRICKIN' WORLD!
***************
JUDYJOHN: Excuse me, could we do with a little less exaggeration? He's not running the world, he's running the Spacing Authority. And all we have is rumors. Are we going to convict somebody on the basis of rumors?
***************
CAN-DO: Well, the Spacing Authority is practically the world. I mean, it's the most powerful agency in the world. Shouldn't we have someone there we can trust?
***************
SKIPJACK: Trust???? You trust a lawyr whose on the lamb from the law? Give me an f'in' break....
***************
*
Even the talk in North's favor seemed to increase the pressure on him to make a response. The day after Harriet's posting, North issued a strong denial. But he had not yet made a personal appearance.
In the embassy lounge, news reports played nonstop. To Harriet the reports were almost hypnotic...
*
Newscaster: "...Joran Philips, live with two professors from the Sota University Policy Institute. Jonathan Dutt is a longtime specialist in political history, and Professor Daniel Marshall has been studying the fringe group Centrist Strength for more than ten years. Gentlemen, what about these accusations against Commissioner North? Is there any substance to them?"
Professor Dutt: "None that I can see. You have to understand, accusations of this sort pop up in any administration. If Ms. Mahoney has some real evidence against the Commissioner, why doesn't she come out and present it in a court of law, instead of hiding behind the Narseil Embassy? Maybe we should be asking what role the Narseil are playing in all this."
Newscaster: "But we have an affidavit, apparently admissible in court, that Commissioner North has been involved in illicit weapons deals with the fringe group Centrist Strength. Don't you think that's something of a bombshell?"
Professor Marshall: "Joran, it sure could be."
Dutt: "If they can prove it's true."
Marshall: "Of course. But some of these claims are pretty indicative—including a couple that have surfaced on the net in the last twelve hours, that there may have been more weapons deals. I've been saying for years that there needs to be more accountability. No question, if North wanted to make those weapons deals, he could have."
Newscaster: "And if he did? Centrist Strength—for all its rhetoric about bui
lding up Faber Eridani—has been rumored to have connections with outlaw worlds of the Kyber alliance."
Dutt: "Rumors! Allegations! Why would North want to make deals with Centrist Strength? He's hardly an apologist for them. And he's been a vocal opponent of any rapprochement with the outlaw worlds."
Marshall: "Vocal, yes. But when you look at the people he's appointed to serve in the Spacing Authority, you find no fewer than four known extremist sympathizers."
Dutt: "Well, that's just a gross generalization..."
Marshall: "Plus there's evidence that he owes a significant personal debt to Centrist Strength..."
*
***************
LIKEMINDED: 'S'not just this one guy, you know. You gotta drill down. He's got people under him, and I wouldn' be surprised if the whole damn place was rotten to the core.
***************
HACKWOMAN: If anyone's interested, I've got a list of all the places North contacted by secure channel in the last two years. A friend of mine burrowed in and got some VERY interesting data. Y'know, I wonder if that lawyer lady might like to see it...
***************
SAMSAM: What is this, a godd*mn lynch mob?
***************
TRUTHWILLRULE: Dunno about a lynch mob, but isn't it true what I read, that North had this lover—not a human—I think it was a Delta Aeregian...
***************
JIM824: old news... years ago... died of an incurable neuron fungus.
***************
TRUTHWILLRULE: I know it died. But Centrist Strength paid for some kind of experimental treatment, before it died... that's what I read, anyhow...
***************
*
[Newscaster...]
"Here at FaberNews, we're going live with Commissioner Ottoson North in his first public statement since the potentially damning accusations were released. The commissioner is apparently ready to speak now..."
[An angry North, in full dress uniform...]
"...nothing but vicious, unfounded rumor. Let me state flatly that I am completely innocent of all the charges that have been slung about. I remind you that not a single accusation has been made where it counts—in a court of law. If anyone has evidence, let them confront me with it in person, instead of this cowardly hiding in a foreign embassy and leaking libelous trash to the net. In fact, I call right now upon the Narseil Embassy to turn Mrs. Mahoney over to the police, and let her face the legal charges that stand against her.
Eternity's End Page 60
