Anthony, Piers - Tyrant 3 - Politician

by Anthony, Piers

  Still not entirely at ease, I made the required appearance.

  There was a woman there, all right. She seemed to be in her mid-forties, perhaps older, and not in the best of health. I could tell by her bones that she had once been beautiful, but physical and emotional toil had broken her down. Rehabilitation? What she needed was some joy of existence.

  She looked at me. Slowly her eyes widened. "Hope?"

  Then I recognized her. "Faith!" I cried, stepping forward to take her in my arms, my eyes stinging with tears.

  For this was my older sister, whom I had not seen in more than a quarter of a century. She had been taken away by pirates when I was fifteen, and I had not been sure she was even alive, and had been afraid to inquire. In retrospect I condemn this cowardice of mine. I might have rescued her from many years of drudgery had I searched her out. But, of course, it was more complicated than that; it was not merely the fact of losing her, but the manner of it that had caused me to tune her out of my life as if she were already dead.

  I took her back to the embassy, of course. The premier smiled as we left, putting his arm around the shoulder of his son, who was much improved. "Now I think we are even," he said. Surely he was correct; he had returned a lost family member to me, in exchange for the one I had helped return to him. Such private obligations can be very important to Hispanics and perhaps to others, too.

  I introduced Faith to my staff, and they welcomed her. I think they were as relieved and gratified as I at the way this had turned out. I did not try to pry into my sister's history, for it was nothing she was eager to share in any detail, but I did pick up an approximation.

  Faith had volunteered herself to become the plaything of a ship of men, in order to prevent them from robbing and raping the other women of our refugee bubble. It had been a gallant sacrifice on her part but had not been successful. I had to advise her, as gently as I could, of the fate of the rest of the refugees. As far as I knew, only she and Spirit and I survived. At age eighteen Faith had been a stunning beauty, with fair hair and a form that caught every eye; in fact, it had been that form that precipitated the problem that led to our flight from Callisto, for men would not leave her alone. She had gone to the ship from our bubble, and it seemed she had been passed from man to man and from ship to ship to ship for some time—some years—until that life took its toll on her beauty. Finally she had been traded to a Europan merchant ship for supplies, and in due course carried to the home port, where she had become the creature of the dome. As she lost her sexual appeal she had had to do other chores, becoming a workwoman, maid, or cook—whatever was required. In short, she had been reduced to a peasant woman, and so she remained. All the expense our father had put into Faith's education had been wasted, as had Faith's phenomenal initial beauty. But she had survived, when a woman of more pride would have been cast out. She had earned a reasonably secure place by tutoring children of the better families in English. "I became very good at that," she said wryly. "It was certainly better work than..." She shrugged.

  "I will take you with me to Jupiter," I told her. "Spirit is there."

  "Spirit!" she exclaimed. "I remember her as a child of twelve, with a finger-whip!"

  "She still has a whip," I said, smiling. "But she is no longer a child. She is a woman of forty, her face is scarred where she was burned by a drive unit, and she is without a finger." Spirit had never sought corrective surgery for either condition. It made no difference to me, but it may have been one reason she never married on Jupiter. Yet in the Navy Spirit had proven her ability to capture any man she chose, so I really don't know.

  "What could I do at Jupiter?" Faith asked wearily. "My life is past."

  "I will find something," I promised. "You will never suffer privation again."

  She smiled. "You were my protector, then." She meant when we were teenagers. Indeed, it had been my job to shield her from unwelcome attentions—a job at which I had signally failed. Perhaps it had been, in part, that guilt that had prevented me from seeking her. The premier had done for me what I should have done for myself.

  I became her protector again, trying to make up for that long neglect. I arranged for the paperwork to grant her entry to Jupiter as a resident alien, for she lacked the citizenship Spirit and I had obtained via the Navy. I saw that she was fed well and that she did not feel threatened. Well, in that I may be overstating the case; it was my tight little staff that did the job; they adopted her as they would a foundling. And, like a late-blooming flower, she became healthier and more cheerful, beginning to suggest the creature she once had been.

  As yet I had no notion as to what position I would find for her at Jupiter. Well, she could become part of my staff until a suitable situation offered. Spirit would surely have input. Faith was bilingual, and that was a genuine advantage in the state of Sunshine. In fact, there was a shortage of bilingual teachers, but I wasn't sure she would be interested in that type of employment, now that she was free of bondage. Surely she had memories that were best forgotten.

  Meanwhile, it was good to have her with me. She helped fill the gap in my life made by the absence of Spirit, Megan, and Hopie. Women have always been important to me; I relate well to them and suffer in their absence, especially when they are my kin.

  I had the essence of my solution to the Tanamo problem already, but Khukov took three months to study the sugar issue, researching every aspect, talking with all parties, including representatives of the Jupiter business community involved in the handling and processing of the commodity and the Latin nations now providing it. He was hampered by having to use an interpreter, for he concealed his new knowledge of Spanish. Perhaps he was taking his time for that reason: to offer no clue to any other party that he had means to grasp the essence much more rapidly than was evident. But he researched in English, too; he even asked to talk with the chief procurement officer of the Jupiter Navy. I suspect he learned much more about the Navy than he did about sugar. But I kept my counsel and even helped him by introducing him to Admiral Phist, my friend and the husband of my former wife Roulette.

  "Beware of that Saturnine," Phist advised me privately after the interview, which took place physically at Tanamo. "He is one sharp officer. He reminds me oddly of someone—" I met his gaze. Suddenly he laughed. "Of course!" Then he sobered. "But that makes him doubly dangerous."

  "Not if I get where I'm going," I said. "I understand him."

  Phist shook his head. "You know I'll serve you loyally if you do, and I'm not the only one. The careers of the officers in your unit did not end when you resigned from the Navy."

  Phist typically understated things. I was sure my friends in the Navy now had a good deal more power than showed. "Give my regards to your wife."

  "Rue is a good woman," he said seriously. "It is unfortunate that she and I both love others."

  "Still?" I asked, surprised.

  "Still. But we do have a good marriage."

  "I'm glad to hear it." I found myself flattered, for myself and for Spirit, for we had been the prior spouses of both parties of that marriage, Navy associations were something that civilians did not understand. Civilians tend to think that sexual fidelity is the most important aspect of a marriage; those in military service know that the heart can travel an independent course. I shook hands with Phist and departed.

  At last Khukov was ready. We set it up for an interplanetary broadcast: two proposals to be presented sequentially. Of course, the concerned governments would not rule on them immediately, but it would be a fine show. If our proposals failed, the issues would die—and with them the hopes of two captains for advancement.

  Khukov presented his proposal first. In essence, it was this: Do not interfere with existing sugar quotas at all. Let the Jupiter government purchase a set quantity of sugar from Ganymede at a set price and use it for the Navy. Not necessarily for its own consumption, though there was an enormous demand for sugar to use in reconstituted foods and beverages. For trade elsewhere in the System.
"The problem of hunger is endemic," he concluded. "The food exists but cannot be economically distributed to the needy. The Jupiter Navy, however, makes routine training missions everywhere. Cost of transport on such a mission would be minimal." He smiled. "The trainees could think of the cargo as weapons. It would be a fairly simple matter to trade sugar at far-flung posts for raw materials, equipment, labor, or information, at a net saving to the Navy. Sugar is, in fact, currency in space; it becomes quite precious in regions where all food has to be imported. I believe the supply officers of the Jupiter Navy will verify that this is true."

  And I, as a former officer, knew it was true. Sugar was used on isolated outposts to make potable alcohol, among other things, and that greatly enhanced its practical value. If the Navy had a lot of sugar to trade it could make a lot of good trades. Whether this could be done at a profit was uncertain, but certainly the initial cost of the sugar would be largely offset by such use, and morale would improve.

  "In return for the reopening of a valued market and the economic stability this would contribute to the planet of Ganymede," Khukov continued, "and as a simple gesture of amity, certain personnel will be permitted to emigrate in a disciplined manner. The list of names is too long for me to present on this occasion, but it will be released to the media. Here are a few examples." And he read a dozen names, all of which, I knew, were of notorious political prisoners that Jupiter had tried without success to get released before. It was more than a "gesture of amity"; it was a striking counter-offer. The impact of those names would affect Jupiter society like the detonation of a black hole: the seemingly impossible abruptly made real. I knew then that President Kenson could not afford to turn down this offer; Khukov had sweetened the pot too much. The sugar trade would resume.

  Now it was my turn. "If Jupiter vacates the Naval base at Tanamo, neither Ganymede nor Saturn will feel further need to supply military equipment to powers in the Jupiter sphere," I said, knowing that this was a concession Jupiter was desperate for. "There has been some concern that the base might be abused, but this is needless. The equipment there is military, not civilian, and is therefore locked against unauthorized use. To use any of it, from the largest space dock to the smallest water dispenser, one must have the proper key. Without that key the entire base is little more than a metal monument. It is, of course, mined; use of an incorrect key or an attempt to force the equipment will trigger detonation."

  I paused to glance at my audience, though there was only the holo-camera. "One might suppose that the keys can merely be passed on to the new personnel. This is not the case. Each key is a magnetic pattern, a portion of which is tuned to the specific individual authorized to use it; if any other person attempts to use that key, it is inoperative. Key and operator go together, and naturally the key-keepers are carefully selected and trained. When a keeper changes, a new key has to be made, and the lock revamped to accommodate the new pattern. This adjustment is complex; in fact, it requires the presence of very sophisticated equipment. Such equipment exists only at Jupiter and Saturn; no one else can change the locks or keys. The equipment must be brought to the base along with specially trained personnel for this delicate operation."

  I paused again. I wanted to be sure this got through to the average viewer. I had had to get special permission to reveal this information, and I wanted to do it exactly right. "Obviously the base will have to be operated by its present key personnel, regardless of the sovereignty of the facility. I'm sure suitable arrangements can be made. Now let's suppose that some power like Saturn wishes to change the locks and keys and personnel, for its own purposes. Do you suppose the present personnel will acquiesce? Will they operate the gates to admit and facilitate the equipment and personnel employed to effect their replacement? The lock-changing equipment is bulky; it can be transported only by a sizable vessel, and Ganymede lacks port facilities elsewhere to accommodate such vessels." Once more I paused. "In short, the little pig is not about to open the door to let in the wolf—or the bear."

  That was the essence. Saturn could not change those locks covertly. Jupiter personnel would operate the base for the benefit of Ganymede alone, and facilitate its use as a commercial port for the shipment of sugar and such. I believed that my proposal would be approved, disappointing as it might be to Saturn; it was definitely advantageous for Ganymede.

  Khukov came to me and shook my hand. "I rather thought it would be that," he said in English. "May all our problems admit of such ready solutions."

  Thereafter he returned to Saturn, his job done, and I made plans for Jupiter and reunion with my family. I could not claim I had enjoyed all of my experience on Gany, but certainly it had provided me more than it cost me, including a planetary spotlight that would enhance my future as a politician. For one thing it had returned to me my long-lost sister—an event more significant for my peace of mind than I had allowed myself to believe before the event.

  Chapter 10 — CONFESSION

  Now I knew I could help Dorian Gray; a simple personal request to the premier of Ganymede would produce that baby in hours. Dorian must have known this; that was why she had been so ready to enlist my aid. My captors might not choose to honor their promise, but I, Hope Hubris, the former ambassador to Ganymede, would certainly honor my promise. I had become a better bet for Dorian's purpose than my captors were. Suddenly it all fell into place, and I believed I could trust her. True, she might be covering all bases, ready to collect from my captors if they prevailed, and from me if I prevailed, but she would probably elect to go with me if she could. That was a comfort to me, because I suspected I would have to tell her more of my memories than I had hitherto, if I was to make further progress. And I did have to make progress, for I didn't know how much time I had or what my captors really wanted of me. I only knew I had to thwart their plans, and I couldn't do that if I didn't know enough.

  In due course I was released from the cell, cleaned up, and taken to Scar. "If I may inquire," I said cautiously, "in what way did I transgress this time? I had not intended to."

  "You play the innocent with me?" Scar demanded curtly. "Confess your crime and I'll let it go without further ado."

  Was he fishing for something? I gave him the minimum, hoping that was what he wanted. "Then you found out how I escaped my cell at night."

  He nodded. "How long did you think you could fool us about that, Hubris?"

  Of course, he had known about it all along, so this was merely a pretext. But I had to play it through, relieved that my true secrets had not been exposed. There was no evidence that Dorian had betrayed me; certainly they would not have punished me openly if she had, for that would have given her away. Why had Scar chosen this time to brace me with this?

  "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd stop it," I said with genuine regret. It was not for the discovery but because now he would surely have to cut off my contact with Dorian, to maintain appearances, and I did indeed value that contact. "My only female companionship. I hoped she wouldn't turn me in."

  "She didn't," he said.

  "Don't punish her!" I exclaimed with suitable feeling. "She didn't start it! I used a plumbing rod to jimmy the doors—it was so hard to be alone."

  "Evidently she felt the same way," he said grimly. "We put her back in the stink-cell too, but she hasn't talked."

  "Let her out!" I pleaded. "I won't do it anymore. Maybe she didn't dare say anything for fear I'd get out again and attack her!"

  "You seem quite interested in the slut's welfare," he remarked with satisfaction.

  "She's no slut!" I protested, showing exactly that commitment he wished.

  "You like her so well?"

  I spread my hands as if caught in an awkward admission. "She... gave me comfort."

  "Considerably more than comfort!" he exclaimed with righteous indignation.

  "Please, just tell me what you want, and I'll give you no trouble. Only don't hurt her anymore."

  Scar grimaced, but he was well pleased. I was giving
every evidence of the very sort of attachment he had wanted. It seemed that the woman was now an excellent lever on me.

  "I'll do better than that," he decided. "I'll put you in a cell together, as long as you both cooperate completely." I gaped, showing my amazement at his generosity. He had, indeed, surprised me. This was definitely the carrot instead of the stick. I had been careful to maintain the pretense of increasing addiction to the beverage-drug, so now he believed he had another excellent lever on me.

  Dorian Gray was moved into my cell, and the plumbing was fixed so that escape from the cell was no longer possible. Now we had light and saw each other for the first time.

  She was exactly as beautiful as I had judged. Her hair was jet-black and hung in gently curving hanks to her armpits. Her face was elfin, but her body was as finely formed as any could be without requiring an entry to starlet career. Surely she had no need of this sort of employment. But, of course, folk of either sex can be foolish in their teens and get themselves trapped in situations that greater experience would have enabled them to avoid. Dorian, by her own account, had been as foolish as any.

  "They found out," I said somewhat awkwardly. "So they put us together, but if either of us fail to cooperate with their program completely—"

  "I know," she agreed. Then she moved to me, and I took her in my arms. "I did not tell on you; I don't know how they found out." She raised her lips to kiss me, and her tongue darted through to caress mine, twice. Of course, she knew how they knew; we were being watched now!

  We undressed and squeezed into my hammock, not turning off the light. Actually we couldn't; the day/night switching was automatic. That didn't bother me; it was a treat to handle her body when I could see it.