Although, Jade thought, what constituted the Hegemony’s best interest was open to wide variation of opinion.
Jade nodded. “She’ll be the one that needs to be convinced.”
“Right.”
“Excuse me, sir.” Jade indicated Stalker entering.
Travers nodded. “We’ll have time to talk again.”
Jade pushed off the console and ambled across the room to where the Chief of Naval Intelligence peered through the partition to the Gara’nesh side.
“Funny, isn’t it?” Stalker said, accepting her presence without acknowledging it.
“Sir?”
“To our knowledge the Gara’nesh are the only sentient extraterrestrial species in the galaxy. You’d think they’d be completely alien to us. Why should we share common frames of reference? And yet they’re remarkably similar in many ways, even to their level of technology. The odds of two species being at the same level of development is infinitesimally small.”
“There’s still a lot we don’t know about them, sir.”
“Oh, agreed. I know that Ambassador Halaffi is a she, but I don’t see how you can tell.”
Jade rested a forefinger on the partition. “The easiest way is verbal, by their pronunciation. Listen when a Gara’nesh identifies itself. If it says ‘this one’ as ‘i’, pronounced like a long ‘e’, then it’s male equivalent. An extended sound, ‘ii’ is female.”
Stalker shook his head. “Too subtle for me.”
“Listening to their speech takes practice. And remember, sex has different connotations for them. It’s more of a convenient designation for—”
“Please.” Stalker held up a hand. “No sociobiology. All I meant to say is that the fact we can even communicate is itself astonishing.”
“Because they ought to be completely foreign.”
“Right. Totally non-human. As different from us as we are from…from a giant squid.”
Jade laughed. “An interesting analogy.”
“Why should the course of evolution have brought divergent species close enough for intercommunication to occur?”
“Maybe God made the Gara’nesh that way for a purpose.”
Stalker chuckled. “Simple, if non-testable.” He frowned. “I saw you and Iverson exchanging static electricity yesterday. Any problems?”
Jade shook her head. “Not of significance. He just needed putting in his place. He struts around like he’s a senior officer, instead of a mid-level functionary.”
Stalker’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “You enjoy annoying the Politicals, don’t you?”
“Not particularly, sir. But it keeps them off-balance. They’re so used to being held in fear by the rank and file that they can’t cope when somebody doesn’t quiver and shake at the mere sight of them.”
“Just be careful. Don’t push too hard. Above Iverson there’s a Political general with a lot of power.”
Jade nodded. “I’m well aware of that. I’ll go easy.”
“Iverson likes to try to appear friendly.”
“I wouldn’t trust his friendship further than I could spit. I know too many people who have trusted a Political and paid the price.”
“Don’t we all. Speaking of which…”
Jade patted the trim waistline of her uniform where microfilament circuits threaded through the supple material. Any extraneous signal would be detected and relayed to her office and Rick Emmers. He’d alert her through her auditory implant if necessary.
She said, “I’m monitoring. We’re not being overheard.”
“Good.”
“I’ve been thinking about why the Political Bureau didn’t send somebody higher-ranking than Iverson, even if he is supposed to be an expert.”
“Hmm. Curious, now that you mention it.”
“You know what lower rank indicates,” Jade said. “Expendability or manipulability.”
Stalker pivoted at a reflection in the partition. “Here comes Member Maricic.”
Jade matched his movement.
Georgia Maricic rustled in, dressed, Jade thought, even more exquisitely than before. She wore her hair brushed back from her forehead. Held by a jeweled clasp at the nape of her neck, the black waves fanned out across the smooth skin of her upper back. Coral pink was the color of the day, from her gown to her lipstick.
The member waved a pair of bodyguards to station themselves out of earshot.
“Gentlemen, Commander.”
“Member,” Stalker greeted, echoed by Jade.
Still standing by his console, Travers inclined his head.
Maricic turned towards Jade, who caught a whiff of subtle—and undoubtedly expensive—perfume.
“I’m glad I found you here, Commander. I’d like your opinion of Ambassador Halaffi.”
“Mine, Member?” Jade said, startled by the request.
“Yes. I’ve heard Major Iverson’s views and I want yours for comparison.”
Jade gathered her thoughts. “Ambassador Halaffi was in a cautious but slightly belligerent mood yesterday. You may have noticed the slight ochre cast to her complexion.”
Maricic shook her head. “I was too busy listening to her words.”
“Most of what a Gara’nesh says is not in the words, Member. By the end of the day Halaffi was developing a very subtle green tint.”
“Signifying?”
“That she was more comfortable with the progression of the talks. By the time you had finished speaking, she was positively glowing.”
Travers coughed. Stalker covered a smile with his hand.
“So I said the right things?” Maricic asked, her eyes narrow.
“From their point of view, yes, Member.”
“And today? What would you expect?”
“I’d anticipate that she will again be cautious, but perhaps less reserved than yesterday. She’ll be expecting you to offer concessions.”
Maricic’s bangs bobbed. “That is essentially in agreement with what Major Iverson said. Thank you, Commander.”
“Pleased to help, Member.”
Maricic walked over to have a word with Gellner, who had just entered.
Jade whispered to Stalker, “Sounds like the Member may not trust our political officer completely.”
“Or she’s simply being cautious. File it away for future reference,” Stalker replied.
The conference opened the same as the prior day, with Admiral Stalker and Fleet-keeper Sharra exchanging formal pleasantries before Ambassador Halaffi and Member Maricic settled down to more serious business. Koharski and Stalker listened attentively, but Admiral Gellner chafed. Jade guessed why—the Chief of Staff was waiting his turn to speak when the issues turned to the matter of bases and fleet deployments.
Old battles resurfaced again.
The Battle of the Cascades, 2526
Kilin’fahar, 2530
Second Cousineau, 2541
Jade also noticed Blair Iverson staring at her from time to time, although he was careful to avert his face whenever she tried to meet his eyes. Jade thought she detected something expectant about his expression, as if he anticipated some action from her.
During a rest break, she wandered across to where Iverson sipped a glass of water. The major stood next to a young, attractive diplomatic lieutenant.
“Pass me a drink, would you, Major?” Jade asked.
“Here you are, Commander.” Iverson handed her a glass and took a swallow from his own.
The condensation ran down the side of the glass onto her hand. She shook it off.
“Is there a problem, Major Iverson?” she asked.
He hesitated. “Should there be?”
“I’m just wondering why you seem to be taking an interest in me. Something wrong with my hair, perhaps?”
She had the satisfaction of seeing him flush. The lieutenant studied Iverson curiously and edged away.
“No. Not at all.” Iverson recovered. “I was merely judging your response to the ambassador’s comments.”
“Ah. Was I changing colors?”
“Not that I could tell.”
“Good. Please let me know if I do.”
Jade saluted him with her glass and returned to her position behind Admiral Stalker.
“What was that about?” Stalker asked.
“I don’t know, sir.” Jade gazed across the room. Iverson had caught up with the diplomatic lieutenant again and was carrying on an animated conversation. “I really don’t.”
After the morning session had concluded without serious acrimony, Jade lunched in her office.
She took the opportunity to study reports. The majority originated with her local operatives; while an operative might voice an opinion as to the material’s importance, Jade took it upon herself to separate the wheat from the chaff. An individual operative had a narrow focus of attention, she, a broad.
Although she prided herself on her instincts, the sheer volume of material flowing into and away from Covenant made her task nearly impossible. Every officer of senior rank received and sent classified material. Some, Jade had clearance to read, others, not.
She flipped a computer wafer containing intercepted Fleet transmissions to Earth.
Take this communication from Admiral Cylena Koharski. It sounded like an ordinary letter to her husband. But was it? Could Jade be sure?
Probably, and no.
Likely, it didn’t matter.
Was Koharski the type to sabotage the negotiations? Again, probably not.
Naval Operations generated reams of classified documents in the conduct of the war. She could spend entire days perusing Admiral Gellner’s contribution alone. How much was relevant to the progress of the peace negotiations?
She couldn’t read everything.
So she skimmed, seeing if any pattern presented itself, anything out of the ordinary.
Nothing.
And Cheshire Cat’s outsystem surveillance reports were equally barren. The Gara’nesh fleet was doing just what it seemed to be—staying put, making no moves.
She closed the files, hoping that she hadn’t overlooked something important. She’d been analyzing intelligence reports for years, and prided herself on her instincts and judgments. But she was not infallible.
The remainder of the reports had been forwarded from her office on Windward by Lieutenant Commander Howells, her second in command.
Even in Sector 7—thinly populated by comparison with older, more established sectors—activity never ceased. The routine wouldn’t stop, even for something as momentous as a peace conference. Howells was a competent second, if cautious, unlikely to commit either a serious blunder or a stroke of genius.
She coded a reply to several of Howells’ more pressing queries.
A communiqué announcing the opening of Newstart, Keller’s Star VII, Sector 5, for colonization, made her clench her fists. Translation: the local population of humans regressed into primitive modes of existence had been exterminated to make room for their more advanced brethren.
Many brave Expansion era colonists had dared the risks of uncharted Roessler-space in primitive ships, located a habitable world, and then been forgotten for centuries. When rediscovered, all too often their descendants had slipped back towards barbarism, unable to retain both life and civilization.
Now, they lost both.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Rick Emmers’s raw-boned face appeared on screen.
She relaxed her hands. There was nothing she or anyone else could do for the unfortunates of Newstart. “Yes, Emmers?”
“Incoming message from Starwind.”
Jade exhaled. “Route it through.” The plain, unadorned features of her pilot replaced Emmers’s face. “Neilson. It’s about time you showed up.”
Lt. Karenina Neilson hesitated, as if unsure how to respond to her commander’s words. “The refit took a little longer than expected, ma’am.”
“How did it go?”
“I haven’t stopped drooling.”
Jade smiled. Neilson lived for ships. “Excellent. Lieutenant, you’ll have to leave Starwind out there, so bring a shuttle down.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ve got a new Sunfire 2 that I’ve been wanting to put through its paces. I’ll leave Starwind on station-keeping.”
“Fine. Lafrey out.”
Neilson signed off.
Jade returned to the conference room to find Charles Stalker and First Admiral Cylena Koharski in discussion. Stalker sprawled in a chair while the chief of Technical Support leaned her buttocks against the console. Stalker’s eyes flicked towards Jade, inviting her to approach.
“I don’t agree, Charles,” Koharski said, shaking her head vigorously. “The peace conference is a mistake.”
“Why do you say that, Admiral?” Jade moved closer. Maybe that letter really was important…
Koharski turned her lined face towards Jade. She had probably been attractive once. But stress or inattention to rejuvenation made her appear careworn. The ash color of her short hair added years. But her eyes, almost cinnamon in color, still looked young.
“Peace is best negotiated from a position of strength,” Koharski said. “And we don’t have that. At best we have a stalemate.”
“Isn’t that better than nothing?” Jade asked.
“That depends.” Koharski stretched. “Some analysts are afraid of the Gara’nesh asserting control by economic means or technical superiority.”
“There speaks the military industrial complex,” Stalker growled. “We’re negotiating an end to hostilities, not trade agreements.”
“The one will follow the other,” Koharski said.
“And so you’d rather the killing continue?” Jade interjected. “Will all due respect, ma’am, I think the marginal worlds, who have to bear the brunt of the attacks, would disagree with your assessment.”
Koharski shrugged, accepting Jade’s comment without offense. “That may be. But the marginal worlds aren’t the Hegemony. The well-being of all worlds has to be considered, not merely those who feel put upon. I’m not opposed to peace, Commander, I just feel our position has to be stronger before meaningful negotiations can occur.”
“Once an initial peace is made,” Stalker said, “there’ll be plenty of time for refinements.”
“I think you’re being short-sighted, Charles,” Koharski said.
“And I think the same of your position, Lena,” Stalker replied.
Jade looked from one to the other.
“As you can see,” Stalker explained, “Command is deeply divided on the issue.”
Koharski pushed off the console. She wasn’t smiling. “But I’m right, Charles,” she said. “You’ll see.”
The afternoon session degenerated into another rehash. It seemed that after almost sixty years of war, more than one day was required to clear the air. Georgia Maricic came perilously close to an outright argument with Ambassador Halaffi over the implications of an incident that had occurred well before she was born—and, for all they knew, before Halaffi took her first breath. Then again, maybe Halaffi did remember it; who could tell?
Travers and Koharski exchanged heated opinions during the afternoon break; an entirely different exchange from the one Jade had witnessed between Koharski and Stalker. Jade noticed Iverson watching the argument closely. She steered clear.
She was relieved when the session ended and she could escape to the privacy of her office, although it provided only marginal respite. Four walls, the wretched Hazlett-16 built into her desk, a holo-window – set, at the moment, to show a trio of suns shining down on a ringed planet, and a couple of chairs. The bare minimum. When the conference ended, the center would be disassembled and the parts shipped elsewhere. She wouldn’t miss it.
Rick Emmers lounged behind her desk, toying with the Hazlett. He bounced to his feet to make way for her. She subsided into the chair.
“What do you think?” Jade pointed to the computer.
Emmers pulled a face. “I could build a better one myself ou
t of components.”
Jade snorted. “News?”
Emmers pulled up a seat opposite her. “Nothing, ma’am. All quiet.”
Jade crossed her ankles underneath the desk. “I have three items of business for you.”
Emmers straightened.
“One. I want to know more about Major Blair Iverson than official background."
“No problem.”
Jade cast him a skeptical look. “Remember what I said. Don’t go overboard. Everyone is edgy, especially Iverson. Whatever you do, don’t attract attention.”
Emmers nodded.
“Two, pull up some additional info on Admiral Stalker. Troy Kuchera’s writing a bio. I promised him details. Try to make it interesting.” Jade pulled Watford’s wafer from her pocket and dropped it into Emmers’s palm. “Last, run your eyes over this. I decoded it myself, but see what you come up with. Transport it over to Starwind if necessary. Top secret.”
He closed his hand around the wafer. “Got it, ma’am.” His eyes gleamed.
“And on that note,” Jade said, swinging her feet out from under the desk. “I’m going to have dinner.”
“I’ll get right to work,” Emmers said.
“No hurry. Morning is fine.”
Jade looked back over her shoulder as she left. Emmers was already engrossed with the wafer. She smiled to herself and left him to his tasks.
Troy Kuchera had insisted on dinner again.
“All right,” Jade had acquiesced, despite a hesitancy that she didn’t want him to notice. “But this is the last one for a few days. I’ll start putting on weight and you won’t want to look at me.”
“I’d look anyway.”
“Just what I’d expect a Romeo like you to say.”
“I mean it. You used to tell me I had an honest face.”
"That was before you grew the moustache,” Jade had teased.
Kuchera had pulled a crooked face. “If it wasn’t for the ’stache all you’d notice would be my nose.”
Wreaths of Empire Page 10
