by David Weber
“Listen,” Wilson said, “I’m totally willing to put in the vampires if that’s what it takes, but Space Marine though I may be, I do understand the need to do ‘subtle’ from time to time. You can’t always fix things just by breaking them into tinier pieces. My problem is that since they don’t know about you guys, and since they’ve never actually seen any of our hardware in action, and since we haven’t gone down and staked out an extraterritorial enclave where we could display our hardware to them, some idiot down there—like, oh, one of Father Sokyr’s nut jobs—is going to come all over stupid and try something. If that happens and it’s an isolated incident, we’ll probably be okay, aside from whatever damage we might take in the initial incident. But if it’s not a one-off—if it happens in multiple places—we’ll have to bring the hammer down. That’s why I’d like to have our people in closer proximity to one another, not spread hundreds or even thousands of kilometers apart.”
“I understand your concerns, Brigadier. I truly do,” Arthur McCabe said. “And I agree with you that the Qwernians, in particular, are being … frustrating, Mister Secretary. But we’re still learning more about this species every day, and I actually think it’s especially important for us to have as much contact as possible with the Qwernians simply because we find them so much less … compatible, or sympathetic to our own natures, than the Diantians. If we’re going to conclude an alliance with the entire planet, we have to have an awareness of and a sensitivity to the differences between the people who live on it.”
Dvorak nodded, albeit grumpily, because McCabe had done nothing but voice his own thoughts in that regard.
And your biggest problem is that you’re not exactly the most patient person in the universe, he reminded himself. Sharon’s mentioned that to you often enough. Which is sort of rich, coming from the next most impatient person in the universe. But just keep remembering the solution to something that isn’t coming together fast enough to suit you isn’t always to reach for a bigger hammer.
“All right, Arthur—and Francesca,” he added, nodding to the admiral on the other side of the table. “Point taken. But I really would like to see this move off dead center where the Empire’s concerned.”
“I can suggest to Myrcal that we’d like to move forward,” Abu Bakr said. “I’d be cautious about making that too explicit, though.”
“Wiser words were never spoken,” Dvorak agreed, shaking his head. “I swear to God, it’s like talking to Napoleon III when he thinks he’s Otto von Bismarck!”
“No doubt I’ll understand the reference after I do a little research,” Abu Bakr said in a martyred tone, and Dvorak laughed.
“I imagine you will, but you’re right. The one thing we really don’t need is somebody down there getting clever and—what was it you said, Rob? ‘Coming all over stupid,’ I think. So if you see any sign Myrcal and Juzhyr might be heading in that direction, let me know.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” Abu Bakr shook his head. “So far, I think they’ve impressed themselves more with their cleverness than they’ve impressed me, but I’m reminding myself not to underestimate them because of that. The problem is that Jane was right when she said the Republic is a more mature political system. The Empire’s still thinking in imperialistic terms, and there aren’t a lot of checks and balances.”
“And they’d like to cut their own secret deals with us,” Alex Jackson pointed out.
“Oh, I’m sure they would!” Abu Bakr agreed. “So far, they haven’t come right out and said so, and I’m not exactly encouraging them to. But I’ll be astonished if they don’t get around to it.”
“Well, if they do—” Dvorak began.
“I’ll cut them off at the knees,” Abu Bakr interrupted, shaking his head again. “I may not agree with every single aspect of our mission orders, but they got that part exactly right. We spent too many centuries killing each other back home to have any part of creating a situation where the Sarthians start doing that because of us!”
“Exactly,” Dvorak said. “Exactly.”
. X .
KWYZO NAR QWERN, QWERN EMPIRE,
PLANET SARTH
Myrcal’s nasal flaps smiled as one of the Palace staff brought Abu Bakr out to join oum on the veranda overlooking the royal gardens. “Welcome, Ambassador Abu,” Myrcal said, dismissing the minion with a shooing motion of one hand. “Please have a seat.”
Ou indicated the two chairs overlooking the gardens. They were different in shape as Myrcal had commissioned one of the local craftsmen to build an Earthian chair, similar to the ones they used at the Nonagon when they were going to be in lengthy discussions. Although the object didn’t look like a real “chair,” the Earthian folded himself down onto it and seemed relatively comfortable. Myrcal knew from experience it was actually a torture device, though—ou had tried it and had only lasted a kysaq before ous legs and back had begun screaming.
Abu looked out over the garden, then back to Myrcal.
“Thank you for the invitation,” he said. “The view is beautiful.”
“It is.” Myrcal shook ous head in agreement. “The Clan Ruler has had the best and brightest plants brought here from all over Sarth. Ou finds its beauty comforting when ou is … troubled, and I thought it might be a pleasant venue for us to talk.”
“I see,” Abu said, his lips turning up at the ends. “I take it you find yourself … troubled also?”
“I do,” Myrcal said, happy the Earthian had caught on. “There are a number of issues I’m working on from a purely Sarthian perspective, and then there are the issues brought about by your arrival, which don’t seem to be resolving themselves as quickly as we—all of us—might hope.”
“And I suspect you’re hoping I can help you resolve some of these issues, just between the two of us?”
The Earthian cut straight to the crux of the matter, Myrcal thought. I can appreciate that.
“Yes, exactly,” Myrcal replied. “In fact, it’s one of the main reasons we wanted you to come to Kwyzo nar Qwern, if truth be told. We wanted a chance to get to know you better and to chat with you without the Diantians prattling on and on about their laws and treaties and such.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” Myrcal asked.
“Yes,” Abu said. He nodded his head momentarily, then shook it, leaving Myrcal somewhat confused as to whether he was indicating assent or disagreement. The confusion must have showed on his nasal flaps, because Abu’s lips turned up again and he added, “I think I understand quite well why you wanted us here; you’re looking to make a secret agreement with us that will be to your advantage.”
“I would never do such a thing,” Myrcal replied. “My intentions were just to discuss with you how we—the Qwernian Empire—might be of benefit to your society. Whether those benefits exceed what the Diantians are able to provide, of course, is a matter for you to decide … and if it led to any agreements, that would also be up to you. Besides, if we were to agree on anything, any ‘deals’ we made would have to go through the Clan Ruler, too, of course.”
“I notice he isn’t here to greet me,” Abu said.
“Yes, I’m sorry, he’s very busy at the moment. I hope he’ll be able to join us later, but I am unsure whether that will be so.”
“I see.” The Earthian twitched his shoulders. “So what is it you wanted to discuss?”
“As I said, I wanted to discuss how the Qwernian Empire could assist you.” Myrcal took a moment to center ouself; this was the opportunity ou had been waiting for.
“You came a long way to talk to us,” ou began. “Truth?”
“Yes,” the Earthian replied. “We did.”
“That tells me your need is great,” Myrcal said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have made this journey. The resources tied up in the trip here—both personnel and equipment alike—are staggering from our perspective. Your need must be great in order for you to do so.
“And, in fact, you’ve said it, yourself,” ou continued, warmi
ng to the topic. “Secretary David has told us that you’re alone against this Hegemony, which is made up of hundreds of races, spread out over thousands of star systems. You’re vastly outnumbered and are, as you said, in need of allies.”
Ou wagged ous nasal flaps in a shrug. “You also say your allies-to-be will be treated equally and brought up to your standards, although you’ve given us no indication of how that will be accomplished. This is just one of the key pieces of information you haven’t given us. There are many others. In fact, what you don’t tell us seems to say more than what you actually do. With that said, though, I really do believe that you’re in need of people to join your cause. I also believe your need is dire.”
“You do?” Abu asked. “Why is that?”
“As I said, you came here, investing your resources to do so. Then, when you got here, you didn’t bomb us and force us into submission, despite the fact that you very easily could have done so.”
The Earthian shook his head slightly, which Myrcal took as conceding the point, and continued, “To me, this suggests the need is dire. Not only do you need our assistance, but you need our willing assistance. You don’t have time for anything other than our best efforts. You’re scared of the Hegemony and what it could do to your species.
“That point alone should tell us to avoid you. If hundreds of races want you destroyed, the odds are that they’ll be successful in that effort. Adding our planet of substandard—to you—troops wouldn’t make a difference in that effort. As far behind you as we are, we’re even farther behind the Hegemony. Our help won’t make the difference in direct battle with them.”
Abu shook his head again, once.
“Where we can make a difference, though, is in your recruiting effort. You found us, and you’ve said there are other systems like ours in your records. If we join you—and do so willingly—we’ll serve as advertisements for the next race you contact, and the ones after that. We can say, ‘Yes, join us. These Earthians are exactly what they say. Join us, and help us conquer the galaxy.’
“You need us to help you recruit others. Perhaps in time, you can bring us up to your standards, but it will indeed take time—time you may not have. You need us on board with you, and soon. You need us with you, doing what you say. You need able-bodied tryzhans who—”
“Excuse me,” the Earthian said, raising one hand in what Myrcal had learned was intended as a polite gesture of interruption.
“Yes?” ou said, lifting one nasal flap invitingly.
“You just used a word our translator didn’t recognize,” Abu said. It wasn’t the first time that issue had arisen, and it was probably because the words in question had emerged in Sarth’s languages between the last visit by the Hegemony’s surveyors and the Earthians’ arrival.
“Tryzhan?” Myrcal asked, and, after a very brief hesitation, the Earthian shook his head in agreement.
“Yes,” he said. “Could you define it for the translator’s vocabulary?”
“Of course,” the Foreign Minister agreed, then closed ous nasal flaps in a brief expression of distaste. “It isn’t actually a Qwernian word, you understand. It goes back to the days when the Diantians were sailing all around the planet planting colonies and conquering everyone in sight. When they reached Deltar, some of their great trading companies established trading posts. In fact, they carved out entire enclaves on the Deltaran coast in what are now Synchanat and Desqwer. They needed the wherewithal to defend those enclaves, and they had no desire to invite their government back home to take over their assets in Deltar, so they raised and armed troops locally. Deltaran troops who owed their loyalty to the companies who paid them. They were called ‘tryzhans,’ and in the end, they proved more loyal to their employers than to the rest of Deltar. Indeed, the tryzhan regiments formed the backbone of the Synchanatian and Desqwerian armies when they rebelled against the Republic many, many years later.”
“I see,” Abu Bakr said, obviously remembering to shake his head this time in agreement. “I believe you’re describing something very much like what we would call a ‘sepoy.’”
“Perhaps.” Myrcal, flipped both nasal flaps in a shrug. “Tryzhans are what you obviously need, though—troops who will do as we’re told, like the members of our Alliance follow our lead. You need us—the Qwernian Empire—which has troops and allies that follow orders and do what they’re told, not the Diantians, for whom everything is a matter of debate and discussion. Before they can do anything, they have to debate the topic to death, and may very well miss the opportunity to act.
“Not so, the Qwernian Empire. When our troops are told to attack, they attack! When our citizens are told to do something they do it immediately!
“Who is the better ally for you? The one who understands what it’s like to be a tryzhan—and who is happy to follow your lead—or the nation that dithers and debates when danger is near? There is only one logical choice—the Qwernian Empire. And, luckily, the Qwernian Empire would like to be your ally. We would be happy to serve you. Is this not what you want and need?”
The Earthian looked at Myrcal for a moment, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Those are fine words,” he said finally, “but what are we to do with the Diantians?”
“I’m sure their agreement can be arranged,” Myrcal said. “All that would be necessary would be for you to leave us some of your advanced weapons and take word of our alliance back to your planet. When you return, all of Sarth will rejoice at your return and be willing to serve you.”
“You’re going to kill the Diantians?”
“That would be a waste of resources,” Myrcal replied, “and it’s already been noted that resources are at a premium. Let us just say that the Qwernian Empire will … reorder our society to accommodate our inclusion into an alliance with you.”
“And we should sign this deal now?”
“If you would prefer to do it now, I’m sure an audience with the Clan Ruler can be arranged and an agreement concluded.”
The Earthian blew out his breath and laughed as he stood.
“I’m sure your Clan Ruler would finally show up for an event like that; unfortunately, it’s not going to happen. Even if I was empowered to make a deal with you, I would never make one that included the suppression of half your planet’s people. Nor would anyone in our delegation. Good day.”
“Wait,” Myrcal called after him. Abu turned and looked back. “Can you at least tell me how you were able to beat the Shongairi when they outclassed you so badly?”
Abu turned and left without another word. When Myrcal called out to him again, he neither stopped nor looked back.
* * *
“AND HE DIDN’T look back, Clan Ruler,” Myrcal related later.
“What do you suppose that means?” Juzhyr asked.
“I’m starting to wonder. Based on what we’ve seen from Lyzan, as well as the other countries that have Earthian delegations, and now this … it seems the Earthians are far more favorably inclined to the Diantians than us.”
“Do you suppose that’s because their race is more like Dianto than the Empire?” Erylk asked. “If so, that would make them more predisposed to offer them the choicest morsels on the table.”
“It may be,” Myrcal reflected. “But if that’s so, it’s only a predisposition.…”
“What are you saying?” Juzhyr asked.
“Nothing is firm yet in the Earthians’ minds, Clan Ruler, and no decisions have been made. There are a number of things we can do to help the Earthians reconsider just how good a partner the Republic might be. I spoke with Flythyr earlier, and she said the special forces are on standby ‘for anything they’re needed for.’ She also said that her people have all of the pieces in place for Operation Thunder, should you decide to go forward with that, but that the window of opportunity for it is rapidly closing.”
“Operation Thunder is a high-risk option, Clan Ruler,” Erylk pointed out, and Myrcal suppressed a nasal flap curl of frus
tration. The old bearer’s obstructionism had become more and more wearing over the past several full-days. “If it fails.…”
Ou let ous voice trail off, and Myrcal shook ous head in false sympathy with ous point.
“That’s always a valid concern,” ou acknowledged. “But from Ambassador Abu’s attitude, I fear they’re drawing steadily closer to the Diantians. If that’s true, we have to find a way to reverse it. I believe Operation Thunder may be our best way to do that, but if we’re going to move forward with it, we may have to do it soon.…”
. XI .
THE NONAGON, CITY OF LYZAN, RYZAK ISLAND,
PLANET SARTH
Dave Dvorak gazed out over the enormous nine-sided chamber.
Over the months, he’d become more of an everyday sight for the Sarthians, especially here in Lyzan where he had established Earth’s official embassy. His appearances before the Nonagon hadn’t been all that frequent, but they’d been frequent enough that the incredible crowding which had packed the Hall of Nations solid for his first address had eased a lot.
Not so much today, though, he thought dryly. Well, that was fair. He’d made it clear that today would mark a major policy statement on the Planetary Union’s part, and journalists and reporters from every Sarthian nation had jockeyed furiously for position. Apparently, Sarth had no equivalent of the concept of a “press pool.” He didn’t think anyone had resorted to outright violence to secure a place, but he wasn’t willing to risk money betting on that.
Sword Lord Consort Symkah completed his introductory remarks and stepped back, offering the raised dais to his Earthian guest, and Dvorak bowed deeply as he rose from the human-style chair. He stepped up onto the dais and hid a smile as the podium from which Gyrdan had introduced him rose smoothly on hidden electric motors to a more suitable height. He rested his hands lightly on it and surveyed the chamber for several seconds in silence. Then he squared his shoulders and inhaled.
