Downbelow Station tau-3

by Caroline J. Cherryh

  Which still returned to the question whether a Fleet which considered its own interests paramount could be persuaded to anything. Mazian and his like could never be controlled for the length of time it would take Earth to prepare defense. They were not, he reminded himself, not Earthborn; not regulation-followers, to judge by his sight of them. Like the scientific personnel who had reacted to Earth’s emigration bans and summons homeward back in the old days… by deserting further Beyond. To Union, ultimately. Or to be like the Konstantins, who had been tyrants so long in their own little empire that they felt precious little responsibility toward Earth.

  And… this terrified him, when he let himself think about it… he had not expected the difference out there, had not expected the Union mentality, which seemed to slant off toward some angle of behavior neither parallel nor quite opposite to their own. Union tried to break them down… this bizarre game with Marsh, which was surely a case of divide and conquer. Therefore he refused to engage Marsh. Marsh, Bela, and Dias did not have detailed information in them; they were simply Company officers, and what they knew was not that dangerous. He had sent back to Earth the two delegates who, like himself, knew too much; sent them back to say that the Fleet could not be managed, and that stations were collapsing. That much was done. He and his companions here played the game they were given, maintained monastic silence at all times, suffered without comment the shifts in lodging and the disarrangements which were meant to unbalance them — a tactic merely aimed at weakening them in negotiation, Ayres hoped, and not that more dire possibility, that it presaged a seizure of their own persons for interrogation. They went through the motions, hoped that they were closer to success on the treaty than they had been.

  And Marsh moved through their midst, sat in their sessions, regarded them in private with a bruised, disheveled look, without their moral support… because to ask reasons or offer comfort was to breach the silence which was their defensive wall. Why? Ayres had written once on a plastic tabletop by Marsh’s arm. In the oil of his fingertip, something he trusted no lens could pick up. And when that had gained no reaction: What? Marsh had erased both, and written nothing, turned his face away, his lips trembling in imminent breakdown. Ayres had not repeated the question.

  Now at length he rose, walked to Marsh’s door, slid it open without knocking.

  Marsh sat on his bed, fully clothed, arms locked across his ribs, staring at the wall, or beyond it

  Ayres walked over to him, bent down by his ear. “Concisely,” he said in the faintest of whispers, not sure even that would fail to be heard, “what do you think is going on? Have they been questioning you? Answer me.”

  A moment passed. Marsh shook his head slowly.

  “Answer,” Ayres said.

  “I am singled out for delays,” Marsh said, a whisper that stammered. “My assignments are never in order. There’s always some mixup. They keep me sitting and waiting for hours. That’s all, sir.”

  “I believe you,” Ayres said. He was not sure he did, but he offered it all the same, and patted Marsh’s shoulder. Marsh broke down and cried, tears pouring down a face which struggled to be composed. The supposed cameras… they were eternally conscious of the cameras they believed to be present

  Ayres was shaken by this, the suspicion that they themselves were Marsh’s tormentors, as much as Union. He left the room and walked back into the other. And swelling with anger he stopped amid the room, turned his face up to the complicated crystal light fixture which was his chiefest suspicion of monitoring. “I protest,” he said sharply, “this deliberate and unwarranted harassment.”

  Then he turned and sat down, watched the vid again. His companions had reacted no more than to look up. The silence resumed.

  There was no acknowledgment of the incident the next morning, in the arrival of the day’s schedule, carried by a gun-wearing mannequin.

  Meeting 0800, it informed them. The day was starting early. There was no other information, not topic nor with whom nor where, not even mention for arrangements of lunch, which were usually included. Marsh came out of his room, shadow-eyed as if he had not slept “We don’t have much time for breakfast,” Ayres said; it was usually delivered to their quarters at 0730, and it was within a few minutes of that time.

  The light at the door flashed a second time. It opened from the outside, no breakfast, rather a trio of the mannequin-guards.

  “Ayres,” one said. Just that, without courtesies. “Come.”

  He bit back a reply. There was no arguing with them; he had told his people so. He looked at the others, went back and got his jacket, playing the same game, taking time and deliberately irritating those waiting on him. When he reckoned that he had delayed as long as made the point he came alone to the door and into the custody of the young guards.

  Marsh, he could not help thinking. What was their game with Marsh?

  They brought him down the corridor in the correct direction for the lift, through the lift-sequence and halls without marking or designation, into the conference rooms and offices, which relieved his immediate apprehensions. They entered a familiar room, and passed through into one of the three interview rooms they used. Military this time. The silver-haired man at the small circular table had metal enough studding the pocket-flap of his black uniform to have made up the ranks of the last several he had talked to combined. Insane pattern of insignia. No knowing what, precisely, the intricate emblems represented… amusing on one level, that Union had managed to evolve so complex a system of medals and insignia, as if all that metal were meant to impress. But it was authority, and power; and that was not amusing at all.

  “Delegate Ayres.” The gray-haired man… gray with rejuv, by the scarcely lined vigor of the face, a drug entirely common out here… available on Earth only in inferior substitutes… rose and offered his hand. Ayres took it solemnly. “Seb Azov,” the man introduced himself. “From the Directorate. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  The central government; the Directorate was, he had learned, now a body of three hundred twelve: whether this related to the number of stations and worlds in some proportion, he was not aware. It met not only on Cyteen but elsewhere; and how one got into it, he did not know. This man was, beyond doubt, military.

  “I regret,” Ayres said coldly, “to begin our acquaintance with a protest, citizen Azov, but I refuse to talk until a certain matter is cleared up.”

  Azov lifted bland brows, sat down again. “The matter, sir?”

  “The harassment to which one of my party is being subjected.”

  “Harassment, sir?”

  He was, he knew, supposed to lose his composure, give way to nervousness or anger. He refused either. “Delegate Marsh and your computer seem to find difficulty locating his room assignments, remarkable, since we are inevitably lodged together. I rate your technical competency above that. I am unable to name it anything but harassment that this man is kept waiting hours while alleged discrepancies are sorted out. I maintain that this is harassment designed to lessen our efficiency through exhaustion. I complain of other tactics, such as the inability of your staff to provide us recreational opportunity or room for exercise, such as the inevitable insistence of your staff that they lack authorizations, such as the evasive responses of your staff when we make an inquiry regarding the name of this base. We were promised Cyteen. How are we to know whether we are speaking to authorized persons or merely to low-level functionaries of no competency or authority to negotiate the serious matters on which we have come? We have traveled a far distance, citizen, to settle a grievous and dangerous situation, and we have received precious little cooperation from the persons we have met here.”

  It was not improvisation. He had prepared the speech for an occasion of opportunity, and the visible brass presented the target. Clearly, Azov was a little taken aback by the attack. Ayres maintained a front of anger, the best miming he had yet done, for he was terrified. His heart hammered against his ribs and he hoped his color had not changed
perceptibly.

  “It will be attended,” Azov said after a moment.

  “I should prefer,” said Ayres, “stronger assurance.”

  Azov sat staring at him a moment. “Take my word,” he said in a tone that quivered with force, “you will be satisfied. Will you sit, sir? We have some business at hand. Accept my personal apology for the inconvenience to delegate Marsh; it will be investigated and remedied.”

  He considered walking out, considered further argument, considered the man in front of him, and took the offered chair. Azov’s eyes fixed on him with, he thought, some measure of respect

  “On your word, sir,” Ayres said.

  “I regret the matter; I can say little more at the moment There is a pressing matter regarding the negotiations; we’ve come upon what you might call… a situation.” He pressed a button on the table console. “Kindly send in Mr. Jacoby.”

  Ayres looked toward the door, slowly, betraying no strong anxiety, although he felt it. The door opened; a man in civilian clothing came in… civilian, not the uniforms or uniform-like suits which had distinguished all who had previously dealt with them.

  “Mr. Segust Ayres, Mr. Dayin Jacoby of Pell Station. I understand you’ve met.”

  Ayres rose, extended his hand to this arrival in cold courtesy, liking it all less and less. “A casual meeting, perhaps; forgive me, I don’t remember you.”

  “Council, Mr. Ayres.” The hand gripped his and withdrew without warmth. Jacoby accepted the gestured offer of the third chair at the round table.

  “A three-cornered conference,” Azov murmured. “Your terms, Mr. Ayres, claim Pell and stations in advance of it as the territory you wish to protect. This doesn’t seem to be in accord with the wishes of the citizens of that station… and you are on record as supporting the principle of self-determination.”

  “This man,” Ayres said without looking at Jacoby, “is no one of consequence on Pell and has no authority to make agreements. I suggest you consult with Mr. Angelo Konstantin, and send appropriate inquiries to the station council. I don’t in fact know this person, and as for any claim he makes to be on the council, I can’t attest to their validity.”

  Azov smiled. “We have an offer from Pell which we are accepting. This does throw into question the proposals under discussion, since without Pell, you would be laying claim to an island within Union territory — stations which, I must tell you, are already part of Union territory, by similar decisions. You have no territory in the Beyond. None.”

  Ayres sat still, feeling the blood draining from his extremities. “This is not negotiation in good faith.”

  “Your Fleet is now without a single base, sir. We have utterly cut them off. We call on you to perform a humanitarian act; you should inform them of the fact and of their alternatives. There’s no need for the loss of ships and lives in defense of a territory which no longer exists. Your cooperation will be appreciated, sir.”

  “I am outraged,” Ayres exclaimed.

  That may be,“ Azov said. ”But in the interest of saving lives, you may choose to send that message.“

  “Pell has not ceded itself. You’re likely to find the real situation different from what you imagine, citizen Azov, and when you wish better terms from us, when you want that trade which might profit us both, consider what you’re throwing away.”

  “Earth is one world.”

  He said nothing. Had nothing to say. He did not want to argue the desirability of Earth.

  “The matter of Pell,” said Azov, “is an easy one. Do you know the vulnerability of a station? And when the will of the citizenry supports those outside, a very simple matter. No destruction; that’s not our purpose. But the Fleet will not operate successfully in the absence of a base… and you hold none. We sign the articles you ask, including the arrangement of Pell as a common meeting point — but in our hands, not yours. No difference, really… save in the observance of the will of the people… which you claim to hold so dear.”

  It was better than it might have been; but it was designed to appear so. “There are,” he said, “no representatives of the citizens of Pell here, only a self-appointed spokesman. I would like to see his letters of authorization.”

  Azov gathered up a leather-bound folder from before him. “You might be interested in this, sir: the document you offered us… signed by the government and Directorate of Union, and the council, precisely as you worded it… abstracting the control of stations which are now in our hands, and a few minor words regarding the status of Pell: the words ’under Company management’ have been struck, here and on the trade document. Three small words. All else is yours, precisely as you gave it. I understand that you are, due to distances, empowered to sign on behalf of your governments and the Company.”

  Refusal was on his lips. He considered it, as he was in the habit of considering what slipped from him. “Subject to ratification by my government. The absence of those words would cause distress.”

  “I hope that you will urge them to acceptance, sir, after reflection.” Azov laid the folder on the table and slid it toward him. “Examine it at your leisure. From our side, it is firm. All the provisions you desired, all the provisions, to put it frankly, that you can possibly ask, since your territories do not exist.”

  “I frankly doubt that”

  “Ah. That is your privilege. But doubt doesn’t alter fact, sir. I suggest that you content yourself with what you have won… trade agreements which will profit us all, and heal a long breach. Mr. Ayres, what more in reason do you think you can ask? That we cede what the citizens of Pell are willing to give us?”

  “Misrepresentation.”

  “Yet you lack any means to investigate, thus confessing your own limitations of control and possession. You say the government which sent you from Earth has undergone profound changes, and that we must deal with you as a new entity, forgetting all past grievances as irrelevant. Does this new entity… propose to meet our signing of their document with further demands? I would suggest, sir, that your military strength is at a low ebb… that you have no means to verify anything, that you were obliged to come here in a series of freighters at the whim of merchanters. That a hostile posture is not to the good of your government”

  “You are making threats?”

  “Stating realities. A government without ships, without control of its own military and without resources… is not in a position to insist that its document be signed without changes. We have abstracted meaningless clauses and three words, leaving the government of Pell essentially in the hands of whatever government the citizens of Pell choose to establish; and is this a fit matter for objection on the part of the interest you represent?”

  Ayres sat still a moment. “I have to consult with others of my delegation. I don’t choose to do so with monitoring in progress.”

  “There is no monitoring.”

  “We believe to the contrary.”

  “Again you are without means to verify this one way or the other. You must proceed as best you can.”

  Ayres took the folder. “Don’t expect me or my staff at any meetings today. We’ll be in conference.”

  “As you will.” Azov rose, extended his hand. Jacoby remained seated and offered no courtesy.

  “I don’t promise signature.”

  “A conference. I quite understand, sir. Pursue your own course; but I should suggest that you seriously consider the effects of refusing this agreement. Presently we consider our border to be Pell. We’re leaving you the Hinder Stars, which you may, if you wish, develop to your profit. In case of failure of this agreement, we shall set our own boundaries, and we will be direct neighbors.”

  His heart was beating very hard. This was nearing ground he did not want to discuss at all.

  “Further,” said Azov, “should you wish to save the lives of your Fleet and recover those ships, we’ve added to that folder a document of our own. Contingent on your agreement to attempt recall of the Fleet, and your order to them to w
ithdraw to the territories you have taken for your boundary by the signature of this treaty, we will drop all charges against them and against other enemies of the state which you may name. We’ll permit them to withdraw under our escort and to accompany you home, although we understand that this is at considerable hazard to our side.”

  “We are not aggressive.”

  “We could better believe that did you not refuse to call off your ships, which are presently attacking our citizens.”

  “I’ve told you flatly that I have no command over the Fleet and no power to recall it”

  “We believe that you might use considerable influence. We will make facilities available to you for the transmission of a message… the cessation of hostilities will follow the Fleet ceasefire.”