by John Scalzi
“You seem distracted, Secretary Ocampo,” Dho said. The video had him down the arc of the table that dominated a tiny meeting room, which had a dozen people in it, most from different races.
“I’m still getting my bearings on the station, Ambassador Dho,” Ocampo said.
“You will be here for a while, Secretary,” Dho said. “You will have time.”
Ocampo smiled here. “Hopefully not too much more time.”
“How do you mean?” asked Ake Bae. He was an Eyr. The Eyr were members of the Conclave, or so I learned when I checked the files Ocampo brought with him. Increasingly unhappily members of the Conclave.
“The time has come to discuss the endgame,” Ocampo said, to the room. “Our endgame.”
“Has it.”
“It’s why I am here, Ake Bae,” Ocampo said.
“Indeed,” said Ake Bae. “Are you sure, Secretary Ocampo, that you’re not confusing your own endgame with our endgame? I understand that you are now in exile from the Colonial Union for the duration of the campaign at the very least. That does not imply that Equilibrium must now change its schedule to accommodate your personal needs or inclinations.”
Ocampo smiled again, but not exactly a nice smile. “I understand the concern,” he said, looking around the room. “I know very well that many of you have the opinion that humans, individually and as a species, have an outsized opinion of our importance to events, both in general and here with our particular activity. I’m also aware that many of you are of the opinion that I’ve always been a pain in the ass.”
There were noises in the room that I assumed equated to laughter.
“Let me remind you, however, that the roots of this rebellion of ours come from when we, the Colonial Union, struck out against the Conclave at Roanoke,” Ocampo continued. He looked around the room at the assembled species. “How many of your governments watched the Conclave form, and felt helpless to do anything about it?” He looked at Ake Bae. “How many of your governments joined the Conclave rather than fight it? The Colonial Union—humanity—were the only ones to bloody the Conclave. The only ones to show they could be bloodied. The only ones to show that General Gau’s experiment with hegemony could be toppled.”
“You seem to be discounting the attempted coup of Gau after Roanoke,” Ake Bae said.
“A coup given impetus by the Colonial Union’s attack on the Conclave fleet,” Ocampo countered. “My point, Ake Bae, is that we are here today because of what humans have done. If we have a high opinion of our importance to this cause of ours, it’s because we’ve earned it. It’s not merely ego.”
“There’s irony in praising the Colonial Union’s actions against the Conclave when it’s that very action that convinced us all that it must be destroyed along with the Conclave,” said Utur Nove. Nove was from Elpri. I had no idea until that moment that a planet named Elpri even existed.
“We all agree that the return to an equilibrium of power is best for all of our species,” Ocampo said. “Thus the very name of our organization. The Conclave represents the primary threat to that equilibrium. We agree about that. We also agree that the Colonial Union grew too powerful in opposition to the Conclave. But don’t confuse the Colonial Union with humanity.”
He nodded to Paola Gaddis, who was the other human I’d seen, the one who supervised the installation of the weapons systems. She nodded back at him.
“My colleague here represents the interests of several governments of Earth,” Ocampo said. “She will be happy to tell you all the ways those governments are not even remotely concerned about the Colonial Union’s interests. In the end, the Colonial Union is not humanity. It is merely a government. When the Colonial Union falls, and it will, then the Earth might finally take up the mantle of leading the former worlds of the CU. Or those worlds might form other unions. Humanity will survive. Humanity will continue as part of the new equilibrium.”
“Humanity, perhaps,” Ake Bae said. “But I was speaking of you in particular, Secretary Ocampo. You and your own endgame, which is different from that of the Equilibrium.”
Ocampo smiled again, picked up his PDA from the table. The video feed got momentarily wavy, trying to stabilize the image while being lifted. “You know what this is, Ake Bae.”
“It’s a personal data assistant, I believe,” Ake Bae said.
“It is,” Ocampo said. “And it contains nearly all of the last decade of data from the Colonial Union State Department and the Colonial Defense Forces. Nearly every confidential file or report on the CU’s doings and conflicts. Everything they don’t want known, or would want swept under the carpet. Every double-cross of an ally, completed or intended. Every military action on one of its own worlds. Every assassination. Every ‘disappearance.’ All of it true. All of it verifiable. All of it hugely damaging to the Colonial Union.”
“The data you promised us to help us plan our strategy for our next phase,” Ake Bae said.
“No,” Ocampo said. “Not the next phase. The last phase.” He shook the PDA for emphasis, and the video got woozy again. “Understand that every piece of data from the Colonial Union is accurate and verifiable. It all happened. And so it will serve as cover for what I will add to it.”
“What will you add?” asked Dho.
“All of our operations,” Ocampo said. “Every ship we’ve commandeered, human and Conclave. Every agitation we’ve spearheaded on Colonial Union and Conclave worlds. Every attack, up to and including the destruction of Earth Station. All of it altered, to make it look as if it happened under the aegis of the Colonial Union and the Colonial Defense forces. All verified by both my security hash and the security hash of my former boss, the current secretary of state.”
“And how did you get that?” asked Paola Gaddis.
“The weakest part of any security and verification scheme is the people who use it,” Ocampo said.
Right then I nearly paused the video to savor the rich irony of that statement, all things considered.
“And the fact they trust the people they’ve known for years as friends and allies,” Ocampo continued, oblivious to my scorn. “Secretary Galeano is no pushover but she has a soft spot for loyalty. I earned her trust long ago. I’ve never done anything that would cause her to doubt it.”
“Except this,” Gaddis pointed to the PDA. “And everything else you’ve done for Equilibrium.”
“I’m not going to suggest Galeano will ever forgive me,” Ocampo said. “She won’t. I like to think that in time she’ll recognize the necessity.”
“She won’t,” Gaddis said. Ocampo shrugged.
“This does not explain why this would be the last phase,” Ake Bae said, bringing the discussion back around. “It just makes the Colonial Union culpable for our actions.”
“No,” Gaddis said, before Ocampo could speak. “The Earth already believes the Colonial Union made the attack on Earth Station, to cripple us and to keep us dependent. Getting confirmation would mean a state of war between us.”
“Which would force the hand of the Conclave,” Ocampo said.
“Right,” Gaddis said. “Right now it’s playing nice with Earth but still keeping us at arm’s length because it doesn’t want to antagonize the Colonial Union. But if the CU’s verifiably responsible for the destruction of Earth Station, as shown by its own documents, it all falls by the wayside. The Conclave will invite the Earth to join.”
“Which will antagonize those of us who don’t want the humans in the Conclave,” said Utur Nove. “No offense,” he said, to Gaddis.
“None taken,” she said. “And that’s what we want, anyway. The division will weaken the Conclave, just as the Colonial Union decides that it’s a material threat and moves to destroy it.”
“A move which would fail,” Nove said.
Ocampo shook his head. “The Colonial Union will fail if it goes toe-to-toe with the Conclave, yes,” he said. “But it wouldn’t do that. It didn’t do it when it destroyed the Conclave fleet at Roanoke. It
didn’t send its ships into combat with the Conclave’s. It sent assassins—Special Forces to sneak up and place antimatter bombs on each ship, and then detonate them all at the same time. It was a psychological blow as much as a physical loss. That’s how the CU did it. That’s how it would do it again. One assassin, one shot—total destruction. Which is how it will happen this time.”
“You plan to assassinate General Gau!” Nove exclaimed, following Ocampo’s implication.
“No,” Ocampo said, and pointed to Nove. “You are going to plan it.” He pointed at Ake Bae. “Or you are going to plan it. You two are both in rather better positions to make it happen. Whoever does it is not my particular concern. The point is whichever of you plans it, it will become obvious that you did it at the behest of the Colonial Union. The CU knows that humiliating Gau nearly brought the end of the Colonial Union. It knows that Gau requires loyalty to him, not the Colonial Union. Killing him destroys that loyalty. Killing him destroys the Conclave.”
“Which leaves the Colonial Union the largest power standing,” Ake Bae said.
“No,” Gaddis said. “Not without the Earth. No soldiers. No colonists.”
“Unless the Earth changes its mind,” said Ku Tlea Dhu.
“At the right time, we will motivate them otherwise,” Ocampo said. “We’ve done it before. We can be equally persuasive this time.” He motioned away from the room, toward, I guessed, the docks in which the Chandler was being worked on and equipped. “Unless you’ve got a better use for all the ships we’ve been taking.”
“A thing which is getting harder to do,” Dhu said. “We can’t trick all the ship captains as you did with the Chandler’s.”
“All the more reason to bring things to an active conclusion,” Ocampo said. “We’ve always been a small but potent unit. Small isn’t the problem. The potency of our actions is the key.”
“And all this begins by releasing the information on that,” Ake Bae said, pointing to the PDA.
“Yes,” Ocampo said.
“And where do you suggest we release it?”
“We release it everywhere,” Ocampo said. “Everywhere, all at once.”
“I think this is a good plan,” Gaddis said. “I even think we have a chance of making it work as we intend to.”
“It’s nice the two humans are in agreement,” Nove said. I noted that sarcasm was a near-universal trait of intelligent species.
“With respect, Ambassador Nove, our agreement is a good thing,” Gaddis said. “Don’t forget that through all of this, it’s my planet that is the most vulnerable. We lack spaceships. We lack military power. The governments I represent believe Equilibrium offers us the best chance to build up our defenses before everyone else turns their attention to us again. This plan can make that happen.” Nove shifted its weight, unhappy.
Gaddis turned her attention back to Ocampo. “Which isn’t to say it doesn’t have risks. Principal among them being that the Colonial Union has to believe you are dead. And died loyal. If they think you’re alive and a traitor, you know they won’t stop looking for you.”
Ocampo nodded. “The Colonial Union knows what it means when a ship is taken,” he said. “They know everyone but the pilot is killed. They won’t think it will be any different for me.”
“You are an undersecretary of the State Department,” Nove pointed out.
“On vacation,” Ocampo said. “Nothing to identify me as anything other than an unlucky civilian.”
“You don’t think they will suspect you,” Gaddis said.
“I’ve been part of this for several years now,” Ocampo said. “I’ve been funneling information to Equilibrium all this time. If they were going to catch me they would have done it before I left.”
“You had people you used,” Thu said.
“I had a small number of people who operated independently and subcontracted,” Ocampo said. “I cleaned up before I left.”
“You mean you had them killed,” Thu said.
“The ones who could bring things back to me, yes.”
“And that won’t look suspicious at all,” Gaddis said, archly.
“Give me a little credit for subtlety,” Ocampo said.
“All this talk,” Ake Bae said. “All this planning, all this strategizing, and yet we still don’t know your endgame, Secretary Ocampo.”
“It’s the same as the endgame for Equilibrium,” he said. “The end of the Conclave. The end of the Colonial Union. The end to superpowers in our little corner of space. And when it’s all said and done, our group, which acts in the shadows, fades into them forever. And we go back to our worlds.”
“Yes, but you’re dead,” Ake Bae said. “Or at least the Colonial Union thinks so. And it is in your—and our—interest for them to continue to believe so.”
“For now,” Ocampo said.
“And later?” Ake Bae asked.
“Later things will be very different,” Ocampo said.
“You don’t think this will be a problem.”
“I don’t.”
“And you’re sure about this.”
“Nothing is ever certain,” Ocampo said. “But to go back to earlier points in this conversation, after what I’ve done for this group of ours, and for our goals, I think I’ve earned some confidence for my opinions. And my opinion is: No. When all is said and done, this won’t be a problem at all.”
And then they started talking about the mold problem some more.
I came away from this with two thoughts.
One, and again: Ocampo was a real piece of work.
Two, that sob story he told me about humanity and the Colonial Union was a load of crap.
Scratch that—not entirely a load of crap. What he told me was the nice version. The version where he was a selfless martyr for humanity rather than the guy who was planting a bomb in order to profit from the chaos. I had no love for that Ake Bae character, but he or she or it was not wrong. Whatever Ocampo was up to, he was in it for himself as much as, of not more so, than he was for anyone or anything else.
And then there was the third thought: Ocampo’s megalomania, or whatever it was, had already gotten thousands of people killed.
Not only his megalomania. He wasn’t working alone. But he sure seemed to be doing some of the heavy lifting.
And soon, they would want to use me to do more of it.
* * *
And then, like that, it was time.
“We are giving you a mission,” Control said, one morning, or at least during the time of day that I’d been thinking of as morning since I got to the Equilibrium base.
Okay, I thought to Control. That’s good news. What’s the mission?
“We will provide you with a mission brief once you’re near the skip point.”
So two or three days from now, I thought.
“Sooner than that,” Control said. “More along the line of eight of your hours.”
That was an interesting admission. Skip drives, which are how we travel immense distances in space, only engage when space-time is flat enough—that is to say, far away from a gravity well.
By telling me the rough amount of time it would take to get to skip distance, Control was telling me something about where we were. That the base was someplace that had a low mass, not especially close to anything more massive, like a planet or moon.
Basically Control was telling me we were at an asteroid, at a far distance from its star.
Which I knew, but which Control didn’t know I knew. Control never told me.
By telling me now, either Control slipped, or didn’t think it mattered.
Since I knew Control had done this before many times, it didn’t seem likely it was a slip. So Control figured it didn’t matter. And I figured it didn’t matter because either they thought I was well conditioned to respond like they told me, or they didn’t plan on me surviving the mission.
I thought about my armaments—a couple dozen missiles and beefed-up beam systems, perfect for blindi
ng communication systems and incoming missiles. And then I thought about my defensive systems, which hadn’t been substantially upgraded from when the Chandler was a trade ship.
So, yeah. I was betting on the “not coming back” scenario.
All right, I thought. It would at least be helpful to know the general sort of mission it is, however. So I might practice some simulations on the way.
“That won’t be necessary,” Control said. “We prefer you to stay focused on the mission once it starts.”
Understood, I said. Does this mean I’ll have control of the ship to skip distance?
“No,” Control said. “We will control the Chandler for the disembarkation and for a short portion of time thereafter. After which a course will be set. You will have full control after the skip. Until then you are to monitor systems. We will keep a communication channel open so you may alert us if there are any problems.”
The further I get from you the longer the lag will be in our communication, I pointed out. The speed of light still applies.
“We don’t anticipate any problems,” Control said.
You’re the boss, I thought. When do we start?
“Secretary Ocampo has asked us to delay the start of your mission until he can say good-bye to you,” Control said. “As was your request.”
Yes.
“As a courtesy to him, we will allow this. He is currently otherwise engaged. When he’s done, he will travel to you. You will have ten of your minutes to say your farewells. This will happen within the next two hours.”
Understood. Thank you, Control. It means a lot to me.
Control didn’t say anything to this; I could see that it had broken its connection. That was fine.
I had a couple of hours to prepare for my mission.
I prepared.
* * *
“I remember the last time I was here,” Ocampo said.
He was standing on the bridge of the Chandler. With him were Vera Briggs and an escort of two Rraey soldiers.
I imagine it looks a little different now, I thought to him. A bit emptier.
