“I’ve had the briefing, son,” said Captain Schwartzenberger. “Thank you.” The yeoman saluted and left.
The computer listed the crystal’s contents as “Main Message” and several attachments. Mitchie pressed “Play.” A hologram formed above the table. A young woman’s head. She was instantly recognizable. Skin a bit darker, hair a little curlier, cheekbones softer. Is that her real face, or just a different disguise than when she flew with us?
“Bobbie!” said Bing. The rest of the crew nodded. They all remembered fighting to protect their passenger from a kidnapper.
“Hello, my friends,” said the hologram. “I hope you are all doing well and staying safe. I was glad to hear you returned safely from your expedition.
“On the 29th of next month I will have my Revelation Ball. My identity will become public and I will take on the rights, privileges, and duties of an adult and citizen. You may think me young for it, but you know better than most that childhood has been no protection for me.
“I would be honored if you would attend. I don’t know you as well as other friends of mine. But I deeply appreciate what you’ve done for me. You’ve proven yourselves more worthy of trust than almost anyone else I’ve met in my life.”
Mitchie noted the lack of names and places in the message. She’s expecting some enemy to listen to this. And she’s been taught commsec.
“I know this isn’t your usual kind of party. We’re arranging everything necessary to let you enjoy it. Accommodations, tailors, dance instructors are all waiting for you. Daddy has talked to some Stakeholders. Attached to this message is a formal safe passage from the Council, guaranteeing your right of transit to and from the event.
“Don’t feel obligated to arrive early. But there’s all sorts of fun I can show you here, and of course it’d be easier to prepare for the ball with more time. The tailors insisted I ask you for your measurements. If you could send those along with your estimated arrival time it would be wonderful.”
Bobbie’s expression shifted from cheerful to imploring. “If you can’t attend I understand of course. I do want to thank you as myself for your great help as soon as I can. I hope we can still meet after this current insanity is over.
“With all my love and friendship. Thank you.” The hologram froze.
Guo said, “Is it just me or does this have ‘trap’ written all over it?”
“I’m sure she’s sincere,” said Bing.
“Her sincerity isn’t the issue,” said Captain Schwartzenberger. “It’s her father, the people who issued the safe-passage, and any fascists in the Fusion Navy who might bit-bucket it. A promise isn’t much to rely on right now.”
Mitchie said, “I’m glad to know she’s doing well. I’d love to see her. I’ve been dying to find out who she really is. But it feels awfully risky to go there right now.” She turned to Billy. “But you still want to go to the party, don’t you?” she teased.
He made a face. “I paid good money to become a Bonaventure citizen. I’m going nowhere. There’s plenty of good parties right here.”
Schwartzenberger traded looks with Bing. He said, “That’s settled then. We’ve got more than a week until the next mail boat comes. I’ll work on a nice note to her.”
Bing added, “I’ll go research Demeter etiquette and see what an appropriate present would be.”
***
Medals were presented in big formal ceremonies. Impending court-martials were announced in an appointment with the Judge Advocate’s office. Being called into the admiral’s office presaged a compromise. Asteroid, here I come, thought Mitchie. “Lieutenant Long reporting as ordered, sir!”
Admiral Chu returned her salute. “Sit, please.”
She sat in an attentive pose.
“My staff has been reviewing the regulations concerning your situation. It turns out there are some other rules that have been overlooked.” That sounded like he was working up to a non-judicial punishment in lieu of a court-martial. She could live with that. “Specifically, when a service member makes a discovery or encourages a donation that is a substantial contribution to the Force, a reward is provided to the member.”
Wait, what?
“Revenue from undercover work hadn’t been previously covered under that because the Force normally provided the capital for the venture and accepted the risk of financial losses. In the case of the Eden finds the Force made no investment and the risk was directly on you and your shipmates.”
Mitchie realized this wasn’t about her actions in the battle. The admiral was talking about the regulation requiring her share of the loot to be turned over to the DCC.
“In view of the extreme level of risk you faced,” continued Admiral Chu, “it has been decided that a fifteen percent finder’s fee is appropriate.” By the sour look on Chu’s face it wasn’t his decision. “That will be promptly paid out from the funds already received by the DCC. Unless you want to review the appropriateness of that figure with the JAG?”
Keeping her face calm took effort. “No, sir,” Mitchie said. “That’s quite acceptable.” She wouldn’t be as rich as her husband but a fiftieth of the Eden treasure was ‘fuck you money’ anywhere but Bonaventure. And maybe there if they cut a good deal.
“Good. I’m glad that’s settled.” The admiral swiped his datasheet, pulling up a different set of notes. “I understand you’ve been invited to a ball in the Fusion?”
Mitchie would only have been surprised if Intelligence wasn’t reading all the mail coming from enemy territory. “Yes, sir.”
“Are you going?”
“We discussed it and all decided this was a terrible time to take a pleasure trip to Demeter.”
“Would you be willing to go as a mission?”
Mitchie frowned. “A mission, sir? I don’t know if we’d be able to collect any data at an event like that. Assuming my cover hasn’t been blown, which it probably has.”
“Not an intelligence mission,” said the admiral. “A diplomatic one.”
She waited for him to elaborate.
Chu sighed. “Since the attack on Noisy Water the Disconnected Worlds have been steadily losing access to the top layer of Fusion society. Our observers at the Council of Stakeholders were expelled. Planetary consuls can no longer get meetings with Directors or even lower level elected officials. When tension increased the DCC organized a formal embassy. They turned back the ship. Wouldn’t even let them land.”
“I see the problem, sir,” said Mitchie. “How does Bobbie’s ball help solve it?”
“The analyst report on the Kronos incident swore there were only three men who could be Bobbie’s father. All of them are well connected with the Fusion government. This safe passage is proof that whoever she is her family has clout.”
“There’s an analysis of Kronos?” interrupted Mitchie.
“Yes. You didn’t have need-to-know.”
“I damn well need to know now.”
“If you take the mission you’ll get a copy,” stated the admiral.
“Understood, sir.”
“Back to the subject. A revelation ball is a major social event. Not just friends and family but the colleagues and patrons of the patriarch. In this case, politicians, admirals, trillionaires. Likely several Stakeholders. Even Demeter’s Planetary Coordinator might attend.”
I hope not, she thought.
“We want to substitute a professional ambassador for one of the invitees. Probably Mr. Lee. The report said he’d had less contact with Bobbie, or at least less significant contact. So she shouldn’t miss him.”
“He didn’t want to go anyway.”
“Good.”
“Sir . . .” Mitchie tried to find the words for her discomfort. “Why are we going to all this trouble? The ambassador can get some informal conversations with their pooh-bahs. What’s that worth? We won the battle, we’re blockading their fleet. Isn’t it their turn to talk to us?”
The admiral stood and walked to his window. A wave sent the s
ecurity panel up. A torchship was taking off from Redondo Field. A bright light in the sky showed the previous launch had enough altitude to light its torch. Warehouses and factories spread out beyond the spaceport. On the hills over the town comfortable houses peeked through the trees.
“Looks like we’re winning,” he said. “Safe, peaceful, rich. As long as we protect it.”
“I’d heard the fund drive for the new ships succeeded,” said Mitchie.
“Succeeded? We’ve gotten so much we’re assigning new staff to decide what to do with it. If we didn’t have this mission your husband would probably be on his way to a new shipyard.”
Chu closed the window. He put his hands on his desk, leaning toward Mitchie. “Do you know what the latest fad is here?”
She shook her head.
“At a dinner party one guy will stand up and say, ‘I’m a quarter-share man.’ He means he’s donating a quarter of this year’s income to the Defense Fund, on top of whatever else he may be paying. Then a second one stands up and says it. Then a third, and so on. Then it gets down to the last one.
“Is he going to say, ‘I’ve researched the issue and the Defense Force has enough to meet the current threat’? Or maybe ‘I have too many obligations to donate that much’? No. He’s going to say he’s a quarter-share man too. And the next morning he’ll donate that money, whether he can afford it or not, because people check. Because we’re monkeys. And monkeys stick with their clan.
“It’s coercion. Social, psychological coercion. Almost as bad as sending men with guns to take money from them. If it keeps up they will start taking money at gunpoint. That’s how tax laws start.”
Admiral Chu paced back and forth behind his desk. Mitchie watched without interrupting. “You and I,” he said, “volunteered for a life under coercion. To achieve a goal greater than we could on our own. We have the freedom to leave. Right now, either of us could quit. We’re part of a society that has achieved great things through purely voluntary cooperation. Bonaventure is free of coercion, the greatest flowering of individual freedom in human history.
“Now it could collapse. Become just another tribal collective devoting itself to fighting strangers. At the rate we’re going I expect little old ladies will be giving white feathers to young men next week.”
Mitchie resolved to look up the significance of white feathers as soon as she escaped.
Chu dropped into his seat. “That’s what the Fusion is doing to us. That’s why we need to end this war.”
“I understand, sir. But why are you telling me? Captain Schwartzenberger is in command.”
“He is. But he’s a merchant skipper at heart. He won’t lead an unwilling crew into danger. Now, Mate Bingrong will follow her ex-husband anywhere. And your husband will follow you. You . . .” The admiral pointed his index finger at her. “. . . Are a leadership challenge.”
With that Mitchie realized why this conversation had opened with a very large bribe. “Sir, I’ve never claimed to be a perfect officer. But I don’t back down from missions. I’ll talk them into it.”
“Good,” said Admiral Chu. “Anything you’d need to make go down easier?”
“A couple of new hands would be good. Five crew is bare-bones for a long run in that ship. Four has been a lot of work just in-system.”
“Not a problem. I’ll find a couple of appropriate ones to turn merchie. It’ll make it easier to hide sending the ambassador aboard too.”
***
Mitchie had gotten them a room in Visiting Officer Quarters for a few days. The bed was no better than their one on the Chamberlain, and the art was trash next to the watercolors Guo collected, but unlimited water in the bath had outweighed the rest.
Guo came in to find Mitchie laying on the bed dressed except for tunic and shoes. “Ready for dinner?” he asked.
“How about ordering in something?” she said without opening her eyes. “I’d like a chance to talk privately.”
He looked at her curiously but decided to not push. He made the order then went into the bathroom.
By the time the large pizza arrived they’d both changed into comfy clothes. Guo dealt with the deliverybot while Mitchie poured drinks. He set out the box on the counter and put a slice of sausage and mushroom on a plate for her. Two slices of tuna and octopus went on his own plate. He brought them over to the table and traded Mitchie’s plate to her for a mug of beer.
After swallowing his first bite Guo said, “I should warn you, in about five minutes I’m going to fall down dead from suspense.”
She laughed, sending some beer down the wrong pipe.
Good, it worked, he thought.
Once she’d stopped coughing Mitchie said, “Admiral Chu called me in this afternoon.”
“Always fun.”
“This was more fun than usual. He wants us to go to Bobbie’s party.”
Guo laughed. “What did he say when you told him to fuck off? However you say that in officer-speak.”
“It’s a mission, an important one.” She described it in merchant terms, a charter to deliver the diplomat to Demeter. With her ‘finder’s fee’ as a bonus.
He took a big bite of his slice to buy time. He dropped the crust onto his plate. Swallowed. “Between the combat zone and the Fusion’s attitude toward Diskers that could be a one-way trip.”
“We have a safe passage.”
“One of the guys who signed off on that might be the same one who wanted Bobbie kidnapped or murdered to leverage her father. We can’t trust Fusion politicians. Safest thing we can do is avoid them.”
“Maybe that’s safe for us right now. But what if they bring down the Disconnected Worlds?” She summarized the Admiral’s fears. “I don’t want to live in a copy of the Fusion.” She bit into her half-finished slice.
“Let the Admiral worry about it. That’s why he gets the heavy coins. We’ve done our share. You’ve done more than your share.” Guo drained his mug.
Mitchie refilled it before answering. “This isn’t something the Admiral can go ask for volunteers for. It’s us or no one.”
“I’m good with no one.” Bite. “Look, if it’s the money we can make a contract putting half my share in your name. That’s more than they’re offering.”
“It’s not the money. It’s the mission.”
A few minutes went by with just eating. Guo refilled their plates. Mitchie finished her beer.
“Look, it’s not really that dangerous,” said Mitchie. “The mail boats are making regular runs. There’s cargo being smuggled through other gates. It’s just the Lapis-Bonaventure link that’s interdicted.” She got herself more beer and topped off Guo’s mug.
Guo tried to avoid taking a stand himself. “Schwartzenberger would demand more hazard pay than the Admiral could stomach.”
Mitchie wanted to pin him down. “The Defense Force has more money than it knows what to do with.” She proceeded to make more arguments in favor of the trip, not sticking with topics, perfectly willing to chase him down any side track he picked.
He stopped trying to be coherent, just tossing objections in hopes that something would discourage her enough to give him a break. His wife remained relentless.
The pizza was gone. Guo needed an excuse to put off answering her latest question. “‘Scuse me. Gotta unload some of that beer you’ve been pouring into me.”
Once he’d locked the bathroom door he realized it wasn’t a lie. He’d just been too tense to realize it. While washing his hands after he put some cold water on his hot eyes.
He studied himself in the mirror. Time to think about those words he’d bit back twice. I went to Old Earth for you, isn’t that enough?
Guo’s reflection slumped. No, it wasn’t enough. Getting caught in the middle of a fleet action wasn’t enough either. Hell, a wartime run to Demeter wouldn’t be the end of it either. Mitchie had a Cause and everything else would be sacrificed to it.
Guo looked the reflection in the eye. He needed to decide what he wante
d. A nice, safe life in the Disconnect? Or to stay married? Heaven help me, I love her.
He opened the door and walked back into the bedroom. “Okay, let’s go to Demeter.”
Mitchie’s face changed from plotting to cheerful. “You’ll tell the captain you want to go?”
“Yes.”
She hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry I got angry.”
Guo hugged her back. “It’s all right.” Or at least he’d learned to live with it.
“You’re all tense. Want a massage?”
“Maybe later. Are there any vids you’d like to watch?” Usually he made suggestions, but in this mood he’d pick something that would start an argument.
Mitchie thought for a few moments. “There’s a musical I liked as a kid, want to give it a try?”
“Sure.” That should be safe, he thought.
Bonaventure System, acceleration 10 m/s2
The Admiral kept his word. The day after Captain Schwartzenberger filed a flight plan to Demeter three souls came on board. Bing barely had time to show them to their cabins before the ship took off for the Lapis gate.
Guo outdid himself on that night’s dinner. Mitchie savored the spiced chicken, hardly wanting to interrupt eating to speak.
There was no need for her to talk anyway. Ambassador Bakhunin had been invited to tell them something of himself. He’d turned that in a history of how the Defense Coordinating Committee had evolved from an ad hoc discussion group to the Disconnected Worlds’ de facto government. He enlivened the dry tale with anecdotes of himself playing discreet but crucial roles at every step along the way.
Good thing this is spicy, thought Mitchie. If he’d made porridge we’d be asleep in it.
“Thank you,” broke in Captain Schwartzenberger. “That’s very enlightening. Have you been to the Fusion before?”
Torchship Pilot Page 8
