President Iceni stood up, looked at Bradamont with a tilt of her head toward the Alliance side of the table, and vanished as she broke the virtual link to her.
General Drakon also stood, and without a word also vanished.
Ambassador Rycerz, her jaw tight, stared at the surface of the table.
Geary looked at Bradamont, the only virtual presence remaining on her side. “Were you given some sort of instruction?”
Bradamont nodded, looking pained. “I’m supposed to help you understand Midway’s position. They can’t agree to the deal you’re offering. It’s too one-sided.”
Ambassador Rycerz looked up, her voice under tight control. “We’re committing to the defense of this star system! We’ve already done that.”
“That means nothing to them,” Bradamont said. “What means do they have to ensure you keep that commitment? What tangible returns does Midway get for agreeing to let you do something that will bring immense benefit to the Alliance? I’m not a diplomat, but even I can see how the Alliance is gaining a lot from the proposal and giving very little.”
“It’s a difference of perspective,” Geary said. “Among other things. To them, a solemn vow from the Alliance doesn’t mean anything.”
“That’s the system they were raised in,” Bradamont said. “Syndicate CEOs lie for advantage and break deals all the time. If you lacked enough power, you had no choice but to accept deals you knew wouldn’t be honored. The only deals that really mattered were those between equals, because each offered the other something tangible, making it in the interests of both sides to keep the agreement.”
Ambassador Rycerz blew out an angry breath. “And what we just offered sounded as if we thought they lacked power and had to agree to whatever we proposed.”
“Exactly,” Bradamont said. “They expect, they need, to feel they are being treated as equals. And that means they need something tangible, something they gain, from a deal.”
“Are you talking bribes?” Rycerz asked.
Bradamont clenched her teeth and took a moment to relax before replying. “With some raised in the Syndicate that would be appropriate. Not here. Iceni and Drakon have all the power and wealth they need. They’re worried about the survival of Midway as an independent star system. That takes money. The hypernet gate is their primary source of income from outside sources, but trade in this region has been badly impacted by the collapse of Syndicate authority and Syndicate counterattacks.”
Ambassador Rycerz listened closely. “But if they can offer a trade route direct to Alliance markets, and from Alliance markets to this part of space, they could earn substantial sums from transit fees.”
“And it would build stability in the region by improving the economies of every star system involved,” Bradamont said.
“Where did you pick up all this?” Rycerz asked. “Were you given these topics to deliver to us?”
Bradamont sat back, her expression fixed. “No. I’m no one’s puppet. I discussed these issues with others, but I reached my own conclusions. They couldn’t necessarily explain how they feel in terms you’d interpret the same way they would.”
“Kommodor,” Geary said, deliberately using her Midway rank. “As one of the ranking fleet officers for Midway, you’re involved with discussions about the size of the fleet and defense expenditures, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Bradamont said, once more relaxing a bit. “And that’s something we talk about a lot. Midway needs strong enough defenses to deal with Syndicate attacks, and with attacks from the enigmas. That’s expensive. We’ve been able to make use of Syndicate legacy supplies and funds to keep things going, but the bottom line is that Midway’s current economy cannot support the military it needs. I know why the Alliance framed the proposed agreement the way it did. But I also know the people of this star system won’t accept that agreement. They have good reasons to demand more, and those reasons also work to the long-term benefit of the Alliance.”
“You can understand the positions of both sides,” Geary said, “because you’ve worked closely with both sides.”
“And because I have friends on both sides,” Bradamont said, her tone growing more forceful. “Friends and . . . leaders I admire,” she added, nodding toward Geary.
Ambassador Rycerz studied Bradamont. “Are you still loyal to the Alliance?”
“I’ve taken an oath to defend Midway,” Bradamont said. “But I will not betray the Alliance. That would dishonor my ancestors. I don’t think those positions need to be in conflict.”
Rycerz leaned back, her fingers steepled in front of her, thinking. “The Alliance does gain substantial benefit from having a government at Midway that’s willing to deal with us.”
“And which holds the line against the enigmas,” Geary pointed out.
“Yes.” Rycerz paused, her eyes hooded. “But the Alliance is struggling to fund the postwar military it needs. There wouldn’t be any appetite for subsidies to Midway to help it defend itself.”
“They wouldn’t take subsidies from the Alliance,” Bradamont said.
“Because they’d look like bribes?”
“No.” Bradamont shook her head, looking sad. “That wouldn’t bother anyone. Bribes were just the way things were done in the Syndicate. But if the money came from the Alliance, it would be tainted in the eyes of everyone here. President Iceni and General Drakon would be accused of having sold out this star system to the Alliance. Even if their government survived the popular uprising that would cause, other star systems currently working with Midway would pull back and break existing commitments.”
“They hate us that much?” Rycerz asked.
“Yes,” Bradamont said. “As the Alliance. You heard General Drakon. They can’t even use a word like ‘allied’ because it evokes the Alliance and implies some sort of similarity. But they’ll work with individuals, because that’s also how the Syndicate worked. Personal relationships that allowed deals to be made. But to them the Alliance is . . .” She sighed. “What the Alliance sees the Syndics as.”
“As Admiral Geary told me before we left. And you’re an individual who has personal relationships on both sides,” Rycerz said. “So you’ve gained their trust, enough to be given a high position in their military.”
“Yes,” Bradamont said. “The fact that Colonel Rogero vouched for me helped a great deal, as he is personally highly respected. There are still plenty of people here who are leery of me, but Iceni and Drakon have given me their trust.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right. They don’t really trust anyone. But they accept me as a rational player whose decisions will support them. And they’re willing to deal with you, Ambassador, because they think you’re Admiral Geary’s sock puppet, if you will forgive my bluntness. They know their people will not be angered by an agreement with Black Jack, because he gained a reputation for caring about the people even while fighting a war to defeat the Syndicate.”
Rycerz sat silently for a few moments before looking at Geary. “What do you think?”
He nodded toward Bradamont. “Everything she says is consistent with what I’ve learned from working with Syndics. And I still consider her word of honor to be good. Kommodor Bradamont wouldn’t lie to us, even if ordered to do so.”
“Thank you, Admiral,” Bradamont said.
“But agreeing to give them Alliance hypernet keys . . .” Ambassador Rycerz’s voice trailed off as she gazed into the distance. “That would be a huge decision to make. I don’t think it would be received happily at Unity.”
“If you can’t agree to it,” Geary said, “we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?”
Rycerz glanced at him, smiling slightly. “I told them I was instructed to present the agreement I outlined. I never said I lacked the authority to negotiate a different agreement if necessary.” She switched her gaze to Bradamont. “I said that in front of you for a reason. I also have to ma
ke a deal that will pass muster with the people of the Alliance. It has to be framed properly, and it can’t be perceived as a blank check to Midway’s rulers. Even one Alliance hypernet key would be seen as a huge giveaway. Perhaps there are things Midway can offer to sweeten the deal.”
“Perhaps,” Bradamont said cautiously. “I know of one thing that might be of great value. And perhaps others.”
“Of course,” Rycerz added, “any agreement differing from what I was sent with will be subject to ratification by the Alliance Senate.”
“President Iceni will insist on having the hypernet keys in her hands before she agrees to let you begin work on the gate,” Bradamont said. “She will not give in on that. Again, that’s because of experience with the way the Syndicate does things. Verbal and written commitments mean nothing and can be easily violated without physical commitments to guarantee the agreement.”
Rycerz nodded, unhappy. “Why did it take us so long to defeat a government that worked like that?”
Bradamont kept her eyes on Rycerz as she answered. “Because there are always people who figure out how to get things done despite the way things work, and because the Alliance had its own shortcomings.”
“You indeed have a perspective that most of us lack,” the ambassador said. “I’m going to have to discuss options with my staff, as well as how we can sell such an agreement to the Senate. Please inform President Iceni and General Drakon that we do wish to continue negotiations, and that we now have a better grasp of their position.”
“Certainly,” Bradamont said.
“Dr. Cresida,” Rycerz continued. “I would appreciate it if you did not divulge any details of this conference. Please limit your report to Dr. Kottur and your other colleagues to saying that negotiations are continuing.”
Cresida shrugged, then nodded. “If that’s what’s necessary to get clearance for the work.”
“Dr. Cresida,” Bradamont said. “Your sister was a good friend of mine. A good friend and a fine officer. I offer my sincerest condolences on the loss to your family. I am certain that she has a place of honor among your ancestors.”
Dr. Cresida eyed Bradamont silently for a few seconds before responding in an almost emotionless voice. “Thank you.”
After polite farewells, Kommodor Bradamont’s image vanished.
“Are we once more secure in here?” Ambassador Rycerz asked Geary.
He checked the security panel. “Everything’s green. We can talk freely.”
“Good. Dr. Cresida.” Rycerz’s voice was polite but businesslike. “Please ensure that you give Dr. Kottur and your other fellow scientists only a vague report of the discussions here.”
Dr. Cresida eyed the ambassador. “Why are you repeating the same request to me?”
“Because I need to emphasize the importance of it. You want a deal so you can mess with that hypernet gate,” Ambassador Rycerz said, stepping closer to Cresida. “If too much of what was said here gets out too early, that deal might become impossible. To get what you want, you need to listen to what I want.”
“Diplomacy,” Dr. Cresida said, as if speaking of some form of the dark arts. “I understand.”
After Cresida had left, Ambassador Rycerz looked at Geary. “Dr. Kottur has developed an unfortunate tendency to not show up for important meetings.”
“Was he that badly shaken up by seeing the mine strikes on Gallant?” Geary asked.
“He hasn’t been acting as if he were dwelling on that particular issue. Day-to-day interactions are, as always, pleasant and smiling. Something is certainly worrying him, though. He’s spending a lot of time alone in his office, letting the others handle getting work done.”
“At least he’s not getting in the way,” Geary said. “Should I talk with him?”
“It wouldn’t hurt.” Rycerz sighed. “Speaking of scientists who are in the way, I’ve already started the measures to isolate Dr. Macadams. As for you, Admiral, I need to know something about the industrial capabilities in this star system. Can you get me the answer?”
“What do you need to know?”
“Can Midway duplicate a hypernet key?”
* * *
DR. Kottur’s office held a pleasantly disorganized air, with everything from personal items to scientific materials scattered about. It never would have passed a military inspection, but it offered a glimpse into the mind of the occupant. “Yes, Admiral?” Dr. Kottur asked. He was sitting at his desk, a variety of displays open before him and a virtual starscape floating beyond them. A quick glance told Geary the stars shown were probably those in Dancer space, though he couldn’t be certain.
The doctor didn’t show any signs of being ill, though, his eyes clear as he gazed at Geary.
“I was concerned about you,” Geary said, which was true enough. There wasn’t any need to say that Ambassador Rycerz had urged this visit on him. “You missed our conference with the leaders of Midway, and Dr. Cresida said you weren’t feeling well.”
Dr. Kottur seemed troubled for a moment. “Facing certain things can be difficult.”
“If you’re still concerned about the mines we encountered at Indras—”
“No, no!” Dr. Kottur laughed and waved away Geary’s words. “It’s a matter of putting a face to the abstract.”
What did that mean? “So you’re all right?”
“Hmmm. What does ‘all right’ mean? Is it defined by circumstances or state of mind?” Dr. Kottur leaned back, his gaze upward and outward as if he were seeing through the hull of Boundless and into the infinite beyond. “We are much the same, Admiral. Sailors and scientists, I mean. We try to find our ways to places no one else has ever been. We always want to know what lies over the horizon. We want to see what no one else has ever before seen.”
He sighed. “Sometimes we wish we hadn’t found what we did, though. Not every discovery is welcome.”
Geary watched him. “But we can’t know if the discovery will be welcome until we find it. If we stopped looking, we’d never find all of the things we are glad we found.”
“Does it make us happier, though?” Dr. Kottur was still gazing outward. “Were our ancestors wise to leave Old Earth, to go exploring the mysteries of the galaxy? What if they had stayed in their home, using their minds to explore? What might we have learned if not distracted by the colonization of new worlds, the wars, the political disputes, the research that only found more and deadlier weapons?”
“I don’t think that would’ve been possible,” Geary said. “You said it yourself, comparing scientists to sailors. Humans are restless and curious. We can’t look at the horizon without wondering what lies beyond it. I have to admit the enigmas have reason to be frightened of humanity. We don’t just wonder about things, we try to go there, and learn more. That’s who we are.”
“But is that what we should be?” Dr. Kottur asked, his eyes still on infinity.
“I’m afraid the answer to that still eludes humanity,” Geary said. “I certainly don’t know the answer. All I do know is that when humans see a wall, we want to go over it.”
Dr. Kottur smiled. “Yes. There you have it. A wall must be a fearsome thing to stop us. No ordinary barrier would suffice.”
“Are we still talking about what humans are like?” Geary asked.
“Of course.” Dr. Kottur looked at him, still smiling. “I’ve been dealing with some scientific issues. I’ve probably let them overstress me. Sometimes the true answers are difficult, don’t you agree?”
“I suppose,” Geary said. “You’ll be at the next meeting with the representatives from Midway?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
It wasn’t until much later that Geary realized he should have pressed for an answer to Dr. Kottur’s question in response to his own.
* * *
AMBASSADOR Rycerz, expecting another meeting with the leaders
of Midway soon, had asked him to stay aboard Boundless for the night. The former passenger liner had plenty of spare rooms, as well as food better than the fleet’s, but Geary still felt unhappy to be spending the night off of Dauntless. In some ways the battle cruiser had come to represent home to him. Which was absurd. An admiral couldn’t afford to develop such tight ties to a single ship. But there it was.
He checked in with Captain Desjani, learning that the situation appeared to be quiet. A single freighter had arrived at Midway at the jump point from Kane Star System, but nothing else had changed.
After a very nice meal in a “cafeteria” that felt more like a high-end restaurant, Geary felt restless. With the whole ship open to his access, he began wandering through it, curious to see how Boundless differed from the warships he was familiar with.
A lot of the differences were cosmetic. Where warships left pipes and conduits and wiring exposed for easy access, the Boundless had ceilings blocking views of the ship’s mechanical and electrical veins and arteries and the true overhead. Bulkheads were mostly smooth as well, adorned with displays that shifted among images of worlds. The deck was covered by what appeared to be a smooth surfacing that was slightly resilient but also offered a decent grip to someone walking. It all felt a little luxurious to someone used to the spare efficiency of a warship. He also found himself getting a bit upset and realized it was because he couldn’t see vital systems and didn’t know how he’d access them in an emergency.
But that wasn’t his job on this ship.
His wandering took him to a place labeled the Star Gallery. Looking inside, Geary saw a long compartment set up as if it were a wide balcony. The far side was composed of a single seamless display from deck to overhead, portraying a view of the outside as if the compartment were actually open to space on that entire side. A waist-high railing just in front of the display added to the illusion that someone here was really, impossibly gazing directly at space.
His instincts found the compartment extremely disturbing, wanting to pull himself back from the vacuum of space that loomed before him, to seal this door, sound an emergency alarm . . .
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