Island Worlds (24 page)

Caterina's usual arrogance was replaced by dejection. "Naturally. Martin warned us repeatedly that, should he be taken, we were to forget about a rescue attempt."

General Moore, now Sálamis liaison, gave her an unsympathetic glare. "It's easy to see that when they captured Shaw, they got the brains of your outfit. I take it he wasn't on the ship."

"No. At least, I don't think so. As we closed on them, they hit us with a new weapon. It was a small missile, no more than a meter long, maybe ten centimeters in diameter and very dense, probably made of depleted uranium. I got that from our screen after it had already hit us. They launched it when we were less than a half-kilometer away. Absolutely no time for evasive reaction or retaliation. It penetrated our armor and went off in the center of the ship. Not explosive but some kind of knockout gas. We all had respirators on, of course. We always do when going into action. This stuff is new. It went right through our clothes, penetrated breathing hoses, everything. Only the men in assault suits stayed conscious and they were killed within minutes when we were boarded. I woke up in A-261. They didn't have him there. He's going to their maximum security lockup at Elba."

Moore turned to his aide. "Send out a message to all units, flash priority. Inform them of this new gas missile. Henceforth, all personnel to be fully suited during assaults." The aide left. Under the flexible Sálamid system, any officer could institute an instantaneous change in procedure by invoking flash priority. It bypassed the ponderous military bureaucracy, but his career would be on the line when the inevitable board of inquiry convened to investigate the act.

"He'll be sent to Earth, of course," Sousa said. "There will have to be a show trial. It will be their first really powerful propaganda coup of the war and they will play it to the hilt. I fear it will be hard on Martin." The battered old man looked saddened. "He'll have to make up for all the victories they haven't been winning."

"Serves him right!" said someone.

"The question now," said Eberhard, "is just what are we going to do about this."

"We've never recognized Shaw before," said a representative from Melos. "Why should we now?" There were similar comments from a score of sources.

"The majority of us seem to be of the opinion that Shaw is reaping what he has sown and has no call upon our aid. Still, it has to be put to a vote. All in favor of letting Shaw stew in his own juice—"

"Wait!" Thor said. Caterina's despairing face turned to him with a faint hope. "Before you vote, let me address this body. It's important."

After some hesitation, Eberhard put down his gavel. "Very well. You have no official standing, Thor, but God knows you've earned our attention with your services these past years. Go ahead."

Thor silently thanked whatever deities watched over the Belt that he had just turned in a cheap victory. Month-old heroics never impressed anybody. "Ever since this war started, we've made the pretence of not recognizing Martin Shaw or his party. There were sound political reasons for that, and they still apply when it comes to official, political recognition. Still, who among us can deny that Martin Shaw is a great patriot and one of the founders of our independence?"

"He's a terrorist!" shouted someone.

"Exactly! And while we've piously shaken our heads over his deplorable methods, who has profited most from them? We have!"

There was outraged muttering from the Althing, but he had their attention. All of them looked puzzled except Tomás Sousa.

"Explain, Thor," said Sousa.

"We've determined to fight this war by the rules—a defensive war, striking only military targets and with no atrocities against enemy prisoners or noncombatants. Fine. Very virtuous. But Shaw was always our hole card. He's been willing from the start to use Tunguska bombs and they knew it. We knew it, too, and we've taken advantage of it. Why have the Earthies been reluctant to use nukes since the first days of the war?"

"Because," said Moore, "every time they tried it, we'd drop a little rock bomb, a very small one, on one of their Earth-based military facilities. We never missed and they never even came close to stopping one."

"Exactly," Thor said. "You'll notice that they never admitted to the public the nature of those missiles. They didn't dare let it be known that they were virtually helpless against mere chunks of rock. They claimed that it was sabotage and used it as an excuse for more repressive measures. But do you really think that they were beaten by the loss of some bases? They could have moved most of their operations into space and been fairly safe. They were worried about Martin because they knew he wouldn't hesitate to hit civilian targets. Theoretically, with enough rock, he could wipe out all life on Earth and damned little they could do about it. God knows there's enough rock out here in the belt."

"Martin would never do a thing like that!" Caterina protested.

"Probably," Thor said, "but they've built him into such an arch-villain that they have to take the threat seriously. After all, they know what they'd do when they got desperate. There have been times when they've had a chance to destroy or at least seriously cripple EOS, but they've held back. Why? Because they knew that that would leave them facing Shaw and we wouldn't be there to ride herd on him and curb his most serious excesses.

"It's an old trick in politics. Dictators have used it for ages. Have a henchman who's known to be ruthless and your enemies will be reluctant to take the ultimate step of killing you. The Earthies hate us all, but better EOS than Shaw. In effect, we've been partners with Shaw since the beginning of the war. Now we're planning to let the Earthies have him without a fight. We claim to have clean hands in this war, but it's been Martin who has kept them clean because he was willing to bloody his.

"When the histories of this conflict are written, probably long after we're all dead, we'll be remembered as the founders of the Confederacy, should we win. But our party, EOS, may go down in history as the cowards who stood by and allowed one of our brothers to be taken by the enemy because he was an embarrassment to us."

An uproar shook the chamber. Some were loudly denouncing Thor and Shaw impartially, others claiming he had a point. With a sinking heart, Thor saw that the latter were in the minority. He felt a touch on his arm and saw Cat looking at him with something less than hostility for the first time in years.

"It was a good try, Thor. But you're talking to the wrong people."

He shrugged. "I'll go after Martin myself if I have to, but I'd rather see it done right."

"Are the members ready to vote?" Eberhard asked when the tumult subsided. "All in favor of action to rescue—" He was interrupted by a peremptory beep and flashing light on his desk console. His expression grew mystified as he read his display. "It seems," he said, "that Secretary General Jameson has another communication for us. "

"Two in the same day," Sousa said. "I find this most odd. The Earth government doesn't recognize us, so there can be no official communication between us, just broadcast threats. Now the Secretary General himself wants to speak to us. In the first message he gloated over the capture of Shaw. Now that we've had an opportunity to discuss the implications of the event, he wants to talk again. I believe we'll find that this message will be an offer. They're getting desperate down there. They want to make terms."

There was stunned silence. Could the Earthies actually be offering peace? But at what price?

"Only one way to find out," Eberhard said. He hit the display control, and a wall of the chamber became a view of the podium at one end of the Assembly Hall of the U.N. It was in the palatial new U.N. complex deep under Berne and supposedly proof against any attack. Beneath a gigantic U.N. seal, Secretary General Jameson sat in a huge chair at the top of a short staircase.

"I'll be damned," said the representative of a Rock-busters, Inc. community. "The son of a bitch got hisself a throne!" Derisive laughter filled the chamber.

"Imperial trappings, no less," said Hjalmar Taggart disgustedly. "He's tarted up like a banana republic general."

"Things down on Earth must be even worse than I thought," Sousa said. "This is grotesque. Well, we might as well listen to what he has to say."

The point of view zoomed in until the image of Jameson loomed twenty feet high. The impression was intended to be majestic, but it did little more than expose that the hands that gripped the arms of the throne bore close-bitten nails. Above the collar of his purple cloak, Jameson s handsome features were composed in an actor's mask of serene majesty. Those in the Althing chamber who were not laughing winced.

"There are few sights more degrading," said a professor from a college asteroid, "than the spectacle of the leader of a supposed republic trying to pose as an emperor."

Jameson raised a hand in a gesture of papal benediction. "Brothers and sisters of the outerworlds," he began, "by now you have confirmed the facts of my earlier message in which I revealed our capture of the notorious criminal and terrorist, Martin Shaw. Now that you are free of the influence of this murderous madman, there exists at last a path by which we may end this wasteful conflict and be reunited in amity. It has always been the policy of Earth government that we have not been at war with the people of the outerworlds, but with their misguided leaders."

"That wasn't how you talked when you nuked M-255!" someone shouted.

"Order!" Eberhard called, banging his gavel. "Let's hear what the bastard has to say."

"Now that Shaw has been apprehended," Jameson went on, "he will stand trial at the United Nations for crimes against humanity. This is a time for motherworld and outerworlds to join together to make peace between us. If the Confederacy will send a delegation to attend the trial and join with us in denouncing and then punishing Shaw, then we may arrange an armistice. The delegation may not contain any members of the extended Ciano-Taggart-Kuroda clan. All others will be acceptable and may come to Earth for the trial under safe-conduct. This is our only offer. If you do not respond, the war will continue until the Confederacy is utterly destroyed. Do not force us to these extreme measures.

"You will require time to debate this offer of peace. Since the time is not yet proper to make public this communication, I cannot order a cease-fire while you are arriving at your decision. Do not delay. From now on, every life lost in this terrible war is your responsibility. I await your reply." The image faded as the
Althing
erupted in pandemonium.

After several minutes, the sergeant-at-arms managed to restore order. "There we have it," Eberhard said. "The price of a conditional peace—an armistice—is our complicity in Shaw's show-trial and inevitable execution. Likewise the exclusion from negotiations of the Ciano-Taggart-Kurodas. I think we can safely predict that one of the provisions of the armistice will be that no member of that clan may ever hold office or military commission. Well, let's hear what you all have to say."

A hundred speaker-lights flashed simultaneously and the
Althing
computer made a random choice. The first to speak was leader of the minority Liberation Party. "We all want peace," she said, "we want it desperately. But merely to attend peace talks under such circumstances would be a capitulation and a sellout. Nothing doing."

"They askin for peace talks," said the man from Rockbusters, "that means they hurtin. Let's bust Shaw out first,
then
say we ready to talk, only we send the delegates
we
pick, they don't got no say over that. I'm bettin they'll take it. Ain't nobody back on Earth gonna hear what Jameson just said to us, so he don't lose no face." This was greeted with uproar, the bulk of it favorable.

Thor held his peace while the debate raged. As a Taggart, he had a personal stake in the acceptance of Jameson's terms and self-interest would color any comments, however valid, he might make. This could take a while. He was tired and anxious and in bad need of relaxation. Fortuitously, the planners of the
Althing
chamber had included a bar and restaurant opening off the main room so that the sergeant-at-arms would have no difficulty collaring delegates for a vote.

"Let's get a drink," he said to Caterina. They were joined by Hjalmar and General Moore. These two had no vote in the
Althing
and served only in an advisory capacity. Between the
Althing
floor and the bar they were joined by a small woman with short, blond hair. Thor had no idea where she had come from or when she had joined them.

Hjalmar did a quick double-take as they entered the bar. "Who the hell are you and how did you get in?" He pointed to the shoulder of her coverall, which was entirely bare of the required i.d. badge. Thor thought she looked about sixteen.

"I usually get into places I want to get into," she said. "I'm Sieglinde Kornfeld. Let's grab a table. I've come a long way and I need a drink." She ignored Hjalmar as he ran a belt-scanner over her and muttered code words into his comm unit. Thor revised his estimate of her age. Maybe she was closer to twenty.

The bar was nearly deserted, due to the historic debate out in the chamber. They keyed their orders. "Sieglinde," Caterina said, "you don't look old enough to drink."

"I'm twenty-five," she said. "I age slowly. Good genes."

Hjalmar drew a pistol and leveled it at the girl. "Nobody with her readout has entered Avalon and none has been registered on any ship that's come here since the start of the war. I know you weren't grown in one of our culture vats, young woman. Now, who are you and how did you get here past all my security?"

"Oh, put that thing away, Hjalmar," Thor said. "We're all competent to protect ourselves against Sieglinde."

"Don't be so sure," said the lady in question. "And call me Linde. How I got here is a professional secret. As to why—" She undipped a tiny pearl from an ear-lobe and set it on the table. It shimmered for a moment, then metamorphosed into a foot-high homunculus dressed as a magistrate from the classical Chinese opera. It was Chih' Chin Fu. The holography was of a process none of them had ever seen and its fidelity was little less than miraculous.