Spinneret (19 page)

He shrugged. “I wanted to make sure you were all right. And that you understood why I'm doing what I am.”

“I'm fine,” she bit out, getting to her feet. “And you don't need to explain the finer points of blackmail technique to me, thank you.”

She tried to step past him, but he rose and took her arm, and before she knew it he had steered her back to the table and seated her again. “You're angry because you don't agree with my methods,” he said, sitting down next to her. “But I'm afraid it's a simple fact of history that the only way a ruling class is ever persuaded to share power is through violence—either actual or threatened.”

“So why don't you just go ahead and ally yourself with one of those aliens out there and do the job right?” she said bitterly.

He sighed. “I'd hoped you would grow to understand what I stand for better than that. Don't you see?—I'm not trying to exchange one inequity for another. Astra can be this century's version of the Americas, a place where people can come to escape the foolish rigidity of Earth politics. But that can't happen as long as we're simply a transplanted chunk of the U.S.”

“And what are you going to feed all these tired, huddling masses when they get here?” she shot back. “We can't even grow enough to feed the ten thousand people we've got.”

“We can feed them anything they want—up to and including imported caviar. Or haven't you considered what our Spinneret cables might sell for?”

She shook her head. “Your ideas of marketing show the same shallow thinking your politics do. If the cable turns out to be really useful it's not going to be ours much longer, not with all those warships circling overhead.”

“We can handle them,” he assured her. “Playing big powers off against each other is a skill the Third World is well acquainted with.”

She laughed, a short, derisive bark. “Oh, terrific. You scramble to get us free of American politics and instead turn us into a transplanted Yugoslavia spending all of our energy juggling the local superpowers. What a
great
improvement.”

She had the satisfaction of seeing him struggle to fight down his own anger. “The position the Spinneret has put us in isn't my fault, Carmen. I don't like it better than you do, but sitting around wishing things were different won't change anything.” He paused. “I'm sorry, though, that you can't slough off that middle-class upbringing long enough to see things from the point of view of the less fortunate. I see I've been wasting my time with you.”

So all of it
had
been deliberate. She'd wondered about that, ever since his message to Meredith through her had started this whole Council mess. “You flatter yourself,” she said, again getting to her feet. “It's you and your methods, not any sort of upbringing, that's soured me on your planned Utopia.”

“Carmen—”

She shrugged off his hand. “And as long as you've got all the answers, consider what all your huddling masses are going to do for a living once they get here. Or are you just going to distribute the Spinneret income evenly and let people sit around all day like overgrown parasites? If that's your idea of a satisfying existence, you're more foolish than I thought.” With that she turned and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

She was outside the building and halfway back to the admin complex before her anger cleared enough for her to think straight again. She slowed down, looking at the dull adobe buildings around her as she walked. After living in modern military bases, Astra had always seemed almost like a throw-back to the 1800s to her … but never until now had she noticed its complete vulnerability, both to external and internal attack.
What,
she thought miserably,
am I going to do?

On one level the question was trivial; on another, impossible. She would certainly go and see Colonel Meredith immediately, offering whatever assistance she could to block Perez's power grab. How that end could be accomplished, though, was another matter entirely.

The quiet burp of a distant sonic boom penetrated her thoughts, and she looked westward in time to see a shuttle drop toward Martello Base. An alien delegation? It could be nothing else; it would still be a couple of weeks before any kind of reaction to the M'zarch attack could arrive from Earth. Quickening her step, Carmen changed direction to head for Unie's docks. The colonel would almost certainly have gone to the base to greet the visitors, and she saw no particular point in sitting around his office until he came back. Besides, which—it suddenly occurred to her—as moderator of the Council her visible support of Meredith in any discussions might help short-circuit Perez's scheme to promote disunity.

The armed guard waiting at the docks was a surprising but welcome addition to the scenery; apparently, Meredith was taking Perez's threats seriously. Carmen half expected to be denied access to the boats, but her military ID proved acceptable, and soon she was guiding a roaring motorboat up Splayfoot Bay toward Martello.

There were ten of them in all, and the names on their identification papers were as prestigious as any on the UNESCO listing. They sat quietly, for the most part, some of them gazing out the window at the Martello landing area or the hills of the mainland to the east.

The four UN officials accompanying them had equally prominent names, but not anything like the scientists' patience as Meredith went through their credentials one by one. Possibly, he thought, they felt insulted that he'd chosen to meet them in Major Brown's office instead of ferrying them to Unie and his own. Perhaps he should have; the trip would've given him that much more time to think.

Finally, he could stall no longer. “I must say, first of all, that Astra is honored by your presence,” he said to the scientists as he returned their papers. “Under other circumstances you would be most welcome … but I'm very much afraid you may have made this trip for nothing.”

“Would you care to explain, Colonel?” Ashur Msuya said, his voice cold. Meredith had never before met the man, but his virulent anti-West oratory had for years been one of the main rallying points for what little unity the African Bloc was ever able to muster. He'd been merely the head of the Mozambique delegation when Meredith had left for Astra, but his credentials were now identifying him as Assistant Undersecretary for Trusteeship and Non-Self-Governing Territories—a change in position Meredith found more than a little suspicious.

“It's actually rather simple, Mr. Msuya,” the colonel said, turning slightly to face the other. “I've been given command of Astra—
all
of Astra—by the United States government, and there's no legal way I can relinquish that authority to you or anyone else without direct orders from my superiors or from President Allerton.”

Msuya smiled thinly. “Yes, I rather expected you to quote regulations of one sort or another. However, Astra is United Nations territory, and we don't need the Pentagon's permission to withdraw the mandate your government has given. If you insist on being legalistic, I can also argue that the Spinneret and its cable are alien devices not really part of Astra at all, and that your mandate does not include them. Either way, we wind up in control of the Spinneret.”

“Mr. Msuya, again I say that without orders I can't simply take your word for that—and all these papers still boil down to being your word. Now, if our regular supply ship brings me such orders, that'll be a different matter. But until that happens …” He shook his head.

One of the scientists cleared his throat. “Suppose your ship doesn't say anything one way or the other?”

“Then I'll send a message back with her captain describing your mission and requesting instructions. The round trip would take about six weeks, I'm afraid.”

“Our ship could bring you a response in eight days,” Msuya pointed out. “It's an advanced craft—one of two the Ctencri have given the UN.”

“Interesting. How much is Saleh paying for them?”

“They were free gifts.”

Sure they were,
Meredith thought. “Of course,” he said aloud. “But I'd prefer using American ships for any such messages.”

Msuya leaned back in his seat and regarded Meredith coolly. “In other words, you choose to stall. All right, have it your way. I trust you'll at least be willing to find accommodations for the scientific team down here while they work on the cable. I and my delegation can stay aboard our ship if you'd prefer.”

And here was where the organic fertilizer was going to hit the fan, Meredith thought with a sinking feeling. He had no intention of letting a group of foreign nationals get at the Spinneret cable, UN instructions or no. “I would be honored to host these distinguished ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “but as for examining the cable, I'm afraid that won't be possible.”

“Colonel Meredith.” With deliberate movements Msuya rose from his chair and stepped up to the edge of the desk. “It's clear you don't care that your career is being endangered by your uncooperative attitude; I presume that if I had an armed force of troops available you would be equally contemptuous of your life. But I tell you right now: you are now endangering your entire country. We know you have U.S. scientists here studying the cable; failure to grant equal access to us will raise serious questions as to American intentions. It could easily lead to an immediate embargo of all alien goods and technologies to both you and the U.S.—and I assure you that the embargo will be an airtight one.”

He paused for breath, and Meredith moved into the gap. “I understand your concerns,” he said, “but I can assure
you
we have no intention of withholding information on the cable from anyone.” He shifted slightly in his chair, wondering what he was going to say next; and as he did so the paper in his coat pocket crinkled. A gift from heaven, and he grabbed it with both hands. “But I think you've jumped to a false conclusion. It's not a matter of American versus UN scientists; the fact is that
all
non-Astrans are going to be barred from the cable, at least for now.” Pulling out the copy of the Council resolution Perez had given him, he handed it over.

Msuya scanned it, his frown heavy with suspicion. “What is this
Council
fabrication? Astra's supposed to be under military rule.”

“Americans are very democratically inclined people,” Meredith shrugged. “The Council was set up shortly after our arrival to act in an advisory capacity.”

“Then this resolution has no legal force behind it.” Msuya tossed the paper back onto the desk.

“It has the force of public opinion,” Meredith told him. “In America we consider that important.”

One of the scientists cleared her throat. “You say
all
non-Astrans have been ordered away from the cable, Colonel?”

Meredith saw the trap. “I was about to issue the orders to Dr. Chang's team when I was notified your delegation was arriving. The Council's resolution was passed less than an hour ago.”

“Perhaps we should give you a few minutes now to do that, then,” she replied.

There wasn't really any way out of it. Raising his phone, he keyed for Andrews, waiting outside in Brown's outer office. “Lieutenant, I want you to go up to the cable site and have Dr. Chang's people brought back here. Pull copies of all their data, too. Then get in touch with Captain Witzany and put him back in charge of all cable testing.”

One of Andrews's best qualities was his ability to accept even strange orders without question. “Yes, sir. I presume the scientists are to come whether they want to or not?”

“Correct. If they have any complaints, tell them it'll all be explained when they get here.”

“Yes, sir. Uh, Miss Olivero is here, Colonel, and seems anxious to see you.”

Chair of the Council. … It was a chance, Meredith realized, to add credibility to his position. Provided Carmen was smart enough to pick up on what he was doing. “Please ask her to come in,” he told Andrews.

The door opened, and Carmen stepped inside, her face set in a decidedly neutral expression. Meredith wished fleetingly he knew how much, if anything, Andrews had told her about their guests. “Carmen Olivero, current chair of the Council of Astra,” the colonel introduced her, rising to his feet. “This is Mr. Msuya of the UN Secretariat; I've just had to inform him of the Council's decision to forbid non-Astrans from direct access to the Spinneret cable.”

For a long moment he thought she was going to bring down the whole house of cards. Her eyes, which had been sweeping the group, cut abruptly back to him, widening in surprise. But only for a moment. “I see,” she said. “Well. I'm glad you decided not to bother appealing the resolution; with a seven-to-three margin it would've been useless, anyway.” She focused on Msuya. “Were you expecting to take over the cable studies, sir?”

“The cable is UN property,” he told her coldly. Turning back to Meredith, he added, “I don't know what you expect to gain by this charade, Colonel, but rest assured that no one in this room is in the slightest taken in. You're going to bring in the American scientists, make a big show of taking them off the project—and the minute we're gone they'll be back at work.”

“I'm sorry you think me so underhanded,” Meredith said, matching the other's tone. It was time he showed some irritation at all this verbal abuse. “You and Dr. Chang can compare notes on my character on the trip back to Earth; I'm sure he'll have one or two things to add by then.”

Msuya blinked, and for the first time a hint of uncertainty showed through his animosity. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we certainly can't afford to feed any extra people here,” Meredith said calmly. “I just assumed you wouldn't mind giving them a lift home. It
is
only a four-day trip, you said?”