The Ethos Effect, page 11
“This is a most unusual situation, ser,” Rolfes protested. “The last time a diplomat was assaulted was over a hundred years ago. This is not at all normal. We’re just trying to discover why it happened.”
“I suggest that you look into the background of the three men. You might talk to their families, their friends and associates.”
“We have, ser. We’ve spent almost three days intensively questioning them, and there’s nothing there.”
Van forced a polite smile. “And what about their deaths?”
“The medical examiners can find no reason for their deaths. Their hearts just... stopped.”
“That’s an interesting datum in itself, I’d think.”
For the first time, Rolfes looked both puzzled and interested.
“There are only three Arm powers with those kinds of abilities, and Scandya, the Keltyr, and the Taran Republic aren’t among them.”
“That’s a serious charge—”
Van laughed again. “It’s not a charge. It’s an observation, and it doesn’t mean that those three had anything to do with it directly. It does mean that the three had to have had contact—if indirectly—with someone with access to those technologies. It also means that someone didn’t want you to discover what they’re doing, and, if I were you... I’d think about the implications of that a lot more than whether I may have used slightly excessive vigor in defending myself against men who were obviously a far greater danger to Scandya than am I.” Van stood. “I wish you the best in your investigation.”
“But...” began Constable Sergeant Bentssen.
Rolfes rose smoothly. “The commander is right, Bentssen. There’s not much that questioning him further will establish.” He bowed to Van, excessively.
“You’re right, Lieutenant But I didn’t say it.” Van refrained from suggesting that the lieutenant focus on the problem, rather than upon Van himself.
After the two had left, and after he’d spent a good ten minutes trying to cool down, he left his office and headed for the third secretary’s spaces.
“Come on in, Commander.” Emily studied Van as he stood there. “You’re angry.”
“It shows that much?”
“You don’t hide strong feelings well.”
“I’m not angry with you.” Van shook his head. “I just spent the last hour with two very polite Scandyan constables... two very polite and obtuse constables...” He went on to summarize the meeting. “... so, as the embassy’s media expert I thought you should know. I’ll also have to send a memo to the ambassador, but I wanted you to know before I told him, because he’ll probably come to you immediately.”
“So will Ian.”
“Rogh will tell him?”
“As soon as you walk out of his door—or as soon as he can fire off an implant message without giving it away.” Emily frowned. “I still... that’s disturbing ... I’d heard... but...”
Rather than ask, Van waited.
“Like you, I try to maintain contacts around Scandya. There’s a Hyndji consulate, not even an embassy, because they don’t have a presence in the Arm. Sanji is a friend, and he was telling me that he’d noticed people were getting cooler and cooler toward him. He insisted it wasn’t imagination. There have been a few stories in the media, too. And then there was the Liberal Commons demonstration last week against allowing Argenti and Hyndji scientists into Scandya. I’m beginning to wonder.”
“Wonder what?”
“Bias... prejudice.” Emily frowned. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Prejudice never does. But I see what you mean. Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“The Argentis ... some of them are darker-skinned than I am.”
“But Scandya is already independent,” she pointed out. “The locals don’t need to exploit prejudice for a revolution. They haven’t for centuries.”
“But Scandya needs allies to remain independent. Who benefits from fanning prejudice?”
“You think the Revenants would stoop that low?”
Van laughed. “People have always stooped that low, even when we were all crammed into one planet.”
“I suppose so.” Emily sighed. “I’ll run another search— after I finish the latest follow-ups for Madame Rogh’s luncheon.” Her smile was both rueful and warm. “I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.” Van stepped out of her office and walked back toward his own. He’d have to tell both the ambassador and Hannigan, but he needed just a few more minutes to prepare himself. He needed to be dispassionate, and he also wanted to think out the best way to ensure that the two drew the same conclusion that Emily had.
Still... it bothered him. He wasn’t sure whether the Scandyan blindness or the apparent easy acceptance of prejudice bothered him more. Then, that choice was simply between one form of stupidity and another.
He opened his own office door and stepped inside.
Even though the Coalition did not have a full embassy, Van thought he ought to pay a call on the Eco-Tech military liaison—if there was one. Before he contacted the Coalition office, he decided to try once more to make contact with Sub-marshal Brigham Taylor, the Revenant military attaché. He’d put in a call almost a week earlier and heard nothing. He’d try to reach the Revenant sub-marshal first, and then see about the Eco-Tech office before he told the ambassador about the morning’s inquisition. By then, he might be calmer.
Chapter 17
The Revenant sub-marshal had again failed to get back to Van—but Van did get a return call from the Coalition liaison office later on oneday, asking if a meeting with a Major Murikami on threeday would be suitable. Van had confirmed it immediately. After he’d accepted the meeting, he had gone back to puzzling over the matter-of-fact attitude taken by the Ambassador Rogh about Van’s treatment by the Scandyan constabulary.
“It’s their planet,” Rogh had said. “You just have to do the best you can.”
Van doubted that Rogh would have been so philosophical if he’d been the one being questioned by the Scandyan constabulary, but he’d just nodded.
Two more mornings had passed without event. By three-day morning, along with everything else, Van found himself still fretting about the Fergus, since he’d seen nothing on the embassy infoservice or anywhere else. Finally, by late morning, he used the embassy net to connect to Gotland orbit control, and then to connect to the Fergus.
The image that appeared was that of Shennen, the head comm tech. “Republic ship Fergus, Tech Shennen. How might I help you, ser... Ser? Commander?”
“It’s me, Shennen. Is Commander Baile available?”
“Let me check, ser.”
The image of the trim, graying, but youthful-faced commander appeared almost instantly. “Commander Albert, what can I do for you?”
“I just thought I’d check back with you, to see if there was anything I might have overlooked, and also, out of interest, to see how the repairs were coming.”
Baile’s face offered a warm smile. “It’s kind of you to check, but you were most effective, and left everything in good order. We’ve had some delays because we’ve had to get replacement shield generators from Tara, and a systems check indicated we probably should also replace one of the jump generators, just to be safe. But it won’t be long now.”
“That’s good to hear.” Van paused. He couldn’t really ask where the Fergus was headed or whether the ship was going to stay in Scandya system. “Have you heard anything about the previous stationkeeper?”
“You know I can’t...” Baile shrugged.
“I know.” Even if Baile knew about the fate of the Collyns, he couldn’t have said, but his expression as much as told Van that he didn’t know.
“Is there anything else, Commander?” asked Baile.
“No, you’ve been most kind. Tell the crew I’ve been thinking of them.”
“That I will.”
The screen blanked. Van didn’t know much more than before, but be had checked.
At thirteen forty-five, after reading more reports that said little, and a meal Van didn’t recall even right after he’d eaten it, Van was in the back of the embassy groundcar being driven by Stefan southward on Knutt Boulevard. The Eco-Tech liaison office was a small building less than a third the size of the first floor of the Taran embassy. There were no guards in front—just a carpark set amid a gardenlike space. Stefan parked the car, and Van walked to the front entrance and into the entry foyer, where he studied the holo screen projected there. Major Murikami’s office was to the left.
The first doorway on the right—open—was labeled IIS, with no explanation of the initials. As Van walked by, he glanced inside, taking in the compact room where a tall and trim blond man was talking to a younger man. Although the older man wore a simple black shipsuit without insignia, his bearing was military. Van wondered if he happened to be a former Coalition officer.
The next office on the left was the one he wanted: service liaison—major m. murikami. He’d always pondered why the Eco-Techs called their military forces the Service, but he’d never gotten a real answer from the few Coalition officers he’d encountered.
He stepped inside, catching the security screening, the autoweapons focused on the entryway, and the pulsed Welcome that his implant picked up. The space inside was small, no more than three meters by four, and held four armchairs and a low table.
“You must be Commander Albert,” said the officer in the olive green shipsuit standing in the doorway to an office off the reception area. On his chest were the wings of a deep-space pilot, and the shoulder insignia were the triple bars of a Coalition major.
“Major Murikami?”
“Come on in.” Major Murikami was trim and muscular, and a good ten centimeters shorter than Van. He led the way into the inner office. A series of narrow windows overlooked a garden containing a pond set among rocks and trees. The setting radiated peacefulness.
Van paused and studied the setting.
“It’s very restful. Too restful at times.” Murikami smiled wryly and sat down at the desk.
Van took one of the two armless chairs across from the major. “I was a little surprised to find that the Coalition didn’t have a full embassy here in Scandya.”
“We don’t have full embassies anywhere, Commander,” returned Murikami. “It reduces problems and costs. Our consular operations are designed for practicality. We gather and disseminate information and decide on the suitability of potential immigrants. We provide local analysis of economic and political conditions, but we don’t get involved in local or Arm politics, and we leave actual military decisions to the High Command.” The boyish-looking major added, “In short, we do everything an embassy does, except with a lower profile and a much lower cost.”
Van laughed. “And you avoid the entanglements of local politics.”
“The Coalition’s found that for us it works better that way.”
Van wondered if the Coalition were as open as Murikami made it seem. Or did the Coalition handle its political and covert operations totally outside any obvious channels?
“Well...” Van began, “is there any information that I can provide?”
“We’ll take anything you’d like to send us, but we’re under strict orders not to press, snoop, or spy.” Murikami offered the boyish smile once more.
“This is my first liaison assignment,” Van said. “I’m probably revealing my ignorance, but is that a standing policy for all Coalition liaison officers?”
“Absolutely. It has been for more than two hundred years.”
“Since the end of the Eco-Tech-Revenant conflict?”
“Approximately. I don’t know the exact date the policy was implemented.”
“What else goes on here? I noticed an office as I came in ... it doesn’t seem to fit...”
“Oh ... IIS. They’re a private foundation that gathers information on economic and social structures throughout the Arm. We had extra space and leased it to them—just for the next year. Generally, they spend a year on a planet, doing an in-depth survey, provide a copy to the government gratis, then move on, but leave a smaller office behind.”
“They must have a considerable endowment.” Either that, or they were the covert operation Van was looking for— except they were right out in the open.
“I don’t think so. They sell their data to a wide range of multilaterals and businesses. The free copy to the government is to allow some local check on the use of the data.”
“Then,” asked Van, intrigued in spite of himself, “what’s to keep the various multis from getting the data from the government?”
“It isn’t packaged specifically for the multis, and they’d have to spend a great deal of time massaging the data to get what they wanted. By the time they did, their competitors who bought market-specific data and recommendations would have the jump on them. That’s what the local director told me, anyway.” Murikami smiled once more. “There must be something to it. IIS has been around for close to a hundred and fifty years, I’ve been told.”
“You ever work with them?”
Murikami laughed, not totally humorously. “We stay as far away as we can. They’re very friendly, and they don’t say anything. On most planets, they lease space well away from us, but they had some trouble when they showed up to take possession of an office they’d leased.”
“Their tans were too dark?”
“It is a problem here,” Murikami admitted. “No one wants to offend the Coalition government... but one of our foundations, not associated with the government, that’s another story, and Scandyan civil rights laws don’t apply to out-system aliens.”
Van nodded. The more he looked at Scandya, the less he liked the system. “Do you get many applicants for immigration to the Coalition?”
“Not anymore. There aren’t many non-Scandyan-looking individuals left here, and most of those who are won’t pass our screening.”
“What’s involved with that?”
“It’s just basic character,” Murikami said. “We don’t take most troublemakers. We don’t take the lazy. We use a standard nanite employment screen, nothing fancy, plus an interview.”
“There can’t be many who can afford it.”
“We offer a reduced fare on a Service transport, and a long-term, low-interest loan. Not many take it, but it amounts to a hundred or so individuals a year.”
In effect, reflected Van, the Coalition underwrote a troopship transit to Scandya once a year. For humanitarian reasons? Or bottom-line business, because anyone who would take those terms was intelligent and determined? “Is this a Coalition policy with all Arm systems?”
“No one seems to mind,” Murikami pointed out.
“Do you get access to the SDF?” Van asked bluntly.
“Enough. They’d prefer not to meet with me, but they don’t want to offend the Coalition. So they smile politely in front of clenched teeth—except for Commodore Petrov. He’s always been helpful.” Murikami looked at Van, the smile fading. “You know that the RSF has cut off all of the top-level military feeds to your embassy, don’t you?”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. What do you think might be the reason?”
“Normally, that means military action, and a desire to make sure that the local embassy can’t give away anything.”
Van shrugged. “I can’t imagine what sort of action we’d even be talking about. We can’t match the Coalition, the Revs, or the Argentis. If we did anything against the Keltyr or Scandya itself, I can’t imagine any of you would stand by.”
“I’m just a liaison officer. I can’t speak for the Service, but it does seem that there might be something that’s happening that you or the ambassador might understand too well if you had full information. That’s always been the past pattern of the RSF.”
Past pattern of the RSF? Van was getting a good firsthand example of why no one wanted to be on the wrong side of the Coalition. “I can honestly say that I don’t know about anything along those lines.” Van paused. “I suppose that doesn’t help. Even if I did, I’d have to say that I didn’t. But it may just be because I’m new.”
“That is possible.”
Murikami didn’t believe that Van could tell.
“It also may be,” the major went on, “that you were posted here from an assignment where you would not know anything that might come to pass.”
“Possible,” Van agreed. “Since you have much more experience in this than I do, what should I be looking for?”
Murikami smiled. “Anything that would benefit the RSF. It might not be to the advantage of the Taran Republic or its people. That’s the problem with military forces that are too independent of civilian control.”
“The other side of the problem,” Van countered, “is that in systems where there’s too much civilian control, like Scandya, the very independence of the system is threatened.”
“That’s also true, which makes life very interesting.”
“Interesting” was another word for dangerous. “Yes, it does. What else should I know?”
“Beyond what I suggested, I can’t say.” Murikami paused. “Since we’re trading information, what should I know?”
Van fingered his chin. “You probably know everything that I’d say. Xenophobia is rising here in Scandya. The Revs are fanning it and profiting from it, but I couldn’t offer a shred of hard proof. The Argentis don’t want to occupy the system but they might to stop a Rev takeover.”
“What about the Republic?”
“We’d like Scandya to remain independent.”
Murikami nodded. Again, Van felt that the major disagreed, but wasn’t about to dispute Van.
“We certainly don’t want the Revs in control of the system,” Van added.
“I doubt anyone does—except the Revenants themselves. That hasn’t stopped them in the past. Every year, they take another system, if not more.”
“You stopped them.”
“We did. The cost was incredible. The war almost destroyed both societies. We’d rather not see anything on that scale ever again.”
