4
Plot and Counterplot
“Raid Cloudcroft? Are you out of your fucking mind?”
Bolin leaned back in his chair and gazed at Sands through steepled fingers. “I don’t believe so. Are you saying that it can’t be done?”
“I’m saying that only a fool would try! The Alliance fleet is the strongest in the North Temperate Belt. Believe me, I should know! If we were to approach within a hundred kilometers without clearance, they would blast us out of the sky.”
“What if a way can be found through the patrols and sensor nets? What if you could board Cloudcroft undetected?”
“Then we might get away with some loot. But it’s still a lousy idea.”
“Why?”
“Look, Citizen,” Sands said, “a successful privateer needs more than a fast ship and a crew willing to risk their lives. Raiders who want to die in bed learn to choose their targets with the same care they put into the genetic makeup of their children. First, there is the matter of finding the right victim. You need a city that has accumulated enough wealth to justify the risk, but not so much that they can put a lot of resources into retribution. Once raided, most cities would rather strengthen their defenses than fund a punitive expedition. The Northern Alliance looks at things differently. If we are successful, there will be no escape for my crew and me. They will track us to Alpha Centauri if they have to. Once they’ve caught us, they’ll wring the name of your sponsor out of us and then send a fleet to punish them.”
“And if we can keep you and your people safe?”
“They’ll still have their suspicions.”
“That you can count on,” Bolin said. “In fact, we are counting on it. Without evidence, however, their suspicions will be unfocused. They will lead the Alliance leaders to become frustrated and more than a little paranoid. They will suspect everyone and launch an investigation. That will monopolize their attention for a very long time, thereby taking the pressure off my clients.”
“You hope,” Lars said sarcastically.
“Believe me, Sands, we have planned this most carefully. The operation is far subtler than it might first appear. By raiding Cloudcroft, we will be exploiting an existing schism in the Alliance leadership. The New Philadelphia crisis was precipitated by the Militarists on the Alliance Council. Kelt Dalishaar, the first councilor, opposed them on the matter. He is an Accretionist; one who believes that the Alliance goal of worldwide hegemony is better served through subversion and the use of political and economic pressure. The Militarists’ apparent success has badly damaged his prestige. That is why he is behind the effort to pressure my clients into joining the Alliance. He is trying to rehabilitate his position with the rest of the council.
“In raiding Cloudcroft, we have the opportunity to embarrass both factions. The ruling council believes their cities to be impregnable. We will prove them wrong. If we are successful, the council is likely to dissolve into an orgy of recriminations. At the very least, we hope to topple the militarist leadership. With luck, we can damage the manifest destiny faction as well.”
“There is still the problem of keeping my identity and that of my people secret,” Sands said.
“You will, of course, be masked from head to toe.”
“What about my ship?”
“We will disguise that as well. The fact that you fly an Air Shark is one of the reasons I chose you. That is the vessel of choice among many civic navies. We will make it appear that your vessel is one of those disguised as a privateer. I have also arranged for one of the southern cities to employ you. As far as the records will show, you were a hundred thousand kilometers distant from Cloudcroft at the time of the raid.”
“Let’s hear your plan for approaching Cloudcroft undetected.”
Bolin nodded and keyed an instruction into his tablet. Using graphics, he detailed how the capital of one of Saturn’s most powerful nations could be approached without detection. Despite his wariness, Sands had to admit that the plan might work. It had the advantage of being both simple and clever, although possibly too much so. When the bald man finished, Sands shook his head.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else. I won’t risk my ship and crew on such a venture.”
“You haven’t asked about your fee.”
“Whatever you’re paying, it isn’t enough.”
Bolin continued with no sign of having heard him. “In addition to your own SparrowHawk, there will be three large freighters involved in the raid. Your fee will be half of everything taken.”
Sands blinked. The offer was unprecedented in its generosity. The going rate was ten percent. Still, he was not tempted and told Bolin so.
“It’s not enough?”
“You have to be alive to enjoy your wealth.”
“True, I suppose,” Bolin said. He sighed heavily. “Well, I tried. I must ask that you not speak of this to anyone, not even your crew.”
Sands laughed. “Your secret is safe. Believe me, I wish you well. If you pull it off, it will pay the bastards back for murdering Dane. I just don’t think you have much of a chance.”
Bolin stood and extended his hand. “We’d have more with you than without.”
Sands took the proffered hand. “It doesn’t take much to improve on zero.”
He was halfway to the door when Bolin spoke again. “I was surprised that you could afford the Saturn Royale and Port Gregson’s fees after the Delphi debacle. Losing privateers are not often paid. You must have been extraordinarily fortunate!”
“We’ve enough savings to tide us over,” Sands said. Despite his best effort, a hint of defensiveness had crept into his voice.
“Then you should have no trouble convincing the authorities of your credit balance should they ask.”
“Your point?”
“Only that if you accept my offer, I will advance you whatever funds are necessary to clear up your bills here. Such payment would, of course, be in addition to the fee I have already offered.”
Sands sighed and returned to his seat. “What makes you think that I won’t say yes now, then refuse to go through with it once we’re in the clear?”
Bolin tapped his tablet. “Among other things, those who know you say that you are trustworthy. I’m willing to bet on their good opinion of you.”
* * *
Kimber Crawford sat in front of her mirror and applied the final touches to her makeup for the evening. She had been aboard Cloudcroft for three days and was beginning to despair ever wrapping up the new trade agreement. So far, all the talks had taken place between her own technical team and the low-level functionaries of the Alliance’s Ministry of Resources. Tonight she would sit with the first councilor at a banquet in her honor, and would try to get some of the sticking points resolved.
She had chosen her weapons for the evening with care. Her gown was in a style that had been popular on Earth just before the evacuation. It was cut from a black translucent material that revealed as much as it concealed. Her hair was piled on top of her head to emphasize her height and held there by an intertwined chain of copper links. Her jewelry was also of hammered copper with turquoise insets, the work of some ancient Navajo craftsman.
She had just finished perfuming herself when her apartment’s annunciator chimed. She rose in a rustle of fabric and crossed the room to answer the door. Outside in the hallway was Ganther Bartlett; her father’s most trusted servant and her own second in command.
“Come in, Ganth,” she said, gesturing him inside.
“You are very beautiful this evening, Kim,” the old man said. He entered the apartment, closing the door behind him.
“Are the others ready?”
“Everyone is in their finery. They will leave for the banquet in another fifteen minutes. Since you are the guest of honor, we can delay a bit longer.”
Bartlett walked awkwardly to an easy chair and plopped down in it with a sigh. He was troubled by a permanent stoop that caused him to hobble slightly as he walked.
“Is your back still giving you trouble?”
He nodded. “It’s the damned gravity. I should have let one of my assistants handle this one.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He smiled. “I guess I’m just an old war-horse who rushed to the sound of the guns once too often.”
“I think you were drafted by my father to keep an eye on me.”
“I could have said no.”
“I wonder,” Kimber replied.
“Talking about it just magnifies the pain. What say we take my mind off it by going over a few things?”
“By all means,” she replied, returning to the small stool that sat in front of the dressing mirror. As she finished her makeup, she could see Ganth over her shoulder in the mirror. “What about this new arrangement they’ve been hinting at? Have you found out anything more?”
He shook his head. “Only more of the same. Apparently, Dalishaar is going to broach the subject tonight at the banquet. Matlin continues to hint that we will be very impressed by their proposal. He refuses to elaborate further.”
“What do you suppose they’re up to?”
“That’s hard to say,” Bartlett said cautiously. As he did so, he gestured toward his ears and then at the surrounding walls, signaling that there might well be listening devices present. It was easily the tenth time he had warned her of eavesdropping since their arrival.
“Well, perhaps we will find out this evening.”
“Perhaps,” he agreed.
They spent the next quarter-hour discussing other negotiating points. Their comments were intended for the benefit of any silent listeners and were frequently at odds with Titan’s true positions. When it was time to go, Bartlett announced that fact loudly, then climbed painfully to his feet and offered Kimber his arm.
The two of them strode to the tube station a mere one hundred meters distant from Kimber’s guest quarters. The apartment was in a wealthy section of the city near the rim and close by the main landing bay. Their destination was to be Government Tower, some five kilometers distant at the city’s center. They both climbed into the small tube car, which awaited them — with Kimber helping Ganth Bartlett, make the awkward step down into the car’s interior. When they were seated, the car canopy slid closed over them and they were pushed gently into the cushions as the vehicle accelerated into its transparent guide tube.
Cloudcroft had been built in three levels. The uppermost of these was the city’s main deck, while two lower levels extended down into the support truss. Like similar structures in other cloud cities, Cloudcroft’s support truss enclosed far more volume — nearly fifty cubic kilometers — than the population could ever use. Thus, the city’s architecture tended toward very large community spaces enclosed by lightweight composite panels.
Also typical of Saturnian cloud cities, many of Cloudcroft’s community spaces had been turned into dioramas that duplicated scenes from Earth. The tube car whisked through several cavernous shopping arcades and parks on its way toward the city’s center. One such simulated an Earth forest as seen on a moonlit night, while another housed rolling plains in which large brown animals grazed. Holographic projections hid the far walls of each, making it appear that they extended to a distant horizon. As they whisked from compartment to compartment, Kimber noticed that the tubeway seemed to be following a small stream that was the sole unifying feature through each of the dioramas.
As the car neared its destination, the transparent tubeway broke through the upper deck and arched upward toward Government Tower. It was near Second Dusk and the sun was low on the horizon, turning the western sky into a golden sheet of fire. The sun was a tiny glowing globe of misshapen light as it sank toward the distant clouds.
They were out in the air only a few seconds before entering Government Tower at its tenth level above the main deck. The tower was one of seven structures that supported the city’s habitat barrier. It also enclosed a large duct through which heated hydrogen flowed upward from the power plant dangling far below. By modulating the flow of heat to the gasbag, the city engineer maintained Cloudcroft’s altitude at the desired level. Several smaller power plants had been built within the support truss for additional lift capability, but the radiation hazards associated with their operation limited them to use during emergencies.
Kimber and Ganth Bartlett were thrown forward as the car slowed to a stop inside Government Tower. The tube station was noticeably posher than the one they had left. As the canopy retracted with a quiet hissing noise, an officer of the Alliance Marines strode toward them across the landing platform. He clicked his heels as they handed over their engraved invitations, and then punched a series of codes into a portable computer terminal. Satisfied, he ordered an enlisted Marine forward and directed him to take them to the main banquet hall. They followed their guide through a maze of corridors. When they reached a small anteroom, they found Hallan Matlin, the chief Alliance negotiator waiting for them.
“Ah, there you are!” Matlin said.
“Good evening, Resources Minister!” Bartlett said, bowing to his counterpart. “I hope we aren’t late.”
“Not at all,” Matlin replied. “The other members of your party went in about ten minutes ago.”
“It is kind of you to wait for us,” Kimber said, extending her hand in order that Matlin could kiss it.
“All part of my duties,” he said. “Shall we go in?”
“By all means.”
The minister led them down a long hall to a high set of double doors. He whispered something to a uniformed servant stationed outside, who spoke quietly into a headset. A moment later, the doors swung open and both Kimber and Ganth Bartlett heard their names being announced over the hall’s public address system. A small orchestra that had been playing softly in the background fell silent and heads turned in their direction. After a moment’s hesitation the crowd applauded them.
Hallan Matlin led them toward a heavyset man who rushed forward to meet them.
“Miss Kimber Crawford, Mr. Ganther Bartlett, may I present the First Councilor of the Alliance, Citizen Kelt Dalishaar. Citizen, the leader and chief negotiator of the Titanian trade delegation.”
“Welcome to Cloudcroft, Miss Crawford,” Dalishaar said, bending to kiss her hand. He did it with more flourish than Matlin had.
“Thank you, First Councilor. It’s good to be here.”
“I’m sorry I was unable to meet you when you arrived. My duties have kept me rather busy of late. The recently concluded New Philadelphia crisis has the government working overtime.”
“I understand perfectly,” Kimber purred in her most diplomatic tone. “We’ve been led to believe that your Excellency will have a new proposal for us this evening.”
“If you are willing, after the banquet I would like to give you a preview of a proposal we will be making at tomorrow’s session.”
“Excellent!” Kimber responded.
“That is, if you aren’t too tired.”
“I’m never too tired to talk business.”
“Then you are a person after my own heart, Miss Crawford. Come, let’s find our seats and get the festivities started.”
“By all means, First Councilor. Lead the way.”
* * *
The banquet was interminable. Each of the courses was punctuated by windy speeches. By the third such, Kimber had consumed enough champagne that she was beginning to feel light headed. For the main course, she switched to the bitter coffee that was the specialty of one of the Alliance agricities. She sat to Dalishaar’s right while Ganther Bartlett sat between two beautiful women farther down the table. The rest of the Titanian delegation was spread around various tables throughout the banquet hall.
“An excellent feast, Citizen,” she told Dalishaar as waiters cleared away the remains of chicken Kiev and potatoes au gratin.
“Thank you, Miss Crawford. I only wish your father were here to partake of it.”
“He would have liked to come. His doctor would not allow it. Too much strain on his heart.”
“So my negotiators have told me.”
“About this plan you will be presenting tomorrow…”
Dalishaar held up one hand in a cautioning gesture. “Please, this is hardly the place to speak of business. Ah, here comes the entertainment!”
The orchestra struck up an old Earth song as an acrobatic troupe entered through a side door and dispersed through the hall. Despite her impatience at getting on with business, Kimber had to admit that they were quite good. Midway through their act, she was struck by how medieval a scene they presented. It was almost as though Dalishaar were an ancient king entertaining visiting royalty. All that was missing were the dogs to clean up table scraps and for the guests to wipe their hands on. The image bothered Kimber. It reminded her that the man sitting next to her held more power than any medieval king who had ever lived.
Dessert was served after the acrobats, and as with the rest of the banquet, proved delicious. Kimber resolved to eat lightly for the next several days in order to control her weight. One of the hazards of the diplomatic life her father had never warned her about was the possibility of getting fat.
Dalishaar abruptly ended the banquet fifteen minutes later. He left by a back entrance, taking a large retinue with him and leaving both Kimber and Ganther Bartlett to Hallan Matlin.
“What about the rest of our people?” Kimber asked, gesturing toward where their six negotiators were still engaged in conversation at their respective tables.
“The first councilor asked that only you and Citizen Bartlett attend this informal session,” Matlin replied. “There will be plenty of time tomorrow for the technicians to hammer out the details. Tonight is merely to be a preview.”
They followed Matlin to a lift that whisked them to the topmost floor of Government Tower. There they waited in a sitting room until a liveried servant informed them that the first councilor was ready to receive them. They found Kelt Dalishaar standing on an open-air balcony beyond the main room of his living quarters. He smiled broadly as Kimber joined him, leaving Ganth Bartlett to confer with Hallan Matlin inside.
“Welcome again, Miss Crawford. What do you think of my city?”
Kimber gazed down at the lights of Cloudcroft. “Very impressive, First Councilor.”
“Not nearly so impressive as what lies beyond, eh?”
Kimber gazed out past the lighted rim. It was near second midnight with The Notch high in the southern sky. To the north, Saturn’s aurora borealis covered the sky in a sheet of silent fire. Stretching out in a long line beyond the city were the other cities of the Northern Alliance. The cluster was more compact than it had been the night they had arrived. The nearest city was close enough that she could see individual buildings atop the support truss.
“It’s impressive, all right,” Kimber agreed. “Why have you brought your cities so close together?”
Dalishaar explained the need to give the Dardanelles storm a wide berth. He finished by saying, “That is why I love this time of year. It is the time when those of us in positions of power can see the results of our handiwork. The Alliance grows steadily.”
“I suppose the New Philadelphia cities will be added to the parade by this time next year,” she said.
The first councilor smiled in the darkness. “Of course. Those cities acquired under less than friendly circumstances are much more docile when they are part of the larger group. In time they will come to love the Alliance as those of us who were born into it.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Of course. We have added half our cities in my lifetime. They will come around in time. You sound as though you don’t approve.”
She shrugged. “I can’t afford to approve or disapprove. The politics of Titan’s customers are not my concern, except insofar as they affect me.”
“That is a terribly myopic attitude, young lady.”
“It is a necessary attitude when you deal with as many different groups as we do.”
“I’m sorry, but that just won’t wash,” he said. Dalishaar’s voice changed to that of a professor lecturing a backward student. “Saturn is humanity’s home. What happens here is important to every man and woman alive. Eventually, we will be one people again just as we were during The Evacuation.”
“Under your leadership, of course.”
Dalishaar shrugged. “Under the leadership of anyone who has the power to make it happen. If not us, then someone stronger or wiser. In fact, Miss Crawford, that is one of the reasons why I want to speak to you this evening.”
“Oh?”
“Please, let us step inside.”
Inside they found half-a-dozen of Dalishaar’s advisors waiting. A beautiful young woman served them drinks, and then withdrew.
“Now then,” Dalishaar said, seating himself in a big overstuffed chair, “I’ve asked you here tonight to discuss a more permanent arrangement between Titan and the Alliance than has been possible in the past.”
“We are listening, First Councilor,” Bartlett said.
“We would like to negotiate an exclusive trade agreement between ourselves and Titan.”
Kimber frowned. “I’m not sure that will be possible.”
“Hear me out,” the first councilor said. “We propose that our two nations enter into a long term agreement. We in the Alliance will agree to annually purchase Titanian metal products equal to your current yearly output. You, in turn, agree not to increase production or to sell to other Saturnian cities. The advantages of such an arrangement to Titan are obvious. You will have a guaranteed customer willing to take a known quantity of product at an attractive price. In effect, you will be freed from the economic cycle and will no longer have to invest your hard earned profits in expansion of facilities.”
“And the benefit to the Alliance?”
“Those are obvious as well. We will add metallics to the impressive list of products we already market to our neighbors. That can’t help but enhance our competitive position.”
“And our current customers? What will become of them?”
“They will become our customers. We will honor all existing contracts, even if it means losing money in the short run.”
“And how will you pay us?” Bartlett asked.
“Half in universal credits, half in commodities. Whatever you like. We in the Alliance make just about everything that Titan needs. And since more cities are joining us all the time, we can offer you an ever widening array of commodities.”
“You are, in effect, asking to be our agents on Saturn.”
“That is one way of looking at it,” Dalishaar agreed. “You produce the resources and we distribute them. A natural division of labor.”
“Our fleet distributes our product,” Kimber said.
“Under this agreement, your ships will deliver your metals to the Alliance and we will bear the expense of seeing them transshipped to the ultimate customers.”
“If we go through with such an agreement, it will have the effect of tying Titan to the Alliance.”
“I told you that we believe in the unification of humanity. Is that such a bad thing? In any event, that is the offer we will be making at tomorrow’s session.”
“I will transmit your offer to my father. I must tell you that there is virtually no chance of his accepting it.”
“Oh?”
“We Titanians guard our independence jealously. We will not exchange it for short-term profits. I will forward your proposal along with my own recommendation that it not be accepted.”
Dalishaar glanced at the others. Several significant looks were exchanged. When he turned back to Kimber, his manner was subtly altered.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Crawford. I can see that I have not done a good job of explaining my offer. What say we have a series of coordination meetings where we can lay out our plan in more detail before you make any recommendation to your father?”
“You won’t convince me.”
“Give us a chance to try. In the meantime, there is liable to be an adverse public reaction if it becomes known that you are personally opposed to this plan. To prevent any untoward incidents, I suggest that you and your people move into Government Tower until negotiations are concluded.”
“I am comfortable where I am, First Councilor.”
“For your own safety, I insist. I’m afraid our people won’t understand your reticence.”
Ganth Bartlett stood up, his face livid. “Surely the first councilor isn’t suggesting that we be held hostage pending the outcome of negotiations!”
A slow smile crossed Dalishaar’s face. “Please, Mr. Bartlett. Let’s just say that we will be granting you increased protection for the rest of your stay aboard Cloudcroft … no matter how long that may be.”