CHAPTER TWO
After many vicissitudes across the centuries, the Via Veneto was once again the fashionable street of Rome. Indeed, there had been attempts to recreate its glory days, of which the grandest was the reconstruction of the old Excelsior Hotel, on a larger scale and including amenities like environmentally correct accommodations for nonhuman guests (up to and including artificial gravity) but stylistically faithful to the original in its mid-twentieth-century heyday.
The Trevaynes arrived at dusk, with the gardens of the Villa Borghese still visible up ahead at the end of the curving, tree-shaded avenue. Entering the hotel’s lobby, they descended a staircase to a barroom decorated in a style of plush retro luxury, its walls covered with deep red damask alternating with tall mirrors. It was already filling up with dignitaries who had rated an invitation to this party, preparatory to the beginning of the formal ceremonies tomorrow.
“You’re not going to get into any arguments, are you?” Magda murmured as they entered the room.
“Moi?” inquired Trevayne, his eyebrows rising into arcs of bogus astonishment that such a question could be asked. He was reasonably confident that she wouldn’t jab him in the ribs in this setting.
Passing one of the mirrors and catching sight of their reflection, he decided that the two of them were appropriate to the setting. They were both wearing the Terran Republic Navy’s full dress uniform of deep blue and white with gold trim, in a traditional military style. Personally, he would have preferred civilian clothes, and Magda looked stunning in the current styles of evening dresses. (Chronologically she was in her seventies, but having had lifelong access to the best antigerone treatments she was about the same physiological age as he.) However, they were here not just as admittedly very prominent individuals, but also as representatives of the Terran Republic of which he had for the past six years been a naturalized citizen.
And as they began to move among the throng, he could see from people’s expressions that those years had not sufficed to dull the irony of that.
Most of the throng were in civilian formal wear, aside from a small group of Orions off to the side drinking the bourbon for which their race had long since acquired a taste, their lean, furry, long-legged felinoid forms garbed only in jeweled harnesses. The few human uniforms in evidence were all the black and silver of the Terran component of the PSU Navy. With minor modifications, it was the uniform Trevayne had once worn…
He had just barely snagged a much-needed scotch when Magda pulled unobtrusively at his sleeve. As he turned, a man approached whom he recognized from his briefing, trailing a stream of hangers-on and extending his hand.
“Ah, Admiral Trevayne! Both Admirals Trevayne, I should say!” A politician’s smile wreathed the dark African face. “It is a pleasure as well an honor to meet you.”
“Likewise, Assemblyman Obasanjo,” said Magda brightly. She had had the same briefing. Trevayne mumbled his concurrence and shook the hand of the man who, while relatively low-ranking in the labyrinthine governmental structure of the PSU, was very much the power-broker of the Terran component, using the automatic prestige that came with the homeworld as a fulcrum from which to manipulate the representatives of the Corporate Worlds which after all these centuries were still the Union’s economic powerhouse. He was, in the language of politicians, the man to come to.
A few more pleasantries were exchanged. “I trust, Admiral Li-Trevayne, that you are enjoying your first visit to Old Terra,” said Obasanjo, who of course would have been equally well briefed.
“Very much. It is unique in my experience. Somewhat overwhelming, in fact. There’s so much history to take in.”
“I hope,” Obasanjo said solicitously, “that it isn’t too overwhelming for your little daughter.”
Very well briefed indeed, thought Trevayne.
“Oh, not at all,” Magda assured Obasanjo. “Han is having the time of her life.”
“Ah, yes…Han.” Obasanjo looked from one of them to the other.
Trevayne sighed silently…at least he hoped it was silent and invisible. He was used to this by now, at the mention of the name “Han Trevayne.” A friend of North American ancestry had once told him that it was rather like a man named “Hatfield McCoy”—a reference that had left Trevayne, history buff though he was, none the wiser. But he understood.
The Fringe Revolution had cost Ian Trevayne far more than his first body. His wife and daughter had died in the nuclear fires of a rebel attack that had unintentionally immolated a civilian residential area. And Trevayne himself had had to give the order that had sent his son, who had gone over to the rebels, to his death. Nothing had been left to him except his loyalty to the Terran Federation and his need for vengeance against the rebels. The two had dovetailed neatly, fueling a war that for him had become more and more personal…and increasingly focused on the person of Admiral Li Han, the new Terran Republic’s most brilliant commander, at one point his prisoner, later his nemesis at the Battle of Zapata. Their enmity had become the stuff of legend.
Then he had awakened after eighty-one years to find himself inside a new body and the Terran Republic an accomplished fact—and, almost at once, an ally against the newly arrived Arduans, the latest in a series of alien threats that had emerged from the depths of space over the last several centuries…and in some ways the worst. For one thing, they believed in reincarnation with a kind of singlemindedness lost to humans ever since the “conflict of science and religion,” for their religion and their science had confirmed each other. It made them contemptuous of death in a way flesh-crawlingly reminiscent of the Arachnids of the Fourth Interstellar War, with their unfeeling hive consciousness.
But still worse was the fact that the Arduans had arrived in the Rim Federation’s Bellerophon Arm through normal space rather than along the warp lines that offered a way around the limitations of relativity.
Humans had blundered onto the warp network by accident. Certain others, such as the Zheeerlikou’valkhannaieee of the Khanate of Orion, had inferred its existence mathematically. But no one fully understood it…and no one had ever been known to attempt interstellar flight any other way. Why spend decades or centuries crawling along at speeds limited to that of light, when one could make instantaneous transit between warp points in different star systems? Admittedly, such transit was limited to systems (and, sometimes, starless locales in empty space) where warp points were to be found. And some warp points were “closed”: undetectable and therefore unknown until one came through from another warp point. But these were small prices to pay for cheating Einstein. There was simply no incentive to make the staggering effort that traveling between the stars any other way required.
The Arduans, though, had had the incentive of species survival, for they knew nothing of warp lines but did know that a nearby supernova would shortly incinerate their home system, bringing the eternal cycle of reincarnation to an unthinkable end. So they had built the city-sized generation ships that had so inexplicably appeared in the Bellerophon system.
It was as though the entire sky had suddenly become one vast closed warp point, ready at any time to spew forth without warning hordes of enemies who had neither fear of their own deaths nor concern for anyone else’s.
In its extremity, the Rim Federation had turned to its founding hero, whose seemingly miraculous return at this particular moment had echoed with mythic resonance. And so Ian Trevayne (physically barely postadolescent, but with all his memories) had found himself back on the active list…and allied with the Terran Republic whose existence he had almost successfully sought to prevent, and whose First Space Lord was none other than the hundred-and-twenty-three-year-old LI Han.
A certain adaptability on his part had borne cultivating.
But then he had met his old enemy’s daughter Magda…
“Yes,” he heard himself saying to Obasanjo. “When she was born, a year after the conclusion of the war with the Arduans, it was natural for us to name her after her grandmother.”
“Her illustrious grandmother,” Obasanjo nodded unctuously. “She is a living symbol of the reconciliation that has occurred since then, typified by your marriage.” He nodded graciously to both of them. “I can still vividly remember the amazement that news caused.”
“Understandably, I suppose, all things considered,” conceded Trevayne. They had fallen in love in the course of the final campaign against the Arduans in the Bellerophon Arm. Li Han had lived just long enough to give her unspoken blessing before perishing in the desperate Battle of Charlotte. They had wedded after that, just before the final push by the Alliance fleet, even though fully expecting a bloodbath that either or both of them might not survive. But the unlooked-for resolution on Bellerophon had spared them that. Their daughter had been conceived shortly thereafter, and there had seemed only one possible name to give her, whatever everyone else thought.
“Typified also by his change of citizenship,” Magda remarked mischievously. Trevayne had left practically everyone thunderstruck by moving to the Terran Republic.
“Ah, yes, that also raised a few eyebrows,” Obasanjo nodded.
And caused a few ill feelings in the PSU and particularly the Rim Federation, Trevayne recalled. But that all seemed to have died down by now. Obasanjo’s next words seemed to confirm it.
“And so what could be more appropriate than your presence here to represent our friends of the Terran Republic? All the more fitting because the two of you—and your revered mother, Admiral Li-Trevayne—were instrumental in the development that led directly to this great and glorious occasion we will celebrate tomorrow: the inauguration of the fifth Unity Warp Point!”
“That cannot be denied.” Trevayne hoped he was keeping the sourness out of his voice.
From their first ventures through the warp points, all the starfaring races had accepted as a truism that they were as limited to the naturally occurring warp network as planetbound seafarers were to the configurations of oceans and continents. Or so it had seemed until the advent, in the midst of the Arduan war, of the Kasugawa Generator, which could create artificial warp lines, as well as enlarge natural ones (“dredging” was the common term) to accommodate greater ship tonnages. What made this a game-changer was the fact that the warp connections had nothing to do with the distribution of stars in normal space, which was why no one except professional astronomers had thought about the latter for centuries. (It was only by sheer coincidence that the Solar System’s one warp point was paired with one in the Alpha Centauri system, next door as these things go.) By generating a new warp line between two systems close together in normal space by previously unconnected by warp transit, the entire strategic picture had been changed and a deadlock broken. That plan had been Li Han’s brainchild, and Trevayne had floored everyone by unreservedly supporting it, thus assuring its adoption.
Despite Trevayne’s efforts, something in his tone must have betrayed his feelings, for Obasanjo gave him a sharp look. “I must also say, Admiral, that your presence here is particularly gratifying in light of the fact that in the past you have expressed certain…reservations about this great work. I gather that your concerns have been laid to rest.”
“Not altogether, Assemblyman,” said Trevayne, ignoring Magda’s warning look.
“But, Admiral, you cannot deny the benefits that have accrued from this project.” Obasanjo began to wax oratorical. “Truly we have beaten swords into ploughshares! The four Unity Points created so far have been a boon to humanity and its friends, greatly enhancing travel and commerce between important systems of the Pan-Sentient Union and its allied polities…including the Terran Republic. And now comes the long-awaited culmination of this great project: linkage of a system near Sol itself with one near Khanae, thus allowing direct communication between the PSU’s two capital systems!”
“No one denies the value of enhanced communications, Assemblyman. But that function is more and more performed by the selnarmic relay system.” No nonmaterial signal could make warp transit. But courier drones could, and when the Arduan telempathic function of selnarm could be used to instantaneously transmit across a planetary system from one warp point to another…
“I yield to no one in my appreciation of the contribution our new friends the Arduans have made in this field. But the fact remains, Admiral, that selnarmic relay cannot transmit cargo or passengers. Our Unity Warp Points can!”
“That’s not all they can bloody well transmit!” Trevayne drew a breath and forced himself to speak in level tones. “You can only create a linkage such as this if you assume that interspecies amity is a law like gravity, without exception operating ceaselessly and eternally. History is against such an assumption. I can personally testify that even amity among human groups and factions cannot be taken for granted.”
This momentarily silenced Obasanjo, who knew he was looking at a man who personally remembered the Fringe Revolution. But he recovered quickly. “Surely, Admiral, you can see that we have put those bad old days behind us! Today, all is harmony between species and polities.”
Trevayne wore a look of grim amusement. “Even in the most blissful of marriages”—he gave Magda a sideways glance, and smile wrinkles bunched at the corners of his eyes—“there is inevitably the occasional discord. And this Unity Warp Point offers the worst and most warlike among both species the most irresistible temptation, for it furnishes them with the most terrible capability: the ability to strike into the very core of the neighboring species’ worlds!”
Obasanjo’s professional bonhomie was growing somewhat frayed around the edges. “Well, Admiral, as you know your reservations were accorded due weight. But the decision has been made, and the ceremony will go forward tomorrow. After which, I assume you and your wife will both be turning your attentions back to the matter of hunting down the remaining Tangri corsairs.”
“Yes. We have been engaged in that for some time, but there is still much to be done.” The predatory Tangri had decided to insert themselves into the Arduan war, seeking advantage from whichever side seemed ascendant. It had been a suicidally bad decision, for it had given Ian Trevayne a good reason to pursue the arguably long overdue extermination of their depraved polity. “Their remnants have fragmented into bands of marauders—ever smaller and, it seems, more elusive and wily.”
“Well, I’m confident they will receive their just deserts at your hands in due course.” Trevayne could have sworn that he could detect, underlying Obasanjo’s heartiness, a certain relief that the Trevaynes would be gone. “But in the meantime…” Obasanjo took on a simpering bogus-conspiratorial look. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but the ceremonies tomorrow will be the occasion for announcing the sixth Unity Warp Point, connecting Sigma Draconis and Bellerophon!”
Is this his idea of mollifying me? wondered Trevayne, staring into Obasanjo’s beaming countenance. “A great achievement, sir,” was all he could manage.
“I was confident that you would think so. And now, Admiral, if you will excuse me…” And Obasanjo vanished into the swirl of networking.
“Nice going,” Magda commented.
Trevayne was about to attempt an answer, but then he saw a small figure seated by himself on the far side of the room. “Excuse me. I want to talk to someone. Maybe you can smooth some feathers.” Before Magda could remark on the need for precisely that, he walked away and approached the small, deceptively aged Eurasian man—deceptively, because he had qualified for antigerone treatments late and therefore had the look that humans still unconsciously associated with venerable wisdom even though he was barely into his second century. In his case, the impression happened to be true.
“Dr. Kasugawa?”
Dr. Isadore Kasugawa looked up from the cup of sake he had been nursing. “Ah, Admiral Trevayne! Please sit down. I was hoping to be able to exchange a few words with you.”
“Likewise. I was sure you would be invited, as the inventor.”
“So I was, as was Admiral Desai, without whom I doubt if I could have accomplished anything.”
“Oh, yes. How is Sonja?”
“Well, as far as I know. I hardly ever hear from her any more. She declined the invitation.”
Trevayne murmured something conventionally regretful. Sonja Desai, who had been one of his subordinates during the Fringe Revolution and who had negotiated the end of that war with Li Han after the Battle of Zapata, had avoided every opportunity to meet him after his resurrection. He wondered why.
“Well, if you do hear from her, give her my best. But at the moment, I wonder if I might pose a theoretical question to you.”
“Of course.”
Trevayne met the old eyes and held them. “Would it be possible to build a device that would disrupt a warp point?”
Kasugawa didn’t seem as shocked by the question as Trevayne had anticipated. “Well, you must understand that naturally occurring phenomena are difficult to suppress, let alone destroy.”
“You misunderstand. I mean: would it be possible to disrupt an artificially created warp point?”
“Ah.” Kasugawa’s eyes continued to meet Trevayne’s, and much passed between them without needing to be said. “What a coincidence that you should ask! About nine months ago, I started giving a certain amount of thought to that very idea.”
“I see.” Trevayne and Kasugawa exchanged knowing smiles, and Trevayne stood up. “Thank you, Doctor. I believe I’ll be able to get through tomorrow’s ceremony somewhat more easily than I had feared.”