CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“No more stairs…and way too much stuff.”
Callum stamped snow off his shoes and dumped a space bag in a hallway. Its walls were lined with holo prints of Crann Bethadh’s seacoasts and mountains that displayed new angles of the places every ten or twenty seconds. There was a single static picture as well, and he did a double take as it caught his eye. It showed the outside of a barracks, separated from rows and rows of young men and women in civilian clothes by white ropes decorated with red poppies. The captured moment took his mind back to Olympia, when he’d first reported for duty, and a bit of dread built in his chest. He wasn’t sure if it was from the memory or something about the photo.
Eira came around the corner. She wore simple fatigues, with a space bag over each shoulder, and her legs and back quivered under the weight.
“Eira, I can carry my own crap.” Callum grabbed a bag off her and she shrugged out from under the other. She bent forward, resting her hands on her knees, and breathed deeply.
“What did Logan do to you? It’s like you enjoy the hurt.”
“Pain…pain is weakness leaving the body,” she said.
“Okay, that’s carrying physical fitness a bit too far.” Callum checked a room number and opened a door. Inside was a single-occupancy apartment with plastic-wrapped furniture. “Not bad.” He dropped the bag and kicked it to one side, then went into the living room, spread his arms out, and spun slowly. “Ah—space!”
“I’ll unpack your things,” Eira said. She picked one of his bags back up and carried it into the room. “You have a reception dinner in ninety-six minutes. The Admiral specified the following uniform: berets, medals—”
“I saw the message, and I can handle it myself. Why don’t you get yourself situated? Maybe unwind a bit from all that Hoplon brainwashing.”
Callum opened the closet and the Crann Bethadh equivalent of a moth flew out.
“The troop barracks are on the other side of the governor’s palace.” She set down the bag she’d been carrying and started for the door. “I can be back in twenty minutes.”
“What?” Callum said. “Your quarters are across the hall. One more run down to the lorry, and we’re done. Although I think Logan wants you with him during the meet and greet.”
“I have a room?” She turned around, confused.
“Of course you do. No more being packed together like mackerel on Ishtar. One of the biggest ships in space, and you’d think they could’ve been a bit more generous with the crew compartments. Trust me, merchant ships are! ’Course, they have a lot smaller crews…and the crews can quit if they decide to, now that I think about it.”
He walked into the small kitchen.
“Did they stock the fridge? They did not. Not that I cook. Eira, how long until—Eira?”
He leaned into the hallway and saw her apartment door open. She was inside, running one hand down the bedcover.
“It’s not bad,” Callum said, following her into the apartment. “Is it me, or do they keep the thermostats just above freezing on this planet?”
“Sam and I used to…we’d joke about what we’d do if we could ever get a bed,” Eira said. “All we had was a mattress I scrounged out of a dumpster. When he was on that cot in the bunker…He was so happy he didn’t have to sleep on the ground anymore.”
The skin around Callum’s eyes tightened for a moment as he stood behind her, but then he tossed his head.
“And now you’re the aide to the aide to the Admiral-slash-Governor’s…aide,” he said. “I think I got that right.” He thought about it. “Yeah.” He nodded, then frowned. “Do you…have any civilian clothes? No, of course you wouldn’t. We’ll make a trip to town later.” He gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. “And then we’ll take you to a plastic surgeon. Get that brand off of you.”
“How much? Faeran talked to me about the costs while we were in transit. I understand that I’m paid twice a month, but with the taxes and withholdings to pay for my uniforms…the math works out to—”
“It’s nothing,” Callum said. “So far, Logan and his knuckle-draggers have taught you how to kill a man with a spoon and assemble a carbine while blindfolded and floating upside down in micrograv. I, on the other hand, will teach you the glories of an expense account. Lot fewer bruises involved, so long as you keep all the receipts.” He brandished a finger. “Always keep the receipts! And never lie to your accountant; they know everything. I’ll take you in the morning, and then we’ll figure out our routine for the next two-ish years.”
Eira nodded, and he patted her shoulder again and left. After he’d gone, she went to the sink and stared at the faucet, looking for knobs. She reached for the spigot, and water poured out of it as the sensor caught her hand’s motion. She jerked the hand back, then touched the sink gingerly. Red and blue boxes lit up beneath the marble façade. She tapped the red one, turning the water as hot as it would go, and flicked her fingers through the stream as steam rose.
* * *
“Ian Markel, ND Extractions,” O’Hanraghty whispered to Murphy as a heavyset man walked toward them and extended a hand.
The cocktail party was in full swing, with several long rows of food and a robot-staffed bar in the governor’s mansion’s ballroom. The room had real wood furnishings, more reminiscent of pre-spaceflight Earth’s England than the more modern trappings back in Olympia. The guests’ conversations struck Murphy as subdued, and he wondered if that was the local custom or because the news of Inverness had spread since his arrival. Senior officers from the task force had taken up roost closer to the alcohol.
“Governor, so good to finally meet you,” Markel said. “I understand you’re in the Thakore family back in the Heart Worlds.”
“I see my wife’s charms beat me here,” Murphy said.
“Did you know that Goibniu has double-surveyed deposits of platinum group ores? Including very high concentrations of both rhodium and osmium? Demand’s due to pick up in the next few years, given the depletion of the Leucippus System’s deposits. Now, there’s a sunk cost to the mining, just from the gravity well, but my crews are—”
“Ian, is it? Ian, I’m not here on family business, and Venus Futures is primarily invested in shipbuilding, not mining.”
“But they could put one of their micro-gravity smelting platforms in Goibniu orbit. Frankly, the processing platforms here at Crann Bethadh are…well, ‘long in the tooth’ is putting it mildly. Their efficiency curves are pathetic. With one of your smelting platforms orbiting Goibniu, we could at least double, probably triple, profit margins. And Goibniu has more than just the platinum group, you know.”
“Astro Engineering makes those, not Venus Futures,” Murphy said with a smile.
“What’s the difference?” Markel’s tone sharpened. “The Five Hundred is just a name for one big economic conglomerate. The Thakores don’t know the Astro Engineering people?”
“My wife…did go to school with the CEO’s daughter.” Murphy’s smile grew wider, and he tapped his right toe to signal to O’Hanraghty that the conversation needed to end soon.
“Don’t pester the Governor with your platinum-plated dreams.” President Tolmach had walked up behind Markel. Now he rapped his cane against the floor, then whacked Markel’s calf. “He tried for years to get the old governor to send someone from Survey Corps to confirm his suspicions about what’s hiding on Goibniu, Admiral. Though my guess is that the cost of the permits will be higher than whatever you can dig out.”
“It’s been surveyed,” Markel said looking at Murphy. “He’s seen the reports. I think he just forgets.”
“Keep on making ageist jokes.” Tolmach nudged the other man with the prosthetic hand holding his cane. “They’ll come back to you. Age happens to the best of us and to the rest of us. Now go make your third pass at the food line. They have more of those pink things with the shells.”
Murphy looked at the President. The old man wore his own awards, and the admiral’s eyes lingered briefly on an exquisitely wrought, stylized silver leaf over Tolmach’s breast pocket. It was accompanied by a five-pointed star with black points. Three smaller black stars formed a column next to the larger device.
“I was in Survey,” he said, turning back to Markel. “Have your scans sent to my office.”
“Shrimp,” Markel said, nodding quickly. “They’re called shrimp.”
“Don’t have those in our seas.” Tolmach turned his good eye to Murphy as the mining executive headed off obediently. “Too cold, I suppose. We do have oil squid—taste awful, although our whales love eating them. ’Course, our ‘whales’ probably aren’t much like the ones you’re used too, either.”
“Nice to see you again, Mr. President,” Murphy said. “The reception at the spaceport was exceptional.”
“You’re my fifth governor since I took office. Likely my last, if you extend your stay like the last one. Sorry General Dewar couldn’t be here. You’ve already got him running around with his hair on fire.”
“Seems prudent, given what happened to Inverness,” Murphy said.
“The League hasn’t launched a raid like that in our sector in over five years. I wonder what changed?”
Tolmach reached back to a younger man holding a plate of shrimp with red sauce. He sniffed at the food, then dropped it back on the plate.
“Beta Cygni, probably,” Murphy said. “The front there’s been fairly static for a long time, but cracks are showing in the League’s defenses. My guess is that their Assembly authorized the strike for a propaganda win.”
“What’s the bill?” Tolmach asked. “Seven hundred thousand dead?”
“Seven hundred and fifty.” Murphy’s mouth tightened for a moment, his eyes bleak. “Of course, that’s just our estimate, based on the survivors we found. We don’t know how much the population had grown since the last census.”
“Leave it to the Leaguies to spill innocent blood for a few headlines. What will the Heart Worlds do? A reprisal? You’ve got a task force in orbit. You could visit one of their outposts and be back before the Oval can say no.”
“Better to ask for forgiveness than permission?” Murphy asked.
“Always.” One side of Tolmach’s face tugged to the side. “There’ll never be peace with the League, Governor. Too much blood between us. Although I don’t think you have to be convinced of that.”
“The safety of New Dublin is my primary concern,” Murphy said. “We can partner on that, yes?”
“I joined the first levy off Crann Bethadh to defend the Federation,” Tolmach said. “Came back, and then sent three more generations of boys and girls off to the fight. Working to keep the Leaguies from destroying our home isn’t much of an ask, lad.”
“Once I have a fuller picture of the system’s defenses, we can work out a plan together.”
“Why just this system?” Tolmach chuckled. “New Dublin’s the regional capital for the Concordia Sector, and our regular Sector Conference is coming up shortly. I expect all the other chief executives to be here in about two months—travel times are a little iffy out this way. And Scotia won’t make it, this year. Is it true you put Drebin in the same ship with all the survivors?”
“Needs must.” Murphy took a sip of his drink.
“And it was a…slow ship?”
“Only one I could spare, I’m afraid.”
“Not bad. Not bad at all,” Tolmach said with a grin.
“I’m not certain what you’re getting at, Mr. President,” Murphy said innocently.
“Of course not.” Tolmach shook his head. Then his expression sobered. “We’ve got our annual Remembrance Day coming up. You’ll join us for the ceremony? Good chance for the people to see your face.”
“I’ll be there. I have no intention of being a stranger out here.”
“Heh. They all say that. Then they go outside during the winter and decide to hibernate. Did your ships bring anything but those awful shelled creatures?”
“Nothing on a par with Dewar’s tea, I’m afraid.”
“Bah. Hope you enjoy potatoes, Governor. Crann Bethadh makes the best of them this side of the blue line. And now, begging your pardon…”
Tolmach thumped his aide on the knee to get him out of the way and made for the restroom.
“Did that go well?” Murphy asked O’Hanraghty, watching the New Dubliners go.
“Not entirely sure, Sir. There’s been a low level of hostility ever since we arrived. Can’t tell if the locals are like this to every off-worlder, or if it’s local custom. Almost like I’m back home on New York. And what happened to the persona?”
“Murphy the merry bumbler had to die on Inverness,” the admiral said. “Lives aren’t worth keeping the Five Hundred blissfully unaware that I do have a clue. If I keep up the act here and now, then what? Tolmach would pigeonhole me as a Heart World empty suit out here to get my ticket punched, and then nothing would change with the system’s defenses.”
“Inverness did move up our timetable,” O’Hanraghty agreed, pursing his lips slightly. “Still no word on how Fokaides and the Oval reacted to our efforts there.”
“What were those awards?” Murphy brushed a hand over his breast pocket. “I’ve seen others with the black-tipped stars, but not the leaf.”
“That’s a duilleog airgid—means ‘silver leaf,’ as nearly as I can translate it—and it’s an actual leaf, not something some metalsmith whipped up. And it’s from a very specific tree. The locals regard the giant silver trees scattered around the planet as sacred. There are maybe a dozen species of the smaller ones, but there aren’t many of the giants, and they’re about the size of an old earth sequoia—maybe even bigger. Pretty spectacular, I understand. No one’s allowed to collect the leaves or cut a branch from one of the giants…unless the Congress awards you the Order of Craeb Uisnig. I think I pronounced that pretty close to right; it’s a reference to a sacred tree back on Earth.” O’Hanraghty turned his head to look Murphy in the eye. “To date, only President Tolmach has that honor.”
“Hmmm…the rest?”
“The black-pointed star’s for being combat wounded. The all-black stars are for loss of a family member.” O’Hanraghty took a pull at his drink. “Three sons.”
“One child’s too many for a father to lose,” Murphy said softly, gazing after the vanished President. Then he inhaled deeply.
“At any rate, our handling of Drebin seems to have gone over well out here. Back in the Heart Worlds? At least they’ll blame you as a bad influence.” His lips quirked a brief smile at the chief of staff. “Drebin, on the other hand, will be the same insufferable ass when he reaches the Heart. My report and what data we could pull out of the rubble should be enough to give the Admiralty a nice fat public target to keep attention off of us.”
“You really think they’ll crucify him?”
“He deserves a hell of a lot worse than that, but he’s got some connections to the Five Hundred. Probably remote, but how else do you think he got that assignment? His family might disappear him into an arcology, and then he’ll crawl out of that hole a few years later with a new face and a new name.”
“Meanwhile, everyone he abandoned on Inverness will still be dead,” O’Hanraghty said. “Hardly fair. Logan should’ve let that wild child have him.”
“Decisions were made, and we can’t unmake them. All we can do is make the best of the consequences. Does explain some of how the locals see us, though, doesn’t it? The Heart Worlds come to the Fringe to demand taxes and warm bodies for the wartime grinder, and then Drebin won’t risk his precious ass to even try to protect them.”
“If the League wasn’t such a bunch of murdering bastards, the Fringe would’ve gone into open revolt years ago, Sir. You’ve seen the studies. We’ve got a hell of a job in front of us. One that might get tougher once our contact arrives.”
“And when’ll that be?”
“He doesn’t like to give specifics. Says details like that can get him killed.”
“You think there’s a threat to him on Crann Bethadh?”
“It’s not paranoia if they really are after you, Sir. More shrimp? Doubt we’ll get another shipment for a time. I’ll just go and see about getting some more while the getting’s good. Oh, and here comes Ms. Abigail Shoonhowser. She has a daughter Callum’s age. Be careful.”
“You’re abandoning me now? Some chief of staff you are!” Murphy muttered through gritted teeth, then smiled as he welcomed his next guest.
* * *
“He’s a problem,” Tolmach said as he accepted a whiskey. He and Dewar sat in a book-lined study, and a woman in her early fifties handed a second drink to the general.
“No, he’s not.” Dewar lifted his glass to the woman. “What do you think, Moira?”
“He’s been here less than three days. Every new governor shows up full of piss and vinegar. Then they get it out of their systems.” She shook her head. “Just wait.”
“Which means he’s not a problem,” Dewar said. “You should trust your daughter, Alan.”
“How can I trust her when she waters down my drink like this? The ice cubes are floating, deary.” Tolmach gave his glass a little shake.
“You’re not that thirsty, Pa.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek and her husband’s shoulder a pat before she left.
“She takes good care of me,” Dewar said as the door closed. “And speaking of taking care of annoying old codgers, you know she does it because she loves you.”
“Defiling proper Glenn’s with vile H2O is a crime. Water. You know what fish do in it?”
“Back to Murphy not being a problem.” Dewar leaned back and the leather upholstery creaked. “He and O’Hanraghty actually care about the system’s defenses. What they’ve got in mind for Goibniu is…aggressive.”
“You really think the Heart is going to sign off on a Fringe system acquiring ‘aggressive’ defenses?” Tolmach asked sardonically.
“They’ll be under Murphy’s—federal—control, not ours. For now, at least.”
“And who’s going to pay for all this, unless you’ve found a leipreachán or two in your pocket?” Tolmach grumbled. “We don’t have the funds, and if we ask the Heart for the material—and they agree to let us have it, which is iffy as hell—it’ll still take years for the back and forth, the committee meetings, the votes…then the money will evaporate for ‘handling’ as it changes hands. It’s an idea Murphy can’t deliver on.”
“He says he can do it with what he’s got on hand.” Dewar raised an eyebrow. “He’s already authorized a draft on federal funds to pay for the heavy lifting, so we’re covered on that end. May have to arm wrestle some Heart bean counters over it, but his signature’s on the order. Seems like a pretty strong indication he’s serious about this. And he wants to get it done in the next couple of weeks.”
“Why so soon? He drops millions’ worth of munitions and guess who gets to spend the money to maintain all of it?”
“I imagine because of Inverness,” Dewar said dryly. “Goibniu’s coming up on inferior conjunction, and the way he and O’Hanraghty are thinking, that means it’s going to be in just about exactly the right position for the next four or five months. Be better if we were in opposition to Goibniu rather than the other way around, but Dagda’s too far out and there’s not enough mining activity in the asteroid belt to use it for cover. Let me show you.”
Dewar took a handful of walnuts from a glass jar.
“Stow it.” Tolmach squeezed his one eye shut. “I was a ground pounder. You try and math at me, and I’ll doze off. That’ll show you. But I know planets move around their orbits. What if the League attacks when Goibniu’s in the wrong spot?”
“Murphy’s dealing with an immediate threat, and this is designed to cover us in the short term. If the Leaguies don’t turn up in the next six months, he can use that time to make other preparations. He’s already looking at our unused yard capacity and what he could do with it. And don’t worry so much about maintenance! Markel’s going to be covering a lot of that, whether he knows it or not. And Murphy can always reclaim his munitions after Goibniu moves out of position. But as your top general, I’m all for this project.”
“Which is going to pull in a fair amount of our vacuum manpower, which means other projects won’t be worked on. Which means time lost and money lost. So I get the flak from the reps and the general public. Thanks for that.”
Tolmach rubbed a knuckle against his dead eye.
“It’s for the common defense.” Dewar raised a palm.
“It smells like a boondoggle. A ‘look at me’ for the Heart Worlders to give Murphy a pat on the back when he cycles back home. Spend money. Give the appearance of competence. Go home. That’s why he’s a problem.”
“You’d rather he self-medicate through his assignment and do nothing to defend New Dublin? You heard he was on the way, and you were worried he’d be like the last waste of oxygen. Now you’re whinging him because he’s doing too much. Come on, old man. Pick one.”
“Even the Devil needs an advocate, son. Say I join your little cheerleader section—then what? We charge ahead into everything with Murphy and we look weak. Like the Fringe peasants his kind think we are. The Heart Worlds led us into the war with the League. They’re the ones put us where we are. You really want to trust them to change spots now? Just because Murphy says they will?”
“This Heart just came from a smashed colony. Still has the smell of death on him. And he’s got the pedigree, at least,” Dewar retorted.
“I trust men, not their names, and this Murphy’s still too new for me.” Tolmach swished his drink around. “Too much damn ice. But what happened to Inverness is another problem. One I’ll speak to the other system executives about.”
“The problem that the system governor ran without firing a shot? Or that the League killed it?”
“Both. Oh, I doubt Murphy will pull the same thing, but not every system’s got a full task force in orbit. Panic’s coming.” Tolmach sighed. “The vote still might happen.”
“Secession? They can’t be serious…”
“We pull out of the war and maintain neutrality. We’ll never side with the League; the Hearts know we hate them too much,” Tolmach said. “The Leaguies have their hands full fighting the Federation. The Rish leave everyone well enough alone. We just need a bit of a navy to keep the Heart from coming back and to warn off pirates.”
Tolmach glanced up at the ceiling.
“So you’re shaking Murphy’s hand while planning to stab him in the back?” Dewar set his glass down hard.
“Murphy may yet prove to be a good man, my boy. It’s the Heart we have to break from. Too many years we’ve been fed into the grinder to fight their war. They’ve got no plans to win it, and no plans to end it, and it’s our blood and treasure that’s spent, not theirs. I sent three sons to fight. None came back. Another draft’s coming up, and I’m tired of seeing New Dublin’s future wasted.”
“So you think Murphy’s a problem because he’s got a bit of a spine and a plan.” Dewar’s eyes narrowed. “You’re worried this Heart Worlder will be popular with the man on the street, and when it’s time to break away…we’ll have a civil war on our hands. Anyone that wants to stay in the Federation will just point at Murphy as a tangible reason to remain.”
“What a problem to have.” Tolmach chuckled. “If he’s good at his job, he might save us from the Leaguies, and then we stay on as cannon fodder. If he’s a useless toff, we can break away and be a minnow between two whales fighting. Not good problems to have.”
“The solution will be somewhere in the messy middle.” Dewar picked his glass back up and sipped. “So then, what are we to do?”
“The Sector Conference’s coming here, and nothing’s set in stone until then. So let’s see if Murphy’s got the brains to deliver what he’s promising. We can always secede after the next League attack.”
“I’ll work with him, then.” Dewar shrugged.
“And I’ll remain a curmudgeonly bastard that puts up just enough trouble to keep him honest. Won’t be a stretch for my acting skills.”
“No, you’ve got curmudgeon down pat.”
“Sod off.” Tolmach poked Dewar’s shin with his cane. “My Moira hears you talking like that, and I won’t have to beat respect into you. Now pour me a proper drink.”
“I’ll have worse things to worry about than you if I have to get you home when you’re right pissed. How about a game of chess?”
“You know you can only beat me after I’ve had a few.”