As the study door closed, Ari leaned back and
groaned. She hurt all over. Every muscle she had -- including many she
hadn’t realized she possessed -- protested her every move. Breathing
hurt. All she wanted to do was take a painkiller and sleep.
Mother would. Ari knew how her mother
was regarded -- as a flighty, hedonistic slacker. She was the first Ionii
in a thousand years who would never enter the Senate. And her mother didn’t
care.
Grandmother cares. I care. But mother doesn’t.
Ari grimaced and lifted the document case
to the desktop. I should read these, now that I finally have
a chance. Ari stared at the case until she remembered the combination.
Coding the lock open, Ari looked with dismay
at the pile of documents Grandmother had given her. I should read as
many of these as I can stay awake for.
Ari lifted the top folder out and closed the
case back up. A little experimentation showed that the least uncomfortable
position was leaning back in the chair. She put the folder on her lap and
opened it.
The top document was a handwritten note from
her grandmother:
Ari,
You will doubtless be confused as you
assimilate your new responsibilities. I suggest you discuss problems with
Captain Hessus. He will be unfamiliar to you, and that is deliberate. I
have worked hard to keep other women - especially my fellow Senators
-- from him. Hessus is capable of producing professional work in several
unrelated career fields. Were it generally known that men like him exist,
it would be difficult to maintain the matriarchal structure
that makes us different from other societies.
I do not know if giving you this assignment
is a favor or a curse. If you succeed, your reputation
will be formidable. If you fail, Hessus is the commander most likely to
bring you home alive. Making Hessus transport you is the final gift
I can give you. The rest is up to you, and him.
Enclosed is every document that I expect
to be useful I can obtain. You should read it all first.
At your discretion, you may share all of it with Hessus, and whichever
of his officers you-or he-deem appropriate.
If you fail, do not worry about the
Senate’s opinion of you. You deliver the Final Ultimatum.
As such, no one seriously expects a diplomatic breakthrough. The opposition
agreed to your appointment because they deem you expendable. I proposed
you because I feel you have a better chance of success
than the others they regard as expendable.
If it is obvious to you that the Tartii
will not come to terms, depart immediately. Your life is
more important to me -- if not to others -- than the continuation of negotiations
that are hopeless.
Ari drew a deep breath. Thanks, Grandmother.
Can I skip the negotiations altogether and run now?
Alas, it wasn’t an option. No matter what
lies she told, no matter how many crewmen she swore to secrecy, the Implacable
had to at least orbit Tellus before anyone would believe she had even tried.
If she went that far, she might as well talk
to the Tartii.
Grimacing, Ari began reading the briefing
documents.
Ari looked up as her intercom beeped. She stared
at the desk until she found the right switch, then flipped it. "Yes?"
"Tribune, would you prefer your dinner in
your quarters or study?" Milae asked.
Ari glanced at her wristwatch. Is it this
late already?
"Quarters."
"Do you know how to reset the safe? If not,
I can show you how."
"I’ll take a look. How long until dinner?"
"I can have it served in five minutes."
"Fine. If I’m not back by then, assume I’m
having problems with the safe."
Ari switched the intercom off and looked for
the safe. It turned out to be the left pedestal of her desk; she had spent
several hours with one foot propped on its handle without quite realizing
it. She found it unlocked, and instructions to reset the combination on
a scrap of paper inside. She locked her papers in the case, locked it,
then put the case inside the safe. Trying to close it, she discovered that
the case was slightly too long to close inside the safe.
I’m not sure I want to trust this safe
that much. Yet, what choice did she have? Would trying to sleep with
the document case under her pillow make the documents any safer?
Ari looked inside the safe again. The case
was lying on a removable shelf in the safe. If she removed the shelf, then
propped the edge of the case up . . .
It fit. Ari lay the shelf on the floor under
her desk. Then she turned to the combination resetting instructions. On
her second try, she succeeded in changing the combination.
In her room, Ari ate mechanically, her mind
frantically processing the horrors she had read. We are likely to go
to war. Tartii have already seized our ships and killed their crews. The
only reason we haven’t had a public uproar is that only men have died.
Over dessert, she imagined her teacher’s comments
on the reports. Dull, dusty style. Poor grammar. Cure for insomnia.
But for her, they were more likely to cause insomnia. Thousands of deaths
and the loss of billions of sesterces worth of shipping had already been
lost.
If the dead were women, or we were a male-dominated
society, we would already be at war. Ari shivered at the thought.
"Are you all right, Tribune?"
Ari looked up. "Yes. I was just thinking.
I didn’t have a chance to read my briefing materials until today."
Milae nodded acceptance. "Is there anything
else you need?"
Ari glanced around. All the furniture had
been moved from the wall that had been the floor during acceleration. She
looked closer at Milae. He swayed on his feet, his face haggard with exhaustion.
"No. Go get some sleep."
"Thank you, Tribune." He gathered up Ari’s
dishes on a serving tray. Before he left, he set the intercom. "If you
need anything, press the ringer. The intercom is set to ring my cabin."
Ari stared at the door after Milae left. How
do we control the men? How do we succeed where others failed so
badly? The question had been debated in classes. Then, it had been
of little more than academic interest. Her interest was now intense and
practical.
At this point, her control was based purely
on inertia. The Implacable’s crew obeyed her because they always
obeyed women.
But men obeying women was not something inherently
natural. A thousand years ago, that obedience had seemed natural, as women
had dominated every culture. Now, only the Elvii Cluster was still ruled
by women. A few others-the Parthii and Numantii-claimed to be egalitarian,
yet male politicians outnumbered female by about three-to-one. The rest
were outright male-dominated.
Ari shivered again. How do we do it?
The answer could be crucial. Her chest was still sore from the strain of
breathing under Implacable’s highest acceleration. Yet Milae had stood
and walked under that same acceleration. Ari had no illusions about her
ability to physically resist an assault by the smallest, weakest man in
the crew.
The textbook answer was that Ari would not
have to worry, as Elvii society was too stable for a crisis to develop.
The same textbooks said that all men knew their place. Yet Captain Hessus
looked at her as an equal, or even as an inferior.
Captain Hessus -- and the other 4,000 members
of the Implacable’s crew -- were the easy part of the problem. They started
out favorably disposed towards her. Draccus, the Tyrant of Tartus, was
openly hostile. His nation was, for all practical purposes, at war with
the Elvii. Draccus had more control over his people than the entire Senate
had over the Elvii. Draccus’ every word was literally law. The joke was
that the only reason his every belch was not law was that no one had found
a reasonable way to find meaning in them.
Grandmother, why did you do this to me?
Why send me to accomplish a job you failed at?
But her grandmother failed to answer.
During a carefully engineered gap in observational
duties, one of Implacable’s directional antennas swiveled to point at an
apparently empty area of space. The antenna transmitted a microburst of
data, then swiveled to resume its passive observational duties.
The data sped outward at the speed of light.
After travelling for six hours, it encountered an array of unidirectional
antennas. The message was absorbed, analyzed, encrypted, and sped towards
its destination. Then a complex of detection equipment was aimed at the
data’s point of origin, probing for the spacecraft that sent it.
After a nearly sleepless night and a breakfast
that tasted like untreated recycled biomass, Ari returned to her study.
As she coded her safe open, her imagination continued to paint the horrific
images it had built from the previous day’s reading. Mangled corpses
drifted in the void as Tartii warships took a shattered ore-hauler in tow.
A scout dodged past an asteroid and into a charged-particle beam.
Ari put her hands over her eyes. Stop it!
But it did not help much. Her reading yesterday
had been provocative incident after provocative incident, all explained
in forensic detail. Her imagination had all it needed to ensure she was
sick with dread.
I can’t go on like this. Another day and
it will be obvious I’m losing it.
Ari turned again to her Grandmother’s letter.
You should read it all first. But what if she could not stomach
reading it all first?
I’m here, Grandmother isn’t. She’s had
fifty years of dealing with these things. Even in the Academy, they said
it wouldn’t get this bad.
And it’s just beginning. How will I get
through it?
Ari hesitated for a long time. Not by myself.
She turned decisively to the desk intercom.
One button was labeled for Captain Hessus’ office. "Captain?"
"Yes, Tribune?"
"Can I see you for a few minutes?"
"I have some administrative work. Could you
come here?"
Ari agreed, then realized she did not know
how to reach Hessus’ office. She looked around, but did not see a guide
to the ship’s layout. With a sigh, she summoned Milae to serve as a guide.
As she followed Milae, Ari was struck by how
different the ship seemed under spin. Hallways curved upward at claustrophobically
near distances. Ladders were set into the walls, in directions that suggested
certain hallways might become wells when the ship was under thrust.
Milae took her to one well and turned to Ari.
"Tribune, would you like me to carry your case?"
Ari was on the verge of refusing when she
looked down the well. I didn’t know down could be such a long distance.
"Yes."
Milae took the case’s handle in one hand and
proceeded down the well as if he was unencumbered. With another fearful
glance over the edge, Ari followed.
As she followed, Ari became conscious of her increasing
weight. She looked down and swallowed, almost slipping. Then a more disquieting
thought. Is this what it’s like to be a planet-dweller?
Not that it matters. I’ll never go
to a planetary surface. Thus reassured, she concentrated on not
slipping as she followed Milae.
"How much further?" she asked when her arms
began to shake with the effort of holding her increasing weight.
"The Captain’s office is on the rim, Tribune."
"I don’t know if I can make it."
Milae continued a few more rungs, then hopped
lightly from the ladder to the next level’s corridor. As Ari came
level, he helped her into the corridor.
"I’m sorry, Tribune. I forgot that you wouldn’t
be used to that much acceleration." He led the way through a complex maze
of corridors, stopping at last in front of a freight elevator.
"We only have freight elevators aboard. The
ladders are part of the physical fitness plan."
Civilian-torture plan, you mean. But that
was unfair. Civilians almost never travelled in military craft. And the
Senate was stingy with military spending, as it all went for equipment
that was immediately turned over to men for their use. For the first time
in her life, Ari was beginning to wonder if that was truly a virtue.
The elevator, when it arrived, proved to be
as simple to operate as Ari had hoped. She watched Milae punch for their
destination, then concentrated on keeping her balance as the elevator descended.
When the elevator finally halted, Ari was
conscious that she had never stood while weighing this much. In fact, the
only previous time she had weighed this much had been during acceleration
yesterday. Of course, acceleration had not paused at this level then.
"What’s acceleration here?" Ari asked as she
followed Milae.
"Point nine planetary."
Not even a full planetary gravity. You
should be able to handle this. Ari struggled as she felt her shoulders
slump into an uncomfortable slouch. Milae stopped in front of a door and
pressed its buzzer.
"Enter."
As the door opened, Ari sucked in her breath.
For a moment, Captain Hessus sitting at his desk could almost have been
her grandmother, the First Senator, at her desk. The graying hair; the
intent look of a busy intellect shifting from an absorbing task to total
concentration in conversation; even the piles of paperwork, gaudy with
colored classification markings, hit as an overwhelming reminder of the
imposing matriarch.
"Come in, Tribune," Hessus said as he stood,
his tone more inviting.
Ari entered and took a seat facing Hessus’ desk.
Milae handed her the document case.
"Will there be anything more, Tribune?"
"Thank you, no." Milae departed, sealing the
door behind himself.
"It seems I owe you an apology, Captain,"
Ari began.
"It must be difficult to be taken directly
from the Diplomatic Academy to active service," Hessus replied. "A caution
approach is understandable."
"Thank you," Ari replied, relieved. Then Hessus’
first statement hit her. "How did you know?"
Hessus smiled. "A warship commander is the
most respected position that our society allows a man to hold. Almost as
respected as a junior tribune."
Is this an accusation? Complaint? Goad?
The confusion, the feeling of being off-center, also reminded Ari of her
grandmother. If he were a woman, he could give Grandmother a run for
her money in the Senate. Would they team up and dominate the rest? Or bicker,
tearing the Senate into warring factions?
"I take it the respect included access to information
usually withheld from men?"
"I . . . have many sources of information. Some
are entirely unofficial."
Right. Somebody’s slipping him restricted
information.
"Do your informants tell you what we are doing
out here?"
"No, but it doesn’t take much imagination.
Too many ships are disappearing. I might believe we were investigating,
except the investigation would not require the services of a tribune. So
I presume we know what is happening to those ships." He paused, studying
her. His gaze seemed to cleave her skin, measuring her thoughts and personal
qualities. And finding her wanting.
"You are an unknown. An Academy student hurriedly
pressed into an active diplomatic role a year and a half before normal
graduation. You are of impeccable lineage, of a family that has been in
the Senate for fifty thousand years."
Probably longer. But records older than
that are more myth than history. "True. What do you conclude from all
this?"
"You are the last attempt to negotiate. You
are authorized to present the Final Ultimatum, at your discretion and without
any further debate in the Senate."
"You are perceptive, Captain."
Hessus grimaced. "This makes my duty clear."
"And that is?"
"To ensure your safety. I will likely have
to retrieve you, under fire, from the midst of the negotiation site. And
then boost at maximum acceleration, running for Rema with an enemy squadron
in pursuit."
"Why do you have so little faith?"
"Because I am a student of history. The Elvii
have always sent someone junior to deliver the Final Ultimatum. Most of
our enemies have taken that junior diplomat prisoner immediately. And an
enemy honorable enough to not violate protocol and capture a diplomat would
declare war before killing our ships."
"Do you have theories as to who this enemy
is?"
Hessus shrugged. "None of the outer planets.
Implacable spent most of the last five years out there, and we never
saw anything amiss." He smiled. "Plus your choice of initial direction
is a clue."
"Yes. Well, I wish to approach our destination
unobserved."
"A noble goal, Tribune. And one that I can
more skillfully carry out if I have some idea who I’m supposed to sneak
up on."
"I want us to be undetected until we are an
hour away."
Hessus studied her with renewed interest.
"Depending on the destination, it might be possible."
Do I tell him now? Or later, like I first
declared? How does he feel about me? If only he would only give me
an unambiguous clue!
"I . . . am sorry I was so high-handed yesterday."
"A cautious approach to new situations is
understandable."
Is that a commendation? Or a slur on my
lack of experience?
"I dislike this verbal combat."
Hessus’ eyebrows shot up. "Really? Your grandmother
delighted in it."
"Grandmother is precisely why I dislike
it."
"I see. Ask me your questions plainly, and
I will answer them plainly."
Do I dare do as he suggests?
Can I survive if I don’t?
"How do you feel about me?"
Hessus paused as if marshalling his thoughts.
"You are in a difficult situation. You lack adequate preparation -- not
from lack of work on your part, I presume. But you haven’t even finished
at the Academy, yet are sent on a mission that a senior Senator would likely
fail at."
Hessus studied her again. "For a young woman
thrust in such a difficult situation, you seem remarkably calm. Whether
this is acting ability and diplomatic poise, or failure to adequately understand
the situation remains to be seen. You have spent most of your waking hours
on board locked in a room with that case, presumably studying documents
you hadn’t seen before departure. Studies seem particularly important to
you, as most of the mass you brought aboard was textbooks."
Perceptive, but I already knew that. Can
I trust him?
Do I dare not trust him?
"How about me as an individual, Captain?"
"I have almost no experience with you as a
person, Tribune. Just one conversation in which you dressed me down in
front of my subordinates, and this private interview." He paused in thought.
"This conversation does imply that you have realized the situation is not
what you first assumed. Thus you are able to learn from experience."
"More verbal brawling?"
Hessus grimaced. "Not deliberately, Tribune.
But my experience of you is extremely limited." He paused in thought, then
shrugged. "Perhaps these questions indicate less self-confidence than you
would like?"
He sees me all too clearly. Or did I force
him to this conclusion?
"Is there a point to all these questions,
Tribune?"
Ari drew her breath sharply, then tried to
square her shoulders in decision. Under the uncomfortably large acceleration,
they slumped again almost immediately. "Yes, Captain. You were right. We
go to make a last attempt at negotiation. Among my documents is a Final
Ultimatum, bearing the signature of the First Senator."
"And you wish to appear with as little notice
as possible on the enemy’s doorstep. A good strategy."
"If I give you our destination, you must keep
it in the strictest confidence."
"Tribune, there are many crewmen whose duties
involve keeping the ship on course. Many others have duties that make it
trivial to determine a ship’s course."
"Yes. Well . . . there was exactly one item
the First Senator didn’t trust to paper. We have reason to believe there
are spies in the Fleet."
"Not in my crew!"
So like a man. "I understand your desire
to believe so, Captain. Since I am on your ship, I also wish to believe
it. And yet . . . how many of the crew do you know well?"
"I know every member of the crew, Tribune."
"I don’t mean know well enough to greet by
name, Captain. How many do you know as well as a friend would?"
For a moment, Hessus’ face was wooden. A shiver
passed over him. When he looked at Ari again, he seemed to have aged ten
years.
"Is it that bad, Tribune?"
"I honestly don’t know, Captain. I know that
the enemy are in possession of knowledge that security analysts believe would
take spies to learn."
"So. I must act as if any member of my crew
may be a spy. Yet, our mission requires us to sneak up on an enemy so stealthy
that he is sneaking up on our ships. And doing that effectively would require
the intelligent cooperation of the entire crew."
"You have it easier, Captain. For all I know,
you are the spy on your ship. You have one person on board you are certain
isn’t a spy."
"Really, Tribune? How do I know you aren’t
a spy yourself?"
"Because --" Ari paused. How do I prove
I’m not a spy?
"You see how destructive such thought is."
"Oh, yes."
"Yet I must now apply it to every decision
I make until we return to Rema. You do not bring ease, Tribune."
I hate this. I wish I was back at the Academy.
Ari glanced at her wrist. I could be safely flunking my final on Cicerian
Theory of Language right now.
"Who am I to stalk, while simultaneously not
letting my own crew know we’re stalking?"
"The Tartii."
"Tellus." Hessus stared in space, then opened
a desk drawer. He shoved papers aside and plopped a folder with lurid classification
markings in the clear space. Opening the folder, he extracted and unfolded
a paper the size of his entire desktop.
Ari pulled her chair closer. It was a map
of Tellurian local space, gaudily decorated with an impossible number of
navigational lanes, marker buoys, and detection instrumentation.
"That’s what I thought," Hessus said. There’s
no way we could come within a light-hour of Tellus without somebody detecting
us."
"Is all that Tartii?"
"Oh, no. Perhaps one in five or six of Tellus’
detection instruments are Tartii." Hessus grinned. "One factor in our favor
is that the Tartii aren’t exactly popular on Tellus. I am not sure why
they are picking on us. Unless, of course, they have decided that we would
be an easier conquest than their neighbors. In which case, I suggest we
try to round up allies before leaving Tellus."
"I hope to negotiate in an orbital installation."
Hessus nodded. "Yes, that would make your
retrieval easier, if the Tartii choose to capture you. Harder to troll
for allies before heading for home, though."
"I . . . have not been formally authorized
to ask for allies."
"Meaning it could either be the smartest or
dumbest thing you could do, depending on how the Senate views it."
"Precisely."
Hessus drew a sharp breath. "Tribune, I shall
study our approach to Tellus. I will try to keep our approach secret from
the Tartii for as long as possible. Is there anything else you require
of me?"
Ari opened her document case. "Yes. This .
. . is very disturbing material. Perhaps you can help put it in perspective
for me." She pulled out her first report, garnered mainly from a sympathetic
woman who worked quality control in a Tartii orbital smelter.