She moved closer, holding him to her a moment, then moved back, smiling, moved by the old man’s show of affection. “I’ll be back. You can be sure of it, Torve Hamsun. And maybe I’ll bring a husband next time, neh?” He looked at her strangely. “A husband?” Then, laughing, he reached out and drew her back to him, holding her a moment, his face set against the pain of parting.
governor schenck cursed loudly, then, dismissing his steward, turned to face the assembled twenty-six members of the ruling Council. “Ch’un tzu,” he began, holding out the message that had come from orbit, “I have news! It seems that Marshal Tolonen’s daughter has arrived here, unexpected, from Callisto.”
There was a ripple of surprise from around the table. Schenck raised a hand for silence, then continued, a restrained anger in his words. “It seems I am to look after the young lady until she can board a flight back to Chung Kuo. The Marshal has”—he glanced at the paper—“requested it. It seems that Captain Hamsun of the Luqyang has written orders from the Council of Generals. I am to ensure her safety while she is on Mars, or”—Schenck looked down, bristling with indignation, then read the words from the page—“answer direct to the Council.” He looked up again, his eyes going from one to another about the table.
“If anyone doubted what I was saying earlier, here surely is proof of it. We are their lackeys, their bond servants, to be done with as they wish, and no thought for what we might want. Well, this last time we shall do what they request. I shall go down to Tien Men K’ou spaceport at once and make sure the young lady catches her flight home to see her father.” There was mocking laughter at that. Schenck raised a hand again, his anger giving way now to a smile.
“However ... let us make sure that this is the last time we shall be treated thus, neh? Let us throw a great feast for the young woman and show her how hospitable we Martians can be. How welcoming. For as the gods look down on me, I swear this: I’ll welcome no more of this breed. This is the last time she, or any of her kind, will set foot on these hallowed sands. Not until they acknowledge us free and independent men!” A cheer, timid at first, rose from all about the table, gaining power as they looked among themselves and saw their own enthusiasm mirrored back. The time was come! At last the moment was upon them! Standing, they began to clap and stamp, while, at the end of the table, Schenck looked on, smiling broadly, knowing he had brought them to take that final, irrevocable step.
To Change! he thought, remembering his secret meeting only the day before.
To Change . . . whatever the cost!
devore went to the window, then turned back, looking across at Auden.
“Well?”
Auden shrugged. “I don’t know. From the sound of it he had no choice. But it won’t harm to keep an eye on him. Hans always was unpredictable.” DeVore raised an eyebrow. “Unpredictable?” He laughed. “Then maybe I shouldn’t use him? Maybe I should just have him . . . eradicated . . . and save myself any comeback?”
Auden did not bat an eye. “If that’s what you want.” DeVore waited, but Auden said no more. Satisfied, he smiled. “I think you’re right, Will. I think young Hans was pushed too far. As for Bates’s friends, I’ll see to them. No. Ebert’s far too valuable just now. Besides, he’ll enjoy the chance to do something for a change.” “Maybe. Then again, maybe not.”
DeVore looked back at him, a question in his eyes. “Hans Ebert is a proud man,” Auden went on. “He might act like a rat at times, but there’s breeding there too. Try to make him do something against his nature and we could have problems.” DeVore smiled broadly. “Then we ought to be fine. I’ll be asking our friend to do nothing he wouldn’t want to, given the choice. In fact I think he might be pleasantly surprised, even enthusiastic, about the task ahead.”
“Maybe. But I still think you should assign someone to watch over him.” DeVore nodded. “I have just the people. Some friends of mine who owe me a favor or two. In the meantime, though, I want you to keep a close eye on him. He’s your charge, right? Your responsibility.” Auden smiled, then, dismissed by a curt movement of DeVore’s head, left the room.
Alone, DeVore went to the window again, looking out across the sands toward the crater wall, some fifteen li distant. Just now Ebert was the least of his problems. No, it was what to do with Schenck that preoccupied him most. If what young Rutherford said was true, Schenck was looking to break with Chung Kuo at any time. And that could prove disastrous. Two, maybe three years he needed. Years of peaceful growth. Of consolidation. Then he would be ready. With a new force, a new kind of creature. Ready to take on the forces of the Seven, and crush them. So ... what to do with Schenck? Discredit him? Isolate him on the ruling Council? To do either would take time, and maybe he didn’t have time. If what Rutherford said were true . . .
Behind him on the desk his comset buzzed. He turned and went across, sitting on the edge of the desk to answer it, staring at the glass case on the wall behind his chair—at the hunting crossbow he had brought from earth a dozen years before.
“What is it?”
The voice of his secretary sounded clear in the room. “It’s Andreas Rutherford, Master. He says he has to talk to you urgently.” “Put him through.”
There was a moment’s delay, and then Rutherford’s face appeared on the screen inset into the desk’s surface. “Howard,” he said breathlessly, “you have to do something. My contact in Council has just been on. He says Schenck has stirred them all up. He’s been talking of secession, and it looks like the Council will go for it this time. There’s a lot of enthusiasm for the idea.”
“Secession? Now?”
“No, not now, but soon. Apparently Marshal Tolonen’s daughter is here on Mars and Schenck is using the occasion to make waves. It seems he read out Tolonen’s orders in Council, objecting to the highhanded manner in which he was ordered to do things—like a lackey. I don’t blame him for being annoyed, but this! Well, it’s rash, Howard. Stupid!” DeVore was quiet a moment. “Hold on. Let’s get this right. You say the Marshal’s daughter is here, on Mars, already?” “Not yet, but she will be in a matter of hours. That’s what sparked all this off. The ship was in orbit, requesting permission to land. Schenck was furious. Even so, he’s heading down there to meet her off the ship. It looks like he’s going to throw an official banquet to celebrate. But afterward—“ “Afterward?”
Rutherford shrugged. “It’s vague, but Schenck’s talking about her being the last one he’s going to let come here. The last of her breed, he said. I guess that’ll mean an ultimatum of some kind. But where will it end, Howard? I mean, I can’t see the Seven bowing to Schenck meekly, however weak they currently are. There’ll be war, won’t there?” “Not necessarily. Not if we act fast enough.” DeVore sighed. “You say she’s landing here, in Tien Men K’ou?”
“That’s right.”
“Good. Then leave things to me. For your part, get onto as many people as you can. Tell them to stay calm, whatever happens. And Andreas?” “Yes, Howard?”
“Thank you. I won’t forget this.”
the old man leaned across, placing a white stone deep in the heart of black territory, then straightened up, a faint smile on his lips. “So what will you do?”
“Nothing,” the Machine answered, contemplating the move. “At least, nothing yet.”
It had projected itself as a young man, a student of the game, dark haired and neatly groomed. Lifting one hand it appeared to hesitate; then, sweeping a lock of hair back from its eyes, it reached out and took a black stone from the pot, placing it up against the last white stone. Strangely, it enjoyed affecting the manner of men, delighting in the mimicry involved. To choose a certain mannerism, a gesture, and then manipulate the ghostly puppet form it wore, that was a challenge it had not, until now, faced up to. And yet the game itself was a disappointment. Why? it asked itself. Why should that be? “Maybe because you expect too much of it?” the old man said, answering the unspoken question. “Perhaps, like our friend DeVore, you feel that it ought to give you answers, but it is only a game ... a means of focus. It is not the game itself—it is what comes through that is important.” “And you?” the Machine asked, making the student move his lips, his eyes shine with curiosity. “Are you what comes through? Is that why I can’t get a grip on you?”