But relations between the Harmony and the Demarchists had never improved past that one act of cooperation, the real purpose of which lay in their shared needs. Independent Demarchy corporations still violated Discan space, and only their overall economic weakness kept them from outright seizure of the Harmony's vital resources. The Grand Harmony still denounced the Demarchy, and blamed them for its own marginal existence.
But because of his experience in the Demarchy, the conviction that good and evil were as easily marked as black and white, that every question had a simple answer, had been lost to him forever. And as he came to see that the Demarchy was not totally evil, he had realized that it was not totally to blame for the Harmony's precarious survival, either. He had come to see the greater, totally amoral and totally inevitable fate that drew the Grand Harmony, and the Demarchy as well, down the road of no return.
And when he had seen that there was no turning back, no turning aside, he had transferred from Defense to the Merchant Marine; to serve where he believed he could function most effectively, and make the Harmony's passage down that road as easy as possible.
Raul reached the hub of the government complex at last, felt the eddies of cold draft catch him as he moved out into the suddenness of open space. Overhead the ceiling was dark and amorphous, but he knew that its vault was a surface of clear plastic, not solid stone. Once it had opened on the stars, and the magnificence of Discus—when the Rings of Discus had been the water-well for the entire Heaven Belt. But now the clear dome was blocked beneath an insulating pack of snow: the dome had become too great a source of heat loss.
He made his way across the multiple trajectories of other drifting government workers, most of them navy men like himself. He returned their raised-hand salutes automatically, his mind reaching ahead of him into the restricted meeting room where his fellow Hands sat in a private conference with the Heart.
Raul settled quietly into his seat, waiting for the meeting to be called to order. He sat at the end of the long table farthest from the position of the Heart, as the newest officer to achieve the rank of Hand. He nodded to Lobachevsky on his right, looked past, identifying the faces of officers and advisers down the table. He noted without surprise that they had split into opposing factions, as usual—the defense faction on one side, the trade faction on the other. He had settled with the trade faction, as usual. Seeing the bare, shining tabletop as a kind of no-man's-land between them, he smiled faintly.
A single word silenced the muttered speculation; Raul turned his attention to the head of the table, rose with the rest, acknowledging the arrival of the Heart—the triumvirate that controlled power's ebb and flow in the Grand Harmony. Chatichai, Khurama, and Gulamhusein: like a many-faceted Hindu deity, indistinguishable from one another, or from their staff, in the drab sameness of their bulky clothing … but unmistakably set apart by an indefinable self-satisfaction—and the unharmonious ambition that had taken them to the top, and made them struggle to stay there. Raul knew the kinds of stress that worked on them, and was grateful that he had already risen above the level of his own ambitions.
The three men at the head of the long table settled slowly onto the seat, a sign for the officers to do the same.
“I assume you all read the communications that brought you here”—Chatichai spoke, taking the initiative as usual—“and so I assume that you all know that fifty kiloseconds ago our navy encountered a ship like nothin' that exists anywhere in this system.…” He paused, looking down; Raul recognized a tape recorder on the table before him. “This's a report from Captain Smith, who was in charge of the patrol fleet that encountered the craft.” He pressed a button.
Raul drifted against the table, listening, and watching expressions change along the table's length. They had taken the intruder for a Demarchy fusion ship violating Discan space, at first. Then, as they began to close and a woman's voice answered their challenge, they realized that what they had come upon was something totally unexpected. The ship had broken away from them, accelerating at an impossible sustained ten meters per second squared; it had destroyed one of their own closing craft almost casually, with nothing more than the deadly effluence of its exhaust. But they had fired on the escaping ship, and they had recorded a small, expanding cloud of debris.…
An undercurrent of irritation and excitement spread along the table. “Why the hell didn't Smith give that woman port coordinates, when she asked for 'em?” Lobachevsky muttered beside him. “Damn sight more reasonable than tryin' to take the ship by force. Losin' a ship—serves him right.” He glared across no-man's-land at the opposition. Raul kept his own face expressionless.
Chatichai raised his eyes, and his voice. “The question before us now, gentlemen, is not whether Captain Smith acted in the best interests of the Grand Harmony—but what further action should be taken concernin' that ship. I don't think anybody here will disagree that the ship had to come from outside the system.…” He paused; no one did. “And I don't think we have to detail for anybody here what a ship like that could mean to our economy … or to the Demarchy's, if they get hold of it instead.” Another pause. “But is it feasible, or even possible, for us to get our hands on that ship? And in any case, what action should be taken to ensure that it doesn't fall into the Demarchy's hands instead?”
Raul studied the dull sheen of the table's scarred plastic surface, seeing beyond it as he listened with half-attention to the debate progressing along the table's length: The ship was damaged … the ship could still outrun anything that Heaven Belt could send after it. The ship might seek out the Demarchy because of the attack … there was no reason to believe its crew would trust anyone in the Belt, now. The ship was the answer to the Harmony's survival … the ship was a phantom, and pursuing it would only waste more resources they couldn't afford to lose.…
Raul glanced up, pushing his own thoughts into order. He rarely spoke out unless he had been able to consider all sides of a question; he had learned long ago that selective silence was a more effective tool than a loud voice. Since his promotion to Hand, he had used it to good effect to earn himself a reputation for getting what he wanted, for building up the efficiency of the Merchant Marine and the influence of the trade faction. Finding a lull, he broke into the discussion: “As you all know, I've been opposed to the development and support of our high delta-vee force from the beginnin' ….” He searched the faces along the table, seeing resentment glance along the far side, feeling the gratification that spread from Lobachevsky along his own side. He had believed, along with the minority of others, that the Demarchy posed no realistic threat to the safety of the Grand Harmony, that the resources used to maintain a defense fleet would serve the Harmony's interest better if they were employed to bolster trade within the Rings, and even with the Demarchy itself. Because he understood that the status quo was deterioration, and that nothing could overthrow that order.… “But this's a situation I never foresaw. In this situation, I have to admit I'm glad we have a high delta-vee force available … and I am in favor of usin' it to pursue that ship—” Voices indignant with betrayal cut him off; he saw the hostility re-form into surprise across the table. “I know it's a gamble. I know it's probably a futile one, and the odds against us capturin' that ship are damned high. But they're not astronomicaclass="underline" the ship's damaged, we don't know how severely. It may be that they'll lie low at Lansing, if Lansing's still alive; it's worth the loss, worth the gamble, to find out. We've got this damned high delta-vee force whether we want it or not—let's put it to some rational use! If we know this much about the starship, you can count on the Demarchy knowin' just as much—and bein' just as interested. I don't believe they're any threat without that ship; but if we don't get the ship, and they do, anything we do is goin' to be academic from then on.