"Yes. Your father and I talked about this. As I see it, the problem is that the Rim is on its own indefinitely. We need a Rim-wide provisional government, if only to perform the kind of day-to-day functions that the Federation always provided. But it isn't only day-to-day matters . . . we've handed the rebels a setback, but we haven't heard the last of them. And it's only a matter of time before the Tangri Corsairs take advantage of this civil war to start raiding again."
He rose and began pacing as he went on.
"I said to your father that we may as well be all the Federation that's left . . . and I wasn't just being dramatic. We're isolated to an extent that no one in the government has ever dreamed of, much less planned for! Thank God we've got a loyalist provisional government to work with."
He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room and looked at her and realized that she'd been watching him intently.
"Ms. Ortega, a while back you said something about not wishing to seem callous. Well, neither do I. But I must tell you that what I said earlier about sharing your loss was meant not just on a personal level. The fact is, I'd planned to have your father, as TFN senior officer, declared emergency governor-general of the Rim systems. It's legally defensible, but without support from local leaders, it would probably do more harm than good. With the contacts he'd built up in his years out here . . ." His voice trailed off.
"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to get carried away. And it's all a matter of might-have-been now that he's dead."
Miriam Ortega's expression had become even more intent. Now her eyes flashed.
"No! It still makes sense-beautiful sense, politically as well as militarily. Your idea of a 'governor-general' is perfect. He'd represent the Federation, so he'd provide a focus for loyalist sentiment. And he'd give the provisional government exactly what it lacks: a strong executive. And . . . we've got the perfect man for the position."
Trevayne looked at her levelly. "Me," he said, slightly more as a statement than a question.
"It's got to be you," she said emphatically. "As the ranking TFN officer in the Rim, you're the only possible choice. And remember what I said earlier; your prestige couldn't be higher."
Neither of them had really noticed the courtesy call turning into a political conference, but that, Trevayne realized, was exactly what it had become. He'd already reached the same conclusions, but he'd needed to hash out the problems and objections with someone. And in the loneliness of supreme command, there had been no one.
"I can't do it alone," he began. "I don't know these people. . . ."
"But I do," the woman said flatly.
Two pairs of dark-brown eyes met, and they were allies.
"I can't just make the proclamation out of the blue, though." He resumed his pacing. "That would defeat the whole purpose of involving the Rim leadership. I need to meet the key people in this provisional government and arrange for a statement of solidarity from them to follow the announcement. And we need to set up an interim legislative assembly to handle inter-systemic statutory matters. Just the inflation that's bound to overtake a wartime economy will require a mass of bread-and-butter amendments to practically all Federation statutes that specify monetary amounts. . . ."
"Good point," Miriam interjected. She cocked her head to one side and looked at him. "I must say, for a professional military man you seem to have quite a good grasp of these things."
"I've read a little history." He gave a deprecatory half-smile. "But as I was saying, I need to meet with the loyal leadership unofficially, so it probably wouldn't be a good idea to do it at Government House. . . ."
"Why not here?" she asked.
Trevayne stopped in midpace. "Why not, indeed? Can you contact the people I need to talk to?" She nodded. "As to when . . . my schedule isn't too flexible. I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stay dirtside." No more than a few days, he thought. Maybe after the trip to Gehenna. . . .
"How about the day after tomorrow, at 1000 hours?"
"Day after tomorrow?" he echoed faintly, staring at her.
"Well," she said reasonably, "these people are scattered all around the planet. I may not be able to get them all together by tomorrow."
He nodded slowly. It was a new sensation for him to find himself caught in someone else's slipstream.
"We won't have time to bring in anybody from off-planet," she was saying, "but at least Bryan MacFarland-he's an Aotearoan-is already in Prescott City. And, of course, Barry de Parma-he's a senior partner in my firm and he's got a finger in every political pie on the planet. And . . ."
"Make a list. I'll need a briefing on each of them. It shouldn't take too long to . . ." His voice trailed off as he looked at the clock. "Bloody Goddamned hell!" he exploded. "Er . . . excuse me." She choked down a laugh as he adjusted his wrist communicator. "Genji?"
"Admiral? I was trying to decide whether or not to call you."
"Genji, I'm going to be at Ms. Ortega's a bit longer than I expected. You'd better postpone tonight's appointments. And don't schedule anything for day after tomorrow, at least not in the morning or early afternoon."
Two days later, they were once again alone in her sitting room, this time among a litter of scattered chairs and heaped ashtrays. He waved a hand vaguely before his face, as if to brush away the canopy of tobacco smoke. Aside from the chairs and ashtrays, the room was much as before, except for the cloth that covered the easel.
"Well," Miriam said, "I think you've done it."
"You had as much to do with it as I did," Trevayne demurred.
"No, it was you. You didn't just win them over to the idea, you overwhelmed them with it. When you announce the Rim Provisional Government, they'll come through right on schedule-and they'll do it because they know you're right. We'll reconvene the current provisional government as a sort of committee of the whole to organize the Rim Legislative Assembly, then invite all the Rim systems to send representatives."
"Good. In fact, I'd like you to move ahead on setting that up right now, but the public announcement is going to have to wait a week or so."
"A week?" She cocked her head to one side thoughtfully. "No problem. I'll go ahead and get the messages out-they're going to take a month or so to reach some of the more distant systems-but why wait that long for the initial announcement? The provisional government can be ready to go in two or three days."
"I know. But for now I have to go to the RD Station, which means a flight to Gehenna, of course. My chief of staff is organizing a project out there-one that's at least as important to the survival of the Rim as what we've started at this end."
"Oh? Ready to start producing new weapons?"
"How the devil did you know that?" Trevayne stared at her, reminding himself once more never to underestimate this woman.
"What else would you be doing on that dust ball?" she asked dryly. Then she shook her head at him. "Don't worry-I won't mention a word to anyone. But every Xandy knows what Zephrain RDS has been up to for the last forty years or so, you know. Not that it matters too much, I suppose; it's hardly likely to get into the rebel news channels, now is it?"
"I suppose not," he admitted with a reluctant smile. "On the other hand, good security is as much a set of mind as anything else, so I'd rather not discuss it just now. And I'd appreciate your keeping mum about it."
"Don't worry, I will," she assured him.
"Thanks." He glanced at the clock and stood, picking up his cap. "I've got to go-my shuttle's waiting at Abu'said-but I'll be in touch directly I get back. I'll want your help on the finishing touches to the proclamation."
"Try and keep me away from it!" She also rose, facing him. "You know, I really believe we're going to pull this off."
"So do I. It's not easy to feel pessimistic around you! Besides, I was impressed by your colleagues. I thought I hit it off particularly well with the MacFarland chap."