“It curtails the rights of BMs to control their own trade,” said Hetti Bishop, chief advocate. “I know we must organize, but this is too damned Statist.”
“Again I ask, tell me something I don’t know.”
“It gives district governors more power than ever,” said Nils Bodrum from Argyre. “The governors are in love with their duties and their lands. Some of them think Mars is a natural paradise to be preserved. We’ve had six Triple loan deals fall through because we couldn’t guarantee quick answers to resource requests. We strangle in conservationist tape.”
Bithras smiled. “So, get to your point, Nils.”
“If governors keep hewing to a preservation line, and we give them more power, we can say good-bye to billions of Triple dollars. Triple money won’t back our resource digs. We’ll have to curtail settlements and turn down Terrie immigrants. That won’t make anybody happy, least of all Earth. Where will they, send their seekers after eternity? For each Eloi refugee — ”
“Immigrant,” Hattie Bishop said wryly.
“ ‘Immigrant,’ I remind this august assembly, we are paid a million Triple dollars. And that money flows first through Majumdar banks.”
Bithras listened intently.
“I don’t see why Earth wants the governors stronger,” Bodrum concluded, folding his hands.
“They are pushing for a unified government and for BMs to concede power,” said Samuel Washington of Bauxite in the Nereidum Mountains . “That’s been their goal for ten years. And they’re willing to exert considerable pressure.”
“What kind of force can they use?” Hettie Bishop asked.
Beside her, Nance Misra-Majumdar, the eldest of our advocates, chuckled and shook her head. “Two hundred and ninety thousand Terrie immigrants on Mars have arrived in the last ten years. They’ve found their way into high and trusted positions in every BM, some work on the council…”
“What are you getting at, Nance?” Hettie asked.
Nance lifted her shoulders. “They used to be called fifth columnists,” she said.
“All of them?” Bithras asked sardonically.
Nance smiled patiently. “Our thinkers are manufactured on Earth. It may be years before the Tharsis thinkers come on line. All of our nano factories come from Earth, or the designs at least.”
“No one has ever found irregularities in any designs or software,” Hettie said. “Nance, we have no reason to be paranoid.”
Bithras lifted his chin from his hand and spun his chair halfway. “I see no reason to anticipate trouble, but Nance is right. In theory, there are many ways we could be undermined without facing a massive military expedition across space, which at any rate has never been feasible, even for so rich and powerful a world as Earth.”
I could hardly believe such things were being discussed. I was at once dubious, repelled, and fascinated.
Nils Bodrum said, “We have no organized defenses. That much could be said for a central authority — easier to raise an army and defend our planet.”
Bithras was clearly not pleased by the direction the conversation was taking. “Friends, this is not a serious problem, certainly not yet. Earth simply wants us to present a united negotiating front, and they have targeted the largest financial BM — ourselves — to catalyze unification. If you pardon the word.”
“Why should unification be a dirty word?” Hettie said. “My God, as an advocate, I tell you, I’d love to find a way out of the morass of special cases and fooleries we call our Charter.”
“The Moon went through this decades ago,” Nance said. “Since the Schism, when Earth could not afford to administer such far-flung worlds and we took our leave- — ”
“Sounds a note of history vid,” Nils said with a grin.
Nance continued after the slightest pause for a glare. “We have wrangled and tangled our way into perpetual unrest. The Moon found a solution, changed its constitution — ”
“And was reabsorbed by Earth,” Nils said. “Independent in dreams only.”
“We are much farther away,” Hettie said.
Nils would not be swayed. “We do not need order imposed from outside. We need time to find our own path, our own best solution.”
Bithras sighed heavily. “My esteemed advocates tell me what I already know, and they say it over and over.”
“When you take this suggestion for compromise to Earth,” Hettie said, “how do you expect them to believe you can make it stick in the Council? Preliminary agreement is one thing…”
Bithras’s features expressed extreme distaste. “I am going to tell Earth,” he said, “that Majumdar BM will put a hold on further Triple dollar transactions for any BM that does not sign.”
Nils exploded. “That is treasonous! We could be sued by every BM on this planet — and rightly so!”
“What court would hear them?” Bithras asked. “We have no effective court structure on Mars, not since Dauble… Our own advocates pressed suit against Dauble on Earth, not Mars. What court on Earth would hear a suit pertaining only to Mars?” Bithras stared at them sternly. “My friends, how long has it been since a BM sued another BM?”
“Thirty-one years,” Hettie said glumly, chin in hand.
“And why?” Bithras pursued, slapping his palm on the table.
“Honor!” Nils cried.
“Nonsense,” Nance said. “Nobody has wanted to prick the illusion. Every BM is a rogue, an outlaw, and the Council is a polite sham.”
“But it works!” Nils said. “Advocates negotiate, talk to each other, settle things before they ever reach court. We work around the governors. For Majumdar to put the very existence of other BMs in jeopardy is unconscionable!”
“Perhaps,” Bithras said. “But the alternative is worse. Earth will doubtless make many threats if we do not act soon. And one of them will be complete embargo. No more designs, no more technical assistance. Our newer industries would be badly damaged, perhaps crippled.”
“That we could sue them for,” Nils persisted, but without conviction.
“My friends, I have offered you a chance to make comments on this proposed constitution,” Bithras said. “You have until sixteen this evening. We are all aware of the dangers. We are all aware of the mood of Earth toward Mars.”
“I had hoped to persuade you to drop this farce,” Nils said.
“That is not an option. I am only a figurehead on this would-be ship-of-state, my friends,” Bithras said. “I go to Earth hat in hand, to avoid disaster. We are only five millions. Earth is thirty thousand millions. Earth wants access to our resources. She wants to control our resources. The only way for us to maintain our freedom is to put our house in order, concede to Earth enough to put off the next confrontation a few more years, perhaps a decade. We are weak. Buying time is our best hope.”
“They’ll force a Statist government on us,” Nils said, “and then mold that government to their own ends, and when we’re done, they’ll own us body and soul.”
“That is a possibility,” Bithras admitted. “That’s why we must stab ourselves in the back, as Nils would call it, first.”
Bithras went to the Council alone and presented the proposals he had worked out with the five top Martian BMs. The debate was furious; nobody liked the choices, but nobody wanted to be the first to attract Earth’s anger. Somehow, he managed to glue together something acceptable. Bithras sent Allen and me messages after the session concluded.
My dear young assistants,
All Martians are cowards. The proposals are agreed to.
Salve!
The trip began with a farewell dinner in the departure lounge of Atwood Star Harbor near Equator Rise, west of Pavonis Mons. Friends, family and dignitaries came to the port to see us off.
For security reasons, Bithras would board the shuttle at the last minute. There had been threats against his life planted anonymously in family mailboxes for the past few days, ever since the announcement of his departure to Earth. Some suspected disgruntled Statists; others looked to the smaller BMs, who had least to gain and most to lose.