“Governor Smith, Representative Ely, if you’ll come with me…”
Smith seemed eager to please, but he was smart and tough — Ti Sandra had told me so, and I trusted her judgment implicitly. Candidate Representative Rudia Ely of Eastern Hellas — unopposed — had served with me on a capital architecture committee, several months ago. She was generally quiet and observant and I had felt comfortable around her.
I did not want to think too long about the importance of every decision I made now, of the roles these people would play, of what I would discuss with the traitors from Cailetet.
Someone has said that nobody pays politicians to have emotions. Yet when the magistrate administered the Oath of the Presidency, in a tiny anteroom to the Hall of the Judiciary, surrounded by gray racks of dormant, polluted law library thinkers, I wept quietly.
No one gave it the slightest notice.
Sean Dickinson had changed little in appearance since the days in the trench dome. He stood very straight, knees limber, with hands folded behind him, parade rest. He clenched and unclenched his jaw muscles, regarded me steadily, and blinked only once in the long seconds I examined him.
We were meeting in the half-finished chamber of the governors, scaffolding and architectural slurry above our heads, the air yeasty with active nano. So long as the nutrient vats held out, the capitol would continue building itself. Dickinson stood before the hand-carved pink marble podium where Henry Smith — if he were elected — would gavel the House of Governors to order.
“I have been sworn in as President of the Federal Republic of Mars,” I said. “I understand you represent Cailetet?”
“I recognize you,” Dickinson said, words clipped but soft. “Casseia Majumdar. Do you remember us?”
His lip twitched as if he might smile, but he turned away and gave a languid look at Gretyl Laughton. She stood at the front of their aides, four men and women from Cailetet. They appeared uneasy, well aware of possible charges of treason even though they belonged to a nonaligned BM. Gretyl had become leaner, like a greyhound or whippet; she wore deliberately dull clothes, her hair had grayed, and she seemed uninterested in appearances.
“I remember,” I answered.
“We did some brave things together not that many years ago. You once claimed to despise the Statists.”
“And now I am one.”
“Worse. You are the state.”
Neither of us cared to break through the iciness and unpleasant formality. “Where are your documents? I won’t talk with you until I’m convinced you have the powers you claim.”
Dickinson said, “We have the proper documents. We represent factions on Earth who have control over much of Mars now. They do not wish to reveal themselves, but they have given us coded identifiers for verification. Our documents have been hand-vetted, since your security thinkers and other machines are not functioning.”
“Is this so?” I asked Lieh Walker, who stood beside Henry Smith. Tarekh Firkazzie entered the chamber and sat inconspicuously in one of the gallery seats.
“Their codes match Earth codes shipped to all governments in the Triple,” Lieh said.
“Utter cowardice,” I said, shaking my head. “Are they afraid of their own plebiscites? This is an atrocity, an illegal act.”
Dickinson smiled. “Can we become serious?” he asked.
I glared at him. At that moment, it was all I could do to keep myself from reaching out and striking him.
We chose a table in the witness square and sat.
“I’ve been authorized to present you with an offer.”
I made a gesture to Lieh. The chamber recorders were switched on. “Mars has been attacked without reason,” I said. “Is Cailetet cooperating with the aggressors?”
Sean leaned forward slightly. “The Republic, the state to which Mars has decided to give itself, is developing very dangerous weapons. Considering the political situation in the Triple — completely peaceful for nearly sixty years — that seems out of character and very damned stupid.“
“No weapons are being developed,” I said.
“I’ve been told that these weapons could be more destructive than any yet made.”
I saw no reason to argue the point further. “Present your proposals and let’s get this over with.”
“The parties involved in this preemptive action will deactivate all blocks on Martian dataflow, if the people listed on this slate…” He pushed his own slate forward and I spun it around to view the screen. “Are delivered into my hands within seventy-two hours. I will receive them here in Many Hills and transport them elsewhere. Eventually they will go to Earth.”
I read the list: all of the Olympians, Zenger, Casares, and nineteen others — among them, the finest scientists on Mars.
“What will this accomplish?” I asked.
“Peace,” Dickinson said. “Return to normal dataflow. Lives saved.”
“No locusts?” I asked.
“Locusts?”
“Warbeiters. Nano armies,” I said.
He seemed puzzled.
“Your puppet masters don’t tell you everything. Either that or you’re willfully ignorant.”
Dickinson shrugged.
“What Earth is doing to Mars right now will alter the balance of the Triple,” I said, voice cracking. “Nobody will feel safe.”
“Please don’t lecture me,” Dickinson said.
Gretyl stepped forward. “We understand the delicate balances better than you.”
“Yes, and your youthful ideals — my God, Sean, you’re working with Crown Niger !” I shut myself up, but my body trembled with suppressed rage. Three days. “The Republic has no authority to kidnap citizens.”
“What it comes down to, I think, is Earth considers its own safety paramount, and does not trust Martian intentions,” Dickinson concluded. “Ninety-eight percent of all humanity still lives on Earth. Knowing what I know about this government, I wouldn’t trust you, either.”
“We’ve never shown Earth any hostility. Quite the opposite, in fact.”
“Mars should have kept its innocence,” Dickinson said. “No world state, stay out of the big leagues, peace and comparative prosperity. I’ve fought against this all my life. All states resort to force in the end.”
“I assume there are other conditions?”
Dickinson referred to his slate. “Return to BM economic structure for a minimum of twenty years. Earth monitors to be installed at all research centers, and regular visits of inspection teams at any facility of any kind on Mars.”
They had given up on us. They wanted us weak, locked in our own past, stripped of our new powers. Someone had calculated that the technological situation would get out of hand before any peaceful negotiations could be concluded. “Occupation by Earth,” I said. “Absolutely incredible. How can anyone believe that will be workable?”
“Not my problem,” Dickinson said.
“And what do you get, personally?”
“Exile, I suppose,” Dickinson said. “No Martian will tolerate Gretyl and me now. No doubt we’ll be dead in a few months if we stay here. We’ll go to Earth.”
“You’re happy with that?”
“For the end of a Martian state, I’d gladly accept my own death, and Gretyl’s,” Dickinson said. “I am true to my ideals. I haven’t changed, Casseia.”
“Every history has its traitors,” I said.
Dickinson dismissed that with a subtle toss of his head and flicker of his eyelids. “I’ll need your answer soon.”
“How soon?”
“Within one hour.”
“We don’t have a quorum. If you could bring the rest of the government together — ”
“Please don’t try to stall. We’re all here to avert an even greater catastrophe. If we fail, stronger measures will be taken.”