Shari was farther down the counter in the very large kitchen cutting up fruit for some kind of salad or desert. She was also chatting about business with one of the sisters of a Baen Sidhe newlywed, probably to look over any single O’Neal men as prospects for marriage. Or whatever. Said sister was already in on the big secret, having grown up with Bane Sidhe parents. The parents had done little more than run a safe house. Dangerous enough, but deliberately not in the know for many things, which was reflected in the knowledge base of the daughter — or lack thereof.
Her interest seemed a bit on the serious side, because she was pumping Shari for information about DAG. If it had even occurred to Cally that eavesdropping was impolite, she would have silently laughed at herself for the qualm and done it anyway. Had she been asked, she would have been able to count on the fingers of one hand the social engagements of this size that she had attended that hadn’t either been professional or, earlier in her life, orchestrated tests of her professional skills. She was what she was — not listening in never crossed her mind.
“I don’t understand why the government doesn’t just go ahead and admit DAG exists and end all the melodrama. It’s not as if they can keep something like that secret for long. Just about the whole country knows they’re around and what they do. There have been movies about them!” The short brunette had a tendency to squint and wrinkle her nose as if her glasses were trying to slide down it.
“Sure, everyone knows it’s there. But it’s not the only open secret in the history of the world, you know. You aren’t the first one to have asked that question. As I understand it, the rationale is that if they don’t admit DAG exists, they have the best of both worlds. They don’t have to openly account for what it does, but they can hold it out as a threat against bandits and tax revolts in the territories, as well as pirates and raiders around the city states that might interfere with the flow of strategic resources. And more than a threat, when threats aren’t enough. At the same time, the voters are reassured that their interests are being protected. And the voters subconsciously don’t worry as much about DAG turning up on their doorsteps. After all, the government is hardly going to violate the Posse Comitatus law and use DAG in the actual Core States if it would ‘expose their secret,’ are they?”
“But it’s not really a secret,” the young lady protested.
“It doesn’t matter. As long as the government pretends it’s a secret, the pretense, no matter how thin, gives it certain advantages. Or it thinks it does. Politics is weird that way.”
“I still don’t understand why you guys are willing to put down tax revolts and stuff in the territories, free training or no. Sure, the Indowy had kittens whenever we tried to move resistance against the Darhel along a little faster, but most of them are gone now. It seems like the rebels are on the side of the angels to me,” the kid said.
“You haven’t been around the operations side of things much, have you?” Wendy broke in. It wasn’t a question.
“Not really, no.” The girl turned to the petite blonde who was somewhat dwarfed by Cally’s height. “Our family’s mostly done support services as long as I can remember. You’re one of the only people I’ve met in my life who hasn’t run me off with a ‘because’ and looked at me as if they wondered how reliable I’d be. I’m fine with just knowing I’m helping, and I understand why we compartmentalize information. I just get frustrated sometimes at how few things ever get explained. All the things I thought would be revealed when I got older, well, I guess I’m starting to wonder when I get old enough; when and what that will be.” The girl had a slight petulant pout, almost too little to be noticed unless you were looking for such things.
“Probably not a lot. But I can tell you about the stuff in the territories and DAG in a nutshell. Random rebellion is dangerous. It’s unpredictable, it provokes unpredictable responses, and the Indowy have shared enough history with us to make it clear that the last thing in the world you want is to get the Darhel spooked enough to make them unpredictable. That tends to be a Bad Thing.” You could hear the capitals as she said it.
“The Darhel have to be maneuvered, like a chess game. A game that does take lots patience. It’s not something that comes easily to most people. But whenever any of their opposition has moved too fast before, well, let’s just say there are good reasons not to do that and leave it there, okay? Pretty much the humans who have looked at it closely, to the best of my knowledge, have all come away with the conviction that the Indowy are not being overcautious. Whatever things the split was about, that wasn’t one of them.” Wendy was carefully looking away from the girl as she said the next bit. “And if you do get, well, close to somebody in operations, get used to having more questions than you’ve got answers, all the time. Almost all the time, we never ask. Because the quickest way in the world to kill a budding relationship is to make him say over and over again, ‘I can’t say.’ ”
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” the girl protested, pushing her glasses back up on her nose with one finger. “Besides, I’ve heard they all tell their wives and girlfriends stuff anyway. So I just wouldn’t ask. I’d wait to hear.”
“Uh-huh.” Cally suppressed a grin. Wendy was getting her “patient” tone of voice. This one would be a daughter-in-law when hell froze over. Shari was covering her mouth with one hand, but her eyes were twinkling.
“Let me tell you a little bit about that,” Wendy said. “Yes, they all tell more than they should. And you can kill your husband’s career in a heartbeat, or worse, if you ever let the tiniest bit of it slip. What they don’t tell you is always lots more than what they do. What they do tell you is designed to reassure you and usually has the exact opposite effect. So you smile when they leave and hug them and pretend to be as reassured as they think you are. Then you wait. And you wait. Knowing that you don’t know what they’re doing, or when or if they’ll be back, with just enough information to paint about a bazillion different disasters in your head. Then when, and if, they do come back, you smile and you rub their shoulders and you patch them up until they go back out to do it all over again. Because you don’t want him worrying about anything that might distract him at a crucial time and keep him from coming home, and asking too many questions will worry him, you take what he volunteers and you just don’t ask.”
The brunette girl did the first smart thing Cally had seen her do since she came into the kitchen. She shut up.
Anyway, it was getting time to brave the crowd and handle one of the things on her do-list for the weekend. Cally excused herself and grabbed her jacket, trudging across the parking lot to a dilapidated gym where the guys were playing basketball. The floor was a freshly laid Galplas slab. She was surprised the owners had sprung for it, but it might actually have been cheaper than hardwood, if they had lucked into the right supplier. It didn’t have the lines painted on it yet, so someone had patiently drawn them on with chalk. The chalk lines showed signs of having been touched up already, and needing fresh touch-ups soon. The hoops were old, having survived the years, though one of the backboards was missing.
She watched the game for a bit, looking down at the picture she’d called up on the buckley. It had been so long since she’d seen the kid she was looking for, since he’d grown up off the island. Only he wasn’t a kid anymore. She finally picked him out, waiting until he rotated out of the game to let someone else in and get some water. She walked over close enough to wave and get his attention, motioning for him to follow her. He pointed to his own chest questioningly, unsure if he was the one she was looking at. When she nodded, he looked her up and down and got a goofy grin, amiably following her out of the gym. Ye gods, he’s checking me out. Ick. Okay, he’s cute, but ick.