Authors: Joan Slonczewski
A Door Into Ocean (42 page)
WHILE DAILY WITNESSERS at the soldier-place still met death, on the rafts it was different. Soldiers out on patrol would leave a Sharer stunned or simply ignore her. At night on Raia-el, it became common for soldiers to drop in on learnsharing sessions, either out of curiosity or to “trade” for medicines. From what Jasper said, Spinel gathered that medicines from the Ocean Moon had cost a mint in Sardis, even in the best of times, and were no longer to be found since Operation Amethyst put a stop to trade. Jasper came often, and he brought holocubes to depict the fabrication of metal and stone, many things even Spinel did not know.
Swallower season was almost upon them, and Sharers were fixing up their lifeboats again, when one night Jasper approached Spinel, along with a pair of important-looking officers. “Listen, son, could you help us out? The colonel, here, wants to talk with the Protector's wife.”
Spinel blinked, at first not comprehending. Jasper was sweating and hunched his shoulder uneasily. Was it because of the colonel? Both the colonel and the lady officer behind him wore cloaks to cover their stonesigns.
“Protector's wife?” Spinel repeated. “You don't mean Usha?”
“Yes, that's right, Usha.” Jasper shifted his feet, clearly wishing he were somewhere else.
Spinel hurried down to the lifeshaping place to find her. At first Usha would not leave her work, and Spinel had to persuade her of an emergency, that a sister might be lying mortally ill.
Usha appeared outside, her face etched in moonlight. “I am Usha the Inconsiderate, lifeshaper of Raia-el. Where is the sick one?”
Jasper asked, “May I go, sir?”
“Dismissed,” snapped the colonel, “and keep your mouth shut.”
Jasper was gone in an instant.
The colonel turned to Usha. “First of all, if our purpose here tonight were uncovered prematurely, we would be shot. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Usha without irony. “I am sorry to hear this.”
“A number of officers are concerned about the direction of this campaign. We are aware that plans have been drawn, and approved by the Palace, for comprehensive directed-energy bombardment of inhabited rafts. We are convinced that the High Protector and the Commander of the Guard intend nothing short of full extermination of your people. Do you understand?”
“I hear you,” said Usha.
“It is in clear contradiction of Patriarchal Law for one planetary population to exterminate another. That privilege is reserved for the Patriarch alone. If His Envoy should return to find Shora empty, he might well destroy Valedon in turn, or at the very least destroy Sardis, if Sardish troops were found to be responsible. The Iridian High Protector claims, of course, that Shora is a dangerously rebellious province under his protection. Frankly, I consider that claim preposterous. There is no rebel force here, and Talion knows it. Talion wants to trap us, so that Sardis will take the blame when the Envoy returns, and Iridis will be left with one less rival city to control.”
“I am very sorry to hear all this,” said Usha, although Spinel suspected she had no idea what the colonel was talking about. Spinel knew only too well, and the blood pounded in his ears.
“it is unfortunate,” the colonel went on, “that our respected Commander has allowed his ambition to supersede his better judgment in this matter. Nevertheless, enough key officers are ready to rise and demand a cease-fireâif a statement of noninterference is obtained.” He paused, then added, “You must promise complete noninterference with Valan interests on Shora.”
“Interests? Does that mean traders?”
“Lunar developers. We have their tacit support already. The war has meant costly delays, and every week lost marks red ink in their books.”
The lady officer added icily, “A fool's war it's been, with no army to fight and no land to fight for.”
“There is ocean,” said Usha. “Traders share harm with the ocean.”
The colonel frowned. “Your very existence as a people is at stake, remember. Once we cease fire, you can negotiate whatever you want, including our withdrawal and the return of your Protector. A statement of principle is all we need now.”
Usha thought awhile. “The Raia-el Gathering will consider this.”
“When? We need an answer tonight, before it's too late. That is why we came to you.”
Usha clearly was baffled.
Spinel blurted out, “There is no Protector of Shora.”
The colonel stiffened. “Adrian, is this raft Raia-el not the âcapital' of Shora?”
“It's the closest thing to it,” said the lady officer Adrian. “I've decoded enough clickflies to know that other rafts will go along with Raia-el. What Protector can ever guarantee his provinces completely?”
“I know, but the field officers won't join without a statement.” He turned to Usha again. “We'll give you twenty-four hours to decide. I warn you, every minute of delay risks blowing the whole deal open.”
The two officers bowed formally, then marched off. Minutes later, the engine of a helicopter roared off in the distance, briefly covering the sound of the sea. Then it was gone. Spinel thought surely he could only have dreamed it all, that a Sardish colonel had come and bowed to Usha the Intemperate One.
AFTER THREE MONTHS of attrition, natives still insisted on showing up every day, not just at Headquarters but at regional bases as well. Realgar could not understand it. What were they, automatons? To keep his troops from getting restless, he ordered more maneuvers at sea and staged satellite attacks, and tried to ignore the inevitable Palace complaints about footing the bill. One could not expect to subdue a planet cheaply.
Despite his efforts to boost morale, his troops were slacking off. Just how badly was hard to tell, with the patrols spread so thin, but it was clear that troopers were neglecting to shoot natives on sight; they would stun them or simply look the other way, as if imitating the passive resistance of their opponents. The men were disciplined when caught, but it was not possible to watch everyone at every moment, not when even line officers turned a blind eye.
To be sure, some of the troops had grown inured to their task, as Realgar had expected. Unfortunately they got out of hand, and the resulting atrocities had further depressed morale, while sprouting ugly rumors back on Valedon. The polarization had reached a point where a number of regiments should have been replaced, but it would be unthinkable to approach the Palace with such a request, now that he had the Sardish corps he had pressed for so hard.
So long as natives were dying steadily for their incalcitrance, plain arithmetic showed they would have to give in soon. But with deaths tapering off, how could he hope to persuade any of them, let alone Protector Merwen, that the game was up?
He was left to the last resort: satellite targeting of the rafts. Now he wished he had started off with that, right after the “terrorist attack,” when the political risk would have been lowest.
Then Jade brought stunning news. “General, I've uncovered a mutiny in the works, a plot among the staff.”
“A mutiny? What the hell do you mean?”
“With native collusion,” Jade went on crisply. “The deal was for the natives to back off long enough for the troops to make a decent exit, and let Talion do as he liked thereafter. To be frank, sir, they think Talion has overstepped his mandate, and that youâ”
“Yes, I know what the trollheads think.” Realgar himself knew better, he knew what a lethal threat those natives were; but how long could the troops believe in a threat they could not see or feel? Until this was settled, a satellite strike was out of the question.
Shock swept through him as the news sunk in. Mutiny was unheard of, except perhaps in a battalion cowed by a ninety-percent casualty rate. Everything was turned upside down in this campaign.
“I've got the situation in hand, General,” Jade assured him. “With the leaders captured, the insurrection died as swiftly as it arose.”
“Execute the leaders. Torr's name, who were the damned leaders?”
A printout spat from his monitor, a list of officers, mostly colonels
and lieutenant colonels from the first, third, and fourth divisions. At one name, he slammed the paper down. “Jade, that Adrian had to have been brainwashed. Why the devil did you keep her on?”
and lieutenant colonels from the first, third, and fourth divisions. At one name, he slammed the paper down. “Jade, that Adrian had to have been brainwashed. Why the devil did you keep her on?”
“General, I probed her inside out and she read clean. Her stay in that lab warren gave us invaluable intelligence aboutâ” Jade stopped short and bit her lip. Lines worked in her cheeks, an unusual lapse of control. She must have thought what Realgar was thinking: If even Jade could no longer depend on such a trusted assistant, then who could the Commander himself count on?
Â
In his office Realgar paced back and forth between his desk and the throw rug with its tigers and antelope stitched in fine russet wool. His thoughts were far from Sardis now.
Time had run out on his crumbling campaign. To be sure, the revolt had been quashed without Talion's hearing of it, but it was a matter of days, a week at the most, before Palace spies would get word somehow. He could still order a satellite strike, but was it worth losing control of his own corps? Not while another option remained.
The natives might yet yieldâor strike back with a blow that would galvanize his troops once more. This was it, the last chance for Protector Merwen.
Behind him, the door hissed open. Realgar turned and stood at attention as Merwen entered. “So, Impatient One,” he began without letting her sit down. “What do you have to say for yourself? Your sisters have thrown themselves defenselessly before the onslaught of my troops, a psychological device that may soften the heads of a few men but only hastens the final day of reckoning.”
Merwen looked more awkward standing than she did seated. Her cheeks sagged beneath her eyes, and her skin had a grayish cast, for she was never let outside now. “Your words puzzle me.”
Realgar laughed. “You are more coldblooded than I gave you credit for. You've used defenseless citizens, even grandmothers, as weapons. There is more ice in you than in Jade.”
Merwen hesitated, and her fingers twined at her sides. “It is true that one who watches one's sisters die without lifting a finger is in danger of losing her humanity. One's soul may drift away, almost imperceptibly, like a raft without starworms. Still, there is hope for you.”
“Don't hope too hard. Your subversion of my soldiers has only convinced
me to let the satellites finish you off. And Raia-el will go firstâtoday.” Realgar paused to let this sink in. “So now is your last chance to quit.”
me to let the satellites finish you off. And Raia-el will go firstâtoday.” Realgar paused to let this sink in. “So now is your last chance to quit.”
She was silent.
“You disbelieve me?”
“I learned a year ago on Valedon how dangerous your kind can be. Nothing you have shared surprises me.”
“You did not answer my question,” Realgar said with forced quietness. “Do you believe I will erase your people from this planet?”
“You will not,” she said, too quickly. “You fear the final end to us even more than you fear us alive.”
He did fear, and he could have strangled her for itâfear of Malachite's judgment, fear of what hidden plagues might already have doomed him. “So you depend on fear, even as we do.”
“No, no; we don't share fear by choice. Fear is your ultimate weapon, not mine. Mine is sharing: to share my own soul with yours, until the mask falls from your eyes. When you come to see that your survival is inseparable and indistinguishable from mine, then we both will win.”
“Nonsense. Death is the ultimate weapon. Once you all die, that will be the end of it.”
“Will it? How can you be sure? If even one lives to know your shame, you will fear, and your fear will consume you.”
Realgar's fists tensed. “Your raving will make no difference. You will be dead, and so will your children.”
Merwen stepped closer. “How can you stand there and tell me you're not human? Don't you hear your own voice and see your own eyes? What do you see in the mirror?”
He saw the shaving mirror again, that first morning when the purple tinge appeared, and the mornings afterward as it deepened, dark as the face below him now. His fury heightened. “What in hell tells you I'm human at all? What makes you so damned sure of that?”
Lines tautened under her chin, and the silence lengthened into minutes.
“So you doubt us.” Realgar sensed a ghost of a chance. “You doubt that I am human.”
“Not at all.”
“You're afraid to say why, though, which amounts to the same thing. What is it? What makes you sure?”
No answer.
His voice filled with contempt. “Where is your honesty now, Sharer, the frankness you are so proud of? You fear me far more than I fear you.”
“I fear for you. Some kinds of truth are too dangerous for children. Answer this first: Whose eyes do you see in mine, and whose in the mirror?”
With a will of its own his arm lashed out, connecting with one cheekbone, then the other. Merwen reeled back against the wall, but kept her head up without covering her bleeding face, still gazing from eye sockets beginning to swell.
Realgar turned and barked at the monitor for a guard. Intensely discomfited, he could almost feel her stare pressing at his back before she was led away. Already he regretted his mistake. In one instant of anger, he had lost sight of what he most needed to know, just when it came within his grasp. He had to regain the advantage now, before time ran out.
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