Dorsai! (22 page)

He went directly out from the cocktail gathering and back to his own suite, where he immersed himself in work that kept him at his desk until the small hours of the morning. Even then, when he at last got to bed, he did not sleep well—a condition he laid to a walking hangover from the drinks at the cocktail gathering.

His mind would have examined this excuse further—but he would not let it.

“. . . A typical impasse,” said William, Prince of Ceta. “Have some more of this Moselle.”

“Thank you, no,” answered Donal. The Conference was in its second week and he had accepted William's invitation to lunch with him in William's suite, following a morning session. The fish was excellent, the wine was imported—and Donal was curious, although so far they had spoken of nothing of real importance.

“You disappoint me,” William said, replacing the decanter on the small table between them. “I'm not very strong in the food and drink department myself—but I do enjoy watching others enjoy them.” He raised his eyebrows at Donal. “But your early training on the Dorsai is rather Spartan?”

“In some respects, yes,” answered Donal. “Spartan and possibly a little provincial. I'm finding myself sliding into Hendrik Galt's impatience with the lack of progress in our talks.”

“Well, there you have it,” said William. “The soldier loves action, the politician the sound of his own voice. But there's a better explanation than that, of course. You've realized by now, no doubt, that the things that concern a Conference aren't settled at the Conference table”—he gestured with his hand at the food before him—“but at small tete-a-tetes like these.”

“I'd guess then that the tete-a-tetes haven't been too productive of agreements so far.” Donal sipped at the wine left in his glass.

“Quite right,” said William cheerfully. “Nobody really wants to interfere in local affairs on a world; and nobody really wants to impose an institution on it from the outside, such as the open market, against the will of some of its people.” He shook his head at Donal's smile. “No, no—I'm being quite truthful. Most of the delegates here would just as soon the problem of an open market had never come up at all on New Earth, so that they could tend to their own styles of knitting without being bothered.”

“I'll still reserve my judgment on that,” said Donal. “But in any case, now we're here, we've got to come to some decision. Either for or against the current government; and for or against the market.”

“Do we?” asked William. “Why not a compromise solution?”

“What sort of compromise?” “Well that, of course,” said William, in a frank tone, “is why I asked you to lunch. I feel very humble about you, Donal—I really do. I was entirely wrong in my estimate of you, five years ago. I did you an injustice.”

Donal lifted his right hand in a small gesture of deprecation.

“No . . . no,” said William. “I insist on apologizing. I'm not a kind man, Donal. I'm interested only in buying what others have to sell—and if a man has ability, I'll buy it. If not—” He let the sentence hang significantly. “But you
have
ability. You had it five years ago, and I was too concerned with the situation to recognize it. The truth of the matter is, Hugh Killien was a fool.”

“On that, I can agree with you,” Donal said.

“Attempting to carry on with Anea under my nose—I don't blame the girl. She was still a child then, for all her size. That's the way these Exotic hothouse people are—slow growing. But I should have seen it and expected it. In fact, I'm grateful to you for what you did, when I think back on it.”

“Thank you,” murmured Donal.

“No, I mean that absolutely. Not that I'm talking to you now out of a sense of gratitude alone—I wouldn't insult your credulity with such a suggestion. But I am pleased to be able to find things working out in such a way that my own profit combines with the chance to pay you a small debt of gratitude.”

“At any rate, I appreciate it,” said Donal.

“Not at all. Now, the point is this,” said William, leaning forward over the table, “personally, of course,

I favor the open market. I'm a businessman, after all, and there's business advantages to perfectly free trading. But more than open markets, it's important to business to have peace between the stars; and peace comes only from a stable situation.”

“Go on,” said Donal.

“Well, there are after all only two ways of imposing peace on a community—from the inside or from the outside. We don't seem to be able to do it to ourselves from the inside; so why not try imposing it from the outside?”

“And how would you go about that?”

“Quite simply,” said William, leaning back in his float. “Let all the worlds have open markets, but appoint a separate, individual supra-planetary authority to police the markets. Equip it with sufficient force to back up its authority against even individual governments if need be—and appoint a responsible individual in charge whom governments will think twice about tangling with.” He raised his eyes calmly to Donal across the table and paused to let expectation build to its proper peak in this young man. “How would you like the job?” he asked.

“I?”

Donal stared at him. William's eyes were shrewd upon him. Donal hesitated; and the muscles of his throat worked, once.

“I?” he said. ‘‘Why, the man who commanded a force like that would be—” the word faltered and died, unspoken.

“He would, indeed,” said William, softly. Across from him Donal seemed to come slowly back to himself. He turned narrowed eyes on William. “Why come to me with an offer like this?” he demanded. “There are older commanders. Men with bigger names.”

“And that is just precisely why I come to you, Donal,” replied William, without hesitation. “Their stars are fading. Yours is rising. Where will these older men be twenty years from now? On the other hand, you—” he waved a self-explanatory hand.

“I!” said Donal. He seemed to be dazzled. “Commander—”

“Call it Commander in Chief,” said William. “The job will be there; and you're the man for the job. I'm prepared, in the name of Ceta, to set up a tax on interplanetary transactions which, because of our volume of trade, we will bear the most heavily. The tax would pay for your forces, and yourself. All we want in exchange is a place on a three-man commission which will act as final authority over you.” He smiled. “We could hardly put such power in your hands and turn you lose under no authority.”

“I suppose—” Donal was hesitant. “I'd have to give up my position around Procyon—”

“I'm afraid so,” said William, frankly. “You'd have to remove any suspicion of conflicting interests.”

“I don't know.” Donal's voice was hesitant. “I might lose this new post at any time—”

“There's no need to worry about that,” said William. “Ceta should effectively control the commission— since we will be paying the lion's share. Besides, a force like that, once established, isn't easy to disband. And if they're loyal to their commander—and your troops, I hear, usually are very much so—you would be in a position to defend your own position, if it came to that.”

“Still—” Donal still demurred. “Taking a post like that I'd inevitably make enemies. If something should go wrong, I'd have no place to turn, no one would hire me—”

“Frankly,” said William, sharply, “I'm disappointed in you, Donal. “Are you completely lacking in foresight?” His tone took on a little impatience. “Can't you see that we're inevitably trending toward a single government for all the worlds? It may not come tomorrow, or even in the next decade; but any supra-planetary organization must inevitably grow into the ultimate, central authority.”

“In which case,” said Donal, “I'd still be nothing but a hired hand. What I want”—his eyes burned a little more brightly—”is to own something. A world . . . why not? I'm equipped to control a world; and defend it.” He turned on William. “You'll have
your
position,” he said.

William's eyes were hard and bright as two cut stones. He laughed shortly.

“You don't mince words,” he said.

“I'm not that kind of man,” said Donal, with a slight swagger in his tone. “You should have expected me to see through this scheme of yours. You want supreme authority. Very well. Give me one of the worlds— under you.”

“And if I was to give you a world,” said William. “Which one?”

“Any fair size world.” Donal licked his lips. “Well, why not New Earth?”

William laughed. Donal stiffened.

“We're getting nowhere,” said Donal. He stood up. “Thank you for the lunch.” He turned and headed for the exit from the lounge.

“Wait!”

He turned to the sound of William's voice. The other man was also on his feet; and he came toward Donal.

“I've underestimated you again,” said William. “Forgive me.” He placed a detaining hand on Donal's arm. “The truth is, you've only anticipated me. Indeed, I'd intended you to be something more than a hired soldier. But . . . all this is in the future,” he shrugged. “I can hardly do more than promise you what you want.”

“Oh,” said Donal. “Something more than a promise. You could give me a contract, confirming me as the supreme authority on New Earth.” William stared at him and this time he did laugh, loudly and long.

“Donal!” he said. “Excuse me . . . but what good would a contract like that be?” He spread his arms wide. “Some day New Earth may be mine to write you a contact for. But now—?”

“Still, you could write it. It would serve as a guarantee that you mean what you say.”

William stopped laughing. His eyes narrowed.

“Put my name to a piece of writing like that?” he said. “What kind of a fool do you take me for?”

Donal wilted a little under the angry contempt in the older man's voice.

“Well . . . at least draw up such a contract,” he said. “I suppose I couldn't expect you to sign it. But . . . at least I'd have something.”

“You'd have something that could possibly cause me some slight embarrassment,” said William. “I hope you realize it'd do nothing more than that—in the face of my denial of ever having discussed the matter with you.”

“I'd feel more secure if the terms were laid out ahead of time,” said Donal, almost humbly. William shrugged, not without a touch of scorn.

“Come on then,” he said; and led the way across the room to a desk. He pressed a stud on it and indicated a grille. “Dictate,” he said.

Later, leaving William's suite of rooms with the unsigned contract in his pocket, Donal came out into the general hotel corridor outside so swiftly that he almost trod upon the heels of Anea, who seemed also to be leaving.

“Where away?” he said. She turned on him.

“None of your business!” she snapped; but an expression which the inescapable honesty of her face would not permit her to hide, aroused his sudden suspicions. He reached out swiftly and caught up her right hand, which was clenched into a fist. She struggled, but he lifted the fingers easily back. Tucked into the nest of her palm was a tiny contact snooper mike.

“You
will
continue to be a fool,” he said, wearily, dropping her hand with the mike still in it. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to confirm my opinion of
you
!” she hissed.

“Bring that opinion to the next session of the Conference, if you can get in,” he said. And went off. She stared after him, shaken with a fury, and a sudden pain of betrayal for which she could find no ready or sensible explanation.

She had, she told herself through that afternoon and the evening that followed, no intention of watching the next session personally. Early the next morning, however, she found herself asking Galt if he would get her a visitor's pass to the Conference room.

The marshal was obliged to inform her that at William's request, this session of the Conference was to be a closed one. He promised, however, to bring her what news he could; and she was forced to rest uneasily content with that.

As for Galt, himself, he went on to the Conference, arriving some few minutes late and discovering that the session had already started. William himself had begun the proposal of a plan that made the Dorsai Marshal of Freiland stiffen to attention, even as he was sitting down on his float at the Conference table.

“. . . To be established by a vote of this body,” William was saying. “Naturally,” he smiled, “our individual governments will have to ratify later, but we all know that to be pretty much a formality. A supra-planetary controlling body—having jurisdiction over trade and contracts, only—in conjunction with a general establishment of the open market, satisfies the requirements of all our members. Also, once this is out of the way, there should be no reason why we should not call upon the present insurgent government of New Earth to resign in favor of the previous, regular government. And I expect that if we call with a united voice, the present heads of state there will yield to our wishes.” He smiled around the table. “I'm open for questions and objections, gentlemen.”

“You said,” spoke up Project Blaine, in his soft, precise voice, “something about a supranational armed force which would enforce the rulings of this controlling body. Such an armed force is, of course, contrary to our principles of individual world-rights. I would like to say right now that I hardly think we would care to support such a force and allow it such freedom if a commander inimical to our interests was at its head. In short—”

“We have no intention of subscribing to a commander other than one with a thorough understanding of our own principles and rights,” interrupted Arjean, of St. Marie, all but glaring at the Venusian. Galt's shaggy brows shot together in a scowl.