Executive (11 page)

Karzhinov temporized: he issued an ultimatum. “Withdraw your troops from Ganymede by 1200 hours, January 28, 2650, or the Union of Saturnian Republics will be forced to consider your action an act of war.”

I laughed when Shelia read me the translation. “Send this reply,” I told her. “Saturn, keep your nose clear of Jupiter business, lest it get cut off. Signed, the Tyrant of Space.”

“You're sure Karzhinov can be bluffed?” Spirit inquired.

“Who's bluffing?”

She smiled, but I could see that she was worried. She understood me well, but she got nervous when I got like this.

Actually I was pretty sure about Karzhinov. He was typical of the Saturn hierarchy: an unscrupulous, atheistic bureaucrat who had risen to the apex by conspiring against his enemies, betraying his friends, and being lucky. Like most bullies, he was essentially a coward. I had never met him personally, but I had read him through his public pronouncements and interviews and updated my information during the current exchange. I knew I could bluff him out.

The danger was that when he stepped down or was replaced, there would be a new and tougher Saturn leader who lacked the judgment to back off. I could handle a man I had studied; there might not be time to study the next.

But if the right man seized the occasion—

The Navy spread out and conquered new territory on Ganymede with surprising alacrity. Horror stories of death and destruction were broadcast by the hour, sometimes by the minute, from both sides, and the toll in lives and property mounted. Censorship was clamped down by both sides, but selected tales leaked out. It was, by all appearances, an awful situation. Our body count differed from theirs by the usual ratio: we claimed two and a half times as many casualties inflicted as they acknowledged, and they claimed two and a half times as many as we acknowledged. The Navy threw in more men as other ships arrived, and the toll of dead gringos mounted steadily toward the predicted total.

The Saturn ships maneuvered, orienting on all of our major targets. Their subs played tag with ours—those that either party could identify. We knew that the greatest threat was from the unlocated Saturn subs, which would torpedo our defensive ships from hiding. Ours would take out their ships similarly, but that would be too late to save our cities from the initial bombardment by those ships. Our real response would not be defensive but offensive: as our subs took out the major Saturn cities. That was the true balance of terror: the civilian populations of each planet were hostage to the Navy of the other. Karzhinov was not secure from that, and neither was I; we would both be dead men once the war began.

But Karzhinov was a coward and I was not.

The hours passed. The Saturn deadline drew nigh. I knew Karzhinov would back down, but others did not know that, nor could I tell them. The Gany invasion was fake, a construct of tacit collaboration between the premier and me, but the confrontation with Saturn was not. I had to trust that the Saturn structure had the same discipline as ours, so that no nervous admiral pushed his button and triggered the ultimate holocaust. I was conscious of the potential for error and of the enormous consequence thereof.

I told the others to sleep—Coral, Ebony, Spirit, and Shelia—but they would not or could not. Certainly I would not. Thus as the Saturnian deadline approached, we had been awake for more than thirty hours.

I don't think any of us felt it or were aware of our natural functions. We ate and drank and eliminated on a different level of awareness, as though our bodies were disconnected from our heads.

In retrospect I realize that I drifted into one of my visions. I was not then aware of its coming, and I still am not certain to what extent the others were aware of it or participated in it. Helse did not come to me this time; that was one reason I did not realize. Perhaps the others were afraid to bring me out of it, lest in my confusion or reaction I do something rash—such as giving the Order—so I played along. I never cared to inquire afterward, and they never cared to volunteer. Thus we went through a special experience together, whose complete nature remains opaque.

In my private awareness it seemed that the barriers of space and time dissolved, and I faced Karzhinov via a screen that had no delay of transmission. “Why do you do this, Tyrant of Space?” he demanded, beads of cold sweat showing on his jowls. “Why do you force us into this folly of war?”

“You were the one who started it,” I replied. “You sought to corrupt the pact we fashioned years ago, when Tanamo returned to Ganymede.”

“A lie!” he cried. “You only sought a pretext to invade Ganymede!”

He had been speaking in Russian, I in English, neither being surprised that we understood each other.

Now I addressed him directly in Russian. “You running dog! You tried to sneak that ship by me, and now you deny it! You make me so angry!” And my finger hovered above the big red button that would ignite the holocaust.

“Don't touch that!” he cried. Then, in a verbal double take: “You speak my language!”

“That is why you cannot deceive me, you Bolshevik bureaucrat!”

He brought out his own red button, mounted on a little box. His face turned red with embarrassment.

“You knew! You understood my language! You have made a fool of me! I will show you! I will have revenge!” And his fat finger moved to the button.

But I read him better than he read me. I knew he was bluffing. He feared death too much to launch the holocaust. “Go ahead, imperialist Communist!” I baited him. "Push the button! Strike it with your shoe!

Show the System what you are made of!"

Now, challenged to the point, he realized that he was lost. Slowly he crumbled. He sagged to the floor.

The box with the button fell from his hand and bounced on the floor. It flipped over and came down on its button. There was a crackle as the connection was made.

“Uh-oh,” I murmured in English.

Responding to that signal, the Saturn fleet opened fire on Jupiter, Our fleet responded, firing on Saturn.

There was a pause. Then the CT missiles, impossible to intercept at short range, scored. Almost simultaneously Jupiter and Saturn flared, their city-bubbles exploding. The shock of the explosions rocked the atmospheres and caused the remaining cities to crack and implode, so that no significant life remained at the planetary level. Meanwhile, other missiles scored on the various moons, taking them out also.

Jupiter and Saturn were sparkling with the pinpoint destructions of their cities. But the other planets were not immune. The moment the hostilities commenced, commands went out to the ships of the Belligerents, and missiles were fired at their allies. Uranus erupted, and Mars, Venus, Mercury, and Earth itself. Then, in slowing but inevitable order, the more extreme planets, and the major settlements of the Belt. Humanity was destroying itself.

I was dead, too, of course, and all who were with me. Together we had brought to a halt man's ascension toward space. Whatever our species might have been or become was ended. Was it worth it?

“Hope, for the love of God!”

The words transfixed me. That was Megan!

I emerged from my vision to discover myself standing before the main screen. Megan's image was on it.

She had spoken, and not from the dead. The Saturn deadline was upon us, the moment of decision.

I glanced around me. My sister Spirit stood at my side, her face drawn. Coral and Ebony stood near the door, frozen: of two different races and types but almost alike in this moment. Shelia was as always in her wheelchair, her right hand resting by the computerized communications controls, her eyes fixed on me.

None of them would gainsay me; my word was law, here, though it could bring destruction on us all.

But Megan was, and had always been, her own woman. I had kept company with her for almost twenty years, and I would always love her, and she reciprocated. It was in part love that separated us, for she had been unable to join me in the Tyrancy but unwilling to deny me my destiny. Now she was addressing me directly, and it shook me more deeply than the very vision of the end of humanity. Megan was not only the woman I loved; she was a truly great and good person whose instincts were almost unfailingly correct. For her I would give up anything—if she let me.

I gazed at her, and I could not answer her. I knew that she did not know what I knew: that the ongoing conquest of Ganymede was a sham, the tolls of the dead a carefully nurtured fiction crafted by both sides. That the real target was not Ganymede or Saturn but the present leadership of Saturn. This was our best and perhaps only chance to achieve the breakthrough that would enable future changes of enormous significance. My present course could accomplish more of what Megan desired for mankind than any other course could. All she saw at the moment was the concurrent risk. I could not blame her for that, for I had fostered the illusion of madness to which she was responding. Yet I could not at this point disillusion her, for that would damage or destroy the whole of my thrust.

For the sake of all that Megan and I both believed in, I had to deceive her in this. I felt the terrible dread of the alienation I was making, for there was no one I wished to hurt less than this woman. But it was necessary.

I turned away from her. I signaled Sheila and saw her fingers move, cutting off the connection. It was done.

“I remember when you raped Rue,” Spirit murmured.

That was it, exactly. Rape was an abomination, but I had been forced by circumstance to do it, and my sister had witnessed it. What I had done to Megan was more subtle and more cruel but as necessary. I almost would have preferred the denouement of the vision.

Now we waited. The Saturn deadline was past, and there had been no change in my policy. The action on Ganymede continued. We had secured Tanamo but were broadening our base in an evident campaign of complete conquest. The casualties, as represented by both sides, were high, but the outcome was inevitable: Ganymede would be restored as a satellite of Jupiter, if Saturn did not act. And Saturn could not act—short of System War Three.

The four hours required for the news of my refusal to honor the Saturn deadline passed. Now was the second siege of tension: awaiting the reaction of Saturn. If I had miscalculated, if I had misjudged Karzhinov, then all was over. I was sure I had not done so, yet the stakes were so high that I remained quite tense, anyway.

The time for the response came—and nothing happened. We did not relax; it could mean that there was simply a bureaucratic delay in implementation of the attack command. Yet the longer the delay, the better.

The hours passed without reaction. Saturn neither attacked nor retreated. Was Karzhinov trying to wear me down? I simply waited. All of us were tired, but none of us could sleep.

It seemed that not many others were sleeping, either. Shelia glanced at me inquiringly, having something of interest coming in, and I nodded, and it came on: Thorley, commenting.

“It seems that Jupiter and Saturn are engaged in a contest to see who will be the first to blink. Saturn set a deadline; the Tyrant ignored it; now it is Saturn's move. This would be an intriguing study, if the fate of mankind did not hang upon the outcome.”

“He always was good with a summation,” I said.

“Which demonstrates in more direct fashion than I would have preferred the folly of bypassing our established and time-honored conventions,” Thorley continued. “Had the democratic process been honored, we should not now have a madman inviting destruction for us all. Let this be a lesson, should we survive it.”

“Yes, indeed,” Spirit agreed, smiling wanly.

We waited, and the System waited with us. The planet of Jupiter, and probably Saturn also, had paused with bated heartbeat, waiting for the ax to fall—or turn aside.

“Sir.”

I jumped at Shelia's word; I had not been aware I was dozing. “Um.”

“Admiral Khukov.”

“On.”

Khukov's familiar face appeared. “Will you meet with me, Tyrant Hubris?” he inquired formally in English.

I knew by his bearing that victory was at hand. Khukov had a talent similar to mine, the ability to read people, and he and I could read each other. That was why we trusted each other, though our motives and loyalties were in many respects quite opposed. “I will, Admiral.”

“I will send a boat for you and your sister.”

“Agreed.”

The screen went blank. “Sleep,” I said. “The crisis has passed.”

“Should we make an announcement, sir?” Shelia asked.

I walked over, leaned down, and kissed her on the forehead. “That a meeting has been arranged. No more. Then rest until the ship comes.”

She activated her console. “For release from the office of the Tyrant,” she said. “A meeting has been arranged between Admiral Khukov of the Saturn fleet and the Tyrant.” She touched a button. “JupNav, arrange escort for the Saturn ship to the White Bubble.” Then another button. “No further calls to the Tyrant's office until the Saturn ship arrives.” Then she let her head fall back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

Spirit and Ebony were already gone. Coral took my arm and brought me to my bed, where I flopped prone and slept in my clothes. She must have done likewise.

The next two years saw significant developments in both the planetary and personal schemes. I don't want to dwell unduly on matters that are already a matter of public record, so I will skim somewhat, touching mostly on what is not in that record. I want the story of the Tyrancy to be complete, and I have no certainty that those who survive me will care to make it so.

I think it was about ten hours later when Ebony woke us. “The Saturn ship's pulling in,” she said, touching my shoulder.

“Go away,” I mumbled, turning my face away.

She had been with me for over fifteen years. She knew what to do. “Get up, Tyrant, or I'll haul you off that bed.”

When I did not respond, she took hold of my chest and turned me over, rolling me toward the edge of the bed. I grabbed her and hauled her down into me. “You sleep too.”

Captive, she moved one hand to my rib cage and tickled me. “No fair!” I cried, and wrestled her into place for a kiss.

Ebony was no beautiful woman, but she knew how to kiss. I realized immediately that I was getting into more than was feasible. She, like Shelia and Coral, was ready to take me as far as I cared to go. But I could not afford to go there at the moment; I had business coming up. So I broke without comment, but I squeezed her shoulder briefly by way of saying “Another time.” I don't know whether those who don't know me personally will understand about this. Helse introduced me to the joys of sex, and the Navy had introduced me to the advantage of doing it with any woman handy. I had been a long time away from both Helse and the Navy, but the old reflexes were returning readily enough. My staff understood me; not one of the girls had touched me while I remained with Megan, but they regarded it as open season now. I am sure that none of them ever spoke to any outside party of what passed privately between us; it was, as it were, all in the family. In this context it was Ebony's turn. When convenient.

I got up. Coral had gotten up during the scuffle, not interfering. The girls never interfered with each other; they meshed perfectly. It was comfortable being with them, and this helped me considerably in those early days of my separation from Megan.

In due course Spirit and I, both cleaned and changed, boarded the Saturn shuttle ship. I wore a voluminous, flowing cape that someone had deemed to be the fitting attire for a Tyrant making a call of State. It might seem strange to have the leader of Jupiter so blithely step into the power of Saturn, without even his bodyguard, but, of course, I knew Khukov personally, and the whole of the Solar System was hostage to our understanding. I was as safe as I could possibly be, here.

We relaxed and had an excellent meal served by a comely hostess who spoke English. The personnel were uniformly courteous, though they did not speak English. We were permitted free run of the ship.

“Where would you put it?” I asked Spirit in Spanish.

“Officer's dayroom,” she replied.

I nodded. We rose from our completed meal, went to the region reserved for the ship's captain, and knocked on the bulkhead. In a moment it slid open, and we entered.

Inside stood a pool table, and beyond the table stood Admiral Khukov, cue in hand. Without a word I took another cue, oriented on the table, and took the first shot. Spirit took a seat in a comfortable chair and watched. No one seemed surprised; this was the only way a truly private meeting could be arranged.

We played, and he beat me handily. “Ah, Hope, you are out of shape!” he said in Spanish.

“Tyrants don't get much practice in the important things, Mikhail,” I agreed in Russian. We smiled at each other; obviously our conversation was private, for he would never have betrayed his knowledge of my language to others. My response showed that I understood, for no one aside from my sister knew that I spoke Russian. We had taught each other when we both served on Ganymede. It was one of the private understandings we had.

We continued playing. Now we spoke in English, so Spirit could understand. "There will be the usual apparatus, every word and gesture recorded and analyzed from the moment you board the flagship.

Speak no secrets there."

“My brain is not out of shape, Admiral!”

“When your wife cried 'For the love of God!' and you turned away, Karzhinov knew that nothing would turn the madman aside. He faced the gulf of the holocaust, and his mind broke. We of Saturn know the nature of war on our soil; we fear it deeply. He will retire; his successor is not yet known.”

So my ploy had been successful! I prayed that never again would I have to hurt Megan that way. “We, too, know the meaning of losses,” I said, remembering the destruction of my family in space.

“Yet our two planets proceed to ever greater military effort,” he said. “We can destroy Jupiter nine times over, and you can destroy Saturn ten times over, but there is no end to the race of new weapons.”

“Madness,” I agreed.

“Madness,” he echoed.

We gazed at each other, each perceiving the pain of the past and fear for the future in the other. No, we did not want this!

“Two scorpions in a bottle,” I said.

He smiled briefly. “Would that they were male and female!”

“Yet perhaps...”

“Is it possible?”

There was a period of silence. Then I changed the subject. “Shouldn't you be there, not here?” I asked.

“First I must negotiate a significant agreement, to show that I alone can defuse the crisis.”

“What do you need?”

“Your dance with the premier of Ganymede is very pretty.”

“This would be more difficult at light-hours range.”

“Yet the game can be played with caution. I cannot say precisely what moves I will need to make, but if the madman responds only to me...”

I nodded. “And thereafter?”

“What would you have, Hope?”

I glanced at Spirit. “Disarmament,” she said.

He grimaced. “Of course. But there is the People's Republic of South Saturn.”

“Which has no significant navy,” I countered. “It is the interplanetary threat that concerns us.”

“And us!” he agreed. “We do not desire destruction, but we have had no trust.”

“Until now, Mikhail.”

“Until now,” he agreed. “Yet it must be gradual. First a hold, then failure to replace aging craft.”

“Agreed.”

We reached across the table and shook hands.

“I have a gift for you,” he said after a moment.

“We did not come prepared for the exchange of gifts,” I protested.

“You give me the power, that is enough. Accept my token with the assurance that there is no harm in it and certain hidden values.”

I shrugged. “Of course.”

“And for the formal meeting: only a truce and token withdrawal. My present authority is more limited than yours, Tyrant.”

“Understood.”

We played several more games, and I began to give him more of a challenge. Then we had to leave, so that there would be no suspicion. As I had suspected, not even the crew of the shuttle knew that the admiral was aboard.

In due course the shuttle docked at the flagship, and we were ceremonially ushered aboard. We met under the cameras with Khukov, using translators, he addressing us in Russian, I responding in Spanish.

We both talked tough but agreed to a temporary truce while Chairman Karzhinov considered his retirement. My words were reasonable, but there was a certain glimmer of madness in my expression, and Spirit cautioned me more than once, quietly, as if fearing that I was about to be set off. The Saturn officers present affected unconcern, but they noticed. Yet I responded fairly well to Admiral Khukov's direct attention; it was evident that he had a superior touch. This was hardly surprising; it was that touch that had brought him to his present level of power—and would take him that one step beyond. Saturn was safer when his hand was at the helm, especially when dealing with the lunatic Tyrant.

Thus the official meeting was perfunctory but satisfactory. It was obvious that the admiral and the Tyrant distrusted each other but were ready to deal. What would count would be the success of those dealings.

Khukov formally introduced me to his aide, another admiral, who would be in charge of the Saturn Jupiter-sphere fleet during Khukov's absence. “Speak to him as you would to me,” he said, flashing a caution signal by his body language that only he and I could read. “He converses in both our languages, Russian and English, and is empowered to act without delay.”

So the other admiral could push the button if attacked but did not speak Spanish. He was surely competent, for Khukov knew his personnel as I knew mine. Indeed, as I shook his hand, I felt his power as a person. This was one good, tough, honest man who would not act carelessly.

As we prepared to depart the flagship Khukov held me one more moment. “Tyrant, allow me to present you with a token of my esteem for you,” he said in English.

A young girl, really a child of ten or eleven, approached. She held her left hand up. On the middle finger was a platinum ring, and mounted on the ring was a large amber gem. In fact, it was not merely the color of amber; it was amber itself.

I took the child's hand and peered at the amber. It was clear and finely formed, and deep inside it was embedded an insect—a termite. I smiled, taking this as a kind of little joke, for a termite is not a pretty bug. But I was aware of something else: the one whose hand I held was no ordinary child. There was a curious vacuity about her, a lack of human emotion and expression. Had she been lobotomized? No, to my perception her reflexes were normal, merely uninvoked. Mind-wash? Possibly.

“This is an interesting gift,” I said, glancing up at Khukov. “But it becomes the girl, and I would hesitate to take it from her.”

He smiled. “No need, Tyrant.”

Spirit caught on. “The girl is the gift,” she murmured.

“The girl!” I said, startled.

“As you say, it would not be kind to take her treasure from her,” Khukov said. “I know you treat children well, Tyrant, and she is of your culture. You will find her interesting.”

“But—”

“Thank you, Admiral Khukov,” Spirit said firmly. “We shall see that she is properly treated. What is her name?”

“Amber,” he replied, and at that, the girl's eyes widened and her head lifted in recognition.

“Come with us, Amber,” Spirit said gently. The girl did not change expression, but she stepped toward Spirit. Evidently she understood.

So we returned to the shuttle and to Jupiter, bringing Amber with us. And strange was the avenue that acquiescence opened for me.

The first thing we noted was that Amber was mute. She understood what we said and responded to it, but she did not speak. We had our medical staff examine her and ascertained that she had no congenital or other inhibition; she could speak but simply did not.

The next thing we learned was that she was older than she seemed. Without her birth record we could not be sure, but physically she was about thirteen, not eleven. She seemed younger because she had not yet developed. This did not seem to be any artificial retardation, just natural variation. There had been a time, historically, when few girls developed before that age, but modern nutrition and care had reduced the age. Hopie had assumed the physical attributes of maturity by the age of twelve, for example. The intellectual and social attributes took longer to complete, but, of course, this could be a lifelong process, anyway. Amber was healthy, just a little slow. It was difficult to verify her intelligence nonverbally because she did not volunteer things. If, for example, a person told her to assemble the pieces of a simple plastic puzzle, she would do so but without any particular initiative. It was evident that she could do it faster, but she lacked the drive. Our conclusion was that she fell within the low-normal range. Certainly she was no genius.

Why had Khukov given her to me? I was sure he had not done so frivolously. He had to have had excellent reason. Members of my staff worried that it could be some kind of trap, that she carried poison or a weapon, but I did not accept that. First, there was no evidence of anything like that about her person; our personnel were sharp enough to catch anything potentially dangerous. Second, Khukov would not have done that. He didn't operate that way, and he had no motive. His own success depended on my cooperation, and he wanted me to remain in power. So whatever there was about Amber—and there definitely was something—it was no threat to me. He had said I would find her interesting; in that he was correct, merely because of the mystery of her. But there was more than mystery. He had had compelling reason to put her in my hands.

We set her up with Hopie, who had a room with Robertico. Hopie was entitled to a room of her own, but she was generous in this respect; she shared. Robertico was devoted to her and slept quietly when she was near. Amber, though only two years younger than Hopie—possibly only one year younger—was so obviously better off with company that it seemed best to move her in. The two of them became like sisters, and Robertico a baby brother.

Hopie found the riddle of Amber as intriguing as Spirit and I did. She talked with the girl, or rather to her, for Amber never responded in words. Hopie soon became a kind of translator for Amber, ascertaining her preferences and informing us of them. Amber liked Hispanic food and didn't care for sonic showers; she preferred to wash up with a damp cloth. She always wore the amber ring; the only time she became truly distressed was when the medics tried to remove it for examination. They had finally compromised by examining it on her hand, the radiation showing up her finger bones as well as the interior of the ring, and she had no objection. Hopie wanted to teach her to read, for she seemed not to know how, but Amber just stared blankly at the printed words. She was unable to relate to anything more technical than pictures.

Meanwhile, the crisis of Saturn abated. In accordance with the truce we pulled back our ships, which were oriented on Saturn, and they pulled back theirs, which were oriented on Jupiter. The fighting on Ganymede halted in place. Admiral Khukov returned to Saturn and worked his magic there, and in a fortnight he was formally announced as the new Chairman of the Council of Ministers, along with assorted other titles appropriate to the power base. Our Navy cooperated by showing evident respect for his prowess as a leader, retreating somewhat when he challenged and failing to do so when others did. Gradually the citizens of both planets resumed their breathing.