Harvest of Stars (50 page)

“Hm? Well, no surprise.” Guthrie glanced at Kyra.

“Stick around, honey. This should interest you Okay, connect her.”

A handsome dark visage appeared in the screen. “Have I the honor of addressing Mr. Anson Guthrie of Fireball Enterprises?” asked Sitabhai Lal Mukerji ritually, in Asian English.

“Yes, Señora—uh, Madame President,” he replied. “This time, the genuine article and nobody editing.”

Transmission lag passed, for Kyra about four heart-beats.

“There has been much deception and many allegations.” Mukerji’s tone was cold. “One cannot be certain what to believe.”

“You’ve studied the communiqué I issued when I got back here, I’m sure.”

Lag time.

“Yes. It is not very informative.”

“I tried to give the basic facts, Madame President, to the entire human race. The details can wait. They must. Not only are they a max-entropy mess, but I admit not yet knowing a great deal, and shouldn’t throw statements around that may be unfounded. The bone truth is plain, though. Agencies of the North American government stole my duplicate, reprogrammed it in violation of human rights written into the Covenant, and passed it off as me in an attempt to take over an international association of free men and women.”

—Mukerji frowned. “That is a grave charge to bring against a government.”

Guthrie laughed. “Ma’am, no charge has ever been too grave to bring against a government. Any government. It’s the nature of the beast.”

—“You are entitled to your opinions. You are entitled to press charges and produce evidence. You are not entitled to break the law.”

“What’ve I done except escape from their efforts to murder me? My communique explained how that call to arms was a put-up job by the Lunarians. Complain to them, please, not to me.”

—“We shall, sir, we shall.” Mukerji’s image leaned forward. Her forefinger pointed like a lance. “But you have not disavowed that criminal incitement. On the contrary, your statement makes demands on North America that no government could accept from a private party. Your ships are blockading the North American troop in L-5. The Peace Authority’s surveillance and intelligence units report every indication that you are mobilizing your company for violence.”

“Ma’am,” Guthrie said, “you’re an intelligent and reasonable lady. Must we, between the two of us, use loaded words? Fireball hasn’t delivered any ultimatum. We’ve simply warned the Avantist government that we can’t—we
cannot
, ma’am—stand idly by while it arbitrarily imprisons people of ours and, considering what’s going on thereabouts, unnecessarily exposes them to danger. The seizure of our property without due process is an outrage too, but minor compared to this. Likewise, the occupation of L-5 is illegal, having been carried out under false pretenses, and the hazard it poses is intolerable.

“We beg them in Futuro to set matters right. We realize this can’t be done in a single stroke, and we offer to negotiate and cooperate at every step. For instance, if they’ll evacuate L-5, we’ll provide ferry service to Earth. As for mobilization—ma’am, politicians chronically remind me Fireball is not a nation and its directorate is not a government. How could we mobilize? I’ve requested our consortes to prepare for whatever action may prove necessary in the present emergency. They’re starting to do so. That’s all.”

—Lustrous eyes narrowed. “What action have you in mind?”

Robot shoulders shrugged. “I said, whatever proves necessary. Isn’t that pretty much up to Futuro?” Weightily: “If you hadn’t called me, I’d have appealed to you before this daywatch was over. Use your good offices, Madame President. Bring the Avantists to their senses.”

—Mukerji smiled bleakly. “You have a clever way with your bluff words, Mr. Guthrie. But let us not play games.

Your communique said nothing about the call to rebellion and the pledge of aid to it that were in the earlier broadcast you call false.”

“What’d you expect, ma’am? Obviously I’d like to see the Avantist government replaced. Whether or not that happens, I’d hate to see a lot of people who wish for freedom butchered, jailed, or brainwashed because they trusted a promise made in the name of Fireball. So, yes, I did propose”—He and Kyra saw her wince at the foregoing sentence, then quickly, dutifully recover.—“a cease-fire, a general amnesty, and in due course a convention of all parties to work out new arrangements. I offered
our
good offices toward this end. Meanwhile, though, the uprising is still going on. Lives and treasure are being squandered. If your Peace Authority mustn’t intervene in a purely domestic affair, how may poor, private Fireball? The one right we claim, if neither the North American government nor the Authority will do it, is to assure the safety and well-being of our consortes, and, secondarily, secure our property.”

—“That is a considerable claim.”

“Sure. We’ll affect the course of events. How could we not, even if we do nothing? We’ll discharge our obligations as we see them, as best we’re able.”

This pause was longer than light speed imposed.

“Your concern for your personnel in North America is in itself commendable,” Mukerji said, as solemnly as if she spoke at a funeral. “Perhaps it has caused you to forget that there are many more of them elsewhere on Earth, and each is a citizen of some country belonging to the Federation.”

“And they could become hostages or the objects of reprisal? Ma’am, I can’t believe you’d dream such a thing. They’re totally innocent.”

—Mukerji’s voice went dry. “Is that why your General Director Almeida ordered every Fireball spacecraft on Earth into orbit, and every regional chief concurred?”

“That order came from me. They just executed it. I won’t insult your intelligence. It’s obvious where their
sympathies lie. But they and the rest of our folk on Earth did nothing illegal, nothing their governments or your office had forbidden, and from now on, whatever happens, they’ll scarcely be in a position to flout your laws.”

—“Their sympathies, you say. Their loyalties? … Well, a general conflict would certainly endanger them.”

Guthrie lifted his hands. “Ma’am, please! Who spoke a word about that? Surely it can’t be what you’re planning. And we in space want a conflict like we want a hole in our helmet. I’m amazed that the Council and the Authority aren’t working to free and safeguard our people in North America. The moment that’s done, everything else becomes negotiable.”

—Mukerji’s lips tightened. “The effort is being made, I assure you. It cannot be carried out in a glare of publicity.”

“I understand, and thank you, and wish I were religious so I could pray for you. I hope you understand that Fireball cannot abandon its trothgivers to their fate, and therefore must make ready to help them if other attempts fail. Maybe that fact will be a useful bargaining chip for you. Meanwhile we’ll do nothing that might embarrass you, and whatever you ask that might assist you.”

—“Very well, sir. Cancel this mobilization of yours.”

“Madame President, I repeat, it is not a mobilization, and with respect I disagree that unpreparedness on our part would serve any good purpose.”

—Mukerji sighed. “This has gone as I feared. But I was obliged to try.”

“I hoped you’d see we’re reasonable folks here. That should have a little value to you.”

—Mukerji smiled sadly. “Reasonable people too can be at odds with each other. I trust you will receive future calls from me or my office immediately, day or night, as I will yours?”

“Of course. Vaya con Dios.”

—“Farewell.” The screen blanked. Guthrie stared into it a moment before he turned back to Kyra.

“Is, is it war, then?” she stammered.

“I hope to Christ not,” he sighed, “We’ll know in a couple more daycycles.”

“I should think … Mukerji will need longer than that … to persuade the Avantists.”

“I’m afraid so. She’s capable and well-intentioned. But if I were that regime, I’d stall her till the Kayos have been stamped out, while maneuvering to bring the Peace Authority actively onto my side against contumacious Fireball, which has given me such a lot of woe.”

Kyra brought fingers to mouth. “You mean—your action is
helping
them?”

“Well, they can at least appeal to the herd instinct in their fellow governments. If they provoke us into taking the role of villains, their antics with regard to us can be swept under the carpet and several important persons among them won’t be hauled before an international court. If they can bring it about that the Federation declares us outlaws, they can confiscate everything we have in the Union. That would be quite a boost for the ramshackle economy they’ve created.

“But I don’t see how we could’ve stayed passive. Nor can we wait long. Suppose those ‘relocation centers’ are next to militia bases, political headquarters, or wherever else it’d hurt to be struck, whether by the Kayos or us? However that turns out, you know that consortes of ours will be going into the interrogation labs.”

Guthrie smote the table beside him. “No, Kyra, we’ll honor our troth. Afterward I’ll take the blame and the consequences.”

She rose, went to him, and caught both his cold, heavy hands. “Like hell,” she said.
“We
will.”

Above and beyond his turret, the galactic belt gleamed. She remembered hearing that in Swedish it was named the Winter Road.

F
OR SECONDS
K
YRA
could only stare. Her head felt as though she had suddenly gone into free fall. “Is this real?” she whispered at last.

“‘What is reality?’ said jesting Pilate,” Rinndalir answered. “The invitation is quite sincere, no ruse or entrapment. How could my nation gain by that? Fireball already has ample grudges against us. You shall return whenever you choose, your dignity intact. The visit may cause you to look on us less unfavorably. Since you have evidently become rather close to the lord Guthrie, that would be furthersome to us—and, you may agree, to him. However this proves out, I can promise you a unique entertainment.” Damn him, that voice and that smile were enough to melt your back teeth. “And, naturally, I shall savor your presence.” The beautiful face went serious. “But if you wish to come, you must at once. Events approach their perihelion. They will pass it soon and swiftly.”

She hauled her brain together. She didn’t know of anything more she could do for Fireball. Guthrie had declined her offer to pilot
Kestrel
in his service. “We’ll have plenty, and after what you’ve been through, you need a longer rest than time allows before you’re fit again.” She had yielded, not altogether reluctantly.

Nor could she phone for his advice. As occupied as he was, it would likely take hours to get through to him. Here was a chance to, just possibly, learn something useful about the Lunarians. Yes, this might turn out to be a new betrayal of theirs, but she didn’t see how she could be so important.

And—back to Rinndalir, that heartless, treacherous, gorgeous son of a cat.

“Muy bien,” she threw at him. “I shouldn’t, after the trick you pulled, but all right.”

His smile flared. “Glorious. Transport waits at the
spacedrome, Berth 23.” Did it happen to be there, or had he dispatched it, confident she would accept? “Do not stop to pack. Your room in Zamok Vysoki remembers you.”

Blood racketed in Kyra’s ears. She sent a message for Guthrie’s attention when he should have some to spare, hauled on her boots, and left the suite at a Lunar run.

Outside the hotel she must needs slow down. Tsiolkovsky Prospect was thronged. No Lunarians were in sight. Such as had not departed Tychopolis kept to their residential quarter. In this city foreigners outnumbered them and emotions ran high. Few of those dwellers and transients were at their businesses, now when crisis drew near to climax. They wandered about, sat in the cafés talking too merrily or low and intently, fingered wares in the shops, clustered around every multi in which news repeated itself with different speakers and different scenes but over and over. Where somebody used English, Spanish, or Russian, Kyra caught snatches.

“—won’t attack,” said a thick-set man, unmistakably North American. “Wouldn’t dare. The governments of Earth would seize everything they’ve got on the planet.” Kyra smelled his sweat. He wasn’t as confident as he claimed. Earth’s industries depended on space, its resources were what saved the biosphere, and the over-whelming majority of space enterprises were Fireball’s.

“—alliance with the Selenarchs?” a Latino raged. “Those double-dealing bastards?” He wore a company emblem.

“We may have no choice,” replied the woman with him.

“—God’s judgment,” said a gray-bearded Orthodox priest. “His penalties for our sins and foolishness will be less than they themselves cost us.” Maybe he was right, Kyra thought.

Yet what could Fireball do, after the Union’s President Escobedo addressed the world? “—no compromise with criminality. Fireball has from the very beginning been hostile to our government, has obstructed and intrigued and encouraged sedition.” True, though no more than was well within the bounds of what North America once, and a few countries today, considered freedom of speech and the
right to conduct one’s affairs as one saw fit. “A pronouncement from Fireball has sparked civil war in our country. Sr. Guthrie claims it was false, but he has not called on the Chaotics to halt their rebellion,” and be led away for the Sepo and the corrective psychotechnicians to work on, “nor retaliated against the Selenarchs whom he alleges were the perpetrators.” What was he supposed to do, declare war on them? “I make him this proposal. Let Fireball make amends by helping us. For example, it has more capability of space surveillance than the Peace Authority does, if it chooses to deploy the vessels, and it is not limited by mandate as the Peace Authority is. Let Fireball provide us information about Chaotic units, their locations and activities. Or let Fireball provide suborbital transport, which we are woefully short of, to our militia and Security Police, wherever that will enable them to strike a telling blow. There are many possibilities. We can agree on which, if Fireball will first agree to obey the law of the land.