The Desert of Stars (The Human Reach) (8 page)

Neil excused himself and found a giant and terse Korean man
with a bulge in his jacket waiting for him in the empty den. He led Neil to a
small, dark study with shuttered windows, stepped outside and closed the door.

Only Conrad and Naima were in the room; Naima was seated in
a chair facing the president, who was behind an ornate wooden desk.

Something about Lawson Conrad’s facial bone structure reminded
Neil of grainy images of people from prior centuries. He was in his late
forties, and he had a light, northern European complexion, black wavy hair,
heavy eyebrows, a strong jaw and a cleft chin. His lips were set tight together,
and his eyes were at once both shiny and furtive, like he was concentrating on
too many things at once. He wore a brown, collared shirt with every button
fastened. Neil, who had never before met a national executive, thought there
was something smaller-than-expected about him.

Naima introduced Neil.

“Welcome to Tecolote, Lieutenant Mercer,” Conrad said in a
countertenor that sounded vaguely British. Neil started to say, “Thank you, sir,”
but Conrad kept speaking, causing Neil to stumble at the “th” and silence
himself. “Katherine tells me you are willing to assist us against the rebels.”

“Yes, Mister President,” Neil said. “I’m happy to report my
chain of command has approved military aid to your government. The submarine buoys
General Naima has requested we have on-planet and can deliver within the week. In
addition, we have located a supply of forty-five Fukiya-Seven artillery rockets
on Entente, and we can have those here within two weeks or so. We’ve also arranged
for a larger stock of four hundred rockets to be delivered, but those will come
from Earth, and they will take several months to get here.”

“That’s great news,” Naima said. “Nearly four hundred and fifty
rockets. That will satisfy even Antonio Vargas, I think.”

Conrad drummed his fingers on his desk. Neil noticed he was
wearing a wedding band.

“We’ll certainly accept the buoys,” he said. “But I think
we’ll have to decline the offer of artillery rockets, as generous as it is.”

Major General Naima stiffened, ever so slightly.

Neil was confused. After a moment’s silence, he said,
“Mister President, I want to make clear these weapons transfers are classified
as aid to a friendly power, not a weapons sale. They won’t cost you anything.”

“Oh, I understand that, Lieutenant Mercer,” Conrad said, leaning
forward. “I’m declining the aid of the rockets, presuming you aren’t insisting
they are a package deal with the buoys.”

“No, my orders say nothing about that,” Neil said. “Might I
convey to my superiors your reason for not accepting the rockets? A number of
people did a good deal of work arranging for their delivery.”
Commander Raleigh
in particular. He’s going to be angry.

“I’m not sure I owe them, or you, an explanation,” he said.
“But I’ll provide one anyway. We’re a small country with many problems and many
enemies. Earth’s great powers have decided to intrigue among us. Allowing one
to arm us will be regarded by the others as casting our lot with that one, and
that is not something I am prepared to do at this time. Given the great war
that is underway, it is our desire to avoid the wholesale violence that such
alliances may entail.

So you can focus on retail violence?
Neil thought
darkly, remembering the beating at the airport.

“I understand, Mister President,” he said, not meaning it.

Lawson Conrad, president of the Republic of Tecolote, sat
silent for a moment, then said, “You know, we’ve been here a decade now,
haven’t we, Katherine?”

Naima’s voice was tight. “Yes, Mister President.”

“We were such adventurers when we got here. Rough-and-ready,
eh? I insisted being first off that cruise liner. The dock hands didn’t know
what to make of us, charging off the gangway in our battle armor like that. We
had the government buildings before they knew what hit them. We only lost one
man; what was his name?”

“Sree. Sree Melkote.”

“Yes! The little scout from Sindh. He ran too far ahead of
his unit and was accidently killed by someone in Vargas’ company who mistook
him for one of the palace guard. Other than that, probably the most successful
amphibious invasion in history. But not so much glory since. Much work, trying
to keep a country above water. Much work. In any event, Lieutenant, thank you
again for the assistance. Enjoy the festivities.”

Neil rose. “Thank you, Mister President.”
What just
happened here?

He left Conrad and Naima alone. The big Korean was not
waiting for him, so Neil returned to the back porch and found the other
Americans from the consulate. They probed him on where he had gone, and he
demurred, saying he had checked out the kitchen and run into an acquaintance.
He was getting better at that, lying without telling an actual lie.

Sycamore, Sequoia continent, Kuan Yin

Major Shen Liang’s eyes kept darting to the image of his
wife and two daughters, and he chided himself for getting distracted. The
captain’s reports on his screen begged to be addressed; they were simply
terrible, tiny bits of real information dressed up with poetic declarations of
imminent victory and various references to auspicious numbers.

What has happened to our training?
Shen groused to
himself.
This sort of superstitious prattle may work on country folk and the
common soldiery, but officers should know better.
Intelligence updates
needed to be in straightforward language. He read further, grimacing
internally.
This captain would make a good press officer.

He opened a word processor to compose a reprimand to his
subordinate –
I shall show you how to speak directly –
but before he
could type a word, an incoming message filled his screen. The general who sent
it was in an office not six meters away, but apparently calling out or coming
to fetch him would have been undignified.

Major General Xie Quanyou was not a man who could keep his
agitation hidden as well as some, but he generally did not take it out on his
staff. Instead, one could gauge his unhappiness by the temperature in his
office: The more stressed he was, the hotter he felt, and the more frigid he
made his workspace.

Xie’s room was merely cool today, close to twenty degrees
Celsius.
Perhaps we have some good news for a change.

“Good news!” the general said agreeably. “I just received a
report from one of our Flying Dragons strike teams. Using information provided
by your interrogators, they intercepted a group of American guerrillas
traveling from Cypress to this area. There was a brief firefight, but we
captured more than a dozen without losing a soldier.”

“Was Reg Foster among them?”

“Who?”

Shen sighed inwardly.
They never listen.
“Colonel Regina
Foster is the highest-ranking U.S. military officer on Kuan Yin who is both
alive and not in our custody. She was a staff officer for Major General LeDoux,
the senior U.S. military officer on the planet, who was killed during our
assault on this territory in late 2139. Foster is a former armored battalion
commander, and we believe she is the nominal leader of the American insurgency
on the planet.”

“Ah, yes, her! Of course. I have such trouble with their ugly
names,” Xie said. He scanned his handheld. “One of the prisoners confirmed she
was traveling with the group, but she wasn’t among the captured, and we haven’t
verified her death. We did use some explosives and orbital laser strikes, so
there are some remains we will need to study.”

Foster survived,
Shen’s gut told him.
Damn, she
would have been a major catch. But if we killed and captured some of the people
around her, it is still a significant blow.
Every little victory like this
was a step closer to going home, Shen told himself.

“This success on your team’s information settles something
else,” Xie said.

“Sir?”

Xie reached into his desk and pulled out a small
felt-covered box, which he opened and placed in front of Shen. A small golden
metal bear was within. “My congratulations, again,
Zhong Xiao
. You are
promoted.”

“I am honored, sir,” Shen said. He bowed his head. This was
not entirely unexpected, given his service time, although the debacle at the
prison in the community of Cottonwood had left it in question.
Perhaps this
means I will at last be recalled to a position on Earth.

“You will continue in your present assignment as my
intelligence chief,” Xie said. “We need you too much here. In fact, I believe
it is time to include you in on the details of the current operation.”

Although he had long learned to remain impassive in front of
superiors, Shen’s face must have betrayed a fraction of surprise, for Xie
chuckled and said, “Yes, the divisional chiefs have been left out of this one
so far, but you have already witnessed some results.”

Shen said, “The raid today. Does it relate to our reports
about the insurgents leaving the region around Cypress?”

Xie smiled. “Indeed. We have been encouraging them to gather
near here. Their strength has been in their dispersion. They have been
operating in small groups, killing us with a thousand cuts, while our superiors
on Earth continue to demand we divert more of our resources elsewhere.”

“So we are giving them reasons to move here, where our force
is concentrated,” Shen said.

“Through inaction, yes. We have turned a blind eye to their
connections with the civilians living in the camp. We’re feigning weakness and
inattention. We’re letting them think they have a chance to win, and that’s
drawing them together. Your assignment,
Zhong Xiao
Shen, is to find the
holes they are hiding in.”

“And once we’ve done that, we’ll smash them?”

“Only if we must,” the general said. “We intend to provide
them with another option, if they are wise enough to take it.”

CANBERRA – Colonial Minister Peter Ainsley announced
the first solely Australian colony world will be named “Uluru” following Tuesday’s
national election. The moon, orbiting a large planet in the 36 Ursae Majoris
system, is said to be marginally habitable, and terraforming efforts are already
underway to allow humans to walk on the surface without breathing assistance.
The system is near the suspected boundaries of the stellar dead zone, but
scientists say the microbial oxygen-producing lifeforms in the moon’s oceans
are apparently hardy enough to have survived the primordial interstellar
disaster that created the dead zone in the first place.

While’s Australia’s acquisition of the colony has been
widely celebrated, it has also renewed calls for the country to seek a separate
peace in the interstellar war, with proponents saying Australia has achieved
its goals of acquiring a world of its own. But polls show almost two-thirds of
Australian citizens support remaining in the conflict, with many expressing a
desire to honor alliances and others expressing fear that forgoing cooperation
with the United States and Japan would leave their new world at risk to some
other power seeking potential colonies.

The name “Uluru” garnered 42 percent of the vote. Other
contenders included “Outback,” “Matilda,” “Billabong,” and “New Oz.” International
favorite “Botany Bay” received less than one percent of the vote.

San José, Republic of Tecolote, Entente

“Mercer,” Irene Gomez barked. “Come with me.”

Her manner was so brusque Neil considered simply refusing.
It was the morning after the party, and Neil had just walked through the
security door into the consulate’s office. He hadn’t slept well; he had lain
awake, trying to parse his exchange with Conrad, wondering whether he had
screwed it up somehow.

But he couldn’t think of any particular reason to match
Gomez’s hostility, so, as she passed by him, he wordlessly spun on one foot, a
mildly silly and deliberately sarcastic move that both Lindsay Trujillo and
Martina Bandi witnessed and chuckled at.

In silence, Gomez drove Neil to their destination. She
turned into a parking lot outside a nondescript two-story building and stopped
the car.

“I know you met with President Conrad last night. I’m not
sure what exactly happened, but I want you to tell the people we are going to
meet with about it.”

“Who are we going to meet with?”

“The Japanese intelligence operative on the island. His name
is Akita Tadeshi – Akita is his family name. You should just address him as
Akita-sama, and he’s happy. I think he’s the only Saki intel officer in Tecolote,
and he’s a Koancho, not a Jetro.”

Then he must be Kitsune,
Neil thought. Koancho was
what English-speakers called the Japanese foreign intelligence agency with
duties most similar to that of the NSS. Jetro was the commercial intelligence
service, which ostensibly protected Japanese copyrights and trade secrets, although
its powers stretched well beyond that.

“Do you want me to tell you about the meeting first?” Neil
asked.

Gomez sighed. “I’m trying to build some trust with this guy,
so I’ve told him he is getting the first report. He’ll be scanning me to see if
I’m lying. He’ll be scanning you, too.” She paused. “Don’t respond to this, but
I am going to assume there isn’t anything that would damage U.S. national
security in regards to Japan.”

Neil didn’t respond.

Gomez didn’t nod or otherwise acknowledge his silence. She
said, “So go ahead and tell him what you know. You might be able to be evasive
and fool his software by not lying directly, but these guys are our allies, so
don’t bother.”

“What do you know about Kit … about Akita?” Neil said.

“He’s supposed to be one of their heavy hitters. I’m not
entirely sure why he’s here in Tecolote, though.”

They went inside the building. It was a nightclub called
“Dietrich’s” in morning-after mode, with bright sunlight streaming in to
illuminate dirty corners meant to be lit only by momentary strobes. Along one
wall, rods that would glow in electric purples and greens as music thrashed in
darkness now looked artificial and sallow.

A young woman with short spiky black hair sat behind the
largest of the many bars in the place, reading her handheld. She looked up at
Neil and Irene Gomez and pointed to a door on the far side of the dance floor.

Beyond was some kind of VIP lounge, with another bar and
some plush red couches. Sitting on one of them was Akita Tadeshi.

He was approaching middle age, handsome, a picture-perfect
gentleman spy in a shiny maroon suit, cut in the severe style popular in Tokyo
and, lately, New York. He smiled warmly and motioned for Gomez and Neil to sit.

They did so, with Gomez taking a high-backed leather chair,
leaving Neil to sink into a love seat placed at a right angle to Akita’s couch.
It was far too comfortable for such a meeting, and Neil struggled to maintain a
rigid, formal posture.

“This place is owned by President Conrad’s daughter,” Akita
said in a lyric baritone. “Smartest club in town for a couple of years, but
there’s a new place down in the docks district that’s surpassed it.”

Irene Gomez said, “That hasn’t been my sort of fun for
twenty years. I imagine young Lieutenant Mercer here knows far more than I do about
that sort of thing.”

“I’m sure,” Akita said, glancing at Neil. Neil tried to
remain impassive.
Gomez is establishing herself above me by calling me
“young,”
he thought.

“Given its ties to the executive, can we be sure we can
speak freely here?” he asked, trying to establish a little of his own position
in the room. He wasn’t going to let Gomez define his relationship with Kitsune.

“Actually, because of the Conrad family connection, this is
one of the few places Katherine Naima does not dare listen to. But the room has
been scanned for listening devices, and you have nothing to worry about. Can I
offer either of you anything to drink? Coffee, juice, something stronger?”

Neil nodded. “Orange juice.”

“Irish coffee,” Gomez said.

At some invisible signal, a woman entered the room and went
to the bar. She was Japanese, wearing an indigo yukuta, tied off with a summery
golden bow knotted at her back.

She said nothing, and Neil felt uncomfortable at the
deference she showed him as she served him his glass. She was, by any human
standard, beautiful. Thin but not dainty, with dark, straight hair, partially
tied off in back, and a silk-smooth face. She was utterly precise in her
movements.

Akita caught Neil looking at her and smirked slightly.

Strange,
Neil thought. While a great many Japanese
employed personal servants, very, very few were other Japanese. Most were
Filipino, Vietnamese, or from one of the other states in Japan’s sphere of
influence. Possibly Akita’s job required a native-born aide, although Neil had
seen other high-ranking government officials with foreign-born temporary
workers at their side, even in the security services.

At Gomez’s prompting, Neil related his encounter with
President Conrad, leaving nothing out.

When he finished, Gomez spoke first. “I can’t understand why
he would refuse the rockets.”

“I agree,” Akita said. “It is odd behavior. The rebellion is
growing stronger. Our information says that fully one-third of the last batch
of convicts arriving from Earth left the city to seek out the guerrillas, who
are offering food and shelter for anyone who will join them.”

“Supplied by the Hans, no doubt,” Gomez said.

Neil piped in, “And those buoys alone won’t stop their
supply cows. They may detect the submarines, but Tecolote’s military doesn’t
have enough air or sea assets to ensure they can investigate a contact before
the sub can escape back out to the open sea. There is just too much coastline.”

“Did you get the sense that Conrad is under any pressure from
his advisors?” Gomez asked him.

“I’m not sure,” Neil said. “Possibly. Naima – she didn’t exactly
back up Conrad when he refused the artillery rockets, but she didn’t argue with
him, either.” Both Gomez and Akita looked at him in a way that prompted him to
say more, but he remained silent.
Don’t bullshit your way through a briefing
,
his mentor had said.
Points of ignorance are useful information in and of
themselves.

Akita leaned back and smiled confidently. Neil sensed the
man’s charisma filling the room, but he wondered how much substance was beneath
those eyes. Something didn’t quite impress him as he had expected to be
impressed.
Or is underestimating him part of his power?

The Japanese spy said, “Well, that’s all useful information.
I suppose we owe you something in return.” He looked over his shoulder at his
aide. “Go ahead, Misaki.”

Her eyes briefly took on a vague, unfocused look.
She’s
reading information on her ocular
, Neil realized – and a small green line
of text appeared inside his own eye, asking him if he wanted to receive some
data.
Ocular-yes
, he thought.

Akita said, “This is our data on the rebel leaders, strength
and logistics train. I guarantee it has some information that Naima and Conrad
do not possess.”

Despite his efforts to remain passive, Neil felt his eyes
narrow, a slight gesture Akita did not fail to observe.

“You are wondering why we would pass this to you, and you
wouldn’t accept the too-simple explanation that we support our allies, of
course,” he said. He held a hand up before Neil could protest. “Self-interest,
of course. We are hoping to manipulate you into helping the government here,
even if Conrad doesn’t seem to want any useful assistance. But we’d prefer our
help not be so overt.”

“Why is that?” Gomez asked.

“A number of reasons. One is that the Chinese would be far
more worried about Tecolote if it learned Japan had also turned its attention
here. If the allies are planning to use Tecolote as a staging area for its
forces, it is best that China not take matters here too seriously, until the
defenses are in place.”

Neil and Gomez departed not long after. Gomez asked Neil
to drive so she could scan Akita’s file, but he hadn’t traveled half a
kilometer before she tapped her handheld and turned to look at him.

“You handled yourself well in there, Mercer,” she said. “I
guess we earned our reward. Although you’ve seen firsthand how the Sakis have
no compunction about playing us to advance their own interests.”

What does that mean?
Neil wondered. He drove the car,
a fifteen-year-old Honda owned by the consulate, through a roundabout. No other
cars were on the road.

He glanced at the NSS officer. “Ma’am? Firsthand?”

Gomez smirked. “I know more about you than you think. You
were on the
San Jacinto
with our operatives James Donovan and Rafael
Sato when the war started. The Sakis picked you out as a young and naïve intel
officer and passed you that fake report about Han nanological weapons. You set down
here on Entente, and later on Commonwealth. Do I have that right?”

“
San Jacinto
’s activities were in the news,” Neil
said evenly.

Gomez recognized the evasive answer and sighed. “Neil, I
know the military and NSS don’t always get along, but I need you to trust me.
Here in Tecolote, it’s just you and I who can do anything to advance American
interests. Our colleagues from State are too hidebound by diplomatic protocols
to get any real work done. If we’re going to succeed in making an ally out of
Conrad’s government, we need to be able to work together. We must get a better
feel for this country and what’s going on here. It’s time to stop meeting with
them and start working with them. You should be out with their troops. I need
to spend more time in the government house.”

Neil was silent for a moment.
She’s right. She’s not
exactly easy to work with, but we’re on the same team.

“Okay,” he said, trying to sound like he meant it.

“Now, where on Entente did you go?”

So Gomez doesn’t know everything about the
San
Jacinto
’s mission
. No harm in telling her, he supposed.

“Graypen.”

“Other side of the planet. What happened there?”

Neil turned the car onto a broad boulevard. Blocky gray
industrial structures lined the road. “We … we were meeting with some contacts
with the Taiwan Liberation Congress. The Chinese found out about it somehow,
and there was a shootout.”

“Did you lose anyone?” Neil was watching the road but could
feel her eyes on him.

“One of the rebels was killed. I never learned his name.”
The
man died a meter away from me. Why is she asking this?

“He died for a good cause. I hadn’t realized you were part
of
that
operation. That was nicely done, Lieutenant.” The mission had
ended with the death of the leader of Taiwan’s independence movement, when he
was murdered during an attempt to rescue him on Kuan Yin. Video of his
execution had been leaked to the public in Taiwan, and a brief insurrection had
followed. China had sent three infantry divisions from the mainland to pacify
the island, and now all three were stuck there, cut off by a Japanese blockade.

“Well, thanks.”

“And then you went to Commonwealth?” she asked.

“I’m really not supposed to talk about all this. Say, why –
”

An echelon of police drones buzzed the car, red and blue
lights spinning. They were small ones, four-fan surveillance drones. They
spread out, some disappearing over the tops of the buildings along the boulevard.
Two bigger drones came next, passing into view ahead of the car. They emitted a
deep, menacing thrum; one trailed a thin gray mist behind it. Neil recognized
them as thirty-year-old Japanese military gunships, painted navy blue and
white, Tecolote police livery.