The Privateer (33 page)

Cale nodded soberly. "I agree. Let's call Zant back, and boost max for the jump point. We have messages to deliver."

"Then you will send the message torpedo to Admiral Gonzalez-Villareal?" Tess asked.

Cale shrugged. "That's the president's decision. Personally, I would send it – after it's been decrypted, translated, and scanned for secret content. It may save a lot of lives."

"I will begin the decryption procedure at once. Sire Jenfu reports that he will return after this run. I interpret this to mean when he completes his current firing pass."

Cale shook his head. "Connect me," he said. When Zant's face appeared on the viewscreen he said, "Damn it Zant! Get your ass back here. Something's come up, and we've got urgent business."

Zant just grinned. "Urgent, huh? What's up?"

Cale grinned. "You'll have to get back here to find out. I'll be closing the cargo door to the hold in ten minutes, and we boost in fifteen."

"You can't scare me.
Strengl
s have jump engines."

Cale shrugged. "True, but do you have enough fuel to make it to the mine? Or would you rather just drift around the system until the Santies rescue you? Ten minutes." He signaled Tess to cut the connection.

Zant was irritated at having to cut his attack short, but when he saw the President's message, he agreed that they should be going.
Cheetah
boosted max in pursuit of the slower
Ilocan's Revenge
and their prizes.

They escorted the prizes through the first jump point. Then
Cheetah
boosted max for the next jump point on their way to the mine. The jumps seemed interminable, but finally
Cheetah
emerged in the mine's nameless system, and headed for the mine at nearly 1.5G.

The prizes from Santiago had not arrived yet, probably wouldn't for several days, but already space around the mine was crowded. Cale counted seven ships being held in orbit. He wondered how the government intended to sell them, but that wasn't his problem. He had a message to deliver.

"So, what do you all think," the President asked. "Should we send on Calderon's message?"

"To hell with him!" the man speaking had been introduced as the Secretary of the Interior, though Cale had forgotten his name. "Why the hell should
we
deliver his mail?

Jessica whirled on him. "Because, Artut,
this
mail tells the Admiral to stop killing our people! Because
this
mail might help end the damned war! And because the Admiral doesn't know about anything that's happened, and he'll keep shooting until he does!"

The man she called "Artut" flushed and looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, Jessie. I ran my mouth before my brain was in gear."

She smiled. "No problem, Artut. But now we all need our brains in gear to decide the best course."

"Hell, we should send the damned message for all the reasons you've just spelled out," replied Artut. "Oh, there's a slight chance it contains some kind of secret coded message, but if our experts couldn't find one, I doubt it." Heads nodded all around the table.

Jessica turned to Cale. "Well, Cale, we appear to have decided. Would you like to make a speed run and fire off a message torp?"

Cale bowed from the waist and smiled. "Madam President, I would be delighted," he replied.

Admiral Gonzales-Villareal gasped in disbelief. First, there was the mysterious message torp, an obsolete design made on Takul almost a century ago. Then the discovery that it had contained a personal message from the President! That was all shocking enough. However, it was the message itself that told him his career was over. The damned Ilocanos had
raided
Santiago
? Where did they get the capability? They'd been seizing ships? And all the time, he had been sitting on his ass orbiting Ilocan, with his troops chasing rabbits! He would be a laughingstock; the Admiral who'd been having planning meetings over Ilocan while the Ilocanos had raided his home planet!

His orders were almost equally incredible. He was to stop all offensive operations. Easy enough; aside from a few patrols chasing woods runners, and a few cutters flying detection flights, there
were
no offensive operations.

Render all appropriate aid to the Ilocanos? What the Sheol did
that
mean? Even if he wanted to, he couldn't
find
any Ilocanos to whom he could render aid!

Finally, to immediately release all prisoners not undergoing medical treatment. Absurd! Obviously, the President did not understand that if he released a prisoner today, that prisoner would be killing Santiagans by nightfall!

Then the statement that all this was pending discussions on ending the war. And he, the senior officer in Santiago's military, who should be advising the negotiators, was sitting here two jumps away!

Well, if the message was to be believed, at least he need not expect a battle enroute to Santiago.

He exploded out of his flag cabin aboard
Furioso
, firing orders in every direction. Call the troops back from the ground. Not as simple as it sounded. First, the patrols had to be recalled, and cutters sent to retrieve them. Then there would have to be an orderly withdrawal of the outlying positions with their supplies and equipment, and finally the operational headquarters in the devastated main city of Homesafe, with
its
supplies and equipment. All prisoners to be released at the last minute, as the troops and med techs were boarding shuttles. All ships to recall any people or boats not on board and make all preparations to break orbit. Detail a ship to remain behind, with detailed instructions on permitted actions in any given circumstances. The Admiral set an arbitrary time of ten hours for the flotilla to break orbit.

They made the deadline, and boosted for the jump point at the max acceleration of the slowest ship, the converted tug, now unofficial minesweeper.

"Madam President," President Calderon beamed, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

Jessica did not return the smile. "I'm sorry I cannot say the same," she said grimly. "You asked for this meeting; what do you want?"

Calderon's smile did not waver; in fact, it widened. "Ah! You are as impatient with diplomatic niceties as I am. You know what I want. I want to discuss terms for cessation of hostilities. However, that could have been done by diplomats, or even by viewscreen. What I really hope to accomplish is to convince you to hear me out."

Jessica sighed. "
Señor Presidente
, I traveled for three weeks to meet you, including one jump. I have no other appointments this morning. I came to this recal system to 'hear you out'. Please get on with it."

Calderon's smile remained. "Good. I am glad you have no particular attachment to the niceties of diplomacy, because I intend to violate the strictest rule of diplomacy; I intend to speak only the truth.

"Madam President," he continued, "I am your villain. I personally issued the order to attack Ilocan. I did so on the advice of my council, but I am
Presidente
, and I bear the responsibility. You see, I am a career politician. I have devoted my life to finding ways to profit personally from what is laughingly called 'public service'. This war looked like an easy answer to some serious problems.

"But from Santiago's perspective, the war has been a complete disaster: an action against an unprepared opponent that was expected to be over in a week, but that dragged on into a seige of more than a year. Then, suddenly, an opponent reputed to be weak, with no spacegoing capability, turns the tables in a few months, and defeats us with an amazing ease. It is an embarrassment to everyone connected with it.

"In a little more than two years, Santiago will have their planetary elections. Politicians are cannibals; they eat their own. Despite the widespread bipartisan support we had at the start, I and my compatriots will be run out of office in disgrace, and will be replaced by candidates from the opposition party."

He saw Jessica's expression and his professional smile became genuine. "Yes, I can imagine that this will not distress you. Yet I think your celebration of our downfall may prove premature.

"Your attack on the home planet revealed to all the emptiness of our government's policies, and has forced us politicians at the top of the ladder to take a hard look at ourselves. I and several of my council have decided that though we must go down in disgrace, we will spend our remaining time in office working only for the benefit of the people of Santiago."

Jessica shook her head. "
Señor Presidente
, I neither believe nor care about your claimed epiphany, and even if I believed your claim about the people of Santiago, I would have to be remarkably gullible to believe that this newfound nobility can serve the interests of the people of Ilocan. Can we get on to substantive discussions?"

Calderon's smile finally slipped. His expression became earnest. "Believe it or not, Madam President," he replied, "I actually do have the interests of Ilocanos in mind. I beg your patience for only a few more minutes.

"My remarks were prefatory," he said. "I wished you to understand my perspective. I have come to realize that among many tragedies, the worst tragedy of the war will be its legacy. On both sides, many will hate and blame the enemy for the loss of sons, of husbands. Even loss of pride. Each of these will contribute to passing the hate along to their children and grandchildren. The hate may go on for generations. And it's all
my
fault!" he ended in a cry of anguish."

He struggled to regain control of himself. "If we can find a way to cooperate, however," Calderon continued to a now-attentive Jessica, "it might be possible to teach our peoples to forgive, and let the dead past bury its dead."

"And you know how to perform this miracle?" Jessica asked skeptically.

Calderon shook his head. "No, madam, I do not. I am told that it was accomplished following several major wars on Old Earth in the days before spaceflight. Of course, without spaceflight, there was no other place to escape to, but still, it is apparently possible.

"I ask that you work with me; join me in studying the history of Old Earth, and in working together to defuse the legacy of hatred that will otherwise consume both planets.

"Make no mistake. The people who will take over the government will be elected on a platform of hatred and revenge. They will rub the peoples' noses in the defeat and humiliation we have suffered. Reparations will be characterized as excessive, and blackmail. They will characterize any efforts at reconciliation as treason. And when they take office, you will find yourself dealing with hostile, hating officials, who will have promised their people that they will rearm and teach Ilocan a lesson. They will make it a point to display anger and contempt at every contact, and will reject any attempt at moderation or reconciliation. Anyone daring to preach moderation, like me, will be derided, and ridiculed. It is possible that in a decade or two, you could very well face another war with a rearmed and vengeful Santiago. I know these things as well as if I had seen them; they are what I would have done myself. Yet, I am in hopes that in two years we may be able to moderate or even break the cycle of hatred. I hope, I beg, that you will help me in this effort."

Jessica was looking thoughtful. Villain or not, Calderon was making sense. She had plenty of experience of the type of politician he described. Oh, she was not ready to buy this whole altruistic, humanitarian rebirth; but she vaguely remembered that wars on Old Earth sometimes made allies a few years later. "All right,
señor Presidente.
I will give your points some thought, and will do some homework. I suggest we reconvene tomorrow morning, to discuss these and the more substantive issues facing us."

Calderon looked grateful as he hurriedly agreed, suited up, and clumped into
Cheetah
's airlock.

As soon as he was gone, Cale came into the lounge from his cabin. Jessica looked up. "What do you think, Cale? Did he mean any of that crap?"

Cale hesitated before answering. Tess had displayed the entire meeting for him, and Jessica was apparently aware of it. He had asked Tess the same question, and she replied much as she had before; that Calderon's body language and demeanor showed him to be sincere. Cale parroted Tess's conclusions, and Jessica nodded. "That was my feeling, too. He really hit home with that 'legacy of hate' stuff."

"Madam," Cale began, "the main reason I volunteered
Cheetah
for this mission is that she was originally an Old Empire Viceroy's yacht. Her archives contain a whole library of history from a political viewpoint, and something called 'political science'. They're probably not up to date, but I would be happy to have Tess make those files available to you and assist in your research, if you wish."

Jessica smiled at him wonderingly. "I'd appreciate it, Cale. You know, you are something of a miracle man. You always seem to have exactly what I need when I need it!"

Jessica studied long into the ship's 'night'.

"
Señor Presidente
," Jessica said firmly as they met again in the morning. "I wish you to understand that I do not like you, and I do not completely trust you. You have been the kind of politician I have opposed all my life, and I find your sudden conversion suspect and convenient.

"All that said, however," She continued, "I find that after considerable research, I cannot dispute your logic and your conclusions. As I mentioned, I have fought that kind of politician all my life, and your predictions sound all too plausible. So, I find myself reluctantly agreeing with your suggestion. Insofar as possible, I will cooperate with you over the next two years to overcome the anger and hatred. In that spirit, I offer these terms": She picked up her tablet.

"First, of course, all offensive action will cease, and all Santiagan forces will immediately depart Ilocano space.