Old Man's War Boxed Set 1 (84 page)

“You need to tell me
how,
” I said.

“Fine,” Rybicki said, and did.

“How are you?” I asked Jane, in the Black Box.

“I don’t want to knife people anymore, if that’s what you’re asking,” Jane said, and tapped her forehead, signifying the BrainPal nestled behind it. “I’m still not happy about this.”

“How could you not know it was there?” I asked.

“BrainPals are remotely activated,” Jane said. “I couldn’t have turned it on myself. Rybicki’s ship sent out a search signal; the signal woke up the BrainPal. Now it’s on. Listen, I’ve gone through the files Hickory gave me.”

“All of them?” I asked.

“Yes,” Jane said. “I’ve been completely made over and have the BrainPal. I can go back to Special Forces processing speed.”

“And?” I asked.

“They check out,” Jane said. “Hickory has video and documentation from Conclave sources, which is suspect. But he has corroborating material for each case, from Obin sources, from the races whose colonies were removed and from the Colonial Union, too.”

“They could all be faked,” I said. “It could be a monumental hoax.”

“No,” Jane said. “The Colonial Union files have a verification hash in the metatext. I ran them through the BrainPal. They’re genuine.”

“Certainly gives you an appreciation for ol’ Hickory, doesn’t it,” I said.

“It does,” Jane said. “He wasn’t lying when he said the Obin wouldn’t send just anyone to be with Zoë. Although from what I can see from these files, it’s Dickory who is the superior of the two.”

“Jesus,” I said. “Just when you think you know a guy. Or gal. Or creature of indeterminate gender, which is what it is.”

“It’s not indeterminate,” Jane said. “It’s both.”

“What about this General Gau,” I said. “Do your files have anything on him?”

“Some,” Jane said. “Just the basics. He’s Vrenn, and what he says in the extended tape of ours appears to be correct; after the battle with the Kies he began agitating to create the Conclave. It didn’t go over at first. He was thrown into prison for political agitation. But then the Vrenn ruler met an unfortunate end and the general was released by the next regime.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Assassination?” I asked.

“No,” Jane said. “Chronic sleep disorder. Fell asleep while eating and fell face forward on his dinner knife. Penetrated the brain. Died instantly. The general probably could have ruled Vrennu but decided to attempt the Conclave instead. He still doesn’t rule Vrennu. It wasn’t even one of the Conclave’s founding members.”

“When I was talking to Rybicki, he said that the Conclave was a pyramid scheme,” I said. “Some of the races at the top were getting the benefits and those at the bottom were getting pissed on.”

“Maybe,” Jane said. “From what I saw in the files the first colony worlds the Conclave opened up were populated by relatively few races. But whether that was indicative of some races getting an advantage, or of matching the races to the planet, is not something I could tell you. Even if it is the former, it’s not any different than what’s happening here. This colony is entirely settled by the oldest human colonies, the ones that existed before the Colonial Union. Ethnically and economically they’re nothing like the rest of the colonies.”

“Do you think the Conclave is a threat to us?” I asked Jane.

“Of course I do,” Jane said. “These files make it clear that the Conclave will destroy a colony that doesn’t surrender. Their mode of operation is always the same: Fill the sky with starships and have every single one fire on the colony. Major cities wouldn’t survive
that, much less a colony. Roanoke would be vaporized instantly.”

“But do you think it’s likely?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Jane said. “I have better data than I did before, but the data are still incomplete. We’re missing the better part of a year of information, and I don’t think we’re going to get any more. Not from the Colonial Union, anyway. I can tell you right now I’m not cleared to see the Colonial Union files that Hickory gave me. And no matter what, I’m not inclined to surrender the colony without a fight. Did you tell Rybicki what we know?”

“No,” I said. “And I don’t think we should tell him what we know, either. At least not yet.”

“You don’t trust him,” Jane said.

“Let’s just say I have concerns,” I said. “Rybicki didn’t go out of his way to offer up anything, either. I asked him if he thought the Conclave would let us just walk away from this planet if we wanted to, and he suggested that they wouldn’t.”

“He lied to you,” Jane said.

“He chose to respond differently than total honesty would dictate,” I said. “I’m not sure that’s exactly a lie.”

“You don’t see that as a problem,” Jane said.

“I see it as tactical,” I said. Jane smiled at the reversal of our earlier conversation. “But it also suggests to me that we may not want to swallow every line he gives us. We’ve been maneuvered before. I don’t doubt we’re being maneuvered again.”

“You sound like Trujillo,” Jane said.

“I wish I
did
sound like Trujillo,” I said. “He started off thinking all this was about a political scuffle he was having with the Secretary of Colonization. At this point, that seems adorably quaint. Our situation is like a puzzle box, Jane. Every time I think I know what’s going on, suddenly there’s another layer of complications. I just want to get this damn thing solved.”

“We don’t have enough information to solve it,” Jane said. “All of Hickory’s information checks out, but it’s old and we don’t know whether the Conclave policies have changed, or whether they’re solidifying their power or falling apart. The Colonial Union hasn’t been forthcoming with us, but I can’t tell if that was malicious or if it was choosing what information to provide us so we could do our job without distraction. Both the Conclave and the Colonial Union have an agenda. But neither agenda is clear from any of the data we have, and we’re stuck in the middle.”

“There’s a word for that,” I said. “
Pawn
.”

“Whose pawn, is the question,” Jane said.

“I think I know,” I said. “Let me tell you the latest wrinkle.”

“I can think of about a dozen different ways that could go wrong,” Jane said, after I finished.

“Same here,” I said. “And I’d be willing to bet they’re not the same dozen.”

A week after arriving in the Roanoke sky, the CUS
Sacajawea
headed for Phoenix, carrying with it 190 of the former crew of the
Magellan
. Fourteen crew members stayed behind; two had married colonists in the interim, another one was pregnant and not wanting to face her husband, one suspected there was a warrant waiting for him if he returned to Phoenix, and the other ten simply wanted to stay. Another two crew members also stayed behind; they had died, one through a heart attack and another through a drunken misadventure with farm machinery. Captain Zane had said his good-byes to all his living remaining crew, promised he’d find a way to get them their back pay, and then lit out. He was a good man, but I didn’t blame him for wanting to be back in CU space.

When the
Sacajawea
returned to Phoenix, the
Magellan
crew members were not allowed to go home. Roanoke had been a largely unexplored colony world; its flora, fauna and diseases were unknown and potentially lethal to the unexposed. The entire crew was to be quarantined in a wing of the CDF medical facilities at Phoenix Station for a standard month. Needless to say the
Magellan
crew came close to rioting at the news. A compromise was reached: The Magellan crew members would remain in quarantine,
but each would be allowed to contact a small number of loved ones on the condition that loved ones kept quiet about the crew’s return until the CU officially released the news that the lost colony of Roanoke had been found. Everyone, crew members and family, happily agreed to the terms.

Needless to say, word of the
Magellan
’s crews’ return leaked instantly. News media and colonial governments who tried to learn more were met with official denials from the CU government and unofficial warnings that publishing the news would lead to impressively negative consequences; the story officially remained buried. But word spread among the families of the
Magellan
crew, and from them to friends and colleagues, and from there to the crews of other civilian and military spaceships. The story was quietly confirmed by members of the
Sacajawea
crew, who, despite having landed on Roanoke and all having been exposed to members of the
Magellan
crew, were not under quarantine themselves.

The Colonial Union does not have many allies in known space, but it has a few; soon enough the crews of allied ships heard of the return of the
Magellan
crew as well. These crews manned their ships and traveled to other ports, some of which were not at all friendly to the Colonial Union, and some of which belonged to members of the Conclave. It was there that some of these crew members transmuted their knowledge of the return of the
Magellan
crew into ready cash. It was no secret that the Conclave was looking for the lost colony of Roanoke; it was likewise no secret that the Conclave was happy to pay for reliable information.

Some of those who volunteered information found themselves encouraged by the Conclave, in the form of genuinely unspeakable amounts of wealth, to discover just where in the universe the
Magellan
crew had been all this time. This information would be difficult to come by, which is why the reward was so unimaginably high. But as it happened, shortly after the
Sacajawea
returned
to Phoenix Station, its assistant navigator was fired for being intoxicated at his post. The officer now found himself on a blacklist; he would never again travel the stars. A fear of destitution plus a desire for petty revenge caused this former navigator to let it be known that he was in possession of information he had heard others would be interested in, and would be willing to share it for a sum he felt would make up for the wrongs he had suffered at the hands of the Colonial Union’s civilian space fleet. He got the sum; he handed over coordinates for the Roanoke colony.

Thus it was, just three days into Roanoke colony’s second year, a single ship appeared in the sky above us. It was the
Gentle Star
, bearing General Gau, who sent his compliments to me as the colony leader and bade me to meet him to discuss the future of my world. It was the third of Magellan. According to the intelligence estimates of the Colonial Defense Forces, begun before the “leak” was set into motion, General Gau was right on time.

“You have lovely sunsets here,” General Gau said, through a translator device slung on a lanyard. The sun had set some minutes before.

“I’ve heard this line before,” I said.

I had come alone, leaving Jane to manage the anxiety-filled colonists at Croatoan. General Gau’s shuttle had landed a klick from the village, across the stream. There were no homesteads here yet. At the shuttle, a squad of soldiers eyed me as I walked past. Their demeanor suggested they did not consider me much of a threat to the general. They were correct. I had no intention of trying to harm him. I wanted to see how much of him I recognized from the versions of him I had seen on video.

Gau motioned gracefully at my response. “My apologies,” he
said. “I don’t mean it to be insincere. Your sunsets actually are lovely.”

“Thank you,” I said. “I can’t take credit for them; I didn’t make this world. But I appreciate the compliment.”

“You’re welcome,” Gau said. “And I am pleased to hear that your government made information about our colony removals available to you. There was some concern that it would not.”

“Really,” I said.

“Oh yes,” Gau said. “We know how tightly the Colonial Union controls the flow of information. We worried that we would arrive here, you would know nothing of us—or know something incomplete—and that lack of information would cause you to do something irrational.”

“Like not surrender the colony,” I said.

“Yes,” Gau said. “Surrendering the colony would be the best course, in our opinion,” Gau said. “Have you ever been in the military, Administrator Perry?”

“I have,” I said. “Colonial Defense Forces.”

Gau looked me over. “You’re not green,” he said.

“Not anymore,” I said.

“I assume that you commanded troops,” Gau said.

“I did,” I said.

“Then you know that it is no shame to surrender when your forces are outnumbered, outgunned and you face an honorable adversary,” Gau said. “One who respects your command of your people and who would treat you as he would expect you to treat his own troops, if the situation were reversed.”

“I regret to say that in my experience in the CDF, the number of opponents we faced who would have taken our surrender was rather small,” I said.

“Yes, well,” Gau said. “An artifact of your own policies,
Administrator Perry. Or the policies of the CDF, which you were obliged to follow. You humans are not especially good at taking the surrender of other species.”