The Middle Kingdom (61 page)

He stared at the
starship a moment longer. It was beautiful, but both House and Seven
knew what
The New Hope
really was. No one was fooled by the
mask of rhetoric. The Dispersionists talked of it being an
answer—"the only guarantee of a future for our
children"—but in practical terms it did nothing to solve
the problem of overpopulation that was supposedly its raison d'etre.
Fully laden, it could carry no more than five thousand settlers. In
any case, the ship, fast as it was, would take a thousand years to
reach the nearest star. No,
The New Hope
was not an answer, it
was a symbol, a political counter—the thin end of the great
wedge of Change. It heralded not a new age of dispersal, but a return
to the bad old days of technological free-for-all—a return to
that madness that had once before almost destroyed Chung Kuo.

He cleared the
image and for a while sat there, conscious that they were waiting for
him to say what was on his mind. He looked from face to face, aware
that the past three years had brought great changes in his thinking.
What had once seemed certain was no longer so for him. His belief in
peace at all costs—in a policy of concession and
containment—had eroded in the years since Han Ch'in's death. He
had aged, and nbt only in his face. Some days there was an air of
lethargy about him, of having done with things. Yes, he thought,
looking down at his own long hands; the tiger's teeth are soft now,
his eyes grown dull. And they know this. Our enemies know it and seek
advantage from it. But what might we do that we have not already
done? How can we stem the tidal flow of change?

Tsu Ma broke
into his thoughts. "Forgive me, Li Shai Tung. But what of
Tolonen?"

Li Shai Tung
looked up, surprised, meeting the new T'ang's eyes.

"Tolonen? I
don't understand you, Tsu Ma. You think I should accede to the
House's demands? Is that what you're saying?" He looked away, a
bitter anger in his eyes. "You would have me give them that
satisfaction too?"

Tsu Ma answered
him softly, sympathetically. "No. Not at all, Shai Tung. You
mistake my meaning. Things have changed. Many who were angry three
years ago have cooled. They see things differently now, even in the
House."

Li Shai Tung
looked about him, expecting strong disagreement with Tsu Ma's
remarks, but there was nothing. They looked at him expectantly.

"I still
don't follow you. You mean they'd have him back? After what he did?"

Tsu Ma shook his
head. "Not as general, no. But in some other role."

Li Shai Tung
looked down sharply. It was more than he could have hoped for. But
dare he say yes? Dare he call the old rogue back?

"We are not
alone in thinking things have gone too far," said Wu Shih,
picking up on what Tsu Ma had said. "There are many at First
Level—even among the Hung Moo—who feel we gave too much;
were too timid in our dealings with the Dispersionists. They would
see the changes to the Edict reversed,
The New
Hope
melted
down."

"We daren't
go so far. There would be war, surely?"

Tsu Ma leaned
forward. "Not if we challenge them in their own sphere."

"You mean
the House?"

There were nods
all around. So, they had discussed this between them. Why? Had he
beeh so preoccupied? So unreachable?

Wei Feng now
spoke for them all. "We know the last three years have been hard
for you, Shai Tung. You have tasted bitterness and we have had to
watch in silence. But we shall watch no longer, nor hold our tongues
for fear of hurting you. We have seen the plan your advisor Shepherd
drew up and—"

Li Shai Tung sat
forward jerkily. "Impossible! No one has seen those papers!"

Wei Feng waited
a moment, then continued. "Not impossible, old friend. Not at
all. Shepherd merely took advantage of his right as equal to appeal
to us. He knew you would not act as your heart dictated, so he sent
us copies."

Li Shai Tung
stared back at him, astonished. Then they knew. ...

"And we
agree." Wei Feng was smiling now. "Don't you see, Li Shai
Tung. We agree with
Shih
Shepherd's proposals. Our enemies
have gone too far. To kill your son and take advantage from it—it
was too much for any man to bear. And a T'ang is not just any man. A
T'ang is one of Seven."

"And the
Seven?"

Wei Feng looked
about him, then back at Li Shai Tung. "In this the Seven shall
do as Li Shai Tung decides."

AS THE DOOR at
the far end of the room hissed open, steam billowed out into the
corridor beyond. Berdichev shivered but stood straighter, his skin
still tingling from the shower.

An armed guard
stood there in the doorway, head bowed, a clean silk
pau
folded
over one arm. Behind him stood two Han servants who, after a moment's
hesitation, entered the room and began to dry Berdichev with soft
towels. When they had done, he went over to the guard and took the
full-length gown from him, pulling it on and tying it at the waist.

"You have
my charm?"

The guard's head
moved fractionally, but remained bowed. "I'm sorry, Excellency.
I was given only the
pau."

Berdichev huffed
impatiently and looked up at the overhead camera. Moments later an
official appeared at the far end of the corridor and hurried to him.
The man bowed deeply, his face flushed with embarrassment, and held
out one hand, offering the necklace.

"My humble
apologies, Excellency. I did not understand."

Berdichev took
the silver chain and fastened it about his neck, closing his hand
over the smooth surface of the charm a moment. The impertinence of
these little men, he thought, making a mental note of the official's
number—so prominently displayed on his chest—before he
waved him away. Then he waited as one of the two Han brought him
antistatic slippers while the other combed and plaited his hair. Only
then, when they were finished, did Director Clarac make his
appearance.

Clarac embraced
him lightly and then stepped back, smiling pleasantly, his appearance
and manner the very model of elegance and charm. Berdichev smiled
tightly and gave the barest of nods in response to Clarac's
respectful bow. As ever, he was of two minds about Clarac's value to
the project. He was a good front man, but the real work was done by
his team of four assistants. Clarac had only to step out of line once
and he would be out, family connections or no.

Clarac's voice
oozed warmth and friendliness. "Soren! It's a real delight to
have you here as our guest."

Yes, thought
Berdichev; but I'm the last person you expected to see up here today.
I bet you were shitting your elegant white pants when you heard I was
here. Even so, Berdichev was impressed by what he had seen. The
defenses about
The New Hope
left nothing to be desired. Nor
had he had any reason to complain about the security measures
surrounding visitors to the base. He had been forced to undergo the
full body-search and decontamination procedure. And when he had tried
to bully the guards into making an exception in his case, their
officer had politely but firmly stated that there could be no
exceptions— hadn't
Shih
Berdichev insisted as much?

"Shih
Clarac," he answered, distancing the man at once and subtly
reminding him of their relative status. "I'm delighted to be
here. But tell me, what are you doing about the spy camera?"

Clarac's
momentary hesitation was telling. He was a man who prided himself on
having everything at his fingertips, but he had not counted on
Berdichev's directness. Clarac was used to social nicety. It was how
he functioned. He approached such matters slowly, obliquely, over
wine and sweetmeats. But Berdichev had no time for such "niceties."

"We know
about the remote," Clarac answered, recovering quickly. "In
fact, if you'll permit me, Shih Berdichev, I'll take you to our
tracking room."

Berdichev nodded
tersely and walked on, not waiting for Clarac, who had to hurry to
catch up with him.

"And that
gap in your defenses—the blind spot on darkside— how do
you account for that?"

Clarac did not
hesitate this time. "Our defense experts have assured me that
nothing of any real size could get through undetected. The blind
spot, as you call it, is a mere thirty degrees of arc. Our central
sensors would detect any ship coming in from five thousand li out. In
any case, no one would come from that direction. There's nothing out
there. You would have to orbit the moon in a one-man craft to get
into position. And who would do that?"

Berdichev
stopped and stared at him a moment. "Even so—"

"Besides
which," Clarac added quickly, facing Berdichev, "there's
the question of cost. To extend our defense satellite system to cover
the darkside channel would cost a further one hundred and twenty
million. The budget is already two hundred and eighty-five percent
over original costings. Our investors are justifiably concerned."

"And if one
man did just what you say is impossible and slipped in on the
darkside?"

Clarac laughed.
"If he did it would make no difference. Every air lock is linked
to Central Security. There are seals at every level. And more than a
thousand security men guarding the outer shell alone. The inner shell
is a self-sufficient unit which can be cut off at once from the outer
shell. As the engines and life-support systems are there, there's no
possibility of them being under threat. No, the only way the Seven
could get at
The New Hope
would be to try to blow it out of
the sky from below. And we've designed our defense system to prevent
just that possibility."

Berdichev
sniffed, then, satisfied, nodded and began to walk on. Beside him
Clarac began to talk about the progress they had made, the
difficulties they had overcome, but Berdichev was hardly listening.
He had seen the reports already. What he wanted were answers to some
of the things they might not have thought of. He wanted to make
certain for himself that nothing had been overlooked.

In the tracking
room he took a seat at the desk and listened while Clarac explained
the system. But all the time he was looking about him, noting things.

Interrupting
Clarac he pointed to the screen which showed the remote spy camera.
"You're certain it's not a weapon?"

Clarac laughed.
A laugh which, to Berdichev's ear, was just a touch too
self-confident.

"We’ve
scanned it thoroughly, of course. There's an engine unit at the back
of it and a whole system of foils and antijamming devices, and though
the central core of it is lead screened, our experts have calculated
that there's barely enough room for the camera unit, let alone any
kind of weaponry."

"Unless
they’ve developed something new, eh?" Clarac looked at him
and gave a slight bow, understanding that he would be allowed nothing
today. He would need answers for everything.

"I've
assumed that that might be the case. Which is why I personally
ordered that the thing should be tracked twenty-four hours a day.
I’ve two lasers trained on the aperture constantly. At the
smallest sign of unusual activity they'll blow the thing apart."

"Before it
can damage
The New Hope?"

"The
lasers are set for automatic response. The remote would be blasted
out of the sky in less than a fiftieth of a second."

Berdichev turned
his head and looked at Clarac, for the first time letting a brief
smile signal his satisfaction.

"Good. I
want nothing to stop
The New Hope
from making its maiden
flight three months from now."

He saw the
surprise on Clarac's face, followed an instant later by a broad smile
of unfeigned delight. "But that's excellent,
Shih
Berdichev!
That's marvelous news! When did the Seven agree to this?"

"They
haven't. But they will. Very soon now. By the week's end there will
be a proposal in the House. We're going to push them on this one,
Clarac. We're going to make them fulfill the promises they made three
years ago. And then we'll push some more. Until there's a whole fleet
of these ships. You understand me? But this is the first, the most
important of them. The New Hope will break their stranglehold. They
know that and they'll try to prevent it—but we must preempt
their every move. That's why it's so important things are right up
here. That's why I came to see things for myself."

Clarac bowed. "I
understand,
Shih
Berdichev. You think, then, that we should
extend the satellite system?"

Berdichev shook
his head. "No. I'm satisfied with your reasoning. As you say, it
would be impossible for a single man to do any real damage to the
craft. Let us worry about more direct approaches, eh? And for a start
let's destroy that remote. I'm sure one of our ferry craft could have
a little accident, eh? A technical malfunction, perhaps, that would
place it on a collision course?"

Clarac smiled.
"Of course,
Shih
Berdichev. It shall be
done at

FEI YEN stood in
the shade of the willow, waiting for the two princes to come along
the path that led to the bridge. She had seen their craft land only
minutes earlier and had placed herself deliberately here where they
would have to pass her. Her maids stood off at a slight distance,
among the trees, talking quietly among themselves and pretending not
to watch her, but she knew they were as inquisitive as she. For the
past three years they had shared her tedious exile on her father's
estate, where she had seen no one but her brothers and aunts. Today,
however, for the first time since the period of mourning had ended,
she had been granted permission to call upon the young prince—to
stay a week and celebrate his birthday.