I took Megan and Hopie with me, of course. Megan wasn’t easy about the matter, but she didn’t want to send me in alone or give any public impression of doubt. She bore, after all, a certain responsibility.
Thorley’s comment didn’t help: “The liberal set may be about to experience the end product of their naïveté.” Naturally he considered liberalism to be three-quarters of the way toward Communism and liked to imply that the true liberal would be a Communist if he only had the courage of his convictions. That sort of insinuation could work both ways, of course; the conservatives were sometimes equated with the dictatorship of the Sixth Reich, this century’s incarnation of the historical Nazi party. With no more justice.
I had been ten years on Jupiter, after fifteen in space; I experienced a panoply of nostalgic impressions as the chartered shuttle ship jetted outward to rendezvous with Ganymede. Gany was physically the largest moon in the Solar System, popularly called a planet to distinguish it and the other giants—Io, Europa, and Callisto orbiting Jupiter, Titan orbiting Saturn, Triton about Neptune, and, of course, Earth’s Luna—from the myriad bits and pieces that drifted everywhere. Basically a body was called a planet if gravity-shielding could bring its settlements to normal Earth gee. Pluto, technically a planet, was marginal because of its small size, but it didn’t matter; only research stations were there. Old Earth had had a similar problem with the definition of islands and continents.
We never saw Io, but as we passed the vicinity of its orbit I shivered; it was there that my mother had died, aground in the sea of sulfur storms that was Io’s hell-face. It was there that I had first seen the picture of Megan. Rationally I doubted the significance in that juxtaposition of events, but emotionally it was one of the guideposts of my life. Megan, too, seemed absorbed, and I knew she was thinking of her Uncle Mason, the scientist, a good man. On that we emphatically agreed.
Then she put her hand on mine. I turned to face her and saw her eyes shining with tears. Then her face blurred, and I knew my own tears were flowing. In that moment I saw her as the beautiful girl of sixteen whose picture I had glimpsed, and my love for that girl expanded from my protected inner heart to encompass my whole body and being, and hers.
“Mush stuff!” Hopie protested, and I realized I was kissing Megan. I brought the little girl up to share our embrace.
A gunship came out to meet us and escort us to the planet. If there had been protests to the establishment of the Jupiter Embassy at this end, none was in evidence. We tuned in the Gany newscast, which showed a massive crowd cheering the opening of the embassy compound.
I knew better. Spirit and Shelia had done some spot research for me, and the news was not good. The premier of Ganymede was a temperamental fanatic, a natural orator, devoted to his family and capable of lasering to death a companion without notice. He had forced out his predecessor, then executed him on a trumped-up charge. A minor bloodbath had followed, as supporters of the prior regime had been systematically eliminated. But over the years, as he had come to terms with the realities of his planet’s situation, he had become more moderate. Ganymede was dependent on Saturn for its weapons and most of its technical equipment. Gany’s major cash crop, sugar, was boycotted by Jupiter. Saturn bought the sugar but didn’t need it, which put Gany in an inferior position. Saturn made various demands, and these were increasingly onerous as Gany’s economic situation deteriorated. Gany was locked into the Saturn orbit economically, but socially it was no mutual admiration society. This opening of a Jupiter Embassy, in fact, was being done at Saturn’s behest, in exchange for a similar one Saturn was opening with the Rings. The Saturn Rings had been taken over by the last vestige of a former government of South Saturn, driven out by the present one, and represented every bit as much aggravation to Saturn as Gany did to Jupiter. So it was a major exchange deal, promising to significantly ease inter-planetary tensions. Jupiter had pressured the Rings to accept the Saturnine presence, as Saturn had pressured Gany to accept Jupiter’s. Therefore the Gany premier deeply resented it, as did his counterpart of the Rings. He didn’t like being told what to do, even if it did make sense on the larger scale. He should have been the one to decide to reopen diplomatic relations with Jupiter—had he wanted to. I understood his position.
Now Gany would be exchanging ambassadors, setting up its own embassy on Jupiter. This would, of course, be another outlet for Saturn’s activities in New Wash. All the personnel of the Gany Embassy would be hand picked by Saturn, and all would be Saturnine agents. There would be no contacts between Jupiter and Gany not sanctioned by Saturn. It was, in short, a sham, just as the exchange of embassies between Saturn and the Rings would be. All the key parties understood this; only the ordinary people were ignorant, as perhaps they deserved to be. But it was a potential avenue to peace, so was perhaps justified.
Naturally I was expected to keep my opinions to myself. But it had occurred to me that I just might make the contact genuine. That was the real challenge of my position that President Kenson also had not mentioned, consummate politician that he was. He had in effect thrown me into the lion’s den, giving me opportunity to tame the lions and so increase my power—or to be destroyed by them. Double or nothing. Megan was right: a man did not achieve high position if his hands were entirely clean; he had to know how to scheme and flatter and put a fancy face on ugly business. Kenson was obviously a master at this—and I was learning much. The System powers were playing a devious strategic game, and it was difficult for the underlings to grasp the full significance of the position of each pawn. But somehow I was not completely satisfied to be a pawn.
We arrived at the dome-city of Vana with due fanfare. The premier himself was on hand at the old docking port, stepping forward to shake my hand vigorously and put an arm around my shoulders in a display of public camaraderie. Then the cameras were turned off and the premier departed, hardly bothering to notice me further. I knew why; he did not like being a pawn, either, and he hoped to encourage me to leave as soon as possible. It had to be my choice, though; nothing that could be traced to any failure on his part. He wanted to be able to express sincere public regret at my decision to vacate. The situation reminded me of that of the railroad companies’ treatment of their passengers.
We were conducted to the embassy compound. It was an old fortress, later converted to a prison, converted again to diplomatic use. The back wall was notched by the burns of laser beams: prisoners had been executed here. I hoped Megan would not recognize its nature but feared she did, for she hurried Hopie on past the wall.
The main building was a warren of tiny cells, and in some there were manacles attached to wall mountings. In one there were white bones. Very little effort had been made to conceal the prior use of this place. The campaign of private discouragement was definitely on.
We had a small household and office staff—Shelia, Ebony, and Coral—but were expected to hire locals for most of the maintenance work. This turned out to be an awkward chore. Megan did not speak Spanish, and it seemed that none of the eligible employees spoke English. In addition, they were a slovenly bunch, by no coincidence completely unsuited for the kinds of work we required. We needed a governess for Hopie, as this was the diplomatic style; the Vana employment service sent us five candidates, all of whom were middle-aged males. I called in and explained the problem, and they promised to locate some more suitable candidates. But somehow nothing happened. This was typical; it seemed that the city of Vana was very short of English-speaking cooks, maids, and handymen. We had to make do for the time being without local employees, which made a bad impression.
The power was erratic, tending to fade out at the most awkward times, such as when Megan was trying to cook in the antiquated kitchen. Even the gee wavered, making our stomachs unsettled. At times there were piercing noises of adjacent construction. In addition, it was difficult to go out into the city freely; we immediately picked up an entourage of grim-looking men carrying laser rifles. “For your security, señor,” one e
xplained when I inquired, but somehow they seemed more menacing than protective. We made a household rule: Not one of us went out without being accompanied by Coral, who could demolish half a dozen men in about as many seconds if the need arose. She carried an amazing arsenal of assorted weapons, none of which showed. What did show was her comely figure, so that few Ganys believed she was dangerous, though they knew her function.
In addition, we suffered an immediate flood of defectors, who claimed to be fleeing political oppression and who demanded sanctuary. Now, this is a legitimate function of an embassy. It is considered planetary ground of its sponsoring planet, and very few powers ever violate that privilege. But I knew even before I interviewed these people that they were impostors sent by the Gany government to make my position untenable. We lacked the facilities to care for this mass of a hundred or so people, and they were not about to make our job easy. We would become a zoo, with the animal gates open.
Quick and firm action had to be taken, but I knew the local authorities would not cooperate. So I arranged for a stiff test of motive. I placed an interplanetary call to a person I knew. Theoretically the call was private; actually I knew it was monitored by the locals. The call was to the Jupiter Naval Base at Leda, routed through the Jupiter base on Ganymede, Tanamo. As an ambassador I had the authority to make such calls, and as a retired Navy man I knew whom to reach. There was a six-second delay each way, because of the distance; thus there were twelve-second pauses in the dialogue.
“Ambassador Hope Hubris to Captain Emerald Mondy,” my opening went. There was a delay of a good minute while the Navy ran her down; then her face appeared on my screen. Emerald was a decade older than I remembered her; she was my own age, but somehow I thought of her as I had known her personally, unaged.
At forty one she was not the lithe and angular creature she had been; her brown face had filled out, but she retained the slightly rebellious expression I remembered. She had once been my wife; we had separated for tactical rather than emotional reasons, as was often the case in the Navy. Of course she remembered me well; no doubt she had kept track of my political progress over the years. Her words alluded mischievously to the time of our intimate association. “What can I do for you, Ambassador, that wouldn’t gripe your spouse and mine?”
“You can contact Rue for me and ask her to approve immigration of approximately one hundred defectors seeking political asylum from Ganymede,” I said. “If the Belt will take them, then I’d like a transport ship dispatched here to pick them up.”
Emerald considered, after the transmission pause. “I’m sure the Belt will take them,” she said. “The Belt is always short of men. I will start the scutwork and have a ship dispatched in forty-eight hours. But, you know, Ambassador, it’s not exactly cushy living in the Belt, especially for untrained recruits. How many speak English or French?”
“None,” I responded. “They’ll just have to learn. Thank you, Emerald; give my respects to Rue.”
“I won’t give her those,” she replied with mock severity. “She’s still hot for you, Captain, and she’s only thirty, you know. Lot of juice left in her.”
I smiled as the connection ended. Emerald had always been a blunt speaker. She was also a strategic genius, which was why I had married her. She had risen in the Navy much as I had risen in politics, in fits and starts, but I was sure she had not yet seen her apex. She was likely to become the first female admiral of this century. Rue, on the other hand, was not in the Navy. That name was short for Roulette, for she had been in a pirate band that ran big-time gambling. She had been my final wife in space, the most stunningly beautiful woman, physically, I had ever known, fiery of hair and temperament. At age thirty, she would indeed still be lovely. She was now the wife of Admiral Phist and was the Belt’s liaison to Jupiter. I had excellent connections in these women.
Next, I spoke to the refugees assembled in our compound. “You will all be pleased to know,” I informed them in Spanish, “that I have arranged for your expeditious emigration to the Belt, where you will find gainful employment at the prevailing wages. Of course you will have to learn one of their languages, and it will take some time to learn the ways of the sparse planetoids, but you will be forever free of Ganymede, so I know you will find it worthwhile. The transport ship will dock at Tanamo in two days, and you will be given clearance to board it there.”
My announcement was greeted in silence. I left them to their thoughts.
Within a day all of them were gone.
My bluff had worked. Genuine defectors would have accepted the deal; provocateurs on the Gany payroll could not afford to. There had never been any ship dispatched; Emerald had played along with me, knowing that I knew it could not be done that way. Only direct presidential authorization could have moved out those defectors that promptly. But those who had monitored my message had not realized that, and certainly the pseudo-defectors hadn’t.
Emerald was a good woman. I trust it in no way diminishes Megan if I confess that there are times when I remember my Navy wives and associates with pleasant nostalgia. We understood each other in ways that only personnel of the Navy would understand.
But I had solved only one problem; others remained. When Hopie screamed at night, and we rushed into her room to discover a rat scrambling away from the light, I decided it was time to take action. Rats—in a planetary dome? That could hardly be by chance. Those creatures had to have been bred elsewhere and placed there. Hopie moved into our bedroom, and I pondered morosely.
By morning I had worked out a program. “Megan, I want you to learn to sing some songs in Spanish,” I said. “Can you do this quickly?”
She knew I was up to something, and such was her distress at the situation that she did not question it. “If you tell me how to pronounce the words.”
I went to the local library with Coral and did some research. At first there were objections, but I showed my credentials and charmed the library clerk, and she helped me locate what I needed and copy it. I could not be denied access to the library, and, of course, I was not regarded as very important in the practical sense; this gave me the freedom I needed.
Megan had no trouble learning the songs; she had been a professional singer, after all, and still possessed a remarkable voice. I was trusting that the premier did not know that.
I called him. Naturally I got through only to the barrier office. I announced that the Jupiter ambassador was coming that evening to pay a social call on the premier, and bringing his family to meet the premier’s family. I cut off before the functionary could protest.
And so, self-invited, we called on the premier. Even a sham ambassador has some leverage; I could make a most unkind headline that would arouse both Jupiter and Saturn, if openly snubbed. After the matter of the defectors, the premier knew that I would do just that. He, of course, had known I was bluffing about the shipment to the Belt, but had he intervened, it would have tipped his hand. Perhaps at that point he had begun to appreciate the quality of the opposition. Also, I knew the premier would be intrigued by my temerity in visiting and would be braced for my complaints about the embassy facilities. He would look for an opportunity to further humiliate me, if he could do so without directly soiling his hands. I intended to provide him that opportunity.
Everything was very proper as we arrived. There would be no open show of animosity here. The premier was ceremonially garbed, and his wife accompanied him to the door to greet us. I sized her up immediately: she was a decent woman, in awe of her husband but closely guarded in her heart. I knew she had suffered things she could not utter.
We were treated to a fine meal, and the premier was genial, though he watched me carefully. He wanted me to make my move before he made his. We conversed in Spanish, leaving Megan out of it. I had warned her that it would be this way, and she bore it with grace.
As the meal ended I said, as if casually, “But where is your son? I understood you had a son.”
The premier almost glowered but caug
ht himself. Now he knew I knew, and his anger intensified. “He is indisposed, Ambassador.”
“But I promised my little girl she could meet your son, I exclaimed innocently. “She will be most disappointed—” My words were polite, but my stare advised him that I intended to have my way in this.
The premier’s teeth showed in what was barely a smile. His wife had generally remained out of public view, and his son was never exhibited. There was good reason for this; it was an extremely sensitive matter. Natives of Gany had been executed for acting less brashly than I was now, but the mantle of Jupiter protected me no matter how obnoxious I became.
“Fetch Raul!” the premier snapped at his wife as we adjourned to the parlor. Surely he was picturing me against the execution wall and aiming the laser himself.
She brought Raul. He was a boy of about ten, thin and small, and he walked mechanically, only when urged. When released, he stood by himself before the room’s piano and twisted his fingers in front of his face, tuning out the rest of the planet. He was, as I had known, autistic—the secret shame of the family. By my insistence on seeing him I had let the premier know I could tacitly blackmail him, for the Jupiter press was not censored in the manner of the Gany press. I could demand better service at the embassy and get it now.
“Go meet Raul,” I told Hopie. I had warned her privately what to expect. She was only five but pretty savvy for the age, perhaps possessed of some talent similar to mine. I knew Raul was harmless if treated diffidently, though the wrong approach could provoke a savage tantrum. The premier was so tense, he was having trouble maintaining his composure.
“You know, my wife sings,” I remarked. “She’s really quite good. Would you like to hear her?”
The premier had little interest in music, but his wife did. He grasped at this straw, to divert attention from the autistic child. “Yes, yes,” he agreed gruffly. “Let her sing.”