Chapter 42

Thandi Palane stared at the two young women perched on the bed in the crew compartment Thandi and Victor had taken for their own. Berry and Ruth were trying to maintain, as best they could, an air of casual relaxation. Almost nonchalance, as if they advanced such proposals every day of the week.

They weren't pulling it off, though. Not even close. Both of them—especially Berry—were obviously tense.

"You're nuts," Thandi pronounced. "Let me explain some realities to you. I'm a lieutenant. Okay, a first lieutenant with as much experience as you'll find anywhere. But I still have neither the training nor the experience to do what you're asking of me. I'd probably blow it, and . . ."

The words trailed off, as Thandi fought down a surge of anger. Not that I don't think I could do it—if those snotty bastards who run the SLN had ever given me the opportunities they give their pets. Until Captain Rozsak came along, anyway. 

She shook it off. Her resentments at the class elitism of the Solarian League were neither here nor there, as far as the immediate issue at hand was concerned. Facts were facts, whether they should be or not.

"I'm not what you need, Berry. It's as simple as that."

Berry looked distressed—very—and looked away. Thandi saw tears coming to her eyes, and felt a sudden and profound pang of guilt. The kind of sharp pain that a big sister feels when she realizes she's let down her little sister.

Ruth, on the other hand, seemed to perk up. However close she and Berry had become, the two had very different temperaments. Berry was essentially a problem-resolver; Ruth, a woman who loved a challenge. Put both of them in front of a cliff, and Berry would start trying to find a way around it—while Ruth would start scrutinizing the face, looking for handholds.

"You're quite mistaken, Lieutenant Palane. You're exactly what Berry needs. Queen Berry, founder of the House of Zilwicki, monarch of a small, newly created nation, I should say—because that's the concrete situation we're dealing with. And that's what you're overlooking."

Thandi started to argue, but broke off. "Explain," she said curtly.

"Nobody's proposing that you suddenly become elevated to lead the armed forces of a major star nation in the middle of a war, Lieutenant. Yes, that would be insane, even if you were the reincarnation of Napoleon or Alexander the Great. Although I will point out that both men were very young when they arose as great commanders." She held up a hand, forestalling Thandi's response. "But, yes, even at the start of their careers of conquest, neither of them had been restricted to the training and experience of a small unit commander. So what?"

Ruth couldn't contain her energy any longer. She rose and began pacing. It was a bit comical, given that the compartment was small and her paces were energetic. She reminded Thandi of a pensive hamster in a cage, scuttling back and forth as she tried to cohere her thoughts.

"Look, Lieutenant. It's obvious that the foreign policy of Berry's new nation is going to be simple, when it comes to war. Congo—whatever name they pick for it—will be scrupulously neutral toward everybody except Mesa. So, as commander of the armed forces, your task will not be that of leading large forces in a sprawling multi-sided war. Your task will be quite different. First, preparing and then leading a war against a planet of scumbags and adventurers—"

Thandi laughed. It was something of a caw. "Will I now? Don't you think Jeremy X will have something to say about that?"

Ruth shook her head, very firmly. Still pacing—scuttling, rather. "Of course he will. So what? He'll he perched to the side, as Secretary of War. Your immediate boss, sure—but not part of the military. Besides, Jeremy strikes me as a man who cares about results a lot more than he does the perks and petty privileges of being a big shot. Do you really think he'll meddle that much—especially after you start handing him some Mesan heads on a platter?" She paused in her pacing. "Speaking figuratively, of course."

Not all that figuratively, thought Thandi savagely. A memory came to her, of a Mesan outpost she'd passed through once as she was reporting to a new assignment. The planet was named Kuy, and wasn't much more than a large mining operation run by one of Mesa's major combines, using Manpower slaves as the primary work force. Thandi had been traveling via civilian transport, paid for by the Marine Corps. She'd spent two days there, after being dropped off, waiting for a connection to take her to her final destiny.

It had been a grim experience. Not a surprising one, of course, for someone born and raised on Ndebele.

Kuy's not far from here, now that I think about it.  

For a few moments, images flashed through her mind. How she'd plan and lead an assault on the planet. To do it properly would require a battalion-sized force, but she was quite sure she could manage that. A few warships—small ones would do—to clear away any pickets and capture any Mesan commercial vessels in orbit.

I'd need to start building a Navy. Get someone to do it, rather, since I don't know squat about naval stuff. Zilwicki's been using the Anti-Slavery League's frigates as a training force . . . there ought to be somebody there by now. . . . 

She pictured the control center of the mining operations, with the guard unit's barracks next to it. Flatten those, right off. Hard and fast. There'd be some slaves killed too, but that's the way it goes. There aren't many located there anyway. The slaves are kept mainly in their own compounds—and in the mines, of course. But once the control center and the guards are taken out . . . 

She could do it. She knew it. Easily, in fact. And that was a major mining operation, no dog hole. It'd hurt Mesa. And—still better—free at least two thousand slaves in the process.

Need to start thinking about transports, too.  

She shook her head, throwing off the fierce little reverie. Ruth was back to her pacing, throwing off words like a hamster scattering wood chips in a cage.

"Piece of cake, that kind of war—for you. What you didn't know, you'd grow into. And if you need or want advice, Manticore can send you advisers. I'll make sure of that, if you ask for them. My aunt'll listen to me, too—you watch."

Berry choked. "Is that before or after she tosses you into the Chateau d'If?"

Ruth Winton, going full bore, was not someone to be stymied by petty obstacles. She waved her hand, as if shooing away flies.

"Not a problem. She'll listen to me through a keyhole, if she has to—especially after I point out that the alternative is for Congo to get Havenite advisers. Or Andermani advisers. Or Solarian advisers." Ruth looked triumphant. "Not that I'll have to point it out, anyway, because my aunt is no dummy and she'll have figured that much out already. Although I will toss in the little tidbit that Thandi's boyfriend is a Havenite secret agent, so it's not like she'd have any trouble getting in touch with the Republic."

It was Thandi's turn to choke. "Uh . . . Ruth, I hate to tell you this . . . I'm not positive, because Victor's very close-mouthed about it. But I'm pretty sure he's been operating on his own, out here, and bending whatever orders he had into a pretzel. So Victor's just as likely to be talking to whoever's running the show in Haven through a keyhole too, once he returns."

Ruth still wasn't fazed. "So what? Politics can be greased by personal influence, but it still runs according to its own logic. You're not thinking. An independent planet of ex-slaves fighting a war with Mesa can call in a lot of favors, Thandi. And, where favors won't do it, can play one end off against the middle. Manticore will send you advisers just to keep Haven—or the Andermani, or the Solarians—from doing it. Besides . . ."

The young woman paused again, her eyes growing a little unfocused. "It's hard to figure yet, but . . . I don't think you understand—not sure any of us do—just what an impact this is going to have on the Manticoran public. Especially the Liberals. And there are a lot of Liberals in the Star Kingdom, Thandi. Forget New Kiev and that crowd, I'm talking about the rank and filers, the average voter. The ones who're starting to gravitate toward—"

She pointed a dramatic finger at Berry. "Her mother. Goddamit, Thandi, think about it! New Kiev's been dragging the Liberals through mud for years. Now—suddenly—something bright and sharp and clean comes along. A cause. The kind of cause any Liberal—and plenty of other people, too—can get excited about." She was almost cackling, now. "I wouldn't be surprised to see volunteers start showing up on Congo. That's happened before in history, you know, plenty of times. And some of them will have military experience. Not to mention that High Ridge's policies have left plenty of officers on the beach—good ones, too. Some of them will come too, just from being bored if nothing else."

"That's assuming the truce between Manticore and Haven lasts. If war breaks out again, forget it."

"So? In that case, the pressure on either star nation to out-influence the other on Congo just increases. Either way, Thandi, there are so many angles you've got to be able to play one of them."

She shook her head. "But all that's something of a side issue, because the main reason Berry needs you as the head of her armed forces has nothing do with foreign affairs. She needs somebody she can trust. And whatever else you might or might not be capable of, the one thing Berry won't have to worry about is that you'll carry out a coup d'état."

Thandi grunted. "Why should she assume that?" She gave Berry as hard a look as she could manage. Which . . . was not easy, meeting those open, limpid young eyes. "I'm ambitious, girls. That's why I left Ndebele—whored myself to do it, when I had to. That's why I jumped at the chance to join Rozsak's staff, even though . . . Well, let's just say that not every assignment the captain's given me tastes all that good. But I swallow it anyway. And I'll do it again."

But, even as she spoke the words, she could feel the harshness in her tone fading away. Till, at the end, there was nothing left except . . .

A very bad taste. Not the taste left by any specific act or deed in her past, but simply the sour, acrid taste of ambition itself. It came to Thandi Palane, with something of a jolt, that she really didn't like ambition. She'd latched onto it simply as a tool to escape her past—and, since then, because she had no idea what else to do with her life.

She was still staring into Berry's eyes. The tears in those eyes were gone, now. All that was left was that clear gaze which Thandi realized—with the same jolt—she would miss desperately once it was gone.

"I got curious once," Berry said softly, "so I did a little research of my own. Names on Ndebele usually mean something, I found out. Yours does. 'Thandi' means 'I love this girl.' "

Thandi swallowed, remembering a father—briefly, before he died—who'd been drunk most of the time, but had never been cruel to her. And who'd always tried, when he could, to give her presents on her birthday. And a mother . . . tired, beaten down, who had just seemed to finally fade away.

"Just a romantic moment," she rasped. "It didn't last, I assure you."

"You don't believe that, Thandi, any more than I do. There was a time of hope. Not just a moment. That it didn't last is no excuse for surrendering hope itself. Only cowards do that, and you're no coward."

Thandi tried to look away, but couldn't. Berry's calm eyes seemed to have her fixed. Before the girl's next sentence was even spoken, Thandi knew what it would be—and that it would pin her like a butterfly.

"I love this woman. And I want her—no one else—to be my shield and my sword arm, and my boon companion."

Thandi's own eyes were watery. "I'll have to think about it."

"Sure," said Berry, smiling like a cherub.

"I'll need to talk to some people," Thandi added. "Victor. And . . . I've got to talk to the captain, too. I owe him that much. He should be arriving today, back from Smoking Frog. And Jeremy. And Professor Du Havel."

"Sure," echoed Ruth, smiling like Machiavelli.

Her conversation with Victor on the subject was brief. He heard what she had to say. Then replied, very softly:

"You'll have to decide for yourself, Thandi. Frankly, I wouldn't trust my own advice, if I were you. The reason is probably obvious."

She swallowed, and nodded. It was obvious to her, also. Victor Cachat, whatever else might change about him, would always remain a partisan and a fighter for his own people. A Havenite, through and through. If Thandi gave her allegiance to the new star nation being born . . . a scrupulously neutral nation, except for its war with Mesa . . .

Whatever else, Victor and I would never find ourselves on opposite sides. And—I could keep seeing him!  

She tried to suppress the sheer joy that thought gave her. Her life had trained her to be cold-blooded, after all. Even if she was sick and tired of it—as much as she was of ambition.

Still . . .   

"Would you come and visit me?"

"Every chance I got," he said huskily. "I love this woman, too."

Her discussion with Jeremy X and Web Du Havel was lengthier, but not much. That also took place in her own compartment. This time, with Thandi perched on the bed, Du Havel sitting on the chair she'd occupied earlier, and Jeremy lounging easily against the door.

"I'd insist on incorporating my Amazons into the new army," she stated, as soon as the preliminaries were over. Firmly, almost harshly. "As well as any other former Scrags—or anybody else—who emigrates and wants to enlist. And not in their own separate unit, either. Take it or leave it. That condition is nonnegotiable. Assuming I decide to agree."

Jeremy shrugged. "No argument."

"From me, either," said Du Havel. "In fact, I support the idea. It'll cause us plenty of rough moments, of course, integration always does. But . . ." He eyed the very large and imposing woman sitting across from him, and smiled. "On the other hand, I dare say you'll manage to handle the disciplinary problems involved."

"You'll need someone else in charge of naval forces. I'm not trained for that. Wouldn't even know where to start."

"I'll check with Anton Zilwicki," said Jeremy. "I know he's been training at least three Ballroom people. One of them could probably do it—on the scale we're talking about, anyway." He paused for a moment, frowning, then shrugged. "I could be wrong, too. But if he doesn't have one of our people he thinks is ready now, he and Cathy certainly have the contacts to find us someone who's up for the job. And who we can trust. It's not as if our new 'navy' is going to amount to much, anyway, so we should certainly have the time to grow our own officer corps from within, I'd think. Privateers, in all but name—and that's not going to change all that fast. Warships—real ones—are fiendishly expensive, and we're going to start off the way freed slaves always do. Flat broke."

"It might change faster than you think," demurred Du Havel. "I've been studying the economic figures available for Congo, as many as I've been able to track down. Which isn't much—and that's significant in itself, because it means it's been a gold mine for Mesa and they're keeping it hidden. That planet is potentially rich, Jeremy. The market for pharmaceutical products isn't going to go away. And I don't believe for one minute that Mesa's brutal methods for extracting the wealth are necessary. They just use up people because it's easy for them, and it's their way of doing business. Give us a few years—fewer than you think—and we can start producing more wealth using civilized methods than Mesa ever did with whips and chains. We'll be able to afford warships, be sure of it. Enough to match Mesa, anyway."

He looked at Thandi. "Not immediately, of course, so that's a problem you simply don't have to worry about. And as Jeremy just suggested, by the time you do, you'll have grown into the job."

Thandi cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "And why are you so sure I can? You barely know me, Professor."

Du Havel shrugged. "I know more about you than you think, Lieutenant Palane. False modesty aside, I am an excellent scholar. And there's about as much information available on you as there is on Congo—and, likewise, what's most intriguing is what's absent."

Thandi's eyes were wide. "How the hell did you find out anything about me? I'm quite sure that SLN Marine Corps records aren't being made available to the public."

"Of course not. But you're forgetting that Watanapongse's personal computer does contain that information, and that it's been hooked into the Felicia's network for weeks now." He cleared his throat, delicately. "Ruth Winton tells me that the lieutenant commander's security is very good. But not, of course, up to snuff. Not with her around."

"She hacked into his data banks? That girl is crazy!"

"Crazy or not, she'd undoubtedly be a contender if hacking were an Olympic event. I spoke with Anton about it recently, and he thinks she'd bring in the silver medal. He'd take the gold, of course."

Du Havel cleared his throat again, less delicately. "The point being, Lieutenant Palane, that I know a great deal about you—insofar as records can tell you anything, at least. But what's blindingly obvious is that if you didn't suffer from the handicap of being born on Ndebele, you'd be much farther along in your career. As it is, Captain Rozsak has you tagged in the records for—this is a quote—'agreed; advancement as rapid as possible.' That's in response to a recommendation from Lieutenant Colonel Huang, the commander of Rozsak's Marine forces. Who, by the way, has one of the most impressive records there is in the entire SLN Marine Corps. Between Rozsak's opinion and Huang's, I don't see any reason for me—or Jeremy—to have many doubts. The only real issue, frankly, is your lack of higher command experience. But, there, I agree completely with Ruth—yes, we've talked about it."

Du Havel glanced at Jeremy. "And so have Jeremy and I. The overriding question here, Lieutenant Palane, is simple. Your loyalties are really all that matter. Neither I nor Jeremy—certainly not Berry—is in the least concerned about your experience."

"That—loyalty, I'm speaking of—and your detachment from politics." That came from Jeremy, who was giving her a stare which was not hostile, but so flat-eyed that Thandi could understand the man's reputation for ruthlessness. Only Victor Cachat, in her experience, could match that empty-eyed manner of gazing at someone.

"I shall be blunt, Lieutenant Palane. The one and only concern of mine is that you not meddle in the internal politics of the new nation we'll be creating. Professor Du Havel and I—God knows how many others—will be mucking up those waters quite sufficiently, thank you. The one thing we cannot afford, in the middle of it, is an armed force whose commander is doing the same."

Thandi set her teeth, mulishly. "I'm not taking my distance from Berry. Anything else, fine. Politics doesn't much interest me, anyway. But don't ever think for a moment that you'll be able to separate me from her."

Jeremy grinned, the flat-eyed killer's look vanishing like the dew. "I should hope not!" he exclaimed. "Or else this whole silly business of setting up a queen is a waste of everybody's time."

"He's right, Thandi," agreed Du Havel. "If you were familiar with the math, I could even prove it to you. Those equations are about as well-established and accepted as any in political science. There's nothing that gives stability to a nation—especially, keeps its military in line—than a solidly established pole of loyalty which stands above and apart from the fray of politics. It can be a royal house, or a revered constitution—anything, really, as long as it's solid in custom and tradition. In law, too, of course. But law is just custom and tradition congealed into code, and ultimately derives its strength from them."

"You—we—wouldn't have such customs," Thandi observed.

"No, we wouldn't. Not for a time—and you and Berry, together, will buy us that time. You'll do much more than that. The two of you, together, will establish traditions and customs, which will become those of the new star nation."

He smiled, gently. "Trust my judgment on this, will you, Thandi? The close personal bond which has grown between you and Berry Zilwicki may well be the single factor which works most in favor of the long-term success of our project. It's still too early—too many variables, yet—for me to translate that into mathematical calculation. But I suspect that's true."

"So do I." Jeremy's smile was not gentle at all. "It might interest you to know, Thandi Palane, that my Ballroom gunfighters are beginning to adopt some foreign customs of their own. From Scrags, no less—excuse me, 'Amazons.' I've now heard several of them—ones newly arrived on the Felicia, mind you, not the ones who came with you—refer to you simply as 'the kaja.' It seems your reputation is spreading."

"Indeed," said Web. "It all bodes quite well, Lieutenant. Difficult enough for anyone—even ruthless killers like Jeremy or scheming maneuverers like myself—to seriously contemplate the overthrow and murder of a girl like Berry Zilwicki. Add to the mix a commander of the armed forces who is her big sister and goes by the nickname of 'great kaja' . . ."

Du Havel's smile was now the oddest one Thandi had ever seen. That of a cherub and a Machiavelli combined. "I dare say that, whatever else in the years to come, we won't have to worry about a coup d'etat."

"Don't even think about it," Thandi grated.

"You see?" demanded Jeremy. He shuddered, histrionically. "Look! I'm already purging the evil thought!"