what his young barbarian mind chose to ignore. “Son, don’t you see? We span all Human Space, but we can’t manage whole civilizations. You’d need a race of loving slaves to do it. And we Qeng Ho will never be that.”
Pham forced himself to look back into Sura’s eyes. She had argued this since the beginning, and never wavered.I should have known it would cometo this someday. So now she would lose, and Pham could do nothing to help her. “I’m sorry Sura. When you give your speech, you can say this to a million people. Many of them will believe. And then we’ll allvote. And—” And from what he had seen in the Great Hall, and what he saw in Sura Vinh’s eyes… for the first time, Phamknew that he had won.
Sura turned away, and her artificial voice was soft. “No. I won’t be giving that speech. Elections? Funny that you should be depending on them now…. We’ve heard how you ended the Strentmannian Pogrom.”
The change in topic was absurd, but the comment touched a nerve. “I was down to one ship, Sura. What would you have done?” I saved theirdamn civilization, the part that wasn’t monstrous.
Sura raised her hand. “I’m sorry…. Pham, you are just too lucky, too good.” She seemed almost to be talking to herself now. “For almost a thousand years, you and I have worked to make this meeting. It was always a sham, but along the way, we created a trading culture that may last as long as your optimistic dreams. And I always knew that in the end, when we were all face-to-face in a Grand Meeting, common sense would prevail.” She shook her head, and a smile quavered. “But I never imagined that luck would give you the Namqem debacle so perfectly timed—or that you would master it like magic. Pham, if we follow your way, we’ll likely have disaster here in Namqem within a decade. In a few centuries, the Qeng Ho will fragment into a dozen dozen conflicting structures that all think themselves ‘interstellar governances.’ And the dream we shared will be destroyed.
“You’re right, Pham. You might win the election… and that’s why there won’t be one, at least not the kind you think.”
The words didn’t register for a moment. Pham Nuwen had been exposed to treachery a hundred times. The sense for it was burned into him before he’d ever seen a starship. But… Sura? Sura was the only one he could always trust, his savior, his lover, his best friend, the one he’d schemed with for a lifetime. And now—
Pham looked around the room, his mind undergoing a change-of-ground more profound than any in his life. Besides Sura, there were Sura’s aides, six of them. There were also Ratko and Butra and Qo. Of his own assistants—there was only Sammy Park. Sammy stood a little off to the side; he looked sick.
Finally, he looked back at Sura. “I don’t understand… but whatever the game, there’s no way you can change the election. A million people heard me.”
Sura sighed. “They heard you, and you might have a bare majority in a fair election. But many you think supported you… are really with me.”
She hesitated, and Pham looked again at his three children. Ratko avoided his gaze, but Butra and Qo looked back with grim steadiness. “We never wanted to hurt you, Papa,” Ratko said, finally looking at him. “We love you. This whole charade of a meeting was supposed to show you that the Qeng Ho could not be what you wished. But it didn’t go the way we expected—”
Ratko’s words didn’t matter. It was the look on his children’s faces. It was the same closed stoniness of Pham’s brothers and sisters, one Canberra morning. And all the love in between… a charade?
He looked back at Sura. “So how do you propose to win? With the sudden, accidental death of half a million people? Or just the selective assassination of thirty thousand hard-core Nuwenists? It won’t work, Sura. There are too many good people out there. Maybe you can win this day, but the word will remain, and sooner or later, you’ll have your civil war.”
Sura shook her head. “We’re not killing anyone, Pham. And the word won’t go out, at least not widely. Your speech will be remembered by those in the hall, but their recorders—most are using our information utilities. Our free hospitality, remember? Ultimately your speech will be polished into something… safer.”
Sura continued, “Over the next twenty Ksec, you will be in special meeting with your opposition. Coming out of that you will announce a compromise: The Qeng Ho will put a much greater effort into our network information services, the sort of thing that can help rebuild civilizations. But you will withdraw your notion of interstellar governance, convinced by the arguments of the rest of us.”
A charade. “You could fake that. But afterwards, you’ll still have to kill a lot of people.”
“No. You will announce your new goal, an expedition to the far side of Human Space. It will be clear that this is partly out of bitterness, but you will wish us well. Your far fleet is almost ready, Pham, about twenty degrees back along the Gap. We have equipped it honestly and well. Your fleet’s automation is unusually good, far more expensive than what would be profitable. You won’t need a continuous Watch, and the first wake-up will be centuries from now.”
Pham looked from face to face. Something like Sura’s treachery could work, but only if most of the Fleet Captains that he thought supported him were really like Ratko and Butra and Qo. And then only if they had set up proper lies with their own people. “How… long have you been planning this, Sura?”
“Ever since you were a young man, Pham. Most of the years of my life. But I prayed it would never come to this.”
Pham nodded, numb. If she had planned that long, there would be no obvious mistakes. It didn’t matter. “My fleet awaits, you say?” His lips twisted around the words. “And all the incorrigibles will surely be its crew. How many? Thirty thousand?”
“A good deal less, Pham. We’ve studied your hard-core supporters very carefully.”
Given the choice, who wanted to go on a one-way trip to forever? They had been very careful to keep those supporters out of this room. All but Sammy. “Sammy?”
His Flag Captain met his eyes, but his lips were trembling. “Sir. I’m s-sorry. Jun wants a different life for me. We—we’re still Qeng Ho, but we can’t ship with you.”
Pham inclined his head. “Ah.”
Sura floated closer, and Pham realized that if he pushed off, he could probably grab the handle on her chair and ram his fist right through her scrawny quilted chest.And break my hand for the effort. Sura’s heart had been a machine for centuries. “Son? Pham? It was a beautiful dream, and along the way it made us what we are. But in the end it was just a dream. A failed dream.”
Pham turned away without responding. Now there were guards by the doors, waiting to escort him. He didn’t look at his children. He brushed past Sammy Park without a word. From somewhere in the still, cold depths of his heart, something wished his Flag Captain well. Sammy had betrayed him, but not like the others. And no doubt Sammy believed the lies about a far fleet. He hoped that Sammy would never see through them. Who would ever pay for a fleet such as Sura described? Not crafty merchants like Sura Vinh and her stone-faced children and the others who had plotted this day. Far cheaper, far safer to build a fleet of real coffins.My father would haveunderstood. The best enemies are the ones who sleep without end.
Then Pham was in a long corridor, surrounded by guards who were also strangers. His last vision of Sura’s face still hung in Pham’s imagination. There had been tears in the old woman’s eyes. One last fakery.
A tiny cabin, mostly dark. The kind of room a junior officer might have in a small temp. Work jackets floated in a closet bag. A lapel tag whispered, and a name floated in his eyes:Pham Trinli.
As always, when Pham let the anger fill him, the memories were more vivid than any huds, and the return to the present was a kind of mocking. Sura’s “far fleet” had not been a fleet of coffins. Even now, two thousand years after Sura’s betrayal, Pham still could not explain that. Most likely, there had been other traitors, ones with some power and some conscience, who had insisted that Pham and those who wouldn’t betray him must not be killed. The “fleet” had been scarcely more than refitted ram barges, with space for nothing but the refugees and their coldsleep tanks. But there had been a separate trajectory for each ship of the “fleet.” A thousand years later, they were scattered across the width and height of Human Space.
They had not been killed, but Pham had learned his lesson. He had begun his slow, silent journey back. Sura was beyond mortal reach. But there was still the Qeng Ho that he and she had created, the Qeng Ho that had betrayed him. He still had his dream.
…And he would have died with it at Triland, if Sammy had not dug him up. Now fate and time had handed him a second chance: the promise of Focus.
Pham shook away the past, and readjusted the localizers at his temple and in his ear. There was more work than ever to be done. He should have risked more face-to-face meetings with Vinh before now. With good feedback drills, Vinh could learn to handle shocks like this crazy Nau interview, without giving everything away. Yeah, that
