“But in a way it was futile. Everyone but me died anyway. And it’s still blood.”
“It is,” Trystin agreed, looking squarely at Van. “Every minute of every day, we spill the blood of something, either directly or indirectly. And we know it. We try to repress it, to sanitize it. But to live, an animal must kill, and shed blood, directly or indirectly. Even in a high-tech society, we do it. We just do it indirectly. We take the resources and use them. What we take someone else cannot use. Oh…it’s more sanitary that way, but it’s still killing.”
“I’m not sure I…Aren’t you justifying the Revenants? They’re direct, and they’re honest in that way. They’ll lie, steal, and murder to expand their systems…Anything that will maximize their survival and expansion.”
“No. Ethics is the progress away from murder, from destruction and rapine, toward the indirect methods of survival that disturb other life and other cultures the least. The goal is to use technology to recreate life in harmony—
“Every so-called utopia has ended up a dystopia. It can’t be done.”
“You may be right,” Trystin said quietly. “But isn’t it worth the blood? Isn’t it worth the struggle?”
Van paused. Isn’t it worth the struggle? Wasn’t that really what life was all about? “So…tell me again how what IIS, how what we’re doing makes it better?”
Desoll shook his head. “You tell me. Tell me how what you did in Islyn or Beldora or New Oisin makes a better Galaxy.”
“I don’t know that it did,” Van protested. “In Islyn, all I ended up doing was salvaging as much of our assets as I could. In Beldora, I destroyed three Revenant ships and a bunch of mining tugs…”
“You kept the Revs from bombarding the planet and killing most of the population. Three ships for an entire population. Wasn’t that an improvement?”
“Only for the moment. I couldn’t stay around. The Hyndjis might send some ships to stop a second attempt.”
“In the end…everyone dies. All we can do is what we can do now.”
For Van, that didn’t seem like near enough.
“You don’t think that’s enough?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You might as well have,” Trystin pointed out. “It was inscribed on your face.” He paused. “I’m going to ask you to do what you just indicated you wanted done.”
“What?” Van was confused.
“I’ll get to that in a moment.” Trystin fingered his chin. “Would you say that ethical civilization is in danger now? In grave danger?”
“Danger? Yes. Grave danger…I don’t know.”
“Danger of destroying all that has been built up here in the Arm?” pressed Trystin.
“I don’t think we’re in that much danger now.”
“Let’s see,” mused the older man. “The Coalition has refused to act against the Revenants for so long that the Revs have been able to build up huge and hidden fleets. They’ve taken over system after system, either through economic or military means. In effect, through pressure and fear, they’ve subverted your home system, and are now in the process of smashing and taking over the Keltyr systems. Now…you could make an argument that this conquest isn’t necessarily bad—that it is a necessary means to a good end.” Trystin smiled ironically. “Do you think that the Republic is a better, fairer, and more ethical place to live now than it was a generation ago?”
“No.”
“Do you think most people would rather live under the Revenant theocracy?”
“No. But that doesn’t make it a grave danger to all humanity in the Arm.”
“It doesn’t?” asked Trystin. “When the end result will be self-destruction of the higher ideals and the subjugation of reason and tolerance to the code of an outdated deity?”
Van just waited to hear what more Trystin had to say.
“Self-destruction comes in many forms. One of the most deadly is when ethical collapse is combined with technological advancement. You can study all of human history, and that pattern is the most deadly. Almost invariably, it results in massive devastation.”
“So…you seem to have an idea. Just what are we going to do—with our three ships that aren’t quite light cruisers—against the Revenants and all their massive fleets?”
“The Coalition is massing its fleets, isn’t it?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s on standing wave.” Trystin smiled coldly. “The Coalition cannot afford to wait any longer. They’ve already waited too long. The Revenants have been building fleets and hiding them in uninhabited systems—like this one. If there is an all-out war, and unless we can influence its outcome, the destruction and devastation will be massive and will drag in all the inhabited systems in the Arm.”
“What can we do about it?” Van asked again, wishing Trystin would get to the point.
“We’re going to fry their entire communications network. All their standing wave transmission capabilities, and all in-system communications in the Jerush system.”
Van just stared at the older man.
Trystin smiled.
“Even if that were technically feasible,” Van said, “how would the Revs ever let us close enough to do that?”
“It is feasible, and possible. It’s an offshoot of the energy transmission project I’ve been working on. Focused properly, it can stir up enough of a jumpspace flux to disrupt all communications in a system, and the feedback and returned energy will burn out any transmitter that they attempt to use for days, perhaps weeks.”
“And we’re the only ones who can undertake this heroic and near-impossible mission?” Van couldn’t blunt the sarcasm in his voice.
“No. We’re the only ones who will. If you and Nynca will help.”
“Where is she?”
“She just finished her jump. The Salya should be here in, say, three hours. Then I’ll outline how we’ll do it.” Trystin stood. “Go get something to eat and get some sleep. Once we get started, you won’t have a chance for much of either.”
Van stood. Again, Trystin radiated confidence, but there was something behind that confidence. Sadness? Was that it? Van wasn’t sure, but why would Trystin be sad about disrupting
