“I’m very glad to see you, Commander.” Ambassador Rogh had faded red hair, a cheerful smile, green eyes, and a deep and reassuring voice, the kind that suggested that he was eminently trustworthy.
Van distrusted the voice and the man, but that wasn’t new. After the Regneri incident, he’d come to realize that trusting any politician, civilian or military, was foolhardy and dangerous, if not usually occupationally fatal. “I’m here, Ambassador Rogh. Dr. Hannigan has indicated that we may be in for most interesting times.”
As Meg MacDonagh stepped back, slipping out and closing the door, Ambassador Rogh nodded to the chairs before the hearth, with its replicated fire. “We need to chat, Commander.”
Van waited until the older man eased into the chair facing the closed door before he seated himself.
“Your ultimate superior—the marshal,” the ambassador began, “he believes that the best remedy for the uncertain situation here in the Scandya system would be a full RSF squadron orbiting Gotland and another orbiting Malmot. He doesn’t have one squadron to send. So he sent you.” A wintry smile crossed Rogh’s face. “Just by arriving here, you delivered a message. The only problem is that we don’t know who the recipient is.”
“Message, ser?” asked Van politely.
“I know all about the unidentified cruiser you took out. Doubtless every embassy in Valborg knows, and certainly Marshal Kenaal does. Kenaal won’t be displeased, because you did what he’d like to have done but doesn’t have the resources for. Making you the senior military attaché sends a second message, but it’s one we can’t back up. That leaves you—and me—in a very exposed position, Commander.”
“Can you tell me what happened to the Collyns, ser?”
Rogh frowned, an expression of considerable annoyance.
Van continued to smile, politely, waiting.
“I would…if I could. The marshal has not seen fit to inform me. Not so far. I had thought you might know.”
“The Fergus was ordered here to replace the Collyns, but we received no information beyond that.”
“We’re in the same ship, then, Commander.” Rogh laughed again, but the laugh faded quickly. After an interval of silence, he spoke again. “I’m sure that Ian told you about my preference for diplomatic solutions, or solutions that involve methods other than military might.”
“He did.”
“Part of that reflects Ian’s own preferences. I feel we must avoid a military approach, not because I am philosophically opposed, but because a military solution is impractical for two reasons. First, it could only destablize an already polarized local government. Second, we cannot raise forces anywhere close to the size of the Revenant and Argenti forces that could be brought to bear here—or against us. That means we must tread with care, using your expertise…and reputation…as an implied statement of position, and not as a direct threat or confrontation…”
Van nodded.
“You will be working more closely with Cordelia Gregory than with the other secretaries. She is the second secretary, and she is an expert in trade and economics. Unlike poor Ian, she understands both the military capabilities and limitations. I will warn you, however, that she is not the greatest supporter of the RSF.”
“Oh? Why would that be?”
“It would be better if she told you.” Rogh stood. “It’s good that you’re here. We’ll need to chat in more detail, in a day or so, once you’ve struggled through all the briefing materials and have a better understanding of the situation. But I did want to see you as soon as you arrived.”
Sean Bulben was once more waiting for Van in the outer office, although Van had not sensed any messages being sent to the fourth secretary.
“I’ll show you your office…then we’ll set up your security codes and passes…and do the same for your quarters…. Once you’re settled, of course, you’ll take control of the embassy security systems and codes. I had to do it, because…well…no one else wanted to.” Sean smiled apologetically.
Van had no doubts that the afternoon would be very long, as would the days that followed.
Chapter 8
By the end of eightday, four days after his arrival in Valborg, Van’s head was splitting. Learning the procedures and systems on a new ship was simple compared to all the economic, local military, and related cultural and political information he’d been expected to assimilate. He’d reset the embassy security systems and made some changes to the operating parameters. Those changes had been met with amused tolerance by the professional staff—and he hadn’t told anyone about the overrides that only he could use. The worst part was that so much of what he’d had to study contained equivocations and qualifications that made him cringe.
He also doubted that anyone truly understood the conflicts and the seesaw balance of power between the two political parties of Gotland—except perhaps Premier Gustofsen.
He glanced around his office—almost a mirror duplicate of Hannigan’s, even to the placement of the table desk and chairs and the built-in wall bookcase, although there were far fewer volumes, and some shelves were totally bare. After taking a momentary break, he looked back at the words on his office console screen….
…while ostensibly an open society, the Scandya system planets have consistently denied access to alien species. Most puzzling was the immediate and adamant denial of relations with the Farhkan Colloquy following independence, since the Farhkans have had a long history of disinterested study and noninvolvement in human societies…later analyses suggested that Scandyan leaders were concerned that the observational program agreed to by the Eco-Tech Coalition during the war between the Coalition and the Community of the Revealed had resulted in fundamental and undesirable impacts upon Eco-Tech culture and that Scandya did not wish to suffer a similar fate. This tentative conclusion remains unproven, but whether unproven or not, the position of Scandya with regard to nonhuman aliens remains unchanged, although the Farhkans have not made any effort to reopen the question…
Van rubbed his forehead. Could the ship that had attacked the Fergus been Farhkan? No…the
