“Is there a state faith in the Republic?” asked Marti.
“No. Not unless it’s the blind worship of wealth and power.”
“You see?” Marti laughed, gently.
Van didn’t have to feign confusion.
“You do not wish to see, but you will,” Marti added. “Because you are what you are, you will not be able to avoid it.”
“I’ll take your word for that.”
“That is most kind of you.” The general’s voice conveyed gentle irony. “So few do these days. It will be generations before the Revenant problems are resolved, if they ever can be, and doubtless my successor will insist that I could have done everything better.” He snorted. “Of course, today, no one has any suggestions. But, after I fail, there will be many who insist they did.”
“I don’t see you as failing,” Van said.
“It does not look that way. For that, I am grateful, but…one must take care not to delude oneself. We have millions of people who believe and cannot think if anyone raises a single word that conflicts with that faith. We have millions to whom the word of an ancient deity must be followed to the last syllable, even if it means killing or enslaving those who are exactly like them, except for their faith. And those who have been enslaved know—from their bitter experience—that one cannot reason with millions of fanatics. One can only kill them.” Marti shrugged. “What am I to do? What is any general to do? I cannot command the resources to isolate and educate every child of each side for generations—and that is what is necessary.”
Van nodded slowly. He wasn’t certain he agreed fully, but Marti had a definite problem.
“It is barbaric. It is cruel. But who is to say that if the flare that destroyed Orum had occurred five hundred years earlier that the Arm would not be a more peaceful and worthwhile place?”
“You don’t mean that.”
“My friend, that I do. How many millions have died? How many millions have had their lands, their businesses, and their children taken from them? We are human. We do not ever wish to admit that some people and some beliefs will always lead to evil and cruelty. We believe, or we convince ourselves, that in some way, if we could only reach such fanatics, that we could change matters. But one cannot reach an entire culture of fanatics. When such a culture has grown as vast as the Revenants did, the result is always death and disaster, if not by a solar flare and then by our fleets, then eventually by disintegration and collapse and greater violence, dragging down an even wider net of peoples. Let us just say that the Revenants had learned to create such flares. Then what could others expect? If we, the Argenti, obtained such power, would you trust us?”
“Probably not,” Van replied.
“Good, because I would not. Nor would I trust the Coalition. And, pardon me, my friend, but I would certainly not trust the Republic in these days and times.”
With that, Van certainly agreed, as he slowly finished the remainder of his duck. He hadn’t fully trusted the Republic as it had been. He took another sip of the ale.
“But…my friend,” Marti said with a smile. “I have been far too serious, and in this uncertain Galaxy, who knows when we will next share a meal. Did I tell you that next month my wife and I will get a week together? And that I do not intend to talk of ships and sealing wax, or faith or fleets…?”
“You deserve that time together.” Van thought that Marti deserved more than that and hoped that the general would get it. He tried not to think about Marti’s words about how some cultures were doomed to create evil, tried to avoid equating them to the RSF and the Republic.
Chapter 89
Van closed the stateroom door, although he remained fully linked to the shipnet. The Joyau had come out of jump from Neuquen well outside all system bodies, and well clear of all system traffic. The marginal standing wave equipment had taken in three short messages from IIS headquarters. Two had been quick updates on Nynca’s efforts.
In turn, Van had sent his own updates. He’d scanned Laren’s other message, but he wanted to read it again, even though he was so tired that his eyes were beginning to blur. He called it up and began to read. Certain phrases and paragraphs leapt out at him.
…reports confirm that the Keltyr warships that survived the initial Revenant-Republic assault were later destroyed to the last man and vessel. RSF sources claim the Keltyr ships refused to surrender…some doubt of that…likely that surrender was not allowed…RSF has not disclosed its own losses to date.
…martial law remains in force on all Keltyr planets. All out-space installations now held and controlled by the RSF…
…Keltyr political leaders and families allowed to depart Keltyr systems…reports indicate that departure was not voluntary in all cases, but no political deaths have been reported.
Van understood that. Without political deaths, there were no martyrs, and seldom did the deaths of military forces generate much political unrest. He didn’t like the rest of the implications, not at all. But he couldn’t dictate to the Republic.
From what he’d seen recently, no one was successfully dictating much to anyone.
He stood and walked to the bed. He could use some sleep. After a moment, he lay back back on the wide bunk. He closed his eyes, still thinking, although he remained linked to the shipnet. The Joyau still had a good four hours on the inbound leg before he would need to be in the cockpit.
Marti’s words kept coming back to Van…“If we do nothing, nothing changes…None of the Keltyr ships survived…one cannot reason with millions of fanatics…one can only kill them…some beliefs and some people will always lead to evil and cruelty…always lead to evil…always lead to evil…”
Always? Were people that stupid and shortsighted?
Van tried not to yawn. It
