“The pleasure is truly mine,” Van replied, in Hispyn, “and I appreciate your kindness in seeing me with so little notice.”
“You speak Hispyn with almost no accent, Commander, and that is most rare for a fighting officer.” Marti smiled. “They all say that you are an accomplished battle commander.”
“I am better described as competent and fortunate, and can only hope that the Lady Fortune continues to smile upon me.”
Marti smiled broadly. “You know Cameros?”
“You have unmasked me. His words are better than mine,” Van confessed.
The Argenti officer laughed. “You are indeed unlike your predecessor. He was a man of few words, and those were brief.”
“He may have been wiser than I,” Van suggested. “We Tarans have the weakness of loving words more than silence.”
“Learning is sharing, and one cannot learn if one offers nothing to share, and words are the manner in which one must share knowledge.” Marti stepped toward the doorway that opened onto a small terrace, more of a miniature garden. “I had thought we might enjoy the morning. In another few weeks, it will be too hot.”
Van followed the colonel. The two settled into the chairs on each side of a white-enameled wrought-iron table in the shade of the wall. Even before they had fully seated themselves, the aide who had greeted Van appeared with a tray, on which were two steaming cups of café.
“Commodore Petrov had mentioned that you were a café drinker, like me, and so I took the liberty…” Marti offered, raising his own cup.
“Thank you.” Van sipped. The café was good, with a slightly nutty taste. “This is good. Is it Argenti? It tastes close to what I have had…”
“Alas…no.” Marti tilted his head slightly. “I should say it is not directly Argenti. It comes from a plantation begun by Baron Byrnedot. He was a most amazing man. He was actually Scandyan, but he became a member of the Argenti diplomatic corps. That was common then. Before his assassination he had established the café plantation near the old governor’s residence. It is still there, and after matters settled down, we purchased the land back. The Scandyans were happy to receive cold credits for what they saw as close to worthless hillside land.”
“It must have been sometime later.”
“A mere hundred years.”
Van laughed at the dry tone.
“The baron had also established an agreement with the Farhkans to trade observational details for certain technologies to be established on Gotland. After his assassination, the rebels repudiated the agreement.” Marti smiled ironically and took a sip of café.
“He had set up an agreement with the Farhkans?” Van took another sip of café.
“I can assure you that it is accurate. The baron was not killed by Argenti agents, either. That would not have been in our interests.”
“The Scandyans claim he suggested the rebellion. That was in your interests?”
“What is claimed and what occurred may not always be the same,” Marti said. “You may be aware of this from your own experience.” The hint of a twinkle appeared in his dark eyes.
“It has come to my attention that this happens,” Van admitted. “So…why did you not attempt an agreement with the Farhkans directly after that?”
“The Farhkans were not interested. That is what the diplomatic archives say. We also know that the Farhkans have rebuffed all attempts since then. So far as we can determine, they have agreements only with the Coalition. Although those have become most limited in recent years, they have been a matter of long-standing concern.” Marti shrugged. “Were those agreements with the Revenants, the concerns would have been far greater, you understand.”
“That I do.” The very thought of the Revenants with any advanced alien technology left Van feeling very cold. “Who were the rebels, then? You’re suggesting that neither the Argenti government nor thoughtful Scandyans wanted a revolt.”
“You wonder why I bring up history to an officer who has just become a military liaison?”
“I think I understand,” Van replied, “but it might be better to hear it in your words.”
“And wiser, no doubt. Very well…Three hundred years ago, the Taran Republic was struggling to survive. The Keltyr had scarcely colonized four systems. The Coalition and the Revenants were locked in a fight to the death. In part, because we were aware that the raciogenetic background of the Scandyan colonists was somewhat different—”
“Is that a polite way of saying that they had lighter skins?” Van asked with a laugh.
“That, and a different cultural outlook,” Marti admitted. “We made concession after concession here in Gotland. We even wrote off the planoforming costs of Malmot. Taxes were lower here than in the central Argenti systems.” Marti looked blandly at the Taran commander.
“It would certainly seem that the Scandyans had no real reason for a revolt, and the Argentis were clearly trying to avoid provoking one,” Van concluded.
“Exactly my thoughts. They have been the thoughts of many over the years. Yet there was a revolt, and it was in someone’s interests, and those perhaps only looked like they were Scandyan.”
Van knew all too well what culture looked like the Scandyans—the Revenants.
“Ah…but we should not dwell in too much detail upon the past,” Marti said, his point made. “How are you finding Valborg?”
“Cooler than home. Sulyn. It’s one of the warmer Taran planets.”
“You prefer the warm?”
“I prefer reasonable cool, whenever possible.”
“Gotland will be to your liking in the winter, but you will care little for the months ahead.”
“So I have heard. How long have you been stationed here?”
“Three years. I arrived several months after Commander Cruachan. Did you know him?”
“I’d never met him. Had you run across him before?”
“No. We met for the first time here on Gotland. He was a most polite and courteous officer. Reserved, but most correct. We had little in common except our profession and our assignments. He liked to sail, and I have always preferred the heights. He was little interested in women—he said he had never married—and I brought my wife
