“It isn’t packaged specifically for the multis, and they’d have to spend a great deal of time massaging the data to get what they wanted. By the time they did, their competitors who bought market-specific data and recommendations would have the jump on them. That’s what the local director told me, anyway.” Murikami smiled once more. “There must be something to it. IIS has been around for close to a hundred and fifty years, I’ve been told.”
“You ever work with them?”
Murikami laughed, not totally humorously. “We stay as far away as we can. They’re very friendly, and they don’t say anything. On most planets, they lease space well away from us, but they had some trouble when they showed up to take possession of an office they’d leased.”
“Their tans were too dark?”
“It is a problem here,” Murikami admitted. “No one wants to offend the Coalition government…but one of our foundations, not associated with the government, that’s another story, and Scandyan civil rights laws don’t apply to out-system aliens.”
Van nodded. The more he looked at Scandya, the less he liked the system. “Do you get many applicants for immigration to the Coalition?”
“Not anymore. There aren’t many non-Scandyan-looking individuals left here, and most of those who are won’t pass our screening.”
“What’s involved with that?”
“It’s just basic character,” Murikami said. “We don’t take most troublemakers. We don’t take the lazy. We use a standard nanite employment screen, nothing fancy, plus an interview.”
“There can’t be many who can afford it.”
“We offer a reduced fare on a Service transport, and a long-term, low-interest loan. Not many take it, but it amounts to a hundred or so individuals a year.”
In effect, reflected Van, the Coalition underwrote a troopship transit to Scandya once a year. For humanitarian reasons? Or bottom-line business, because anyone who would take those terms was intelligent and determined? “Is this a Coalition policy with all Arm systems?”
“No one seems to mind,” Murikami pointed out.
“Do you get access to the SDF?” Van asked bluntly.
“Enough. They’d prefer not to meet with me, but they don’t want to offend the Coalition. So they smile politely in front of clenched teeth—except for Commodore Petrov. He’s always been helpful.” Murikami looked at Van, the smile fading. “You know that the RSF has cut off all of the top-level military feeds to your embassy, don’t you?”
“I can’t say I’m surprised. What do you think might be the reason?”
“Normally, that means military action, and a desire to make sure that the local embassy can’t give away anything.”
Van shrugged. “I can’t imagine what sort of action we’d even be talking about. We can’t match the Coalition, the Revs, or the Argentis. If we did anything against the Keltyr or Scandya itself, I can’t imagine any of you would stand by.”
“I’m just a liaison officer. I can’t speak for the Service, but it does seem that there might be something that’s happening that you or the ambassador might understand too well if you had full information. That’s always been the past pattern of the RSF.”
Past pattern of the RSF? Van was getting a good firsthand example of why no one wanted to be on the wrong side of the Coalition. “I can honestly say that I don’t know about anything along those lines.” Van paused. “I suppose that doesn’t help. Even if I did, I’d have to say that I didn’t. But it may just be because I’m new.”
“That is possible.”
Murikami didn’t believe that, Van could tell.
“It also may be,” the major went on, “that you were posted here from an assignment where you would not know anything that might come to pass.”
“Possible,” Van agreed. “Since you have much more experience in this than I do, what should I be looking for?”
Murikami smiled. “Anything that would benefit the RSF. It might not be to the advantage of the Taran Republic or its people. That’s the problem with military forces that are too independent of civilian control.”
“The other side of the problem,” Van countered, “is that in systems where there’s too much civilian control, like Scandya, the very independence of the system is threatened.”
“That’s also true, which makes life very interesting.”
“Interesting” was another word for dangerous. “Yes, it does. What else should I know?”
“Beyond what I suggested, I can’t say.” Murikami paused. “Since we’re trading information, what should I know?”
Van fingered his chin. “You probably know everything that I’d say. Xenophobia is rising here in Scandya. The Revs are fanning it and profiting from it, but I couldn’t offer a shred of hard proof. The Argentis don’t want to occupy the system, but they might to stop a Rev takeover.”
“What about the Republic?”
“We’d like Scandya to remain independent.”
Murikami nodded. Again, Van felt that the major disagreed, but wasn’t about to dispute Van.
“We certainly don’t want the Revs in control of the system,” Van added.
“I doubt anyone does—except the Revenants themselves. That hasn’t stopped them in the past. Every year, they take another system, if not more.”
“You stopped them.”
“We did. The cost was incredible. The war almost destroyed both societies. We’d rather not see anything on that scale ever again.”
Again, Murikami was saying more than what his words conveyed.
“I don’t think anyone would,” Van replied.
Murikami smiled politely. “If you don’t have any more questions, Commander…”
Van rose. “I appreciate your time, and your information. Thank you.”
“My thanks to you for your courtesy. I wish you the best.” Murikami also stood, as if following Van’s lead.
Once outside the Coalition major’s office, Van walked toward the foyer. The door to the IIS office was closed. Van could sense that it was empty. He had to wonder about the foundation. As he left the building and headed toward the groundcar, Van couldn’t help but frown. Murikami didn’t at all fit the profile of an Eco-Tech officer. He was far too direct and forthright, but did that mean that he was unusual, or that the Coalition trained the liaison officers to step outside their cultural profiles? Either way, that bothered Van. The man had wanted something
