Van laughed.
She offered an exaggerated shrug, one that asked what else Van would have expected.
“You didn’t say why you wanted to meet,” Van finally said.
“To suggest that everyone wants to weaken Scandya, but each in a different way.”
“What do you get out of telling me this?” Van asked.
“The hope that you’ll report it to both the RSF and your ambassador. If the Republic and the Keltyr work against those efforts, we might be able to stabilize this place. Stable and stronger, Scandya will keep the Argentis and Revs off-balance.”
“What about the Coalition?”
“They’re lasers tuned to the invisible light. We know that, and maybe you do. Anyone who’s messed with them in the last two centuries has ended up dead or worse. Individuals, I mean. That’s the level they operate on. People who hatch plans against them die, vanish, explode, burst into flames—the list is pretty long. But they’ll do anything to avoid an out-and-out war. They’d even let half the Arm go up in flames, in a Rev-Argenti war, so long as their half wasn’t touched.”
“And only you—Kelts—know that?”
Salucar laughed harshly. “Your RSF knows it. So does Argenti SS. The Revs have known it longer than anyone—since the reappearance of their prophet. That was a miracle no one expected. It probably has something to do with what the Coalition has gotten by cooperating with the Farhkans, but neither the Eco-Techs nor the Farhkans are saying, and they haven’t for almost three centuries.”
Van fingered his chin. He didn’t think Salucar was lying. His implant, and his instincts, told him that she believed totally what she was telling him. But, like him, she could use the truth, and she was probably better than he was at it. She’d had more practice.
“Are you saying that the Coalition could be an ally, then?” he finally asked.
“No. They’re just not our enemy—or yours. They’ve got a different agenda, and what it is…that’s anyone’s guess. Has been for years.”
Van tried again. “The Argentis want Scandya militarily weak, but independent. The Revs want an economic collapse so that they can offer aid and rebuild the system their way. The Scandyans have this…myth that the Argentis were monsters. They weren’t, but it doesn’t matter. Argenti occupation or annexation would trigger a true revolt and rebellion, and the Argentis aren’t stupid. The Revs can’t bring enough military force to bear, not right now, but…if they can undermine the economy and political systems…who else would be politically acceptable who has the resources to rebuild Scandya? The Coalition is predominantly Shinto genetically; they’re not acceptable. Neither are the Argentis. We don’t have that kind of resources. Nor do you.” Van shrugged. “Does that end the examination?”
“Pretty much.” Commander Salucar stood. “I’ll see you at our reception on Independence Night, won’t I?”
Van also stood. “I’ll be here.”
“Good.”
“Thank you.” After bowing slightly to Salucar, Van walked out of her office, down the circular ramp, and out to the groundcar, where Stefan waited.
As he sat in the rear seat on the short ride back to the Taran embassy, Van wanted to massage his head. It wasn’t aching, but he felt like it should be. He had all too much more research and analysis to do. While he generally believed what Salucar had said—with a few important exceptions and omissions—he also wanted to see for himself if he could corroborate some of what she had said, preferably through information to which she had no access. She’d made no real secret of trying to guide his thoughts, and that also bothered him. Was he that stupid? Or naive? Or didn’t anyone care what he thought?
The last was the most probable.
He took a deep breath. Space battles were so much easier—and they were of far shorter duration.
Chapter 20
At ten hundred on twoday, Van sat in Cordelia Gregory’s office. The summer sun filled the room with a bright indirect light that showed the spartan professionalism of an office empty of anything personal—without holos of family, without mementos of any sort.
The second secretary waited for Van to speak.
“I was wondering,” Van began. “Do we have any decent information on how much capital investment the Revenants are directing into Scandya, Gotland in particular? And where?”
“We have some indications,” she replied. “The analysis I did late last year is accurate within ten to fifteen percent. The current quarterly economic figures don’t show any major swings in investment, and that would indicate matters have not changed significantly.”
Van hadn’t seen any such analysis on the embassy netsystem. “Could you make a copy of that available to me?”
“Of course.” Cordelia Gregory offered a quizzical look. “Might I ask why?”
“I don’t want to reinvent fire, so to speak. I feel we’re seeing two kinds of warfare being waged—one of them clearly economic, and your analysis will help confirm or deny that. I’d also like to compare sector flows to military technology-related industries, on the secondary level, of course.” That was because direct out-system investment in primary-level military multilaterals was forbidden under Scandyan law.
“Both the Revs and the Argentis are trying to gain a greater economic foothold here. That’s been obvious for years.” Cordelia Gregory lifted her left eyebrow to emphasize the point.
“The analyses also address specific industries and patterns of investment?”
“Naturally. But—”
“You’ve obviously thought this out in great detail, and it might be better if I studied your work first,” Van interjected. “That way, I won’t be asking you about matters you’ve already addressed. It may be that you’ve already answered most of my questions, and”—he managed a sheepish smile—“that way I won’t ask too many repetitious and stupid ones.”
Gregory actually smiled, if faintly. “I’ll copy the entire archive to your access.”
Van inclined his head. “Thank you very much.”
“Will you let me know…when…you finish…whatever?”
“I certainly will, although I suspect I’ll have at least one or two follow-up questions before I write anything. Before I send anything to the
