Marti lifted his own drink, an amber wine. “To friends and good acquaintances.”
Van lifted the ale, and they both drank.
“I am so pleased that you are here,” Marti said. “I had read the reports on the…incident at the Keltyr embassy on Scandya, and when I learned that you had been decorated and retired…I had feared that you might have suffered some permanent injuries.”
“No. It was a long recovery, but there was no lasting damage.”
“That is good.”
“You’re the local military commander?”
“Ah, no. I am far too young and inexperienced for that.”
“The deputy commander?”
“One of two, the junior assistant commandant of the Spinward Region.” Marti looked up as a waiter in a white jacket and deep green trousers appeared, proffering two menus.
Van nodded. The View was very expensive. Printed menus, liveried waiters, tables and booths spaced widely, and very subdued music, so low he hadn’t noticed it at first, but just loud enough and projected in such a fashion that each table sat in its own island of privacy. Apparent privacy. Van suspected that the arrangement allowed most effective recording of what was said. He studied the menu, then waited.
“I will have the greens, the wild mushroom soup, and the broiled shrimpsters.” Marti handed the menu back. “And the Puilossa with the main course.”
“The greens, the mushroom soup, but I’d like the marinated pringhorn, medium.”
“Thank you, seniors.”
Van took another sip of the ale.
“You are the commander of a private vessel. It is a rather impressive ship, especially for one privately owned,” the general observed.
“I was fortunate enough to obtain a position as commander and senior director for a Coalition foundation.”
Marti tilted his head to the side. “There is quite a dossier on IIS and its managing director. Everything is always absolutely legal, done impeccably. Its clients always prosper, and they do so without large fund transfers into their accounts. In fact, they actually pay IIS for services rendered. You know…that is most amazing for a black operation.”
Van smiled. “I’d thought they were, also, when they first approached me. In fact, I initially refused for that reason.”
Marti nodded. “You would have to take that position.”
Belatedly, Van recalled that an Argenti nod was almost a negative. “It’s an easy position to take when it happens to be the truth.”
“Yet there is a certain…impression…”
“I’m certain that the Coalition is not opposed to a foundation whose work enhances the image and commerce of Coalition multis and citizens.”
“Nor one that diminishes the effectiveness of a theocracy’s efforts, no doubt.”
All Van could do was shrug.
Marti laughed. “You are less than fond of organizations that are not as they seem. Or religions that seek empires.”
“That is a fair statement.”
The salads arrived, and the waiter slipped away silently.
“Why would you then insist…the resources in your ship alone…”
“IIS has over a hundred planetary offices, with paying clients for all of them.”
“And you have seen all of these offices?”
“I’ve been in over forty in the last two years, and I’ve seen transactions and clients for most of the others.”
Marti fingered his chin. “You almost convince me.”
“I can only tell you what I know and see.”
“And this Trystin Desoll? He is a most elusive soul.”
“He’s very real.”
“Oh…there is no doubt of that. Did you know that he has been the managing director for at least fifty years?”
Van looked hard at Marti. “I knew he was older, but fifty years?”
“There are rumors of a longer link, but we can find no records before that. There has been a T. Desoll who owns a dwelling in Cambria for over eighty years.”
“He’s probably named after one of his ancestors with the same initial. One of my fathers and I share the same initials, except he goes by his middle name, and I go by the first name.”
Marti shrugged. “It is possible.”
“You know a great deal about IIS.” Especially for a military officer.
“One discovers that one must know something about everything.” Marti smiled. “I did take the liberty of checking on your maintenance work. I suggested an upgrade on the generators you requested, and the station maintenance personnel agreed.”
“I appreciate that.” Van finished his salad, and it was whisked away and replaced with a delicate gold-rimmed porcelain bowl with the wild mushroom soup.
“I did wonder how you managed to strain them so badly.”
“We ran into some unexpected ice and debris,” Van said. “IIS does a lot of work in less charted systems.” He tried the soup, tangy and yet with a rich but not heavy creaminess.
“Such as?” Marti smiled broadly.
Van grinned in return. “Our last business was on Islyn.”
Marti raised his eyebrows. “Do you have any business left there?”
“Forty-five percent, until they figure out a way to take that. How did you know?”
“The Commerce Committee of the Montaje requested our assessment of possible military action to protect Argenti investments there.” Marti frowned. “It’s too far out for us to support properly…but we thought about it. We did send some…information to…some others.”
“Your Hyndji counterparts?”
“They are somewhat closer, and I do not believe that they would appreciate a Revenant buildup in that part of the Arm. We are limited in what we can do, no matter what others think.” He smiled again. “That is another reason why I was glad to see that you have taken over IIS operations in this part of the Arm.”
“A retired RSF commodore?” Van took a last spoonful of the soup.
“I would judge that as a retired black Taran RSF commodore you are probably in a far better position with IIS than you would be remaining in the Republic.”
“You think that…the acceptance of diversity…within the Republic…?” Van left the question open-ended on purpose.
“The Republic has pushed a great deal of resources into expanding the RSF, and that has taken a toll on the economy. Economic unrest translates into social unrest—” Marti stopped as the server appeared and removed the soups, replacing them with the main course—and a new wineglass filled with an almost colorless
