“Speaking of cultures…can we do anything more about Beldora?” Van asked, trying to change the subject. Although he tried to act as he thought ethics required, talking about the subject disturbed him.
“You handled that well,” Trystin said.
“The Revenants will be back. They may be back already. Unless that coded message brings in Hyndji ships. I made a copy for you to look at. I couldn’t break the encryption.”
“IIS Cambria can, but it’s doubtless a plea for aid from the Hyndjis. The Coalition won’t do anything. Beldora’s out of the way. It might be considered a jumping-off point toward the inward edge of Hyndji territory.”
“Do you think the Hyndjis will respond?”
Trystin shrugged. “I don’t know. They’re almost as reluctant as the Eco-Techs. They’d rather avoid conflict. They might look into it if Beldora would accept a protectorate or something.”
“Would the Beldorans accept that kind of arrangement?”
“Given the alternatives?” Trystin looked hard at Van.
Van gave a wry smile. After a moment, he added, “We blew the secondary shield generator in Beldora, and overstrained the primary. I had them replaced at Neuquen orbit control. General Marti was there. He’s now a deputy commander of the region. He sent us cruiser generators—unasked for.”
“He knows IIS. It’s easier on them to make sure we’ve got good equipment.”
“He knows you as well. He said you were the best pilot in the Arm. And the oldest.” Van grinned. “It sounds like he knows you well—or about you.”
“About, I’d judge. I can’t recall meeting the man, but it’s no secret that Argenti intelligence has been tracking IIS for years.” Trystin laughed. “Most of them would like to do more of what we’ve done to the Revenants, but the Montaje doesn’t want a shooting war. Not one out in the open, anyway.”
Van decided against pressing that issue too hard. Not yet, anyway. “So what am I supposed to do? Keep trying to expand IIS operations where we can? Close down operations and get out as much in assets as I can in places like Islyn?”
“That’s what we’ve done for years. Do you have a better idea? We can’t build a fleet, you know?”
“Not any bigger than we have now,” Van countered. “I still have the feeling that the Revenants are undoing more than we’re doing—more than all the rest of the Arm is doing.”
“At the moment, it looks that way,” Trystin admitted. “But things will change.”
Van wasn’t sure about that, but Trystin had been at it far longer than Van had. “Did you ever get any more information on what caused the Scandyan mess—and are they still leaning toward the Revs?”
“There really hasn’t been anything new since you took over the Joyau. The credits and the clones went back to the Revenants. They denied it, and there was no real way to prove it was more than the excess of a single diplomat.” The older man’s tone was highly ironic.
“The excess of a single diplomat? And everyone accepts that?”
“Publicly. If they don’t, they either have to start a war or admit that they’ll let the Revenants take over anything that doesn’t belong to major powers. That would make independent systems and lesser powers very uneasy.”
“Like the Keltyr and the Republic? They already know that.”
“Of course. That was one reason why they retired you.”
One reason? “What were the others?”
“You have been effective, when most RSF officers were not, and you are not a holo-perfect RSF officer, and your skin is darker than they’d like. You probably were on the edge of discovering something else, or they thought you were, and, because you weren’t one of those being groomed for higher office, they had to find an honorable way to get rid of you.”
“Honorable? Murder is honorable?”
“Nonsense. You would have suffered a heart attack, brought on by your injuries, and you would have had a most honorable funeral and memorial service.”
Van laughed, not humorously. “What was I about to discover?”
“I have no idea. You do realize, however, that you are the sole survivor of the Fergus and that encounter off Scandya?”
Van had realized that, but what significance did that have? Were his nightmares trying to tell him something? What?
“You won’t find out unless you find a way to look into RSF headquarters, and going into the Republic could still be dangerous. Very dangerous.”
“I could use the Argenti registration and the identity as Viano Alberto,” Van suggested.
“You could. Think about it for a while. If you want to, you might visit some of the outlying IIS offices in the Republic first, places like Weathe, Korkenny, Wexland.”
There was something about Weathe. Van tried to recall why Weathe would mean something particular to him, but couldn’t recall what that might be. “The RSF doesn’t know I’m working for IIS.”
“Probably not. If you use the alternate identity for the Joyau, and don’t hit New Oisin until later, the local RSF commanders may report the visits as routine, if they bother at all.”
“You could…”
“I couldn’t. First, I don’t know the culture as well as you do. Second, I’m involved in this energy transfer technology project, and I can’t leave it for long right now. The timing is getting critical.”
“What is this project?”
Trystin tilted his head, pursed his lips. Finally, he spoke. “I’ve told you about this before. I’ve been working on this for years. It’s something I shouldn’t know, because it’s Farhkan, but I persuaded them to help me—blackmail in a way, because I pointed out that if I misapplied it, they might not like it. So now I have a prototype, and I’m hoping to use it—the prototype—as a lever to see if they’ll help.”
“What is this prototype?” Van asked.
“You might call it a new way of generating and transferring energy.”
That didn’t exactly answer the question.
“And you managed to get them to transfer the technology to you? The Farhkans haven’t been that forthcoming very often.”
“That might be because, used improperly, it could be quite dangerous. They might want to make sure I develop it correctly. I don’t want to say
