“Even if we assume you’re correct, what do you want?” Ashton wondered.
“Your help,” was the surprising response. “I have been very honest with you, Nik – I assume that part of your name is, at least, correct?”
“My name is Nick,” Ashton confirmed, “yes.”
“Good. As I said, I have been very straight with you, and I strongly believe you to be a man of honor based upon what I have seen, so let me continue the confession. I was a medic in the Annalian military. In the course of that service I saw quite a few offensives of various sorts, against various polities. Which is to say,” Niebecker sighed, “I have seen a great deal of death. More than I’d like, actually. And while there are reasons for standing up for one’s country, one’s nation, most of the time those offensives were not for such reasons. They were foolish, egotistical wastes of lives and materiel. But because I left the military with a fairly high rank – I stayed in order to save as many of my fellows as I could, you see – I now find myself in the position of consul to the capital of the Sintaran Carolina Sector.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“I take it, that isn’t where you want to be?” Honda asked.
“No. Not under these circumstances. And so, putting all this together, along with the repercussions from the complaint I filed on your behalf against Beaudelaire, Nik, I come to you for help.”
“What sort of help do you think we can give?” Ashton wondered.
“You are aware of the Alliance that has formed of the independent star nations?”
“After a fashion, I suppose,” Ashton replied. “Just what we see on the news.”
“So it’s a real thing?” Honda asked.
“It is. And in my humble estimation, it’s a foolhardy thing,” Niebecker replied, with obvious repugnance. “As is the alliance of Annalia with the Democracy of Planets, put frankly. They know far too much about us, and are, in my estimate, far too shifting in allegiance and hence untrustworthy to know so much. Whereas we know far too little about them, at least of what matters. I fear my star nation is not long for this universe. Because the Alliance – the smaller polities, aligning against Sintar – is likely to get many people killed. The more militant among the polity leaders are agitating hard for war against Sintar – likely very soon. And that is simply stupid. As much as I love Annalia, I know the huge discrepancy between it and the Sintaran Empire, in terms of people, in terms of resources, in terms of technology. If you combine all the others – Cascade, Preston, Nederling, Celestia, Annalia, Pan- no, I guess Pannia is part of the Empire now – Berinia... who else? Come around the other side, Abe...” He ticked off fingers. “Um, Estvia, Garland, Jasmine, Midlothia, Abelard, Bordain, Westhaven, Doria, Phalia, and the Rim... yes, that’s all.”
“That’s a lot,” Honda said.
“It sounds like it, doesn’t it? And yet even our upgraded, combined military is unlikely to be a match for the Sintaran Navy, if what I’ve been seeing about these new picket ships is anywhere close to true. Never mind any reasonable extrapolation to Sintar’s new ship builds, from that. And no,” Niebecker told them, “I know no more than you do. I’ve only seen the news reports. Well, I’ve been getting news reports from Annalia and a few of the other polities, but nothing... classified. You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” Honda said.
“And no one in the intelligence network has been able to return anything that I consider reasonable in the way of information, either. Sintar holds their secrets close.”
Which is good, Ashton thought. It means the info I’m passing back home is working to keep the designs out of the wrong hands. Then he added aloud, “Again, what sort of help do you think we can give you?”
Niebecker drew in a deep breath.
“I’ve thought about this, long and hard,” he said. “There is nothing you can do for Annalia. I wish I thought you could. But I doubt even the Emperor himself can stop what is about to happen, so entrenched are certain persons about their own importance, their own... infallibility. And now the consul from Garland has a personal vendetta with me; he was reprimanded, you see, when I reported through channels about his assault upon you, Nik...” He shook his head. “I was very nearly accosted this morning on the way to the consulate. There was a faked traffic accident, and there were henchmen lying in wait for my limousine… my driver was alert, and managed to find a route around the accident before we came to a stop. They tried to chase us down, but failed.”
“Damn. You need political asylum,” Ashton suddenly realized. Honda gaped, but Niebecker’s eyebrows simply rose.
“You are astute,” the consul said. “Yes. I wish to... ‘disappear’... into Sintar before the war movement in the Alliance comes to a vote. Because I already know the Autarch will vote for war. And I...” he broke off, distressed, “I cannot do it again, Nik. I cannot! I’ve seen too much. I still have nightmares, you know. Post-traumatic stress, they used to call it. That’s the real reason I chose not to live in the consulate. Not only would
