The Shadow of Saganami

about the loss of your people, I am,' he continued, hoping the Manticoran heard the sincerity in his voice. 'But while I personally had nothing to do with their deaths, I'd point out that it was the threat of open warfare here on Montana that brought you to this star system. I regret the losses you've suffered. I don't apologize for seeking the weapons and equipment I require from someone who willingly offered them to me.'

'Ah, yes. The generous and altruistic Mr. Firebrand,' Van Dort said. Westman realized that the two off- worlders were double-teaming him. Unfortunately, the recognition didn't make the tactic any less effective.

' Marianne's surviving crew members-there weren't many-were most eager to tell us anything we wanted to know,' the Rembrandter continued. 'I think you should know what they told us, as well. But before I share that with you, I'd like Trevor to comment on what I'm about to tell you.'

Westman looked at Van Dort's brother-in-law. The Chief Marshal looked as if he would have preferred being somewhere else, but his eyes were as steady as ever as he returned Westman's gaze.

'My people sat in on the interrogations, Steve,' he said flatly. 'I've viewed recordings of the pertinent portions of them. And Captain Terekhov's people got the Marianne's computers pretty much intact. One of the prisoners, an Annette De Chabrol, took down the security protocols so they could access them. The output I've seen so far confirms what the surviving crew members have told us.'

Westman looked at him for a few more moments, then nodded slowly. He understood why Van Dort-or Terekhov-had ensured that Bannister would be able to verify the truthfulness, or at least accuracy, of whatever they were about to tell him.

' Marianne ,' Van Dort's flat voice reclaimed Westman's attention, 'wasn't working for anything called the Central Liberation Committee. To the best of her crew's knowledge, there is no Central Liberation Committee. Marianne was owned and operated by the Jessyk Combine.'

Westman felt the sudden shock congealing his features, but there was nothing he could do about it. Jessyk Combine? Impossible!

'The weapons were being delivered to 'resistance groups' in the Cluster on the direct orders of Isabel Bardasano, a cadet member of the Jessyk Board of Directors who specializes in covert operations, 'wet work,' and the transportation of genetic slaves,' Van Dort continued implacably. ' Marianne was equipped and outfitted as a slaver. She was a slaver, and the survivors of her crew include her commanding officer, who's carried out quite a few 'special operations' for Jessyk over the years. As far as he's aware, this was simply one more.'

He stopped. Just like that. He simply stopped talking, sat back in his chair, and looked at Westman across the table.

Westman looked back— stared back-in stunned disbelief. It couldn't be. It couldn't! Why should the Jessyk Combine, one of the worst of the Mesan transstellars, provide weapons to a resistance movement determined to keep all off-worlders off of Montanan soil? It didn't make sense!

And yet...

And yet it did. His jaw clenched as he realized his worst suspicions about Firebrand had fallen far, far short of the truth. Whatever he'd thought he was accomplishing, 'Firebrand' and his masters had been using him.

The realization was sickening. But even worse was the question of why they'd done it. He tried desperately to avoid the inevitable conclusion, but his own accursed integrity wouldn't let him. It forced him to look the truth squarely in the eye.

The only reason any Mesan corporation would have helped him keep the Star Kingdom out of Montana was to hold the door open for Frontier Security. If he succeeded in driving Manticore out, it would only be to let Frontier Security-and Mesa-in instead.

'I— ' he began finally, only to stop. He cleared his throat. 'I didn't know Mesa was involved,' he said. 'The fact that it was doesn't necessarily mean Manticore wears a white hat-' his eyes flicked to Terekhov's white beret almost against his will, and he snatched them back under control as he continued '-but that's no excuse for dealing with someone like Mesa.'

'Mesa may not be the only one you were dealing with, Steve,' Bannister said heavily. 'According to the bastards aboard that ship, their next port of call wasn't Mesa-it was Monica.'

' Monica? ' Westman didn't even tried to hide his confusion this time.

'Yep.' Bannister nodded. 'Monica. Their entire supply mission was staged through 'President' Tyler's little playground. And, as I expect you'll recall, the biggest single customer for Monica's mercenaries is the Office of Frontier Security. So what does that say about the people who were lining up to help you so eagerly?'

'It says,' Westman said slowly, 'that there's fools and then there's damned fools. And I reckon that this time around, I've been one of the damned fools. And whatever I may think of the Star Kingdom of Manticore, or of Rembrandt, I expect that this time I owe you gentlemen my thanks. If I'd accepted the 'assistance' of scum like that, I'd have slit my own throat when I found out afterward.'

'The question, Steve,' Bannister said, 'is what you're going to do now you have found out. You're a stubborn man, even for a Montanan. Hell, you hold my grudges longer than I do! But it's time you faced the truth, boy. I know you're pissed at Rembrandt for what it's done to Montana. All right, you've got a right to be. I know you're pissed at Bernardus, and I know why. Personally, I reckon we've nursed that particular pet hate long enough Suzanne would be kicking us both in the ass if she were here now. But that's up to you. I'm not going to tell you how to feel about Bernardus as a man. But as Baroness Medusa's representative, I think you'd damned well better listen to what he's saying, because it's the truth, Steve. The truth . The Star Kingdom of Manticore may not be perfect, but it's one damned sight better than anything we're ever going to get out of Frontier Security and somebody like Mesa. Smell the coffee, Steve.'

Stephen Westman looked at his oldest friend, and knew-however fiercely he might fight against admitting it-that Trevor was right. He struggled with himself, and with his stubborn, Montanan pride, for endless seconds. Then he inhaled deeply.

'All right, Trevor,' he said wearily. 'Expect you're right. It just plain goes against the grain to admit I've been that stupid. I don't say I like it. And don't you go expecting me to ever love Manticore or-especially!-Rembrandt. But I'll allow as how neither one of them can hold a candle to what Frontier Security'd do to us. And I will be damned if I'll let myself or my people be used by something like Mesa. Of course, I'll have to talk it over with the boys before we make any hard and fast decisions, you realize.'

'You do that. And I expect you might find it a mite easier to talk them around if you mention what Bernardus here negotiated with President Suttles before we came out for this little visit.'

Westman looked a question at him, and the Chief Marshal chuckled.

'Old Bernardus may not be up to Ineka Vaandrager's weight as a pure, dyed-in-the-wool bitch, but he's a pretty persuasive negotiator in his own right. He started by saying Rembrandt'll refuse to press charges for the destruction of its enclave here on Montana. He followed that up by telling the President he already had Baroness Medusa's approval of an amnesty offer for all of you on the part of the Star Kingdom if you'd surrender your weapons and give up all this nonsense. And he suggested to the President that if Rembrandt was prepared to forgive you, and Manticore was prepared to forgive you, it might just be he ought to consider exercising his pardoning power to promise you boys amnesty under Montanan law if you lay down your guns.'

'Are you serious?' Westman looked at Bannister, then back and forth between him and Van Dort and Terekhov. Bannister only chuckled, and Westman felt his jaw set. 'I never asked for any favors, Trevor! I went into this with my eyes open. I'm willing to face the music for what I did!'

'No doubt you are, Mr. Westman,' Terekhov said. 'I can respect that, even if it does seem just a little stiff-necked even for a Montanan. But however willing you may be to face the music, don't you think you owe it to your men to accept the offer for them? Or, at least, to give them the option?'

Westman glared at him for a few seconds. Then his shoulders slumped and he shook his head wearily.

'Reckon you're right,' he sighed. 'I reckon you're right.'