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Voyager 6 hung in view, agleam against the light of an angry star. Mining, industry regarding metals and minerals....that was its support. Zane Zendejas watched from the vantage of the freighter's bridge, the image on the screens.1027Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgjMazKcL68And something was wrong. The bridge whispered with alarm passed from station to station, frowns on faces and troubled looks. Zendejas glanced at his three companions. They'd caught it too, stood uneasily, all of them trying to keep out of the way of procedures that had officers darting from this station to that station to supervise.
Another ship was coming in with them. Zendejas knew enough to interpret that. It moved up until it was visual on the screens, and ships were not supposed to ride that close, not at this distance from station; it was big, many-vaned.
"It's in our lane," delegate Herrod said.
The ship moved closer still to them, and the merchant king captain rose from his place, walked across to them. "We've got trouble," he said. "We're being escorted in. I don't recognize the ship that's shadowing us. It's military. Frankly, I don't think we're in Terradyne space anymore."
"Are you going to break and run?" Zendejas asked.
"No. You may order it, but we're not about to do it. You don't understand the way of things. It's wide space. Sometimes ships get surprises. Something's happened here. We've wandered into it. I'm sending a steady no-fire. We'll go in peacefully. And if we're lucky, they'll let us go again."
"You think Alliance is here."
"There's only them and us, sir."
"And our situation?"
"Very uncomfortable, sir. But those are the chances you took. I won't give odds you people won't be detained. "No, sir. Sorry."
Herrod started to protest. Zendejas put out a hand. "No, I'd suggest we go have a drink in the main room and just wait it out. We'll talk about it."
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Guns made Zendejas nervous. Marched by rifle-carrying juveniles across a dock much the same as Babylon 5's, crowded into a lift with them, these too-same young revolutionaries, he felt a certain shortness of breath and worried for his companions, who were still under guard near the ship's berth. All the soldiers he had seen in crossing the Voyager dock were of the same stamp, green coveralls for a uniform, a sea of green on that dockside, overwhelming the few civilians visible. Guns everywhere. And emptiness, along the upward curve of the docks beyond, deserted distances. There were not enough people. Far from the number of residents who'd been at Babylon 5, in spite of the fact that there were freighters docked all about Voyager 6. Trapped, he surmised; merchant kings perhaps dealt with courteously enough---the soldiers who had boarded their own ship had been coldly courteous----but it was a good bet that ship was not going to be leaving.
Not the ship that had brought them in, not any of the others out there.
The lift stopped on some upper level. "Out," the young captain said, and ordered him down the hall with a wave of rifle barrel. The officer was no more than eighteen, if that. Crop-headed, male and female, they all looked the same age. They spilled out before and after him, more guards than a man of his age and physical condition warranted. The corridor leading to windowed offices ahead of them was lined with more such, rifles all fixed at a precise attitude. All eighteen or thereabouts, all with close-clipped hair, all----
----attractive. That was what urged at his attention. There was an uncommon, fresh-faced pleasantness about them, as if beauty were dead, as if there were no more distinction of the plain and the lovely. In that company, a scar, a disfigurement of any kind, would have stood out as bizarre. There was no place for the ordinary among them. Male and female, the proportions were all inside a certain tolerance, all similar, though they varied in color and features. Like dummies. He remembered Australia's scarred troops, and Australia's gray-haired captain, the disrepute of their equipment, the manner of them, who seemed to know no discipline. Dirt. Scars. Age. There was no such taint on these. No such imprecision.
He shuddered inwardly, felt cold gathered at his belly as he walked in among the dummies, into offices, and further, into another chamber and before a table where sat older men and women. He was relieved to see gray hair and blemishes and overweight, deliriously relieved.
"Mr. Zendejas." A dummy announced him, rifle in hand. "Terradyne delegate." The dummy advanced to lay his confiscated credentials on the desk in front of the central figure, a heavy-bodied woman, gray haired. She leafed through them, lifted her head with a slight frown. "Mr. Zendejas-----Esmeralda Gibson," she said. "A sorry surprise for you, isn't it? But such things happen. You'll now give us a Terradyne reprimand for seizing your ship? Feel free to do so."
"No, citizen Gibson. It was, in fact, a surprise, but hardly devastating. I came to see what I might see and I have seen plenty."
"And what have you seen, citizen Zendejas?"
"Citizen Gibson." He walked forward a few paces, as far as the anxious faces and sudden movement of rifles would allow. "I'm Secretary 2nd class to the security council on Earth. My companions are of Terradyne's highest levels. Our inspection of the situation had shown us disorder and a militarism in the Terradyne Fleet which has passed all limit of Terradyne responsibility. We are dismayed at what we find. We disown Hovarth; we do not wish to hold any territories in which the citizens have determined they wish to be otherwise governed; we are anxious to be quit of a burdensome conflict and an unprofitable venture. You know well enough that you possess this territory. The line is stretched too thin; we can't possibly enforce what residents of the Further don't want; and in fact why should we be interested to do so? We don't regard this meeting at this station as a disaster. We were, to be honest, looking for you."
There was a settling in the council, a perplexity on their faces.
"We are prepared," Zendejas said in a loud voice, "to cede formally all the disputed territories. We frankly have no further interest beyond present limits. The starfaring arm of Terradyne is dissolved by vote of Terradyne directorates; the sole interest we've got now is to see to our orderly disengagement....or withdrawal....and the establishment of a firm border which will give us both reasonable latitude."
Heads bent. The council murmured together, one way and the other. Even the dummies about the edges of the chamber seemed disturbed.
"We are a local authority," said Gibson at last. "You'll have opportunity to carry your offers higher. Can you leash the Horvathites and guarantee our security?"
Zendejas drew in his breath. "Hovarth's Fleet? No, if his captains are an example."
"You're in from Babylon 5."
"Yes."
"And claim experience with Hovarth's captains, do you?"
He blanked for the instant....was unaccustomed to such slips. Neither was he accustomed to distances over which such comings and goings would be news. But the merchant kings, he reasoned immediately, would know and tell as much as he could. Withholding information was more than pointless; it was dangerous. "I met," he confessed, "with Australia's captain, one Winters."
Gibson's head inclined solemnly. "Talia Winters. A unique privilege."
"None to me. Terradyne refuses responsibility to Australia."
"Disorder, mismanagement; denial of responsibility....and yet Babylon 5 is well reputed for order. I am amazed at your report. What happened there?"
"I do not serve as your intelligence."
"You do, however, disown Hovarth and the Fleet. This is a radical step."
"I don't disown the safety of Babylon 5. That's our territory."
"Then you are not ready to cede all of the disputed territories."
"By disputed territories, of course, we mean those starting with Londinium."
"Ah. And what is your price, citizen Zendejas?"
"An orderly transition of power, certain agreements assuring the safeguarding of our interests."
Gibson's face relaxed in laughter. "You seek a treaty with us. You throw aside your own forces, and seek a treaty with us."
"A reasonable solution to a mutual difficulty. It's been, what, ten years since the last accurate report out of the Further. Many more years than that with a fleet out of our control, refusing our direction, in a war which consumes what could be a mutually profitable trade. That is what brings us here."
There was a deathly silence in the room.
At last Gibson nodded, her chins doubling, "Mr. Zendejas, we shall wrap you in cotton wool and hand you on most gently, most, most gently, to Centauri Prime. With great hope that at last someone on Earth has come to his senses. A last question, rephrased. Was Winters alone at Babylon 5?"
"I can't answer."
"You have not yet disowned the Fleet, then?"
"I retain that option in negotiations."
Gibson pursed her lips. "You don't have to worry about giving us critical information. The merchant kings will deny us nothing. Were if possible for you to restrain the Horvathites from their immediate maneuvers, I would suggest that you try. I'd also suggest that to demonstrate the seriousness of your proposal----you at least make a token gesture toward that restraint during negotiations."
"We can't control Hovarth."
"You know that you'll lose," said Gibson. "In fact, that you have already lost, and you're attempting to hand us what we have already won----and get concessions for it."
"There's little interest for us in pursuing hostilities, win or lose. It seems to us that our original object was to make sure the stars were a viable commercial venture, and you patently are viable. You have an economy worth trading with, in a different kind of economic relationship from what we had before, saving us the entanglements with the Further we don't want. We can agree on a route, a meeting point where your ships and ours can come and go as a matter of common right. What you do on your side doesn't interest us; direct the development of the Further as you like. Likewise we will be withdrawing some jump freighters home for the commencement of that trade. If we can possibly secure some restraint on Cyrus Hovarth, we'll recall those ships as well. I'm being very blunt with you. The interests we pursue are so far from each other, there's no sane reason to continue hostilities. You're being recognized in all points as the legitimate government of the outer colonies. I'm the negotiator and the interim ambassador if the negotiations are successful. We don't consider it defeat, if the will of the majority of the colonies has supported you; the fact that you are the government in these regions in persuasive of that fact. We extend you formal recognition from the new administration which has taken charge in our own affairs.....a situation I will explain further to your central authorities; and we are prepared to open trade negotiations at the same time. All military operations within our power to control will be stopped. Unfortunately----it isn't within our power to stop them, only to withdraw support and approval."
"I am a regional administrator, a step removed from our central directorate, but I don't think, ambassador Zendejas, that the directorate will have any hesitancy in opening discussion on these matters. At least, as a regional administrator sees things, this is the case. I extend you a cordial welcome."
"Haste---will save lives."
"Haste indeed. These troops will conduct you to a safe lodging. Your companions will join you."
"Are we under arrest?"
"On the contrary. The station is newly taken and insecure as yet. We want to be sure no hazard confronts you. Cotton wool, Mr. Ambassador. Walk where you will, but with a security escort at all times; and by my earnest advice, rest. You'll be shipping out as soon as a vessel can be cleared. It's even uncertain whether you'll have a night's sleep prior to that departure. You agree, sir?"
"I do," he said, and Gibson called the young officer over and spoke to him. The officer gestured, with his hand this time; he took his leave with nods of courtesy from all the table, walked out, with a cold feeling at his back.
Practicalities, he reckoned. He didn't like the look of what he saw, the too-alike guards, the coldness everywhere Security Council on Earth had not seen such things when it gave its orders and laid its plans. The lack of intermediate Earthward stations, since the dismantling of the Barrier Star bases, made the spread of the war logistically unlikely, but Hovarth had failed to prevent it from spreading all across the Further----had aggravated the situation, escalated hostilities to dangerous levels. The sudden prospect of having Hovarth's forces reactivate those Barrier Star stations in a retrenching action behind Babylon 5 turned him sick with the mere contemplation of the possilbities.
The Isolationists had had their way----too long. Now there were bitter decisions to be taken---reapproachment to this thing called Alliance; agreements, borders, barriers----containment.
If the line were not held, disaster loomed....the chance of having Alliance itself activating those abandoned Earthward stations, convenient bases. There was a fleet building at Earth Station; it had to have time. Hovarth was fodder for Alliance guns until then. Earth itself had to be in command of the next resistance, Earth, and not the headless thing the Terradyne Fleet had become, refusing Terradyne orders, doing as they would.
Most of all they had to keep Babylon 5, had to keep that one base.
Zendejas walked where he was led, settled into the apartment they gave him several levels down, which was excellent in comforts, and the comfort reassured him. He forced himself to sit and appear relaxed to await his companions, that they assured him would come-----and they did come finally, in a group and unnerved by their situation. Zendejas thrust their escort out, closed the door, made a shifting of his eyes toward the peripheries of the compartment, a silent warning against free speech. The others, Walton Konicek, Hoyt Barrick, Makeda Solari, understood, and said nothing, as he hoped they had not spoken their minds elsewhere.1027Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9nVYR2bMwn
Someone on Voyager 6, a freighter crew, was in great difficulty, he had no doubt. Supposedly merchant kings were able to pass the battle lines, with no worse than occasional shepherding to different ports than they had planned; or sometimes, if it was one of Hovarth's ships that stopped them, confiscation of part of the cargo or a man or woman of the crew. The merchant kings lived with it. And the merchant kings who had brought them to Voyager 6 would survive detention until what they'd seen at Babylon 5 and here ceased to be of military value. He hoped for their sakes that this was the case. He could do nothing for them.1027Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡuNiKYGovFe
He did not sleep well that night, and before morning of mainday, as Gibson had warned him, they were roused out of bed to take the ship further into Alliance territory. They were promised their destination was Centauri Prime, the center of the rebel command. It was begun. There was no retreat.1027Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYWpAxw4qXv
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