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"But as you said outside," D'arl continued, as if he hadn't noticed the
interruption, "the important question is why.
Why did I offer and why did Aventine accept?"
"Why the council accepted is easy," Jonny said. "You're a Dominion Committé
and what you say goes."
D'arl shook his head. "I told you you were missing the point. The gantua
problem helped, certainly, but it was really only part of a much more basic
motivation. They accepted because it was the solution that required the least
amount of work."
Jonny frowned. "I don't understand."
"It's clear enough. By placing the main burden and danger of Aventine's growth
on you Cobras, they've postponed any need to shift the responsibility to the
general population. Given a chance to continue such a system, people will
nearly always jump at it. Especially with an excuse as immediate and
convenient as the gantuas to point to."
"But it's only a short-term solution," Jonny insisted. "In the long run "
" know that," D'arl snapped. "But the fraction of humanity who can sacrifice
their next meal for a
I
feast two weeks away wouldn't fill this city. If you're going to stay in
politics, you'd damn well better learn that."
He stopped and grimaced into the silence. "It's been years since I lost my
temper in anything approaching public," he admitted. "Forgive me, and take it
as a sign that I'm not any happier than you are that this had to be done."
"Why did it?" Jonny asked quietly. Two weeks ago he would have shouted the
question, putting into it all the frustration and fury he'd felt then. But now
the anger was gone and he'd accepted his failure, and the question was a
simple request for information.
D'arl sighed. "The other why.
Because, Syndic Moreau, it was the only way I could think of to save this
world from disaster." He waved his hand skyward. "The Troft threats to close
the Corridor have been getting louder and more insistent over the past year or
so. Only one thing keeps them from doing it tonight: the fact that it would
mean a two-front war. And for Aventine to be a credible part of that two-front
threat, you must have a continued Cobra presence."
Jonny shook his head. "But it doesn't work that way. We have no transport
capability to speak of we can't possibly threaten them. And even if we could,
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they could always launch a pre-emptive strike and wipe us out from the sky in
a matter of hours."
"But they wouldn't. I once thought that myself, but the more I study the
indirect psychological data
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Cobra gleaned over the years, the more I suspect mass destruction simply isn't
the Troft way of making war. No, they'd be much more likely to invade, as they
did on Silvern and Adirondack."
"But you still don't need
Cobras to defend against that," Jonny persisted, feeling frustration stirring
to life in him again. "You brought in antiarmor lasers you could just as
easily have brought in standard laser rifles and organized a militia or even a
standing army. Why can't I make you understand that?"
D'arl smiled sadly. "Because the Trofts aren't afraid of human militias or
armies. They're afraid of
Cobras."
Jonny blinked. He opened his mouth to disagree... but all that came out was a
single whispered syllable: "Damn."
D'arl nodded. "And you see now why I had to do all this. Aventine may never
have the ability to truly defend itself against an invasion, but as long as a
deterrent exists, even a purely psychological one... well, you at least have a
chance."
"And the Dominion is spared the trouble and expense of a punitive war?" Jonny
suggested acidly.
Again, D'arl smiled. "You're beginning to understand the mechanisms of
politics. The greatest good for the greatest number, and immediate benefits
for as many as possible."
"Or at least for those whose support you need?" Jonny asked quietly. "Those
whose objections don't count can be ignored?"
"Jonny, it's your safety we're talking about here," Jame put in earnestly.
"Yes, it's going to cost you something, but everything in life does.
"
"I know that." Jonny stood up. "And I'll even accept that the Committé had our
interests at least somewhat at heart. But I don't have to like his solution,
and I don't have to like his method of pushing it on us. You withheld
information about the gantuas from us, Committé, maybe for months and someone
could have been killed because of it. If I could see it making a scrap of
difference, I'd have that fact on the public net tonight. As it is, I suppose
I'll just have to leave you to your own conscience. If you still have one."
"Jonny " Jame began angrily.
"No, it's all right," D'arl interrupted him. "An honest enemy is worth a dozen
allies of expediency.
Good-bye, Syndic Moreau."
Jonny nodded and turned his back on the Committé. The door slid open as he
approached it and he stepped through, relying on his memory to get him back
through the corridors to the ship's exit.
Thoughts churning, he didn't notice Jame had followed him until the other
spoke. "I'm sorry it had to end that way. I would have liked you to understand
him."
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Cobra
"Oh, I understand him," Jonny replied shortly. "I understand that he's a
politician and can't bother to think through the human consequences of his
chess moves."
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"You're a politician now yourself," Jame reminded him, guiding him through a
turn he'd forgotten.
"Chances are you'll be stuck with a similar no-win situation yourself someday.
In the meantime, I
hope you have enough wins and losses to be able to handle both a bit better."
They said their good-byes at the entryway cool, formal words of farewell Jonny
would never have envisioned saying to his own brother and a few minutes later
the Cobra was back in his car.
But he didn't drive off immediately. Instead, he sat behind the wheel and
stared at the muted sheen of the Dominion ship, his mind replaying over and
over again Jame's last words to him. Could he really be reacting so strongly
simply because he'd lost a minor power struggle? He was unused to defeat,
after all. Could his noble-sounding concern for Aventine's future be truly
that petty underneath?
No. He'd suffered defeats many times: on Adirondack, on Horizon after the war,
even in the opening round of the brief struggle against Challinor. He knew how
losing felt, knew how he reacted to it...
and knew it was often only temporary.
Temporary.
With one final glance at D'arl's ship, Jonny started the car. No, it wasn't
over yet. Aventine would survive and grow; and he, not D'arl, would be best in
position to guide that growth. And if learning the art of politics was what he
needed to do, he would become the best damn politician this side of
Asgard.
In the meantime... there were a woman, a child, and a district who deserved
his full attention.
Turning the car around, he headed for home. Chrys, he knew, would be waiting
up.
Interlude
The haiku garden had changed over the years, slowly and subtly enough that
D'arl no longer remembered exactly how it had been when he had succeeded
Committé H'orme. One stretch, however, showed D'arl's hand clearly: a series
of blussa reeds, stunted cyprene trees, and other flora from Aventine. As far
as he knew, he was the only Committé to incorporate plant life of the Outer
Colonies in his haiku garden... and it looked very much like no one else would
ever have the chance to do so.
Jame Moreau, at his side, correctly interpreted his gaze. "This time they mean
it, don't they," he said.
It was more statement than question.
D'arl hesitated, then nodded. "I can't see any other interpretation for such a
clear-cut demand. We're
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