“I still think it’s a lie,” Oskar Morrelline said. “You managed to kill my daughter, plant spies in our facility—”
“Point of order,” Brun said. Oskar glowered, but shut up.
“The first motion has been withdrawn by the maker,” the Speaker said. “We will proceed to item two. The Minister of Defense will speak to this topic.”
Irion Solinari, normally tubby, cheerful and energetic, now looked grim, his full lower lip tucked in. “Ser Conselline and Ser Morrelline have alleged an Ageist conspiracy, my lords and ladies. Unfortunately, what I have to report about the possible contributing factors to this mutiny will sound like a counterconspiracy, and for that reason you might be tempted to dismiss it. I pray you will not.” Silence; he sipped from a glass of water, and began with a history of rejuvenation failure in the Regular Space Service.
“We had no trouble with the first ones, the voluntary rejuvenation of senior flag officers. Later, we offered voluntary rejuvenation to the rest of the flag ranks, until we had what we thought were sufficient data to show safety and efficacy. Then we began offering rejuvenation to senior NCOs, our most valuable personnel in actual combat. A few years ago, we began to notice that a few—then more—senior NCOs were suddenly experiencing neurological and cognitive symptoms. As the numbers grew, so did concern about the cause, and after it was discovered that some commercial supplies of rejuvenation drugs were flawed in some way, rejuvenation failure became a live target. Some alert officers noted a correlation between the drug batches and the personnel suffering mental deterioration. Unfortunately, the bulk of Fleet supplies of rejuvenation drugs had come from a single source for the past sixteen years, which meant that if that source was contaminated, all our rejuvenated enlisted personnel were at risk.”
“That’s a lie!” Oskar burst out.
“Unfortunately, it’s true,” Solinari said. “A Benignity plot to make all our senior personnel senile would be an effective way of damaging Fleet without firing a shot. We could not, however, be sure that it wasn’t just an error of judgment, a cost-cutting decision by someone unqualified to predict the result of that change in technique. Fleet instituted an immediate program of research into rejuvenation failure—naturally we wanted to find a treatment that would prevent the loss of personnel and their own suffering. Ser Thornbuckle approved this plan, and fully understood the risks of losing up to a quarter of Fleet manpower—the most experienced quarter—to rejuv failure.”
“Aren’t the younger personnel just as qualified?” That was a young voice, from behind her; Brun wasn’t sure whose.
“They’re qualified, yes. But in war nothing beats combat experience. One reason we embarked on wholesale rejuvenation for our older NCOs is that we’ve had a period of relative peace—a few outbreaks here and there, but mostly peace—for long enough that most young personnel have never been in combat. We wanted to preserve that experience, to have it when we next needed it.”
“Well, I heard that one reason for the mutiny was the lack of opportunity for young people to advance,” said someone else.
“I’m coming to that,” Solinari said. “They’re actually related.” He waited, but no one else interrupted. “People in Fleet are like people everywhere,” he said. “They don’t all agree. There are younger officers and NCOs who believed that rejuvenation froze the promotion scale, and kept them from having a normal career. To some extent this is true. No effective force can be all admirals and master chiefs. So rejuvenation at the top meant fewer slots open for promotion, and longer time in grade at the bottom. If you look at the structure over the past hundred years, promotion slowed markedly in the past ten. Ser Thornbuckle suggested adding a longevity component to pay scales to help make up for this, but the Council has never been eager to spend more money on the military.”
“I’ve always voted for it!” someone yelled.
“When it’s for ships,” someone else said. “I’ve heard you talk about military pay, Jas.”
“At any rate,” Solinari said, ignoring the interruption, “there certainly was a sizeable fraction of younger personnel who were feeling frustrated. Whether a mutiny would have occurred just because of this, we can’t know. However, when word began to spread about the failure of enlisted rejuvenations, this led to near panic among the middle and upper enlisted grades who had been rejuved. When Hobart Conselline shut down the research and funding for treatment, this fed the fear that Fleet was deliberately causing rejuv failure to open up the career structure again.”
“What was the treatment?” someone asked.
“Immediate rejuvenation with good drugs,” Solinari said. “That froze the condition where it was. If caught early enough, the symptoms never developed. But it was expensive, and to ensure good drugs, we went to another source than that from which we’d bought the bad drugs.”
“Alleged bad drugs,” Oskar said. This time there was a derisive chuckle from most of the chamber; everyone there knew about the problems at Patchcock, at least the recent one: the courts were stuffed with lawsuits.
“Besides concerns about opportunity and failed rejuvenations,” Solinari said, “there’s a third source of unrest. Any military organization tends to attract some people who seek power in unhealthy ways. We had Admiral Lepescu, who became the focus for those who believed that only the harshest military values mattered. When his policy of using prisoners as human prey in hunts was discovered, we realized that he had followers throughout Fleet. We eliminated those we could identify, but we could not simply condemn everyone who had ever known him.”
“Why didn’t you find out about him sooner?” asked Ser Carruthers.
“I’d like to say, because he was careful, but probably his superiors were also careless, willing to accept his efficient performance without looking too closely at his methods. I do know that throughout history, his type of personality is one of those which military organizations both harbor and promote to higher rank. At any rate, we think the mutiny began among those who fit several of these critera: frustration at lack of opportunity, concern about the misuse of rejuvenation, and membership in the secret society that Lepescu started. We now have evidence, following the rescue of loyalists from the Bonar Tighe, that its captain, Solomon Drizh, was in fact a Lepescu protege.”
At this there was a flurry of movement and excited talk among the members. Solinari waited until the room quieted. “We certainly do need to look further into these things, but at the moment, what Fleet needs is your support in putting down the mutiny. This means not only money, but your commitment to the Familias. We know that the mutineers have approached some of you, offering protection or making threats. We know they may try to use your private worlds to hide out or resupply. We need to know that the Grand Council supports the loyal elements in Fleet, that you won’t make any special deals—”
“Well, if you’re not protecting us, we have to get help where we can—” said someone from the very top row.
“Traitor!” yelled a young Barraclough; Brun saw Viktor lean toward him, scowling.
“It’s just an excuse to ask for more money,” said Oskar Morrelline. “The whole thing’s a fabrication—”
In moments, the simmering tension of the chamber had boiled over into chaos, members standing and yelling at each other, shaking their fists. The Speaker clearly lacked the presence to bring them to order, and finally abandoned the attempt. Brun, sensing that yelling might soon come to blows, rose and went down the steps to the front. They had hoped no such action would be necessary, but just in case . . .