"We're running out of war heroes," Abban said. "Doubtful if Gorodin can find any of that generation fitto serve. This new electorate—I'm not sure they respond to the old issues. That's the trouble."
Seventy years since the war—and the obits of famous names were getting depressingly frequent.
"These young hawks," Giraud said, "they're not an issue, they're a mindset. They're pessimistic, they believe in worst-cases, they feel safe only on the side of perceived strength. Khalid worries me more as an agitator than as a single-electorate hero. He appeals to that type—to the worriers of all electorates, not just the ones who happen to be in Defense. It's always after wars—in times of confusion—or economic low spots, exactly the kind of thing a clever operator like Khalid canfind a base in. There are alarming precedents. Lu would be the best for the seat, still the best for the seat and the best for the times—but this damned electorate won't vote for a man who tells them there are four and five sides to a question. There's too much uncertainty. The electorate doesn't want the truth, it wants answers in line with their thinking."
"One could," Abban said, "simply take a direct solution. I don't understand civs, I especially don't understand civ CITs. In this case the law isn't working. It's insanity to go on following it. Eliminate the problem quietly. Then restore the law." Abban wasa little buzzed. "Take this man Khalid out. I could do it. And no one would find me out."
"A dangerous precedent."
"So is losing—dangerous to your cause."
"No. Politics works. When the Expansionists look strong, these pessimist types vote Expansionist. And they'll turn. We had them once. We can have them again."
"When?" Abban asked.
"We will. I'll tell you: Denys is right. Young Ari's image has been altogether too sweet." Abban's glass was empty. He filled Abban's and topped off his, finishing the bottle. "When our girl took into Khalid in front of the cameras—that threw a lot of Khalid's believers completely off their balance, but you mark me, they blamed the media. Remember they always believe in conspiracies. They weren't willing to accept Ari as anything solid—as anythingthat can guarantee their future. And won't,until she makes them believe it."
"Which alienates the doves."
"Oh, yes. When she went in front of those cameras head to head with Khalid—it was damned dangerous. She pulled it off—but there was a downside. I argued with Denys. Her insistence on bringing Gehenna out public again—I'm sure inflamed the hawks and scared the hell out of a few doves—enough to bring the Paxers out in force. She may have attracted the few peace-pushers who aren't more scared of her than him, and may have lost him a few of his, but she didn't gain any of hispeople. It's Gorodin they're re-electing. Gorodin's an old name, a safe name. They're not about to go with a young girl's opinion. Not the worry-addicts."
More figures ticked by. Widening margin, Jacques' favor.
"I'll tell you what worries me," Giraud said, finally. "Young Warrick. He's going to be very hard to hold. How's our man doing—the one with the Planys contact?"
"Proceeding."
"We document it, we find some convenient link to the Rocher gang or the Paxers and that's all we need. Or we create one. I want you to look into that."
"Good."
"We need to leave the Centrists with very embarrassing ties— There have to be ties. That will keep Corain busy. Andkeep young Warrick quiet, if he has any sense at all."
"Direct solutions there are just as possible," Abban said.
"Oh, no. Jordie Warrick himself can be quite a help. We keep putting off the travel passes. Start a security scandal at Planys airport. That should do. Leak the business about young Warrick going on rejuv. Our Jordie's damned clever. Just keep the pressure on, and he'll get reckless—he'll throw something to the Centrists; and our man just funnels it straight to the Paxers. Then we just turn the lights on—and watch them run for cover."
"And youngWarrick?"
"Denys wants to salvage him. I think it's lunacy. At least he took my advice—in the case we havea problem. The Paxers have handed us a beautiful issue. The doves hate them because they're violent—the hawks hate them for the lunacy they stand for. Let our Ari discover the Paxers are plotting to kill her, and that Jordan Warrick is involved with them; and watch those instincts turn on in a hurry. Watch her image shift then—on an issue of civil violence and plots. Absolutely the thing we need. Attract the peace-party andthe hawks—and cultivate enemies that can only do her political good."
"Mark me,young Warrick is a danger in that scenario."
"Ah. But we've been very concerned with his welfare. Planning for his long life. Giving him rejuv puts that all on record, doesn't it? And if Ari's threatened—she'll react. If Jordan's threatened—so will young Warrick jump. You give me the incident I need, and watch the pieces fall. And watch our young woman learn a valuable lesson." A moment he stared at the screen and sipped at the wine. "I'll tell you, Abban: you know this: she matters to me. She'smy concern. Reseune is. Damned if Jordie Warrick's son is going to have a voice in either. Damned if he is."
Cyteen Station results flashed up, lopsided. "That's it," Abban said. "He's got it now."
"Absolutely. I told you. Jacques is in."
xiv
Catlin brought sera coffee in the home office, while sera was feeding the guppies in the little tank she had moved in from the garden-room—sera was quite, quite calm, doing that: it seemed to makeher calm, sometimes, a sort of focus-down. Catlin could figure that. She also knew that it was a bad time, sera was waiting for answers from a protest she had filed with Administration; sera—outward evidence to the contrary—was in a terrible temper, not the time that Catlin wanted at all to deal with her. But she tried.
"Thank you," sera said, taking the mug and setting it on the edge of the desk, and fussing with the net and a bit of floating weed.
Sera never even looked her way. After a while Catlin decided sera was deliberately ignoring her, or was just thinking hard, and turned and walked out again.
Or started to walk out. Catlin got as far as the hall, and found herself facing her partner's distressed, exasperated look.
So Catlin stopped, drew a large breath, and went back to stand beside sera's desk, doggedly determined that sera should notice.
She had, she thought, rather have run a field under fire.
"What is it?" sera said suddenly, breaking her concentration.
"Sera, —I need to talk to you. About the Planys thing. Florian said—I was the one who heard. So it's mine to say."
It took a moment, sometimes, for sera to come back when she was really thinking, and especially when she was mad, and she brought some of that temper back with her. Because she was so smart, Catlin thought, because she was thinking so hard she was almost deep-studying, except she was doing it from the inside.
But that was a keyword—Planys. That was precisely what sera was mad about; and sera came right back, instantly, and fixed on her.
"What aboutPlanys?"