Commentators from the Front and Mavedah stations speculate upon The Peace, from where we came, what our numbers are, and what our hidden agenda might be. Remarkably, both stations end their commentaries on a note hopeful that The Peace, or Navi Di, is here to do what it says, police the truce. Both commentators recall Aydan and the War of Ages and the ancient warrior’s test: "Return when your goal is peace alone and you hold a willing knife at your own throat to achieve it. That is the price of a warmaster’s blade." The Amadeen Front commentator is skeptical, remarking that such a degree of dedication is more than can be expected these days.
In the information center, Davidge stares at the twenty-nine chalked next to the crater that closes out the newscast. "Ro, how many days are there in a year on Amadeen?"
I burst, out laughing. After all of the studying all of us have done, it seems like a number everyone should know. "Three hundred and fifty-eight."
He nods and faces me. "Three hundred and fifty-seven days to go." He points with his thumb toward the screen. "The reviews sound pretty good." He looks at me. "What’s eating you?"
"I was just thinking that, if I was in Tean Sindie or Black October and looking at those newscasts, I would be wondering if this new police force is in league with the Mavedah and the Front." I glance at Kita.
She shrugs and says, "Well, we are. We all have the same goal right now: a truce that holds. Things will clarify, though, once one of these splinter terrorist attempts gets through and the other side wants to retaliate."
"Do you think someone will get through?" I ask.
"We can’t be everywhere all of the time. Sooner or later one of the splinter groups will look upon us as a challenge. Can we get a bomb past the Navi Di? Can we slip a suicide team into the West Dorado without alerting The Peace? We must expect it."
I look at Davidge and he is slumped in his chair, his elbow on the chair’s arm rest, his head leaning against his hand. He is about to say something when Janice calls out. "This is no priority, but I have to pass it along. It came in from the Central Shorda regional net at Ruota. There’s a Mavedah bomber we’ve been tracking named Jolduh Rihn―"
"Eye of the Killer," corrects Davidge. "It delivered the bomb that ended the truce four years ago."
"That’s the one. Popcorn, our agent watching Rihn, observed the bomber cooking up something in its workshop. Popcorn called it in late last night and was told to―"
"Keep on it!" says everyone in the information center in unison. Reaper frowns and looks around at the faces. He mutters something in German and goes back to his hand-portable.
"So what happened?" Davidge asks Janice.
"When Rihn went to bed last night, Popcorn took some chalk and wrote twenty-nines all over the outside of the bomber’s house. This morning when Rihn stepped out and saw the marks, he ran away from his house and hasn’t been back since!"
I am thinking that if only they could all be that easy, when Roger calls out, "Priority Red! Nightwing says that Green Fire has a move in progress: four greenies, three men and a woman, armed with shoulder missiles and small arms, heading toward the Southern Shorda. Nightwing’s best guess is Gitoh."
Reaper arranges for more agents to help Nightwing along the way and Davidge glances at me. "Humans again," he says. Davidge turns to Reaper. "Tell Nightwing we have to be able to prove what the greenies are up to."
"He knows," Reaper answers without looking up from his hand-portable.
"We also need to know where the orders originated."
"He knows," repeats Reaper. He raises an eyebrow and glares at Davidge. "I trained this bird, Willy. Relax."
"Signal from the quarantine force," calls out Janice. "It’s a General Mary Alice Lord with the USER She’s the new co-commander of the QF."
Davidge frowns and cocks his head to one side. "I thought there isn’t supposed to be any communication from the orbiters to the ground."
"That’s the rule," answers Reaper. "But the QF isn’t supposed to be doing any smuggling down here, either."
Davidge adjusts his headset and nods at Janice, who puts up the image of the general on one of the screens. Mary Alice Lord, her steel gray hair cut short and brushed straight back, looks out of the screen. Her eyes are greenish gray and narrowed by the most stern expression I have ever seen on a human, including those who were trying to kill me.
"Davidge here. What can I do for you, general?"
Her view from the camera includes both Kita and myself, and the three of us together appear to violate one of her primary assumptions. "Mr. Davidge," she begins, pausing as if she expected to be corrected. "We have been listening to the planetside broadcasts here. What you can do for me is to explain who you are and what in the hell you are doing down there."
"What we are doing here, general, was, I believe, adequately covered in those broadcasts. We are, in short, truce police. If the future smiles on us, perhaps one day we will be treaty police. As for who I am, I was in the USEF a few years ago. I should be in your earthside computer―"
"Davidge, Willis E., USEF 997309974, Second Lieutenant, flight officer, attached to Squadron B, 98th Fighter Command, Pursuit Carrier USEFS Warspite. It says you were shot down over Fyrine IV and rescued some years later, All of this took place while I was still at the Academy thirty years ago. What we have on you since is that you did a translation of The Talman and now live on Fyrine IV, since named Friendship."
"That pretty well covers it, general. All that’s missing is that someone wanted, very badly, for the war on Amadeen to end. That person went on a search for a talma that would achieve peace, and it appears that I am a part of that talma. What we are doing is following that talma. is there anything else?"
General Lord’s face is immobile as her eyes stare at Davidge. Glancing off screen for a moment, her gaze returns full force. "The ship you are in right now, the Aeolus, is registered on Rhana, and although it is an old ship, it is not thirty years old. As such, it’s existence in Amadeen airspace is a violation of the quarantine. You must either surrender your vessel to the quarantine force, along with all persons not authorized to be on Amadeen, or I will he forced to blow you out of the sky."
Davidge reaches out his left arm and places his hand on my shoulder. "General, this is my dear friend, Yazi Ro."
I nod at the image on the screen. The general remains motionless,
"Yazi Ro was born on Amadeen. It was smuggled off Amadeen in a quarantine force ship. Yesterday Black October held a televised rally. We had our own person there who took pictures of some of the weapons the Octoberists are carrying." Davidge nods toward Janice and she begins calling up Alley Cat’s shots of the rally. "You will see that some of them are carrying the Valmet M660D beam disrupter. The 660D is less than two years old, and the weapons held by those Octoberists were smuggled onto Amadeen by one or more quarantine force ships."
"I deny any knowledge of such practices, but given that what you say is true, Mr. Davidge, what is your point?"
"There are two points. First, until you people up there clean up your own act, we’re going to find any accusations of quarantine violations directed at us downright funny. The second point, general, has to do with threats." Davidge’s smile fades and he matches the general’s cold look stare for stare. "This ship, as you know, is a USEF attack transport. Right now its defense shields are operational and the ship is fully armed with its original complement of disrupters, defense missiles, ground support missiles, long range missiles, and automatic cannons. If you should be foolish enough to attack us, we will respond by taking out the four orbiting quarantine stations."