Her eyebrows rose slightly. “I would not compare Chairman Allsworthy to your Militants,” she said.
“Not in terms of policy . . . a certain structural similarity in position on our relative political spectra. Perhaps a similarity in believin’ too strongly in our respective national mythologies. Besides, the American President is still rather mo’ than first among equals.”
It was Hiero’s turn to spread her hands silently. Certain necessary fictions must be maintained even here, he read the gesture.
“Turnin’ to business,” Eric continued, “was it really necessary to tow those-there gold-rich asteroids into Earth orbit? I admit it’s industrially convenient havin’ gold fall to the same value as tin, but the financial problems!”
A thin smile; the Alliance currency was fiat money, while the Domination’s auric had always been gold-backed. “You could refuse to trade for gold, and maintain an arbitrary value,” she said in a tone of sweet reason.
He snorted. “Thus sacrificin’ the industrial advantages, and endin’ up with all the disadvantages of a metallic standard, all the problems of a paper-money system, and none of the compensatin’ flexibility,” he said. “Between me and thee, we’re movin’ to a basket of commodities, although with the general fall in prices—”
An hour later, Hiero leaned back. “Well,” she said, “all this indicates several areas of potential agreement.” They both nodded; technical discussions were easy, once the top-echelon political decisions had been made. “Perhaps we can move on to others, at later meetings. Certainly we have more of a meeting of minds than I could with your Militants.”
Or I with Allsworthy, Eric inferred. Quite true; the Chairman had what amounted to a physical phobia toward Draka, taking the nickname “Snake” quite literally,
“Please, don’t misinterpret,” he said softly. “On some issues of purely . . . pragmatic impo’tance, perhaps. On mo’ fundamental issues of foreign policy, my Conservatives will follow an essentially Militant line.”
“Why? If I may ask.”
“Because . . . Madam President, the internal politics of the Domination can no way be interpreted in terms of what you familiar with; a word to the wise, to prevent misunderstandin’. The universe of discourse is too different. To call my faction paternalistic conservatives an’ Gayner’s biotechnocrats is a very crude approximation. Our real differences are on issues of domestic policy—very long-term domestic policy at that, arisin’ after we dispose of you. Or you dispose of us, in which case it all becomes moot, eh? It’s extremely impo’tant that we try to understand the parameters of each other’s operations, otherwise things could get completely irrational.”
“I see your point.” A hesitation. “May I ask you a personal question, Excellence?” At his nod, she proceeded: “I’ve got the usual Intelligence summaries on you . . . and I’ve read your novels. Within limits, I received the impression of an intelligent and empathetic man. Which leads to certain questions.”
Eric turned in his swivel chair and poured a measure of brandy into a balloon snifter, turned back, paused to swirl the liquid and sniff, sip.
“I assure you, they’ve occurred to me as well,” he said meditatively. “Why, in essence, don’t I retire to my estate and let the world rave as it will?” He felt his lips twist into the semblance of a smile. “Well, in all honesty, Madam President, why don’t you? It’s in the nature of an ambitious politician to imagine all alternatives to himself are disaster. I flatter mahself I’m right.”
“Duty,” she said. “I’m . . . not indispensable, but there are worse people to occupy this chair. For my children, my nation, and for the cause of freedom, if that doesn’t sound too pompous.”
Eric laughed harshly. “You Americans have been a lucky people, on the whole . . . what convenience, to have national interest an’ high-soundin’ ideals so congruent.” He made a gesture with the glass. “Forgive a slight bitterness. Leavin’ aside the question of whether morals are objective reality or cultural artifacts, I’m left with some similar motivations. I have children, grandchildren. And my people. As my fathah once said to me, you nation is like you children; loved because they are yours, not necessarily because they deserve it. Moral judgment—that has to be made in the context of political and historical reality, not some imaginary situation where we start with a tabula rasa.”
“Even in polities, surely moral choices are an individual’s responsibility?”
“A true difference of national temperament, I think. If’n a Draka thinks of choice at all, it’s as constrained within narrow bonds; human beings make history, but they don’t make it just as they choose.” He laughed again, this time with more genuine humor. “Interestin’ question, whether perception is the result or cause of social reality . . . ” He set the snifter down and leaned forward. “One thing is sure. Either of us would start the Final War if we thought it was the right choice. And neither of us wants to be forced into that decision prematurely. Which leaves us with certain common difficulties.”
“Bueno, I am glad you realize this. This conflict—it has gone on so long, both sides, they have accumulated serious vested interests with a stake in waging it. Organizations, bureaucracies, careers are invested in it; power, vast profits. Always these push toward its intensification. We have a common interest then, in not allowing the instruments of policy to set our policy.”
“True.” He nodded decisively. “Very true. Although, hmmm.” He rubbed his chin meditatively, then decided to speak. It was no secret, after all. “Madam President, remember always that there is no true symmetry between our positions, here. There is an element in the Alliance which seeks to simply grow around and beyond us, reduce us to an irrelevance.” She nodded. “This is precisely what much of our strategy has been designed to prevent. The border tensions, the convention we have allowed to grow up that there is no peace beyond Luna . . . It is you dynamism we fear. The tension inhibits it, forces you into military an’ security measures where we can compete mo’ easily.”
Hiero’s mouth clamped in a grim line. “Sí. So my analysts tell me. Let me warn you then, Excellence. This policy has its own dangers. Firstly, it makes the task you have, of restraining your military, more difficult. Secondly, both our societies are becoming dependent on resources and manufactures from space; this entails massive activities and investments beyond the Earth-Moon system. In turn, these create interests whose voices cannot be ignored. Also . . . when only explorers and pioneers were at risk, nothing vital was threatened by clashes in deep space. Now we are approaching the point where vital matters of national security are endangered in the heavens. We would not tolerate an invasion of Burma or England. Should we then regard Ceres as less?”
“Correct,” Eric said, with soft precision. “As you point out, my task of control is mo’ than yours; nor would I modify our tradition of decentralized decision making even if I could.” He sighed. “A world bound in chains of adamant, that’s our legacy. The stalemate becomes ever less stable. If nothin’ else, inaction would give my opponents too much opportunity. The fact that I’m presented with an insoluble dilemma, and they know it, will not restrain them from takin’ political advantage of it.”
Hiero tapped a finger to her lip in polite skepticism. “I am to endure provocation from you, because if I do not, another even less restrained would take your place?” She continued with heavy irony: “ ‘The whip is not so bad; fear instead, my brother, who will use scorpions?’ ”
“I see you point. So both of us looks for a means to break the stalemate; I don’t suppose it’s much consolation that I would use it with regret, while anothah in my shoes might do it with Naldorssenian glee and invocations of the Will to Power. But be careful, be very careful, Madam President. Neither of us wishes to destroy the planet. Don’t rely too much on secrets—such as you New America project, out there in the asteroids. Conveniently on the opposite side of the sun from Earth, most of the time, eh?”