“No. It’s not necessary to call them.” He crossed his legs, assuming a relaxed pose, and noted with a bit of surprise that he felt better, less agitated, now that their initial hostilities were in the open. “I intend to consider anything we say to each other in this room off the record.”
“I thought so.” He rose, crossing to the stateroom’s wet bar. “Since this appears to be a purely social call, then, perhaps I should be a bit more sociable. May I offer you something?”
Amasee nodded, and the two chatted idly for the minute or two it took for him to prepare the drinks. They talked of nothing consequential, limiting their discussion to mundane banter—living arrangements on the ship, the quality of the food, speculation on the evening’s entertainment programming—and Amasee noticed that Salera’s manner changed slightly as they spoke, as if the Eastlander had also been hoping for an opportunity to meet in private. Their mutual animosity remained, but was, for the moment, being set aside by unspoken agreement between them.
“I’m not here to attempt to change your mind,” Amasee began once Salera returned to his place on the sofa. “We both know that would be a pointless waste of time. However, I feel it is absolutely imperative that the Imperial”—he hesitated, not wanting to use a word the other might consider an attempt at agitation—“representatives be allowed to attend a session of Joint Dominion without undue influence. From either of us.”
“Meaning?”
“You know exactly what I mean, Kip! We can’t afford to antagonize them at this point.”
. “I disagree. It matters little to me if they feel antagonized. They already know how we feel about their interference. Have for years. What possible difference could it make to reaffirm our beliefs?”
Amasee nodded, granting at least part of the point he had tried to make. “Yes, but that knowledge is outdated by decades, and you know it. Things have changed on Pallatin, attitudes have changed, just in the time it’s taken them to travel here from Sol.”
“Maybe attitudes have changed in the Westland Congress,” Salera said, “but not in ours, as you discovered in Joint Dominion. We still want no part of the Hundred Worlds, and frankly, I intend to remind them of that fact as soon as we rendezvous with their starship.” He sat back, as determined in his decision as Amasee himself was.
Amasee nodded again, smiling in resignation at their mutual obstinance. “I expected as much.” He sighed heavily, setting his glass down on the end table, then leaned forward on his knees and clasped his hands before him. He regarded his counterpart with a look of deadly seriousness, adding, “However, please understand that if you do, I’ve been authorized by my Congress to pledge full, immediate allegiance to the Hundred Worlds on the spot.”
Salera’s eyes widened in surprised shock as he realized the implications. “But the Westland Congress never discussed this with us in Joint Dominion!” he sputtered, instantly on his feet. “We agreed, voted, that any decision to accept the Empire would be made on a planetwide basis!”
“I know.” Amasee lowered his head, his voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. “We never welcomed Imperial intervention any more than Eastland has, but we’ve always had doubts about severing Pallatin completely from the Empire because of the genetic aspects of a total separation. That’s even more important now that drift has been proven. We need to check the rate of drift or we won’t be able to map the code; and without the mapping, we leave ourselves wide open to new disease.”
Salera shook his head. “We considered that and rejected it. Any drift that is likely to occur is insignificant.”
“Maybe so, and maybe the threat is more imagined than real. But there’s a vastly simpler reason for staying in the Hundred Worlds.” He stood, paced the room nervously before continuing. “We changed, Kip, after the Quake; we’ve been trying to tell you people that for years. Without your help, Westland might never have been able to rebuild, much less advance. It could not have been done alone. We realize now that Pallatin needs the Empire, just as we needed Eastland after the Quake.” He stopped pacing and turned to the Eastlander.
Salera stared impassively at him, his face an unrevealing mask. His initial shock and anger at Amasee’s threat were obviously gone, but he kept well hidden whatever feelings were going through him now. “Big words from someone who wasn’t even here when the Quake hit,” he said emotionlessly.
There had been no background noise in the room—no music, no information feed, nothing—but the cabin seemed to fall into an even colder silence at the man’s words. Salera stared into his eyes, and although he had certainly meant what he’d said, behind the cold stare was a look of regret at having said it.
“Am… I’m sorry, that was uncalled-for.”
“No,” Amasee replied, surprised at himself that he felt no anger at the remark. He dug his hands deep into his pockets and approached the other man. “No, you’re right. But the fact remains that Westland has come to this decision, and that I’ve been authorized to ally with the Empire if you attempt in any way to antagonize or threaten the Imperial representatives before they’ve had a chance to appear in Joint Dominion.”
He left the threat hanging there, unchallenged, and both men knew the unofficial meeting had come to an end. Salera turned wordlessly and Amasee followed him to the door, but stopped when the man looked back at him before opening it.
“They’re only one starship,” he said, almost pleading. “Together, standing as one, Pallatin might have turned them away.”
“Maybe,” Amasee agreed. “But our philosophies are still too different, yours and ours, and once the Imperial threat was gone we would have drawn even further apart than we are now. And Pallatin would ultimately fall.”
Amasee reached past Salera and thumbed the control switch in the doorjamb, and silently left the stateroom.
Chapter Nineteen
By agreement—reached more through mutual distrust than diplomacy—the two ships came to a halt at the outside limit of their immediate firing range, full shields raised, and remained dead in space until boarding parties could be exchanged.
The Imperial party was immediately outnumbered and disarmed by the security forces aboard Thunder Child the moment they disembarked their transfer shuttle. The Imperial forces put up no resistance whatever, nor had they been ordered to.
Meanwhile, aboard the Imperial starship, the boarding party from the Pallatin ship was similarly received the instant their shuttle docked and the mating seal opened. No resistance was offered by the Pallatins, no overt force used by the starship crew.
Pallatin’s level of shield technology, laughably inferior to the Empire’s, might have allowed the Levant to easily blast the colonial ship from space, and the rumor that Commander Montero might do just that as a demonstration of Imperial force had been circulating among the crew for days. Surely an overt display of Imperial power would bring the upstart colony into line, they thought, followed by an immediate turnaround for home. But then, suppose the advancing ship was little more than an enormous explosive device with only enough crew and thrust to get it into position, waiting for just such a response from the Empire?
Likewise, the Thunder Child might manage to destroy the larger Imperial visitor, or disable it in space. More than a few of the passengers aboard her thought longingly of the possibility, thinking that such an action would say “Leave us alone” more loudly than any words. Of course, there was no way to tell that this envoy from the Hundred Worlds was not intended as a decoy ship, with the genuine—fully armed—Imperial starship following a light-month behind the first.