The deep lines of years well spent made Director Huang Enlai’s frown fold in on itself. “It should be possible for us to apologize to them without revealing every detail.”
“By this point they know enough to ask very specific questions.”
“How much?” Huang asked quickly. “What are we sure they know?”
Chief Director Andō raised his eyes to the camera. “Tai-kun?”
All turned bodily toward the projected image which made young J.E.D.D. Mason seem to sit at the table with them. To say they listened intently to Him is too commonplace. This was a different focus, deep. As when Utopia has sent a brave and precious probe to skim the surface of all-swallowing Jupiter, and the silence breaks, and the technicians lean raptly over their screens to piece together meaning from this first fuzzed data stolen from the heavens, so these nine men locked upon the words of their unofficial Tenth Director.
“Ockham Saneer knows with the certainty of perception,” J.E.D.D. Mason began, “that those whom I exposed were torn by guilt, but believed themselves to be acting in a good cause, and a peaceful one. They know with the certainty of testimony that the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’ and the transit system itself were not endangered by the action. They know with the certainty of analysis that the Mitsubishi Special Guard and their confederates received orders whose pull was stronger than the triple counter-pull of their loyalty to their fellow troops, their respect for Ockham Saneer, and their concern for the safety of the lives endangered should the transit system suffer from their action. And they know with the certainty of experience that events which are improbable and proximal are likely to have a causal link. Thus they know with the certainty of deduction that one of you ordered the Special Guard to steal the Canner Device.”
The frowns birthed by His answer were resigned, not critical. “Do you think they will accuse the Directorate directly?” Kim asked.
“In their heart they must have already. No other author would have made the traitors consider their betrayal both necessary and altruistic. This was clearly moved by no bribe, nor threat, nor small-scale gain for bash’ or person. Those who acted believed it was to benefit great bodies, cities, peoples, nations. Thus, yourselves. Or one of you.”
All Directors searched their fellows’ eyes.
Andō scratched his silvered temples. “And you are sure Ockham Saneer thinks this too?”
“Yes, Chichi-ue.” The Japanese form of ‘Father’ which ‘Tai-kun’ uses to address Andō is peculiarly formal and old-fashioned. “Ockham Saneer must have thought all this already. They have anti-proofs.”
Old Huang Enlai smiled at the ‘Tenth Director.’ “What anti-proofs?”
“Anti-proof the first: You know that Saneer will suspect you, and Saneer knows you realize this. If you had proof of your innocence, or of another’s guilt, you would have offered it to them. You have not. Anti-proof the second: Captain Zu Weichun will not lie to Ockham Saneer again. When asked who sent them, they may answer nothing, but they will not state explicitly it was not you. Thus Saneer will know it was.”
I did not catch which Director muttered the first few frustrated Chinese syllables, musical like Greek, but, as soon as someone broke the hold of English, more Chinese flooded in. I could not follow the words, but the five Chinese Directors’ body language was transparent enough: Beijing’s Wang Laojing was sparring with the Shanghai Directors, Lu Yong and Wang Baobao, though which side was accuser and which defender I could not say. Old Huang Enlai, interjecting often, was the net to their verbal tennis match, while Wenzhou’s Chen Zhongren added occasional notes of guarded brevity. There is something pure to politics without words, raw human side-taking stripped of its veneer of topics and justifications. I saw sighs of recognition pass among the non-Chinese speakers in the room too. Shanghai and Beijing had done this; we could all see it. One of their vast voting blocs had taken this gamble, scrambling to get the better of the other, money-fatted Shanghai against the proud and stubborn former capital. I know it is as egregious as conflating Paris and London, but, to we linguistic exiles in the room, it hardly mattered which of the two was the culprit—when siblings spar, the true cause is proximity.
“Enough!” Andō broke in. “This action endangers the [a/A]lliance!” His angry spoken English contained an ambiguity I cannot preserve in text. Did he mean the unofficial alliance between the Mitsubishi and the Humanists? Or Romanova’s Universal Free Alliance, which, like a watchman at some ancient port, tries with its tiny voice to give some aid and order to the man-made leviathans which crowd and jostle in the bay? At times like this I am reminded just how small a bay Earth is, and how vast these leviathans. “I care less who is at fault than how the ten of us will fix this. I’m prepared to be direct if no one else is. At this point we all know vaguely what the so-called Canner Device is, that responsibility for its development can be linked to our Hive…”
The newest Director, Shanghai’s young Wang Baobao, was aggressive enough to murmur, “Japan.”
Andō’s pause was brief. “Yes, it can be linked to my strat specifically. And I think we all realize that makes it easy for someone who wanted to harm our Hive to fire up the public about Mitsubishi culpability in everything the device has ever been associated with.” I thanked Andō in my heart for avoiding my name, but still it hung in the air like a pregnant storm cloud: Mycroft Canner. “One of you arranged this ‘drill’ today to try to seize the device. Perhaps you did it to protect the Hive.”
“Chichi-ue,” J.E.D.D. Mason broke in, his voice soft, like drizzle if the others’ words were rain. “Do you genuinely read such kindness in this act?”
Andō refreshed himself with a deep breath and a dark, judgmental glance at each of his fellows, who actually looked sincerely contrite. J.E.D.D. Mason is a hard Being to disappoint. “I would like to believe it was a kind act, Tai-kun. The alternative is that someone wanted to use the device as leverage against me, since the Japanese strat would suffer most from public outcry. But it sickens me to think that factional self-interest could lead any of you to poison the entire Hive in the eyes of the world.” He waited to let that blow sink in. “And to poison our relations with our most important ally.”
“The Humanists will get over it.” Shanghai’s confident Lu Yong stretched back in his seat, with an expression something between smug and testy. “We trust you stay in the saddle where Ganymede is concerned, Andō. I would rather hear more about the theft, and about what you let happen at Black Sakura.” I think Lu Yong is more blunt and rude in English than in his strat tongue; I think they all are.
Andō controlled his expression, but could not keep wrath’s red from rising in his cheeks. “I have with difficulty placated President Ganymede.” He glared at Lu Yong as he stressed the title. “I have also ensured that the investigation of this double break-in is in hands we trust. That means the issue of the device is also in hands we trust, a fact which may be the only thing which keeps this from exploding in our faces.” His eyes softened as he turned to the camera once again. “Tai-kun?”
“Yes, Chichi-ue?”
“Do you believe anyone here is responsible for the device, for its creation, its use, or any part of it?”
A long pause while He thinks. “I believe not.”
The Chief Director almost smiled. “I believe that the world will suffer greatly and gain nothing by the exposure of the device’s origins. Do you agree?”