“For better or worse, the Republic of Montréal has invested a good deal of effort in the economic and political development of this system,” Markham replied. “We’re inclined to avoid the disruptions involved with any effort to change the status quo by force. Choosing this faction or that to support seems like a recipe for turning a rebellion into a full-fledged civil war. Surely that is in no one’s interest.”
“The Tanjeer Agreement of 3062 specifically called for an ‘open door’ policy whereby all the signatory powers would have equal access to development opportunities in Gadira,” said Kapitan-Leutnant Braun, Panther’s executive officer. A thickly built man with a gleaming bald scalp, he sat beside Captain Markham. He spoke with a loud voice and forceful motions of his hands. “But somehow forty years later, Gadira is a Montréalais colony. One wonders if the Montréalais negotiated the previous agreement in good faith.”
“How would you amend the agreement, Mr. Braun?” Hiram Randall asked. He maintained an even tone and a polite smile, but Sikander detected a hint of condescension in his tone. He’d been on the receiving end of Randall’s sarcasm enough times to know it well, although he didn’t think that new acquaintances such as the Panther’s officers would pick up on his skepticism. Captain Markham, on the other hand, made a show of taking a deliberate sip of her own wine.
“At the very least, I would consider dividing the planet into zones of development for each of the great powers with interests here,” Braun said. “And each power could determine for itself the appropriate level of its presence and support.”
“That would only be fair,” Oberleutnant Aldrich pointed out.
“Indeed,” said Harper. “I am afraid we must insist on establishing and maintaining public order in the regions where our interests are threatened. Clearly, we cannot count on the Montréalais to do that, since Caidist rebels are running amok on the planet. Fine—we won’t try to tell the Republic how to manage its affairs. All we need is for them to step aside and let us look after our own concerns.”
Braun nodded. “Exactly! Although if you asked me, I would say that the whole system would be better off under the administration of an enlightened power such as Dremark—or Aquila, of course—than they are now.”
“The Gadirans might not see it that way,” Sikander observed.
“Yes, but the question isn’t for them to decide, is it?” Braun waved his hand around airily. “If the best they could arrange on their own was a feckless monarchy, it’s time for more advanced states to step in and help them along.”
“Dremark is a monarchy, isn’t it? You have an emperor instead of a sultan, but what is the practical difference?” Sikander asked.
Smiles vanished from the Dremish officers at the table. Braun’s face actually turned red, but he bit back whatever retort he intended. The awkward silence hung in the air for a long moment, but then Captain Harper set down his glass and cleared his throat. “That seems like an unfortunate comparison, Mr. North,” he said in a light tone. “Emperor Klaus Lenard has little in common with that helpless idiot sultan.”
“My own home system is ruled by a khan, Captain Harper,” Sikander replied. “I merely meant to point out that the Gadirans believe their form of government is just as legitimate as you believe yours to be.”
“The legitimacy of our government is not a matter of belief,” Kapitan-Leutnant Braun said icily. “The House of Ritterblau has ruled in Dremark for over four hundred years with the full support of the democratically elected parliament. Considering the fact that the upper chamber of your own Commonwealth Assembly and many of your planetary governorships are comprised of hereditary plutocrats, I think you have little room for criticism. When was the last time any of your senators stood for election?”
Now it was the Aquilans’ turn to fall silent. Sikander repressed a small smile at his colleagues’ discomfiture. Kashmir was in no way, shape, or form a democratic system, but at least his own people didn’t pretend that the leading families were anything other than a titled aristocracy. It was one of the aspects of Kashmiri culture that his Aquilan friends looked down on, without recognizing that their own system had no particular moral superiority. On the other hand, it seemed that everyone at the table had now been insulted by one comparison or another, and the tension was now thick enough to cut with a knife.
Fortunately, Captain Harper was determined to salvage the evening. He stood slowly, and gave Captain Markham a slight bow from the waist. “Captain, I apologize to you and your officers for allowing the conversation to take an unfortunate turn. Perhaps we should leave these matters to the politicians and the diplomats. We are all sailors here, travelers of the stars, warriors who accept the burden of long watches and constant vigilance in the service of the worlds we love. Let us speak of the things that we share, not the issues our governments fence over.”
“Well said, Captain Harper,” Markham replied. “Please, there is nothing to apologize for. What would you like to talk about?”
The Dremish captain took his seat again, and surveyed the table thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose any of you are anglers?” he said with a small smile.
“I am not, but you’re in luck. Mr. North here is an avid fisherman.”
Harper’s face positively lit up. “Is that a fact? None of my own officers are so enlightened. Tell me, Mr. North: saltwater or freshwater?”
“It depends on the planet, Captain Harper,” Sikander said. “But in general, saltwater sport fishing is my favorite.”
“Ah, too bad. I thought you might be a fellow devotee of the fly rod.” Harper moved on to a colorful description of his last vacation in the mountains of Thuringia; slowly, the down-table conversations resumed, this time steering clear of the political situation. The mood around the table noticeably lightened, and after-dinner drinks flowed freely. After Sikander and Harper had traded fishing stories, Captain Markham and Helena Aldrich discovered that they were both equestrians, while Hiram Randall and Major Kalb both entertained a great (and previously unsuspected to Sikander) love of old Terran-style beer crafting. When Captain Markham and Hector’s officers finally took their leave an hour later, the awkward moments earlier in the meal seemed long forgotten.
The whole dinner party proceeded back to the hangar deck, and the Dremish officers saw the Aquilans to their shuttle hatch. The farewells were cordial enough, but Captain Markham breathed a sigh of relief as the shuttle hands secured the hatch and the Aquilan half of the party found seats. Through the passenger-cabin viewports, Sikander could see the Dremish clearing the hangar before they cycled the bay door.
“Well, that wasn’t so bad,” Markham said, adjusting her seat restraints. “For a moment there I thought they were about to ask us to leave.”
“They’re a little touchy about their emperor, aren’t they?” Randall observed.
“Indeed,” said Captain Markham. She gave Sikander a stern glance. “Did you do that on purpose, Mr. North?”
“My apologies, Captain. That loudmouth Braun was beginning to annoy me.”
“Me too, but next time please leave the diplomatic sallies to me.” Markham shook her head. “I would have thought a man raised in a palace might have a better instinct for not offending people over a formal dinner.”
“There’s a reason my family sent me off to join the Navy, ma’am,” Sikander said.
“Ha!” Randall gave a sharp bark of laughter. The other officers nearby joined in. “Well, I will say this much, North—you found a way to make things a good deal more exciting than they needed to be.”