Fall Revolution 4: The Sky Road

want to make you an
offer. We know you still have some of your old – ’ he
hesitated; even here, there were words one did not say ‘
-strategic assets, and we’d like to buy them off
you.’
    He could be bluffing.
    ‘I have no – ’ she began. Reid tilted his
head back and puffed a tiny jet of smoke that, after a few
centimetres, curled back on itself in a miniature
mushroom-cloud.
    ‘Don’t waste time denying it,’ he said.
    ‘All right,’ said Myra. She swallowed a rising
nausea, steadied herself against a dizzy, chill darkening of her
sight. It was like being caught with a guilty secret, but one
which she had not known she held. But, she knew too well, if she
had not known it was because she had never tried, and never
wanted, to find out.
    ‘Suppose we do. We wouldn’t sell them to anyone,
let alone you. We’re against your coup – ’
    It was Reid’s turn to feign ignorance, Myra’s to
show impatience.
    ‘We wouldn’t use them,’ he said.
‘Good God, what do you take us for? We just want
them… off the board, so to speak. Out of the game. And
quitefrankly, the only way we can be sure of that is to have
control of them ourselves.’
    Myra shook her head. ‘No way. No deal.’
    Reid raised his hand. ‘Let me tell you what we have to
offer, before you reject it. We can buy you out, free and clear.
Give everybody in this state, every one of your citizens, enough
money to settle anywhere and live more than comfortably. Think
about it. The camps are going to be wound down, and whoever wins the next round is going to move against you.
Your assets aren’t going to be much use when Space Defense
gets back in business.’
    That’s a threat, I take it?’
    ‘Not at all. Statement of fact. Sell them now or lose
them later, it’s up to you.’
    ‘Lose them – or use them!’
    Reid gave her a ‘we are not amused’ look.
    ‘I’m not fooling,’ Myra told him. ‘The
best I can see coming out of your coup is more chaos, in which
case we’ll need all the goddamn assets we can
get!’
    Reid took a deep breath. ‘No, Myra. If you do get chaos,
it’ll be because we haven’t won. This coup, as you
call it, is the last best chance for stability. If we fail the
world will go to hell in its own way. Your personal contribution
to that will then be no concern of mine – I’ll be
dead, or in space – but you can help make sure it doesn’t happen, and benefit yourself and your people
in the process.’ He was putting all of his undeniable charm
into his voice and expression as he concluded, ‘Think it
over, Myra. That’s all I ask.’
    ‘I’ll think about it,’ she said, granting
him at least this victory, for what it was worth. She looked
around. ‘We’ve arrived.’
     
    The hotel’s ornately furnished function suite was filled
with people in dark clothes, standing about in small groups and
conversing in low voices. Already they were beginning to relax
out of their funereal solemnity, to smile and laugh a little:
life goes on. Fine.
    Myra and Reid walked together to the long tables on which the
buffet was spread, and contrived to lose each other in the random
movement of people selecting food and drinks. With a plate of
savouries in one hand and a large glass of whisky in the other,
Myra looked around. Over in one corner Andrei Mukhartov was deep
in conversation with a lady in a black suit and a large hat; she
was answering his quiet questions in a loud voice. Myra hoped
this representative of the tattered Western fringe of the former
United States wasn’t talking about anything confidential.
Possibly that was the point. She noticed that Valentina was
standing alone, in an olive-green outfit whose black armband was
rather shouted down by an astonishing amount of gold braid. Myra
made a less than subtle bee-line for her.
    ‘Ah, there you are,’ she said, as Valentina
turned. She nudged her defence minister towards the nearest of
the many small tables dotted around the vast floor. They sat.
    ‘New uniform?’ Myra asked.
    Valentina’s rigid epaulettes moved up and down.
‘Never had much occasion for it before,’ she
said.
    ‘Never knew you’d accumulated so many medals,
either.’
    Valentina had to laugh. Teah, it is a bit…
Brezh-nevian, isn’t it?’
    ‘All too appropriate, for us. The period of
stagnation.’.
    Valentina devoured a canape, not looking awayfrom Myra.
‘Indeed. I see you had a little chat with our