Space Stations

“One thing puzzles me, though,” Alonza said. “Seems to me that the whole point in using a weapon like a disrupter is to make sure no one knows you've used it. I mean, I can see Sameh Tryolla using it if she and her victim were alone. Slap the thing on the Habber, make sure he's dead, ditch the thing in a recycling slot and nobody's the wiser.

But to make the attempt in front of witnesses—”

“Obviously she was so intent on her mission,” the colonel interrupted, “that she didn't consider that, and simply used the means she was given. In any case, what would you have done had she succeeded? Put her under restraint and under guard, go through all the usual procedures—informing me, getting your report together, waiting for diplomats to arrive to try to reassure the other Habbers—”

“Waiting for my own court-martial,” Alonza added.

“Needless to say. And the operative would have been officially charged, sent back to Earth for a hearing, and probably have disappeared after that. Maybe that's what she was promised if she were caught—a hearing, a sentence, and then a new life and identity.”

“Somebody really wanted that Habber out of the way, then,” Alonza said.

“No, Alonza. Think.” Jonas Sansom leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on Tom's desk. “Someone wanted me out of the way.”

She stared across the desk at him. “But—”

“I should have been here to take charge of the situation. I would have been if not for those damaged tracking telescopes, and that was pure chance.”

“So they had to abort Sameh's mission,” Alonza said, “but they didn't have a way to tell her—”

The colonel shook his head violently. “No. Saying that the mission had to be aborted was probably part of the plan. It was the way to be certain that I would be there when she struck at the Habber, that I would have to take responsibility for failing to protect him.”

“But why would anybody want to get you?” she asked.

“Perhaps you don't want to know why, Alonza. I know Earth needs the Habbers and their technology more than we're willing to admit, and I haven't made any secret of my opinions. There are others who disagree, who would willingly see Earth become even more impoverished if they could be rid of our agreements with the Habbers. Let's leave it at that.”

He folded his hands. There was more gray in his blond hair, and the lines on either side of his mouth were deep grooves. “We're all pawns in the hands of the Guardian Commanders,” he continued, “and there are those who think that Earth may grow too dependent on the Associated Habitats and that the Council of Mukhtars has already made too many concessions to them. An incident involving the death of a Habber we were bound by treaty to protect would have been useful to certain political factions.”

“Well.” She looked away from him for a moment.

“We can continue to be pawns,” Colonel Sansom said, “or we can be the players who move the pieces. Those are the only choices we have, and I know which one I'd rather be. I'm due for a promotion soon, and I'm going to put in for a post that will move me closer to the center of the game. I'll want my best officers with me.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You'll probably get a commendation for your recent action. You ought to take advantage of that and put in for duty in Baghdad at headquarters. That's what I'm going to do, and right now you're in a position to get whatever post you want.” He stood up.

“I'll talk to the chief physician now, and then I'll be in the officers' mess for dinner with the rest of my staff. Will you join me there in a couple of hours?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You did well, Alonza—Major Lemaris.”

“Thank you, sir.

A torchship slowly floated away from the dark metal latticework of a dock. Alonza watched the ship on the bay viewscreen and for a moment wished that she were one of its passengers. Some months ago, even a few days ago, she would have leaped at any opportunity to rise, to remain on Jonas Sansom's staff, to be stationed near one of the centers of power.

Now she was thinking of Sameh Tryolla again. Maybe she had been found in a port like San Antonio's before being shipped off to a children's dormitory and whatever training was deemed suitable for her. Alonza imagined herself in Sameh's place, soothed, manipulated, moved across the board, and then discarded.

Always know when to run, Amparo had told her.

There was another choice besides being a pawn or a player, and that was abandoning the game. Colonel Sansom would be dismayed when she put in her request for duty on Luna, and then he would conclude that he had misjudged her, that she did not have the ambition or the stomach for the greater game. But there would be other pawns he could use.

She left the bay and hurried toward the lift, already late for the dinner with the colonel.