The committee on the sugar and Tanamo issues was hopelessly deadlocked. The problems were these: the sugar market that had once been Ganymede's had been apportioned among several other Latin countries on and off Jupiter; they raised a howl of protest at the notion of losing those shares. Sugar was their major source of income; without that market some of them would quickly bankrupt. The Tanamo transfer was opposed by the Jupiter administration itself, though President Kenson remained publicly noncommittal so as not to undercut my position. The base could not be allowed to fall under Saturnine control.
These two objections blocked the other parts of the negotiation. Neither Saturn nor Ganymede would agree to halt the export of arms and subversion to nations of the Jupiter sphere unless Tanamo were yielded, and the premier was adamant about regaining the sugar trade in return for whatever prisoners he might release. The barriers were, ironically, with the Jupiter side, rather than the Gany side. Megan's protestations to the contrary, there was some merit in the Gany political indoctrination. Not a lot, but some. A contrary political view was a serious matter here; this was something few of the folk on Jupiter could appreciate, because of their much greater freedom to adopt any political configuration they chose, or none.
“Those bureaucrats will never lift out of the mire,” Khukov said to me. “It is time for us to finish what we started.” He had been instrumental in getting Saturn's acquiescence to the negotiations, and I knew that failure would reflect adversely on him where it counted: in the Party.
“Can either of us accomplish what they can not?” I asked.
“If we can not we do not deserve the power we reach for!” He gestured with his pool cue. “Let me make you a little challenge, señor, to test our mettle as captains against each other. I will take one issue, you the other. Let us see who is the better politician.”
“Agreed,” I said. “Shall we play for the choice of issues?”
“Indeed! Tanamo and sugar, winner's choice.”
So we played, and he won; he could beat me in pool when he chose. “Sugar,” he said, smiling grimly.
I sighed. “You took the sweet one, Comrade!” But we both knew that both issues were intractable, and that both of us were more likely to fail than to succeed. But we both had much to gain by success.
Khukov put in a word to Saturn, and I to Jupiter. The essence of each was that he wished to arbitrate the sugar issue, and I the Tanamo issue, in nonbinding fashion. We would make recommendations for the governments of Ganymede and Jupiter to approve. Saturn, theoretically having no direct interest in either case, would stand aside. Of course, Saturn hoped to gain a naval base and lose the liability of the sugar trade if we succeeded, and to lose nothing if we failed; it was easy for Saturn to be gracious.
“What the hell are you up to this time, Hubris?” President Kenson demanded privately after summoning me to New Wash for an emergency conference.
"Sir, isn't the cessation of the shipment of Saturnine arms to our sphere via Ganymede worth the discontinuance of a Naval base whose maintenance on a hostile planet is costing us more than we like?
Haven't we been looking for a graceful way to cut our losses—just as Saturn wants to cut its sugar losses?"
He pondered. “Why should we assume those sugar losses—which are more than monetary—ourselves?”
“No need,” I said. “If you don't like the proposal Captain Khukov makes, turn it down.”
He stroked his chin. “Yes, of course. But I do not want to be forced to turn down your proposal. That would look bad. But we can't risk that base going to Saturn.”
“It won't, sir. It will be useless to Saturn.”
“Hubris, you were a Navy man. So was I. You've got to know better than that.”
“Sir, I was in longer than you were. As a Navy man I know what I am talking about. Let me explain.”
“Captain, you had better,” he said grimly. He quirked a smile. “Show me your power.”
He had invoked the old Navy challenge. I obliged. His jaw dropped. “I didn't know that!”
“Few civilians do, sir, and few officers without the need to know. That's why the bureaucrats on the negotiation team are stymied. As a commander in battle I had to know.”
“Let me check this out, Hubris.” He reached for his phone.
In moments he had confirmation from our own military staff. “Idiots!” he swore, referring to those on the committee who had not researched this information. Then he turned to me. “I think you're a damned genius, Hubris. You're due for promotion. I can give you an embassy that will thrill your wife.”
“Thank you, sir, but I prefer to make my own way.”
“Oh?”
“I plan to run for governor of Sunshine again.”
He squinted at me. “Exactly where are you headed, Hubris?”
I glanced around his office meaningfully.
“Oho! You've already caught that virus!” He had won reelection handily the year before and could not run again; the nomination would be open. “Well, I'll not interfere. Certainly you'll have my support for governor. Go to it, Captain!” He shook my hand and dismissed me. He didn't take my ambition seriously; he was patronizing me. But his magnetism was such that I appreciated even that. And his support for my upcoming gubernatorial race would be invaluable.
The trip to Jupiter enabled me to stop by Ybor, consult with Spirit, and spend a night with Megan. She confessed that she missed me, and that, having become accustomed to family life, she felt distinctly awkward without it, though she did have Hopie. She was most affectionate, and the night was a delight.
It was also wonderful for me to see Hopie again. I hoped to return to Jupiter in a few months, and now I felt more urgent than ever about it. Perhaps separation does make the heart grow fonder—or maybe it simply forces a person to realize what he is missing.
“I have a gift for you,” the premier informed me by phone. “Are you free to come here tonight?”
The ambassador could hardly not be free to visit the premier at his behest, but I knew it was more than that. “Certainly,” I agreed. “But it is not necessary to promise me any gift. In fact, my position requires that I decline all—”
“This one you can not decline,” he said smugly. “It is my thanks for what you did for Raul.”
“But I was glad to—”
“A woman.”
This grew more awkward by the moment. “Premier, I am a married man!”
He smiled on the screen, full of some secret. “This one you will take into your house, I am sure. She is in need of rehabilitation. I will expect you tonight.” He cut off, leaving me in a quandary. What would Megan think if such a woman even came near the embassy? Yet I could not openly insult the premier by failing to make the appearance.
I pondered. There had been something about his attitude. On the one hand, he enjoyed serving me as I had served him on the first occasion, forcing the social visit and the display of his autistic child. But there was more. The premier knew I loved Megan and knew she had returned to Jupiter because of the child, not because of any marital falling-out. He was a family man himself, and no supporter of adultery. He really believed I would be pleasantly surprised. Maybe he had found a superior cook for the embassy, though we had no problem there. Still...
“Would you like one of us to chaperon you?” Shelia inquired mischievously.
“Go spin your wheels by the Wall!” I retorted. We had become so acclimatized to our residence that the dread execution wall had become a thing of humor.
“I'll go find a blindfold,” she said contritely, and rolled her chair away.
It was a minor exchange, but it served to remind me how well off I was. Shelia could never walk or dance, so probably would never marry, though she was physically capable of conceiving and bearing a baby. Her tragedy was mountainous compared to mine, yet she always appeared cheerful and was certainly competent. Here I was chafing because my wife was away for a few months, and I might have to deal with a new cook.
Still not entirely at ease, I made the required appearance.
There was a woman there, all right. She seemed to be in her mid-forties, perhaps older, and not in the best of health. I could tell by her bones that she had once been beautiful, but physical and emotional toil had broken her down. Rehabilitation? What she needed was some joy of existence.
She looked at me. Slowly her eyes widened. “Hope?”
Then I recognized her. “Faith!” I cried, stepping forward to take her in my arms, my eyes stinging with tears.
For this was my older sister, whom I had not seen in more than a quarter of a century. She had been taken away by pirates when I was fifteen, and I had not been sure she was even alive, and had been afraid to inquire. In retrospect I condemn this cowardice of mine. I might have rescued her from many years of drudgery had I searched her out. But, of course, it was more complicated than that; it was not merely the fact of losing her, but the manner of it that had caused me to tune her out of my life as if she were already dead.
I took her back to the embassy, of course. The premier smiled as we left, putting his arm around the shoulder of his son, who was much improved. “ Now I think we are even,” he said. Surely he was correct; he had returned a lost family member to me, in exchange for the one I had helped return to him. Such private obligations can be very important to Hispanics and perhaps to others, too.
I introduced Faith to my staff, and they welcomed her. I think they were as relieved and gratified as I at the way this had turned out. I did not try to pry into my sister's history, for it was nothing she was eager to share in any detail, but I did pick up an approximation.
Faith had volunteered herself to become the plaything of a ship of men, in order to prevent them from robbing and raping the other women of our refugee bubble. It had been a gallant sacrifice on her part but had not been successful. I had to advise her, as gently as I could, of the fate of the rest of the refugees.
As far as I knew, only she and Spirit and I survived. At age eighteen Faith had been a stunning beauty, with fair hair and a form that caught every eye; in fact, it had been that form that precipitated the problem that led to our flight from Callisto, for men would not leave her alone. She had gone to the ship from our bubble, and it seemed she had been passed from man to man and from ship to ship to ship for some time—some years—until that life took its toll on her beauty. Finally she had been traded to a Europan merchant ship for supplies, and in due course carried to the home port, where she had become the creature of the dome. As she lost her sexual appeal she had had to do other chores, becoming a workwoman, maid, or cook—whatever was required. In short, she had been reduced to a peasant woman, and so she remained. All the expense our father had put into Faith's education had been wasted, as had Faith's phenomenal initial beauty. But she had survived, when a woman of more pride would have been cast out. She had earned a reasonably secure place by tutoring children of the better families in English. “I became very good at that,” she said wryly. “It was certainly better work than...” She shrugged.
“I will take you with me to Jupiter,” I told her. “Spirit is there.”
“Spirit!” she exclaimed. “I remember her as a child of twelve, with a finger-whip!”
“She still has a whip,” I said, smiling. “But she is no longer a child. She is a woman of forty, her face is scarred where she was burned by a drive unit, and she is without a finger.” Spirit had never sought corrective surgery for either condition. It made no difference to me, but it may have been one reason she never married on Jupiter. Yet in the Navy Spirit had proven her ability to capture any man she chose, so I really don't know.
“What could I do at Jupiter?” Faith asked wearily. “My life is past.”
“I will find something,” I promised. “You will never suffer privation again.”
She smiled. “You were my protector, then.” She meant when we were teenagers. Indeed, it had been my job to shield her from unwelcome attentions—a job at which I had signally failed. Perhaps it had been, in part, that guilt that had prevented me from seeking her. The premier had done for me what I should have done for myself.
I became her protector again, trying to make up for that long neglect. I arranged for the paperwork to grant her entry to Jupiter as a resident alien, for she lacked the citizenship Spirit and I had obtained via the Navy. I saw that she was fed well and that she did not feel threatened. Well, in that I may be overstating the case; it was my tight little staff that did the job; they adopted her as they would a foundling. And, like a late-blooming flower, she became healthier and more cheerful, beginning to suggest the creature she once had been.
As yet I had no notion as to what position I would find for her at Jupiter. Well, she could become part of my staff until a suitable situation offered. Spirit would surely have input. Faith was bilingual, and that was a genuine advantage in the state of Sunshine. In fact, there was a shortage of bilingual teachers, but I wasn't sure she would be interested in that type of employment, now that she was free of bondage.
Surely she had memories that were best forgotten.
Meanwhile, it was good to have her with me. She helped fill the gap in my life made by the absence of Spirit, Megan, and Hopie. Women have always been important to me; I relate well to them and suffer in their absence, especially when they are my kin.
I had the essence of my solution to the Tanamo problem already, but Khukov took three months to study the sugar issue, researching every aspect, talking with all parties, including representatives of the Jupiter business community involved in the handling and processing of the commodity and the Latin nations now providing it. He was hampered by having to use an interpreter, for he concealed his new knowledge of Spanish. Perhaps he was taking his time for that reason: to offer no clue to any other party that he had means to grasp the essence much more rapidly than was evident. But he researched in English, too; he even asked to talk with the chief procurement officer of the Jupiter Navy. I suspect he learned much more about the Navy than he did about sugar. But I kept my counsel and even helped him by introducing him to Admiral Phist, my friend and the husband of my former wife Roulette.