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territory would be directly affected by any settlement. But then a year later
you began negotiations for the rights to the Troft
Corridor, which I estimate affected eighty or so additional demesnes."
D'arl was already punching keys. "One hundred six Senior Representatives," he
said, shaking his head slowly. "Eighty more, exactly."
"There were other indications, too," Jonny said into the silence that
followed. "The Ship Commander who let us go obviously felt entitled to disobey
his orders when he had sufficient reason to do so.
And even during the war I was captured by a local officer who kept me alive
almost certainly against orders. You may remember me telling you about that
one, Jame."
The younger Moreau was frowning. "I remember... but I don't buy your
explanation. This wide-open autonomy between demesnes is bad enough, but if
you run it to upper military command level, too, you're going to wind up with
complete anarchy."
Jonny shrugged. "I frankly don't understand it myself," he admitted. "The Ship
Commander tried to explain how a graduated system of respect or obedience
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based on an individual's past record kept their society running smoothly, but
it still sounds like magic to me."
"All right," D'arl said abruptly. "Assume for the moment all this is true.
Then what?"
Jonny turned back to face him. "Then avoiding a war becomes simply a matter of
removing the issue the demesnes are uniting over. Specifically, allowing them
to close the Corridor."
"Out of the question." D'arl's voice was flat. "Official Dominion policy says
the Corridor stays open or the Trofts pay heavily for closing it."
"Dominion policy isn't carved into bedrock," Jonny countered. "The purpose of
that threat was to
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Cobra protect Aventine from attack. Fine but right now we have a better chance
of surviving without your protection; and if loss of contact with you is the
price, we're willing to pay it."
"Are you, now," D'arl said. "And what happens when your machines and
electronics start breaking down? Aventine hasn't got an extensive enough
technological base to maintain things for long."
"No, but the Trofts do. We can undoubtedly trade with them as well as you do."
"
Our trade has been extremely minimal, for intelligence purposes only "
"Oh, come on," Jonny snorted. "We both know what I'm talking about.
Practically every one of your licensed carriers routinely stops off for trade
en route to Aventine. Why else do you think the
Corridor demesnes have put up with the arrangement all these years? They get
goods and
information that they would normally have to buy with heavy tariffs, no
doubt from their brother demesnes."
D'arl had a sour look on his face. "As it happens, we've been trying to come
up with a good way to end that clandestine trade for years."
Jonny spread his hands. "Well, here's your chance."
D'arl sighed. "Governor, you still don't understand the political realities
here. The Committee has taken a stand; we cannot back down without a damn good
reason."
"So make one up," Jonny snapped, his patience beginning to fray. "You're a
consummate politician surely you won't let a little matter of truth stand in
the way of what you want." D'arl's brow darkened, but Jonny rushed on before
the other could speak. "Aventine doesn't want war, the
Trofts don't especially want war, your own people don't want war. Is the
Committee so hell-bent on fighting someone that not even that will stop them?"
"Jonny!" Jame snapped.
"It's all right, Moreau, I'll handle it," D'arl said. "Governor, I'll take
your recommendation to the
Committee tomorrow. That's the best that I can do."
"A Committé with your experience?" Jonny scoffed. "You can do better than just
playing court reporter."
"I can push any solidly-based, politically plausible reason for closing the
Corridor," D'arl bit back.
"You've yet to give me anything that qualifies."
"You want a good political reason? Fine; I'll give you one right now." Jonny
stood up, dimly aware that his anger was near to overwhelming all control over
it. "What do you think the Committee would do if a visiting dignitary from
Aventine shot down one of its members?"
"Jonny!" Jame jumped to his feet.
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Cobra
"Stay back, Jame." Jonny kept his eyes on D'arl. "Well, Committé? It would
mean economic sanctions against the colonies, wouldn't it, which for all
practical purposes means closing the
Corridor."
"It would." D'arl was glacially calm. "But you wouldn't shoot me down in cold
blood just for that."
"Wouldn't I? The greatest good for the greatest number, remember? What does it
matter that you and
I would be sacrificed? And I've got more than just that, anyway. For what
you've done to thousands of Aventine boys alone I could hate you enough to
kill. Jame, get back.
"
The younger Moreau ignored the order. Quietly, he walked over to stand
squarely between the other two men. For a long moment the brothers locked
gazes. Then Jonny reached forward and effortlessly lifted Jame into the air by
his upper arms, setting him to the side. The brief burst of anger was gone,
leaving only determination and the cold knowledge that he'd come too far to
back out now.
"Committé, I want you to get on the phone and start calling in all the favors
you've undoubtedly been accumulating through the years," he told D'arl grimly.
"Now. You are going to get the Corridor closing accepted."
D'arl didn't move. "Under threat to my life? No. And certainly not because of
your unreasonable feelings about the Aventine Cobra project."
He said the last so casually that Jonny was taken aback. Fury threatened to
drown him... but abruptly he understood. "You don't know, do you?" he said,
more in bitterness than in anger. "I suppose it hasn't happened yet to your
own Cobras."
"Know what?"
Jonny dug into his pocket for his medicine, tossed the two vials into D'arl's
lap. The Committé
frowned at the labels and keyed the names into his comboard. A moment later he
looked up to meet
Jonny's eyes. "Anemia and arthritis," he almost whispered.
"Yes," Jonny nodded, wondering at the oddly intense reaction. "Every one of
the First Cobras in the colonies is coming down with those diseases, as a
direct result of our implanted servos and laminae, and there are indications
our immune systems are starting to be affected, as well. Best estimates give
me barely twenty years left to live, if that long.
That's the ultimate legacy your Cobra project has left on Aventine."
D'arl stared down at the vials in his hand. "It's starting here, too,
Governor. Reports of chronic Cobra illnesses have dribbled in for the past
year or so. Statistically inconclusive as yet... I'd hoped my suspicions were
wrong." He looked up at Jame's stunned expression. "I ran the reports through
Alveres, Moreau I didn't see any point in worrying you about your brother's
health."
Jame took a deep breath. "Committé... if what Jonny said about secret trade
helping to keep the
Corridor open is true, then it follows that the whole Aventine Cobra project
was indeed unnecessary, or at least premature."
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Cobra
"The Cobras will be needed now."
"No," Jonny shook his head. "We'll be maintaining the trade relationship with
the Trofts, and with the Corridor closed we're no longer a military threat.
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They won't attack us and we won't provoke them, either. There's another point
for you, Committé: if war starts, you won't be able to count on those hundred
thousand Troft troops being tied up on Aventine."
"
My point, sir " Jame cut off as D'arl raised a hand.
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