Part 6 (1/2)
”Surfing never occurred to me as a sport,” Neiland continued. ”I played basketball. Couldn't shoot to save my life, I just liked the energy.”
”There's a basketball court at the Doghouse. I tried it once. Hit my first ten shots from six out to twelve metres. Kind of lost its appeal after that.”
”That's really sad.” With contemplative concern, chin in hand, elbow resting on the chair arm. ”It never occurred to me before I met you that being technically perfect would make everything boring. Is there any sport you find challenging?”
Sandy shook her head glumly. ”Not really. Only mind games. Chess, sometimes.”
”I'd imagine, given your tactical prowess, you wouldn't lose many times at chess either, would you?”
”No. I only play the computer, no one else lasts more than twenty moves. The computer tells me I'm a level below Grand Master, and I've never really played it that much.” She shrugged. ”It's not much to be proud of, I'm psychologically structured for spatial awareness and numerical sequencing. In chess I just count, memorise and project. Sub-level memory and processing implants carry most of the workload, I just give the directions.”
”It still technically qualifies you as a genius.”
”By whose standard? I can't write a concerto, paint a masterpiece or turn out a novel. I'm still struggling with chicken fettuccini. I certainly don't have much apt.i.tude for poetry, my language skills aren't much above average, and while I'm good with raw numbers, I'm sure as h.e.l.l no mathematician. I'm just good at three-dimensional s.p.a.ces and rapid-track calculation, but much of that is reflex rather than thought.”
”You have a specific set of skills, Sandy. When you learn to apply them to other things, you'll discover they work equally well on things other than military strategy and network engineering, I'm very sure. It's only your lack of experience in anything non-military that makes you think you're not good at it.”
”Maybe.” She sipped her tea. ”Or maybe it'll turn out I'm just a ma.s.s of trigger-sensitive programmed reflexes guided by an over-large ego with an ident.i.ty crisis and delusions of grandeur.”
Neiland smiled. ”So what's the attraction to surfing? Since you obviously don't find it difficult?”
”It's not a compet.i.tion. It's just me, and the wave. And a” She pursed her lips, thinking of how to explain it, what words would be adequate. Sipped her tea, for the inspiration of flavour. ”It's like admiring a nice sunset. Or a great view from a mountain top. It's something beautiful, the force in that wave, the sound it makes and the shape as it curls and breaks, and to ride along with it somehow makes me feel a part of that force. I couldn't give a d.a.m.n how many cutbacks or floaters I pull off, though that's fun. It's a way to appreciate each wave, and get a feel for its different aspects. Technical difficulty's not the point-and it's not much more of a challenge than basketball, really. It's just a beautiful sensation.”
Neiland just looked at her for a long moment, smiling at her contemplation, teacup dangled thoughtfully from long, elegant fingers.
”Must give you a good rush of blood,” she stated. Meaningfully. ”Get your heartrate up. Might take a while for those feelings to fade away after you get out of the water.”
Sandy took a deep breath. ”I don't think that's got anything to do with how I handled the SIB tail.”
”No.” Decidedly. ”You eliminate all direct threats all the time, regardless of circ.u.mstance. It's what you do.”
Another deep breath. One learned to be wary of casual chat with politicians and senior officials. One learned that disarming chitchat about weekend pastimes was often little more than the slow circling of a razorshark about a slow and unwary surfer. In deep water and a long way from sh.o.r.e.
”Ms. President, I have been instructed many times by advisors in your own staff, and senior CSA people, not to let the SIB boss me around. I am advised to conduct my affairs as I deem prudent. Security arrangements are largely my job now in the CSA, I couldn't just allow such a blatant violation of my security perimeter. It's a precedent that allows all kinds of direct threats to have that much more chance of targeting myself or those I'm guarding.”
Neiland sighed. ”Sandy, the political realities were explained to you a ”You wanted my experience.” Flatly. ”You said my military background and lack of political compromise was what the CSA needed at present, that I'd help close up the loopholes that too much political compromise and lack of resolve had allowed to develop.”
”Sandy, you're a soldier.” More firmly this time. ”A good soldier knows the need to understand her strategic environment, surely. To learn the lie of the land. I'm asking that of you now-learn how things work here, learn how the politics shape everything. Otherwise you'll just walk blind into an ambush like you did today.”
”Ms. President, if I'm not allowed to be me, and utilise my strengths, what real use am I to you?”
”Sandy, please, call me Katia. At least in private.”
Sandy nodded slowly, accepting that wordlessly. She wasn't sure she liked it at all. She liked Katia Neiland, whatever her judgments to the better. She wasn't the slightest bit sure that it was wise to do so. And now, the requested informality was troubling. She could deal with Katia Neiland as a superior. Rank was something she understood intimately, as a founding principle in her life's experience. She knew the boundaries, the responsibilities, what was reasonable and unreasonable behaviour for both superior and underling respectively.
Deal with Katia Neiland as just a friend? Whatever else she was, Neiland was a politician, and a d.a.m.ned accomplished one at that. Nothing she did was without an ulterior political motive. Nothing was ever just as simple as ”friends.h.i.+p” with such a person. Inexperienced as she was in such matters, she knew enough to know that for a very certain fact.
”Sandy, look.” Neiland recrossed her long legs, bare from just above the knee a indecorous of an Indian or Arabic politician, she'd gathered, yet tolerated with a decadent European. ”This isn't the military. I might be President, but I can't just give orders like an admiral and expect them to be followed-it's every politician for themselves. And they're all beholden to their factions and interest groups a even within my own party, be it the religious conservatives on the Left, the moderates on the Right, or the pragmatists like me in the Centrists. And then there's the Senate, which has a different voting system. There are more minor parties, and upstaging the two big parties on populist, ideological issues is what they live for a”
”I know, I know,” Sandy said tiredly, ”and the Senate Security Council includes members of the Rainbow Coalition due to a political trade-off a few years back. No one thought it would matter having a few conservative religious activists on the council-because no one on Callay ever took security issues seriously before now. I have been paying attention, Katia.”
”Have you really?” With a pointed expression beneath raised brows. ”You do know then that the Senate Security Council sets the agenda for the SIB, and that they value their independence from the CSA and executive power more than just about anything? If I'm seen interfering in that independence, Sandy, it'll be seen as a dictatorial attack upon the Callayan const.i.tution. I have to live with them. That's why they were created, to force me to live with them.”
”Ms. President a I can't think about public relations in operational circ.u.mstances. It's against everything I'm trained to be, and every instinct I have.”
”You're going to have to learn. Don't think of it as PR. It's just another set of factors to include in your operational parameters, just like any tactical mission a I'm reliably informed by Shan and Krishnaswali that you're a tactical genius, Sandy. I'm certain you can do this if you try.”
”And leave jobs incomplete, objectives unaccomplished?”
”Your objective, Sandy, is to be effective. If you accomplish your field objective only to cause destabilising political consequences as a result, that's a tactical failure on your part. I'm asking you to see the bigger picture. You can't change this system, no matter how stubbornly you attack it. Your only choice is to work within it.”
Sandy took a deep breath. Ran a hand through her hair, and stared briefly out the broad windows of the french doors, across the view of ornate brick walls and gardens beyond. Restrained a grimace with an effort.
”Okay a if this is a public relations issue, why not let me go public?”
”Because we need you as a CSA security operative, and that role will be severely undermined if you throw yourself headlong into the media spotlight-your personal information will become fair game, people will know your face, your name, your details. It'll raise more questions for the Administration and the CSA, the whole works. Sandy, people know some good things about you-they know you saved my life, that you played a big part in stopping the Parliament Ma.s.sacre, that you're an important security a.s.set to this planet. The rest of it, the moral issues of GI technology and the policy ramifications of that a it's a hornets' nest, we can't afford it right now, it'd be a ma.s.sive distraction. It can all just wait for another, quieter day.”
”You don't think the mere appearance of my pretty blue eyes and firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s in the public arena will improve public opinion?”
Neiland raised an eyebrow. ”You could arrange to show them in an interview?”
”I serve at the President's pleasure.”
”It's not me who'd get pleasure from it.”
”Your suggestive hemline never helped you get elected?”
”Oh sure, my red hair too. Blonde is rare enough on Callay, redheads are downright exotic. My pollsters had taken another five centimetres off my hemline and added five new hairstyles to my repertoire by the end of the campaign. It worked wonderfully.” Smiling broadly. ”Sandy, public debate on Callay is not exactly advanced at this point in time. I also got elected because people liked my management style and the ideas I had for revamping the legal system regarding network protocols a People here know that stuff, it's their everyday lives and business. They don't know much about LeagueFederation politics and have only basic knowledge about the war. Give it time, they're not stupid, just under-informed.”
”And the only people doing the informing are the radicals who think I'm going to break into their homes at night and murder their children.”
”And whom most Callayans don't take very seriously, Sandy. The political wisdom is that whatever the prominence of religion and cultural values in people's lives, only about a third of Callayans actually vote on those issues, and only a third of them are total, close-minded conservatives. But the more ammunition you give the radicals, the easier you make it for them.”
Sandy sighed. Took a biscuit from the table and bit it in half. ”I just don't like being pa.s.sive.”
”I know. The best form of defence is attack and all that a It's a fine philosophy for a soldier in a war, but things here are different.” Neiland sipped her tea. ”That's how it is. Please don't antagonise the SIB any more than they already are. Consider that a direct Presidential order. It makes my life difficult.”
”I'll try.” Neiland gave her a firm look, eyebrows raised. ”I'll try very, very hard,” Sandy amended. The President looked sceptical. ”And that's the only reason you asked me out here?”
”No. I wanted to ask you in person about Governor Dali. And some things I'd rather not discuss over any network.”
Sandy nodded slowly, was.h.i.+ng down her biscuit with a sip of tea. It didn't surprise her. Dali had been a continuing thorn in the Administration's side ever since his FIA-arranged takeover of government had collapsed a month ago, setting in motion the entire present mess over Article 42 and the proposed breakaway from the Federation. No one wanted to remain a part of a federal system that allowed its shadowy intelligence agency to overthrow democratically elected governments while committing crimes and murder among the populace. In order to make an informed decision about any possibly breakaway, however, people wanted to know just how deep the whole plot with the Federal Governor of Callay had gone, and just who knew what at the highest levels of the Federal Grand Council back on Earth.
”He's still not talking?” she asked, knowing the answer well enough in advance.
Neiland shook her head. ”He'd be stupid to. The moment he opens his mouth he risks implicating the entire Grand Council bureaucracy, not just the FIA. But the Grand Council a” she shrugged, ”Dali's their boy. He came up all the way through the system, from Indian civil service to United Nations to Grand Council officialdom and a governors.h.i.+p. Only, somewhere along the way the FIA got their tentacles into him, like they've got tentacles into a lot of federal governors, we think a Eleven member worlds have already begun appointment reviews of their own governors, and are demanding full records and disclosure from the Grand Council. It's caused quite a stir.”
”How much power does that give you?” Sandy asked, trying to recall as much as she knew about Federation governments and internal power relations between them. And realised it wasn't all that much, except there were fifty-seven of them, comprising roughly twenty billion people. Earth's population was hovering these days at roughly seven billion. Immensely powerful, by the standards of any individual Federation world or system. But if all the other Federation worlds stood together, even Earth's influence could be countered. Unified cooperation, however, was no more a common condition for Federation members than it had been among League members. ”How many of the member worlds are behind you? Behind us?”
”Not enough.” Neiland shook her head glumly. ”A lot of the border worlds near the League are very hawkish still, very pro-Federation, have always accused worlds like Callay of being too withdrawn and self-interested with the war going on-with some cause too, I think. Others are totally dependent on trade with Earth and good relations. It's too risky for them to stick their necks out before they know exactly who holds what cards. Right now, it's us and about nine governments. Maybe twelve in a pinch. The other fortyfive governments are all on the fence to varying degrees.”