"Oh," said Alai. "That's asking a lot, from mere discipline."
Petra was getting the vision of this. "Maybe if you quote to your soldiers that passage from The Elevated Places, where it says, 'Maybe your Lord will destroy your enemy and make you rulers in the land. Then He will see how you act.'"
Alai looked at her in genuine consternation. "You quote the Q'uran to me?"
"I thought the verse was appropriate," she said. "Isn't that why you had them put it in my room? So I'd read it?"
Alai shook his head. "Lankowski gave you the Q'uran."
"And she read it," added Bean. "We're both surprised."
"It's a good passage to use," said Alai. "Maybe God will make us rulers in China. Let's show from the start that we can do it justly and righteously."
"The best part of the plan," said Bean, "is that the Chinese soldiers will come right afterward, and fearing that their own armies will be left without supplies, or in the effort to deprive your army of further provender, they will probably seize all the rest of the food."
Alai nodded, smiled, then laughed. "Our invading army leaves the Chinese people enough to eat, but the Chinese army makes them starve."
"The likelihood of a public relations victory is very high," said Bean.
"And meanwhile," said Petra, "the Chinese soldiers in India and Xinjiang are going crazy because they don't know what's going on with their families back home."
"The invasion fleet doesn't mass for the attack," said Bean. "It's done in Filipino and Indonesian fishing boats, small forces up and down the coast. The Indonesian fleet, with its carriers, waits far offshore, until they're called in on air strikes against identified military targets. Every time they try to find your army, you melt away. No pitched battles. At first the people will help them; soon enough, the people will help you. You resupply with ammunition and demolition equipment by air drops at night. Food they find for themselves. And all the time they move farther and farther inland, destroying communications, blowing up bridges. No dams, though. Leave the dams alone."
"Of course," said Alai darkly. "We remember Aswan."
"Anyway, that was my suggestion," said Bean. "Militarily, it does nothing for you during the first weeks. The attrition rate will be high at first, until the teams get in from the coast and get used to this kind of combat. But if even a quarter of your contingents are able to remain free and effective, operating inside China, it will force the Chinese to bring more and more troops home from the Indian front."
"Until they sue for peace," said Alai. "We don't actually want to rule over China. We want to liberate India and Indochina, bring back all the captives taken into China, and restore the rightful governments, but with a treaty allowing complete privileges to Muslims within their borders."
"So much bloodshed, for such a modest goal," said Petra.
"And, of course, the liberation of Turkic China," said Alai.
"They'll like that," said Bean.
"And Tibet," said Alai.
"Humiliate them enough," said Petra, "and you've merely set the stage for the next war."
"And complete freedom of religion in China as well."
Petra laughed. "It's going to be a long war, Alai. The new empire they'd probably give up--they haven't held it that long, and it's not as if it brought them great wealth and honor. But they've held Tibet and Turkic China for centuries. There are Han Chinese all over both territories."
"Those are problems to be solved later," said Alai, "and not by you. Probably not by me, either. But we know what the West keeps forgetting. If you win, win."
"I think that approach was proven a disaster at Versailles."
"No," said Alai. "It was only proven a disaster after Versailles, when France and England didn't have the spine, didn't have the will, to compel obedience to the treaty. After World War II, the Allies were wiser. They left their troops on German soil for nearly a century. In some cases benignly, in some cases brutally, but always definitely there."
"As you said," Bean answered, "you and your successors will find out how well this works, and how to solve the new problems that are bound to come up. But I warn you now, that if liberators turn out to be oppressors, the people they liberated will feel even more betrayed and hate them worse."
"I'm aware of that," said Alai. "And I know what you're warning me of."
"I think," said Bean, "that you won't know whether the Muslim people have actually changed from the bad old days of religious intolerance until you put power in their hands."
"What the Caliph can do," said Alai, "I will do."
"I know you will," said Petra. "I don't envy you your responsibility."
Alai smiled. "Your friend Peter does. In fact, he wants more."
"And your people," said Bean, "will want more on your behalf. You may not want to rule the world, but if you win in China, they'll want you to, in their name. And at that point, Alai, how can you tell them no?"
"With these lips," said Alai. "And this heart."
16
TRAPS
To: Locke%
[email protected] From: Sand%
[email protected] Re: Invitation to a party
You don't want to miss this one. Kemal upstairs thinks he's the whole show, but when Shaw and Pack get started in the basement, that's when the fireworks start! I say wait for the downstairs party before you pop any corks.
"John Paul," said Theresa Wiggin quietly, "I don't understand what Peter's doing here."
John Paul closed his suitcase. "That's the way he likes it."
"We're supposed to be doing this secretly, but he--"
"Asked us not to talk about it in here." John Paul put his finger to his lips, then picked up her suitcase as well as his and started on the long walk to the bunkroom door.
Theresa could do nothing but sigh and follow him. After all they'd been through with Peter, you'd think he could confide in them. But he still had to play these games where nobody knew everything that was going on but him. It was only a few hours since he had decided they were going to leave on the next shuttle, and supposedly they were supposed to keep it an absolute secret.
So what does Peter do? Asks practically every member of the permanent station crew to do some favor for him, run some errand, "and you've got to get it to me by 1800."
They weren't idiots. They all knew that 1800 was when everyone going on the next flight had to board for a 1900 departure.
So this great secret had been leaked, by implication, to everybody on the crew.
And yet he still insisted that they not talk about it, and John Paul was going along with him! What kind of madness was this? Peter was clearly not being careless, he was too systematic for it to be an accident. Was he hoping to catch someone in the act of transmitting a warning to Achilles? Well, what if, instead of a warning, they just blew up the shuttle? Maybe that was the operation--to sabotage whatever shuttle they were going home on. Did Peter think of that?
Of course he did. It was in Peter's nature to think of everything.
Or at least it was in Peter's nature to think he had thought of everything.
Out in the corridor, John Paul kept walking too quickly for her to converse with him, and when she tried anyway, he put his fingers to his lips.
"It's OK," he murmured.
At the elevator to the hub of the station, where the shuttles docked, Dimak was waiting for them. He had to be there, because their palms would not activate the elevator.
"I'm sorry we'll be losing you so soon," said Dimak.
"You never did tell us," said John Paul, "which bunk room was Dragon Army's."
"Ender never slept there anyway," said Dimak. "He had a private room. Commanders always did. Before that he was in several armies, but..."
"Too late now, anyway," said John Paul.
The elevator door opened. Dimak stepped inside, held the door for them, palmed the controls, and entered the code for the right flight deck.
Then he stepped back out of the elevator. "Sor
ry I can't see you off, but Colonel--the Minister suggested I shouldn't know about this."
John Paul shrugged.
The elevator doors closed and they began their ascent.
"Johnny P.," said Theresa, "if we're so worried about being bugged, what was that about, talking so openly with him?"
"He carries a damper," said John Paul. "His conversations can't be listened to. Ours can, and this elevator is definitely bugged."
"What, Uphanad told you that?"
"It would be insane to set up security in a tube like this station without bugging the funnel through which everybody has to pass to get inside."
"Well excuse me for not thinking like a paranoid spy."
"I think that's one of your best traits."
She realized that she couldn't say anything she was thinking. And not just because it might be overheard by Uphanad's security system. "I hate it when you 'deal' with me."
"OK, what if I 'handle' you instead?" suggested John Paul, leering just a little.
"If you weren't carrying my bag for me," said Theresa, "I'd..."
"Tickle me?"
"You aren't in on this any more than I am," said Theresa. "But you act as if you know everything." Gravity had quickly faded, and now she was holding onto the side rail as she hooked her feet under the floor rail.
"I've guessed some things," said John Paul. "For the rest, all I can do is trust. He really is a very smart boy."
"Not as smart as he thinks," said Theresa.
"But a lot smarter than you think," said John Paul.
"I suppose your evaluation of his intelligence is just right."
"Such a Goldilocks line. Makes me feel so...ursine."
"Why can't you just say 'bearlike'?"
"Because I know the word 'ursine,' and so do you, and it's fun to say."
The elevator doors opened.
"Carry your bag for you, Ma'am?" said John Paul.
"If you want," she said, "but I'm not going to tip you."
"Oh, you really are upset," he murmured.
She pulled herself past him as he started tossing bags to the orderlies.
Peter was waiting at the shuttle entrance. "Cut it rather fine, didn't we?" he said.
"Is it eighteen hundred?" asked Theresa.
"A minute before," said Peter.
"Then we're early," said Theresa. She sailed past him, too, and on into the airlock.
Behind her, she could hear Peter saying, "What's got into her?" and John Paul answering, "Later."
It took a moment to reorient herself, once she was inside the shuttle. She couldn't shake the sensation that the floor was in the wrong place--down was left and in was out, or some such thing. But she pulled herself by the handholds on the seat backs until she had found a seat. An aisle seat, to invite other passengers to sit somewhere else.
But there were no other passengers. Not even John Paul and Peter.
After waiting a good five minutes, she became too impatient to sit there any longer.
She found them standing in midair near the airlock, laughing about something.
"Are you laughing at me?" she asked, daring them to say yes.
"No," said Peter at once.
"Only a little," said John Paul. "We can talk now. The pilot has cut all the links to the station, and...Peter's wearing a damper, too."
"How nice," said Theresa. "Too bad they didn't have one for me or your father to use."
"They didn't," said Peter. "I've got Graff's. It's not like they keep them in stock."
"Why did you tell everybody you met here that we were leaving on this shuttle? Are you trying to get us killed?"
"Ah, what tangled webs we weave, when we practice to deceive," said Peter.
"So you're playing spider," said Theresa. "What are we, threads? Or flies?"
"Passengers," said John Paul.
And Peter laughed.
"Let me in on the joke," said Theresa, "or I'll space you, I swear I will."
"As soon as Graff knew he had an informer here at the station, he brought his own security team here. Unbeknownst to anyone but him, no messages are actually going into or out of the station. But it looks to anyone on the station as if they are."
"So you're hoping to catch someone sending a message about what shuttle we're on," said Theresa.
"Actually, we expect that no one will send a message at all."
"Then what is this for?" said Theresa.
"What matters is, who doesn't send the message." And Peter grinned at her.
"I won't ask anything more," said Theresa, "since you're so smug about how clever you are. I suppose whatever your clever plan is, my dear clever boy thought it up."
"And people say Demosthenes has a sarcastic streak," said Peter.
A moment ago she didn't get it. And now she did. Something clicked, apparently. The right mental gear had shifted, the right synapse had sizzled with electricity for a moment. "You wanted everybody to think they had accidentally discovered we were leaving. And gave them all a chance to send a message," said Theresa. "Except one person. So if he's the one..."
John Paul finished her sentence. "Then the message won't get sent."
"Unless he's really clever," said Theresa.
"Smarter than us?" said Peter.
He and John Paul looked at each other. Then both of them shook their heads, said, "Naw," and then burst out laughing.
"I'm glad you too are bonding so well," she said.
"Oh, Mom, don't be a butt about this," said Peter. "I couldn't tell you because if he knew it was a trap it wouldn't work, and he's the one person who might be listening to everything. And for your information I only just got the damper."
"I understand all that," said Theresa. "It's the fact that your father guessed it and I didn't."
"Mom," said Peter, "nobody thinks you're a lackwit, if that's what you're worried about."
"Lackwit? In what musty drawer of some dead English professor's dust-covered desk did you find that word? I assure you that never in my worst nightmares did I ever suppose that I was a lackwit."
"Good," said Peter. "Because if you did, you'd be wrong."
"Shouldn't we be strapping in for takeoff?" asked Theresa.
"No," said Peter. "We're not going anywhere."
"Why not?"
"The station computers are busily running a simulation program saying that the shuttle is in its launch routine. Just to make it look right, we'll be cut loose and drift away from the station. As soon as the only people in the dock are Graff's team from outside, we'll come back and get out of this can."
"This seems like a pretty elaborate shade to catch one informer."
"You raised me with such a keen sense of style, Mom," said Peter. "I can't overcome my childhood at your knee."
Lankowski knocked at the door at nearly midnight. Petra had already been asleep for an hour. Bean logged off, disconnected his desk, and opened the door.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked Lankowski.
"Our mutual friend wishes to see the two of you."
"Petra's already asleep," said Bean. But he could see from the coldness of Lankowski's demeanor that something was very wrong. "Is Alai all right?"
"He's very well, thank you," said Lankowski. "Please wake your wife and bring her along as quickly as possible."
Fifteen minutes later, adrenaline making sure that neither he nor Petra was the least bit groggy, they stood before Alai, not in the garden, but in an office, and Alai was sitting behind a desk.
He had a single sheet of paper on the desk and slid it across to Bean.
Bean picked it up and read it.
"You think I sent this," said Bean.
"Or Petra did," said Alai. "I tried to tell myself that perhaps you hadn't impressed upon her the importance of keeping this information from the Hegemon. But then I realized that I was thinking like a very old-fashioned Muslim. She is responsible for her own actions. And she understood as well as you did that maintaining secrecy on this
matter was vital."
Bean sighed.
"I didn't send it," said Bean. "Petra didn't send it. We not only understood your desire to keep this secret, we agreed with it. There is zero chance we would have sent information about what you're doing to anyone, period."
"And yet here is this message, sent from our own netbase. From this building!"
"Alai," said Bean, "we're three of the smartest people on Earth. We've been through a war together, and the two of you survived Achilles's kidnapping. And yet when something like this happens, you absolutely know that we're the ones who betrayed your trust."
"Who else from outside our circle knew this?"
"Well, let's see. All the men at that meeting have staffs. Their staffs are not made up of idiots. Even if no one explicitly told them, they'll see memos, they'll hear comments. Some of these men might even think it's not a breach of security to tell a deeply trusted aide. And a few of them might actually be only figureheads, so they have to tell the people who'll be doing the real work or nothing will get done."
"I know all these men," said Alai.
"Not as well as you know us," said Petra. "Just because they're good Muslims and loyal to you doesn't mean they're all equally careful."
"Peter has been building up a network of informants and correspondents since he was...well, since he was a kid. Long before any of them knew he was just a kid. It would be shocking if he didn't have an informant in your palace."
Alai sat staring at the paper on the desk. "This is a very clumsy sort of disguise for the message," said Alai. "I suppose you would have done a better job of it."
"I would have encrypted it," said Bean, "and Petra probably would have put it inside a graphic."
"I think the very clumsiness of the message should tell you something," said Petra. "The person who wrote this is someone who thinks he only needs to hide this information from somebody outside the inner circle. He would have to know that if you saw it, you'd recognize instantly that 'Shaw' refers to the old rulers of Iran, and 'Pack' refers to Pakistan, while 'Kemal' is a transparent reference to the founder of post-Ottoman Turkey. How could you not get it?"
Alai nodded. "So he's only coding it like this to keep outsiders from understanding it, in case it gets intercepted by an enemy."
"He doesn't think anybody here would search his outgoing messages," said Petra. "Whereas Bean and I know for a fact that we've been bugged since we got here."