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Westman looked at him for a few more moments, then nodded slowly. He understood why Van Dort-or Terekhov-had ensured that Ba
" Maria
Westman felt the sudden shock congealing his features, but there was nothing he could do about it. Jessyk Combine? Impossible!
"The weapons were being delivered to 'resistance groups' in the Cluster on the direct orders of Isabel Bardasano, a cadet member of the Jessyk Board of Directors who specializes in covert operations, 'wet work,' and the transportation of genetic slaves," Van Dort continued implacably. " Maria
He stopped. Just like that. He simply stopped talking, sat back in his chair, and looked at Westman across the table.
Westman looked back— stared back-in stu
And yet...
And yet it did. His jaw clenched as he realized his worst suspicions about Firebrand had fallen far, far short of the truth. Whatever he'd thought he was accomplishing, "Firebrand" and his masters had been using him.
The realization was sickening. But even worse was the question of why they'd done it. He tried desperately to avoid the inevitable conclusion, but his own accursed integrity wouldn't let him. It forced him to look the truth squarely in the eye.
The only reason any Mesan corporation would have helped him keep the Star Kingdom out of Montana was to hold the door open for Frontier Security. If he succeeded in driving Manticore out, it would only be to let Frontier Security-and Mesa-in instead.
"I— " he began finally, only to stop. He cleared his throat. "I didn't know Mesa was involved," he said. "The fact that it was doesn't necessarily mean Manticore wears a white hat-" his eyes flicked to Terekhov's white beret almost against his will, and he snatched them back under control as he continued "-but that's no excuse for dealing with someone like Mesa."
"Mesa may not be the only one you were dealing with, Steve," Ba
" Monica? " Westman didn't even tried to hide his confusion this time.
"Yep." Ba
"It says," Westman said slowly, "that there's fools and then there's damned fools. And I reckon that this time around, I've been one of the damned fools. And whatever I may think of the Star Kingdom of Manticore, or of Rembrandt, I expect that this time I owe you gentlemen my thanks. If I'd accepted the 'assistance' of scum like that, I'd have slit my own throat when I found out afterward."
"The question, Steve," Ba
Stephen Westman looked at his oldest friend, and knew-however fiercely he might fight against admitting it-that Trevor was right. He struggled with himself, and with his stubborn, Montanan pride, for endless seconds. Then he inhaled deeply.
"All right, Trevor," he said wearily. "Expect you're right. It just plain goes against the grain to admit I've been that stupid. I don't say I like it. And don't you go expecting me to ever love Manticore or-especially!-Rembrandt. But I'll allow as how neither one of them can hold a candle to what Frontier Security'd do to us. And I will be damned if I'll let myself or my people be used by something like Mesa. Of course, I'll have to talk it over with the boys before we make any hard and fast decisions, you realize."
"You do that. And I expect you might find it a mite easier to talk them around if you mention what Bernardus here negotiated with President Suttles before we came out for this little visit."
Westman looked a question at him, and the Chief Marshal chuckled.
"Old Bernardus may not be up to Ineka Vaandrager's weight as a pure, dyed-in-the-wool bitch, but he's a pretty persuasive negotiator in his own right. He started by saying Rembrandt'll refuse to press charges for the destruction of its enclave here on Montana. He followed that up by telling the President he already had Baroness Medusa's approval of an amnesty offer for all of you on the part of the Star Kingdom if you'd surrender your weapons and give up all this nonsense. And he suggested to the President that if Rembrandt was prepared to forgive you, and Manticore was prepared to forgive you, it might just be he ought to consider exercising his pardoning power to promise you boys amnesty under Montanan law if you lay down your guns."
"Are you serious?" Westman looked at Ba
"No doubt you are, Mr. Westman," Terekhov said. "I can respect that, even if it does seem just a little stiff-necked even for a Montanan. But however willing you may be to face the music, don't you think you owe it to your men to accept the offer for them? Or, at least, to give them the option?"
Westman glared at him for a few seconds. Then his shoulders slumped and he shook his head wearily.
"Reckon you're right," he sighed. "I reckon you're right."
"So you think he'll come in, Captain Terekhov?" Warren Suttles asked.
"I think he will, Mr. President. On the other hand, I'm not the best judge of the way Mr. Westman's, or any other Montanan's, mind works. No offense, Sir."
"None taken," Suttles said with a smile, and looked at Ba
"Oh, he'll come in, Mr. President," Ba
Suttles' smile turned into a chuckle, and he shook his head.
"If he'll just stop blowing up the planet, I can live with all of that," the President said. "I can even live with how pissed off the rest of the Cabinet's going to be when I a