“And the Commonwealth is forced to wait until last.”
Caine looked at Nolan, then at Ching, whose eyes were still friendly, but also incisive, almost challenging. Caine looked back at Nolan, unsure whether he should—
“Go ahead; say it. Mr. Ching knows.”
Caine shrugged. “No: the Commonwealth wants to be last. Needs to be. It has the most advanced space program, the best position in terms of interstellar expansion, military capability. If it took an early leadership position, the other nations would balk, might feel that they had become satrapies of the Commonwealth. And—”
“It’s okay; don’t stop.”
“And it makes it possible for the Commonwealth—and particularly the US—to let the other nations and blocs take the heat for any mistakes or inequities that persist through the early years. America has been resented for its inordinate wealth and power for so long that, if it started in a leadership position, there would be a reflex to blame any problems in the Confederation upon the US.”
Nolan looked over at Ching, eyebrows raised—but both were surprised when Caine pressed on.
“But there’s another advantage.”
The gait of the two older men slowed. They thought the list was done. Maybe they haven’t seen it, since they are so focused on the political maneuvering.
“Which is?” Ching sounded mystified, enthralled.
“Optimal timing for logistical benefit.”
Silence. Gravel ground and snapped under their shoes.
It was Nolan who took the bait. “What?”
Caine smiled at the two of them. “The US is still the leader in defense and aerospace technology. In some ways, it has too great a lead. Unless the US wants to bear the brunt of a potential interstellar war all by itself, it needs a greater diffusion of higher technological capabilities throughout the globe. Right now, there’s a good amount of that from the Federation and the union , but—with all due respect, Mr. Ching—”
“No, you are quite right. Continue.”
“The largest populations, and therefore production potentials, are in the TOCIO and DWC blocs. If their general technological level can be upgraded in the first eight years, they can become integral participants in a truly global effort to establish an interstellar buffer zone. And, after eight years, those nations might be ready to follow the Commonwealth’s leadership in the energetic business of rapid expansion—which is, let’s be honest, a particularly strong trait among the nations of our bloc.”
Nolan’s smile was surprised, a little baffled. Did I just give away some of his deeper game? Well, if I did, he should have stopped me . . .
Ching was staring at Caine as though he was a rare antiquity that had turned up in his soup bowl. “Fascinating. And astute.” He smiled at the sun, now accelerating in its plunge toward the horizon. “This is a day of much change.” They had arrived at the buffet tables—olives, wine, a few white-coated attendants—and he turned to Caine. “Perhaps you will advise me on the wines, Mr. Riordan? I seldom partake.”
Caine shrugged, stole a fast sideways look at Nolan, who did not return his glance, but was smiling into the sun himself. Eyes back upon Ching’s, Caine gestured to the tables. “I’ll try, but I’m not sure I’m any more of a connoisseur than you are, Mr. Ching.”
He reached down, picked up a bottle, tilted it toward a glass—
CIRCE
He reached down, picked up the binoculars, tilted them to snap into the short tripod. He swung them around to aim up at the end of the Sounion headland, leaned over to check the view: the columns of the Temple of Poseidon were slightly off center to the left. He tapped the front right lens rim slightly, looked in: centered.
He looked to his right: the false olive container was open, most of the sharp, acidic fumes carried away from him by the prevailing winds running in from the Aegean.
MENTOR
The breeze from the Aegean tore the cocktail napkin out of Downing’s hand. “High winds,” he commented, then looked back at the milling delegates. “And we’ll soon be heading into others, I wager.”
Nolan kept looking out to sea. “It can’t be ‘we’ any more, Rich: you’ll have to steer the ship on your own from here on. We’ve got to make IRIS your organization now.”
“Rubbish. Nolan, you are not so old that—”
“Richard.”
Downing stopped: Nolan had used his proper name.
“Richard,” Nolan repeated, “it’s not just a matter of age. It’s a matter of policy. Caine isn’t the only one who’s going to be watched, now. For the last twenty years, I’ve operated under the media radar, but here at Parthenon I was running a public show, approved by the leadership of all five blocs. How do you rate my public profile now?”