And it wasn’t just most of the new native recruits going to Jackie, but also great numbers of disaffected emigrants, the most recent arrivals. This tendency baffled her, and she complained about it to Art one day after they had gone through the Praxis report.
“Well,” he said diplomatically, “it’s good to have as many emigrants on our side as possible.”
Of course when he wasn’t on-line to Earth he was spending much of his time shuttling around between resistance groups trying to get them to agree, so this was his party line. “But why are they joining her?” Maya demanded.
“Well . . .” Art said, waggling a hand, “you know, these emigrants arrive, and some of them hear about the demonstrations, or they see one, and they ask around and hear stories, and some hear that if they go out and join in a demonstration then the natives will really like them for it, you know? Some of the young native women maybe, who they hear can be friendly, right? Very friendly. So they go out there thinking that maybe if they help out, one of these big girls will take them home at the end of the day.”
“Come on,” Maya said.
“Well, you know,” Art said. “It does happen to some of them.”
“And so of course our Jackie gets all the new recruits.”
“Well, I’m not sure it isn’t a factor for Nirgal as well. And I don’t know that people are making that much of a party distinction between them. That’s a fine point, something you’re more aware of than them.”
“Hmm.”
She remembered Michel, telling her it was important to argue for what she loved, as well as against what she hated. And she loved Nirgal, it was true. He was a wonderful young man, the finest native of them all. Certainly it was not right to scorn those kinds of motivations, that erotic energy taking people into the streets. . . . Still, if only people would be more sensible. Jackie was doing her damnedest to lead them into yet another spastic unplanned revolt, and the results of that could be disastrous.
“It’s part of why people follow you too, Maya.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Come on. Don’t be a fool.”
Although it was nice to think so. Perhaps she could extend the struggle for control to that level too. Although she would be at a disadvantage. Create a party of the old. Well, in effect that’s what they were already. That had been her whole idea, back in Sabishii— that the issei would take over the resistance, and guide it on the right course. And a good number of them had devoted many years of their life to doing just that. But in fact it hadn’t worked. They were outnumbered. And the new majority was a new species, with new minds of their own. The issei could only ride the tiger. Do the best they could. She sighed.
“Tired?”
“Exhausted. This work is going to kill me.”
“Get some rest.”
“Sometimes when I talk to these people I feel like such a cautious conservative coward of a naysayer. Always don’t do this, don’t do that. I get so sick of it. I wonder sometimes if Jackie isn’t right.”
“Are you kidding?” Art said, eyes wide. “You’re the one holding this show together, Maya. You and Nadia and Nirgal. And me. But you’re the one with the, the aura.” The reputation as a murderer, he meant. “You’re just tired. Get some rest. It’s almost the timeslip.”
• • •
Michel woke her up some other night: on the other side of the planet Armscor security units supposedly integrated into Subarashii had taken control of the elevator from regular Subarashii police, and in the hour of uncertainty a group of Marsfirsters had tried to seize the new Socket outside Sheffield. The attempt had failed, and most of the assault group had been killed, and Subarashii had ended up back in control of Sheffield and Clarke and everything in between, and most of Tharsis as well. Now it was late afternoon there, and a huge crowd had appeared on the streets of Sheffield to demonstrate against the violence, or the takeover, it was impossible to say; it had no purpose; groggily Maya watched with Michel as police units in walkers and helmets cut the demonstrating groups into segments, and drove them off with tear gas and rubber batons. “Fools!” Maya cried. “Why are they doing this! They’ll bring down the whole Terran military on our heads!”
“It looks like they’re dispersing,” Michel said as he stared into the little screen. “Who knows, Maya. Images like this may galvanize people. They win this battle, but they lose support everywhere.”
Maya splayed out over a couch in front of the screen, not yet awake enough to think. “Maybe,” she said. “But it’s going to be harder than ever to hold people back as long as Sax wants.”