Yes, he could sympathize very easily with those who thought they could be worth more in a system that was different from this.
Nyrom felt the pressure under his feet increasing as the capsule neared the ring and his body took on weight. He emerged into the Command Module walking normally and made his way past the Communications Room and Power Direction Center to the Control Deck. Walsh was by the watch console, talking with the First Officer. He saw Nyrom enter, murmured something to excuse himself, and nodded to indicate the door leading aft to the duty officers’ day room. It was unoccupied. Nyrom closed the door behind them.
Gray-haired, crusty, square-jawed, and stocky, Walsh was a former brigadier general with the U.S. Army who had also been brought back by the Osiris. He had brought a lifetime of military experience that many felt the operations arm of the Space Operations Executive could use more of, and obviously he had not done badly for himself.
There had been some protests back on Titan at the proposal to put a Terran in command of an SOE vessel like the Trojan. One of the main objectors had been the other American, Cavan, which had seemed strange to Nyrom then, and he still didn’t pretend to understand it. Why wouldn’t a Terran, versed in Terran ways, want to see Terran influence expanded in Kronia? But the Triad had ruled against the protests, presumably to placate Valcroix and the Pragmatists in their demands for greater Terran representation in positions of prominence; and then, to appease Cavan and the protesters, they had sent Walsh far from Saturn and out of the way at this politically sensitive time. The more Nyrom saw of political compromise solutions that ended up appeasing nobody and antagonizing everyone, the more he liked the military’s simple and straightforward ways of doing things.
Walsh checked the room’s monitor panel to make sure that it had not been left with a microphone or recorder on, and then turned to face Nyrom across the table in the room’s center, his knuckles resting lightly on the top. “I’ve received a confidential assessment from Acrobat. His reading of the situation is that it’s not going to go through—not by a long way. So we can take it that Blue Moon is a virtual certainty. I’m authorizing you to advance your preparations accordingly.”
Nyrom nodded. “Acrobat” was a reference to Ludwig Grasse. Valcroix’s bill to amend the procedure for making appointments to the Directorates was about to come before the Congress, and the message meant that the inside word was it had little chance of passing. The news wasn’t exactly a surprise. But the record could now be made to show that a constitutional attempt at reform had been rebuffed, and that was the kind of thing that tended to impress Kronians.
The eventuality had been anticipated, and of course there was a fallback plan. The Trojan’s part in it depended on being able to persuade a significant number of the SA contingent to come over and throw their lot in with the covert Pragmatist group aboard the ship. That had been Nyrom’s reason for seeking out the particular kinds of personnel profile that he had. But that had been about as far as anyone could go toward guaranteeing success, for obviously no actual intimation of intentions could be risked in advance. Hence, Nyrom could use all the time he could get now to begin sounding out the potential support. That was what he understood Walsh was telling him.
Nyrom felt a surge of excitement, the anticipation of action he had always dreamed about. And, if he was honest, relief. Only now did he admit to himself that he had been inwardly worried that the politicians would find some last-minute compromise. New horizons were beckoning, about to open up.
Walsh must have seen it on his face, and smiled thinly with a snort. “Just can’t wait, can you, Birt?” he said.
“I envied you, you know, John. I’d always wanted to be a Terran. Suddenly it feels like going home.”
“What, even for you?”
“Especially for me.”
For, yes, at a time when critical policy decisions were being made that many had strong feelings about, it was understandable why Kronians, thinking the way they did, would send the Trojan with its military capability far out of the way to a place like Jupiter when its presence at Saturn could be problematical. And even more so if a goodly portion of those judged to be potentially supportive of the upstart power bid were arranged to be consigned away with it. Of course, Nyrom had seen what was going on when the selection committees pushed all those square pegs and oddballs at him.