The Consuming Fire (The Interdependency #2)(22)

“There’s only one problem with this, which I’ve already covered.” Marce motioned again toward End. “It’s already begun, consistent with our predictions and data. At this point we’re still arguing about it only because only one stream has collapsed and we can still make other excuses for why those ships that should have arrived at Hub by now haven’t arrived. When the collapse of the Hub–Terhathum Flow stream happens, within weeks, the time for debate about the status of the Flow will be over. And when that happens, what we need to ask ourselves is what we will be prepared to do as scientists to help everyone else in the Interdependency to survive.”

“You say ‘as scientists,’ but the emperox has been claiming she is having visions about what’s coming,” complained an exogeologist.

Marce looked uncomfortable at this. “I can’t speak to those. I can speak to Emperox Grayland’s commitment to continuing and increasing scientific research on this subject, which was started by her father, Attavio VI.”

“But don’t you think it’s odd that she’s engaged in this mystical nonsense? I don’t think it helps her case at all.”

Marce paused for a moment to consider his words. “My colleagues,” he said, finally. “I have just given you an hour-long presentation on a hypothesis whose data fit the observed behavior of the universe, which has been peer-reviewed and which conforms to every accepted standard and stricture for scientific inquiry. Yet I can tell already that something less than half of you are more than half convinced by it. You’re scientists. If I can’t convince all of you with my data, then it’s possible I’ll do even less well with the general public.”

He glanced around at the exogeologists, who were silent. “Now, I’m not going to tell you I understand our emperox’s claim of visions and revelation,” Marce said. “I certainly can’t say I believe them, exactly. But I believe in the emperox. I believe that the emperox is committed to helping all of her subjects prepare for what’s coming. And if having a vision helps where the actual, observable and verifiable science doesn’t, then I’m open to visions. Given what’s at stake, maybe you might be, too.”

*

Marce sensed the woman before he saw her, or more accurately, he saw Nadau Wilt, his assistant/bodyguard, tense up as they walked to Marce’s waiting car, and step between him and someone who was clearly walking up on both of them. He looked up and saw the approaching woman, a bit older than he was, with an air of dishevelment, carrying a sheaf of papers.

The woman saw Wilt move and stopped a few meters out, hands up guardingly. “Did you tell the truth in there, Dr. Claremont?”

Marce smiled; it had been a while since anyone had called him “doctor.” “About the collapse of the Flow? Absolutely.”

“No, not about that,” the woman said, and the annoyed, dismissive tone came through clearly. “About being delighted to be proven wrong.”

Ah, thought Marce. Here we go. One persistent feature of giving these presentations on the Flow collapse is one or two attendees who would want to corner him later to share their own “scientific” theories, like how the Flow was actually the ghost plane or how the emperox was actually turning off the Flow stream at the behest of a heretofore never-discovered intelligent alien species, which looked like a cross between a shark and a poodle (that one came with art). Marce’s strategy in those situations was to be polite but to let Wilt shove him along to the next thing.

“Yes,” he said, politely. “In this case, I would be very happy to be proven wrong.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I have to tell you, Dr. Claremont, I wasn’t very pleased when you proved me wrong.”

Marce was confused by this comment for several seconds, until he wasn’t. Then his mouth literally dropped open. “You’re … Hatide Roynold.”

“Yes.”

“You told the Nohamapetans that the Flow streams are shifting, not going away.”

“Yes.”

“You were wrong about that.”

“Yes, yes,” Roynold said, irritably. “Maybe I wouldn’t have been wrong if your father had bothered to answer my correspondence to him on the subject, but he never did.”

“He was told by the emperox to keep his research to himself,” Marce said.

“I understand that’s his excuse, yes.”

“The Nohamapetans used your data to attempt a coup.”

“Well, they didn’t tell me that’s what they had planned,” Roynold said. “Any more than I imagine the emperox told you she was using your data for that ridiculous ‘vision’ scheme of hers.”

Marce looked back at the conference building they had just come from. “How … did you see today’s presentation? You’re not an exogeologist.”

“I grabbed a nametag and snuck in.” Roynold motioned to herself, almost dismissively. “I look like this. The other exogeologists aren’t exactly fashion plates. I fit in.”

“Lord Marce, we should go,” Wilt said, knowing when to move things along. Marce turned, allowing himself to be moved.

“You’re not right, Dr. Claremont,” Roynold said, stepping forward again, and then stopping once more when Wilt gave her a take-the-hint glare, but not walking away.