BtH6

==Chapter 6 - By the Horns==
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Cháteau des Calderon
Samantha City, Taurus
Taurian Concordat
November 26th, 3025
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Thomas looked up from his desk as Edward was ushered into his private office. The doorman closed the thick wooden panel, leaving the Protector alone with his eldest son. The father smiled—a rare event for Thomas—and then he waved his son into a seat. Today, Edward was wearing his TDF uniform—complete with his rank as a Subaltern, what would be a Captain in most militaries.
“Official business Subaltern Calderon, or personal?” Thomas asked. Edward blushed slightly; he had made a habit of never approaching his father in uniform for a mere Subaltern shouldn’t be cavalier when it concerned the chain of command. In uniform, Edward, and here Thomas smiled again, insisted on being merely Subaltern Calderon and not Heir Apparent to the Protectorship.
“Personal, Pop,” he answered. “I have to report to duty shortly, and considering what I want to broach with you, I might not have time to change.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, Sir,” his son answered and then he paused, collecting his thoughts. Gathering his courage, Thomas thought—and he frowned. Edward was seldom so . . . cautious.
“Spit it out, boy,” Thomas growled.
“Have you looked over the précis on the contents of the Vickers Core?” Edward asked.
“I’ve skimmed it, son.”
“Pop, it is the holy grail. Engineering data, computer sciences data, mathematics; every single accomplishment of the Old Hyades before the Reunification War began are contained within it. All of our literature, arts, music, everything. This could change the Concordat forever.”
“What is your point, Edward?”
His son looked Thomas directly in the eyes and he nodded. “We have no right to hoard this; not from our own people. Pop, we’ve long had the finest institutions of learning among all of the nations of humanity—we’ve got the highest literacy rate of any House, Great or Minor. We need to organize a new university, a new institution whose sole purpose is to restore our knowledge.”
Thomas frowned, but he nodded. “That will cost money, Eddie. Right now, the coffers are pretty damn bare.”
“The expense has to be borne—we’ve got to get this information downloaded and distributed before something happens, some accident damages the Core and we lose information forever.”
Thomas inhaled sharply and he nodded again. Already, there had been one such ‘accident’, with a man whose identity Henri Jouett had been unable to discover. That man had come close to damaging the Core—but the guards had managed to stop him. How he had even known it was being transported was something that Henri was feverishly investigating—and how he come so close, with a vest of explosives no less, just as intently.
“I agree, Eddie, but I can’t conjure funds out of thin air.” And Thomas frowned at the look on his son’s face.
“Maybe we can,” Edward said quietly. “Hanse Davion would pay . . .,” but Edward was cut off by his father.
“ARE YOU MAD!” Thomas bellowed as he stood. “I stood beside you Edward, against Grover, because you were right and Grover was wrong. Attacking the Federated Suns is a fool’s errand. But the Davions are our Enemy—they have always been our Enemy and they always shall be. And you want to share this, this, treasure trove with them?”
“Not share, Protector Calderon, sell. Between Mad Max Liao and the Fox, whom would you rather have as your enemy?”
“They are both our enemy, Edward!”
“Pop, the Davions haven’t crossed our border since the end of the Reunification War—four hundred years ago. Four centuries. They haven’t once attacked us since then; while the Capellans? They raid our border worlds sporadically. Just look at it. If we lift the embargo on our companies selling to the Federated Suns, look at how much more income we will have. And I am not advocating giving the Fox everything; hold back the information on WarShips and he will still pay an Emperor’s ransom for the rest.”
Edward paused and he stood and he placed his hand on his father’s arm. “You said yourself that Hanse Davion will desperately want this—he might well go to war for this information. For our WarShip. Let’s take that option out of the equation. Let’s stabilize our borders and with the funds we can wring from Hanse Davion we can build the Concordat into a force that it would take a Second Star League to conquer in as little as ten or fifteen years time.”
“I’ll think about it,” Thomas growled as he sat back down. “What would you want to name this new university?” And then the older man grinned. “The Taurian Institute of Technology and Science?”
Edward smiled. “I’ll let you be the one to tell Katherine you are opening TITS, Pop.”
Thomas barked out a laugh. “What would you suggest?”
“The Samantha Calderon Academy of Research and Sciences” Edward answered, and Thomas barked out a burst of laughter.
"SCARS, eh? I can live with that, Eddie."
Encouraged, his son pressed on, “It would be your legacy for all future generations of Taurians. We could break the ground this fall and be ready for classes by spring if you hammer out an agreement with the Fox.”
“I said, I’ll think about it, Edward Calderon,” Thomas growled again. And then he sighed. “Grover will have a stroke, if I even suggest it.”
“So? He’s a planetary governor; you are the Protector of the Taurian Concordat.”
“He’s a friend whose advice I value.”
“He’s a Liao-phile who is convinced that our future depends on allying with the Confederation. Sian is a snake-pit ten times worse than New Avalon—you don’t need me to tell you that.”
“No, I don’t,” Thomas said quietly and he tapped the top of his desk and stared off into space for several minutes. 
“If I decide to take your advice, and make Davion this offer, Edward, it needs to stay absolutely black until the deal is inked and dried. That means no HPGs, no aides, no assistants, no Ambassadors.” Thomas nodded again. “Are you willing to take a sabbatical from that uniform to represent me on New Avalon—if I decide to do this, son?”
Edward drew in a deep breath and he nodded.
“Then I’ll think about it. I promise you this, Eddie,” Thomas said as he stood again, “I might say no, but I will give heavy thought to this.”
“That’s all I can ask, Sir. It is time we buried the past and moved on—past time.”
“And speaking of time, aren’t you running late, Subaltern Calderon?”
“Oh, damn,” Edward cursed as he looked at the clock. “Permission to be dismissed, Sir?”
“Granted. You better run if you are planning on making it to Mt. Santiago on time.”
But Edward was already sprinting from the office.
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