The woman halted and eyed the roomful of workers. “Thank you. It wasn't too hard to manufacture a copy of your cloaks, though I see that didn't mislead anyone."
“The Watch is not here with you?” someone asked nervously.
“The Watch,” the woman answered dryly, “doesn't know I walked through their ranks. My stealth gear isn't state of the art, but it's more than good enough for dealing with them.” She eyed the group. “I wanted to talk to someone else. Someone besides that group that kept everyone else away after we landed. You seem frightened. Why?” To Francesa, the woman's voice held the same assumption of obedience that she'd always heard in First Officer Garvis, yet without the arrogance Garvis always carried around him like a second cloak.
Francesa's father looked around helplessly, saw that no one else wanted to answer, then spoke heavily. “We know you're here to judge. I suppose you've already judged. And every one of us knows we're not worthy."
The woman from the ship cocked one questioning eyebrow at him. “You're not?"
“Please do not mock us. We are here, we are workers, because we lacked the same wholehearted obedience to the Captain that the Officers and Crew claim. We know that."
“And how does this make you unworthy?” the woman pressed.
A woman worker finally stood. “You know this! You know that all that matters is a person's acceptance of the Captain as the only true leader in everything!"
“Interesting.” The woman from the ship seemed to be looking inward for a moment. “What do you base this belief on?"
The silence stretched this time, then Francesa's father beckoned to an old man. “Give her the writings you carry. I don't know the meaning of all this, but we've nothing to lose by doing as she says."
As the old man approached the woman from the ship, he touched his brow, then offered the tattered pages. The woman from the ship frowned as she took the writings, then began reading them, at first slowly, then with greater speed until she seemed to be flipping through the papers as fast as their brittleness would allow. Finally, she looked up and around the room. “These are survival rules. Guidance for people whose ships have been wrecked.” The workers exchanged worried glances. “Are you telling me you've created a religion out of these?"
The old man's face worked with a series of emotions, as if he couldn't decide how he should react. “We ... we created nothing. These are the writings. The Captain told us to follow them. He followed them."
The woman's frown relaxed into solemnity. “They're good rules. They haven't changed significantly since the Verio was lost here. But your ancestors seem to have combined them with the existing religious beliefs the survivors already had. I have no doubt Captain Santere—” The crowd gasped at the open speaking of the name, causing her to pause for just a moment. “Captain Santere,” she repeated sternly, “followed the rules laid out in these documents. But he wasn't a god. Some ship captains think they're gods, but that's as far as it goes,” she added.
Francesa's father gazed at her in open wonder. “Why haven't you been punished for speaking His name? How can you say such things? Are you truly in the favor of the Captain?"
The woman looked cross. “This little joke has gone on far enough. I'm not in the favor of the captain. My name is Janis Balestra. I am the captain of the Bellegrange."
Silence fell across the room. Finally, Francesa's father spoke tentatively. “But ... we've always been told ... the Captain is a man."
“That's true. Captain Santere was a man."
“And all of his Officers were men. Only a man can be Captain and only a man can be First Officer and only men can be Officers."
This time the woman stared for a moment, then laughed. “Our records show that the First Officer on the Verio was Francesa Nalus. She was very definitely a woman."
Quiet fell again, then Francesa's father shook his head, not in denial but in obvious disbelief. “We've been told that Francesa Nalus was one of the Crew, but an unimportant one. We've been told that the First Officer was Radick Junis."
“Radick Junis?” the woman questioned, then seemed to be talking to herself for a moment. She laughed again. “Junis was Fourth Officer on the Verio. Not even the third in line to command. The fourth. Yet somehow he managed to get the real First Officer written out of her place in history and stuck himself in there. Apparently he was a much better politician than he was an officer. The Fifth Officer was a woman, too. I guess she got written out of history as well.” She folded her arms, staring around the room defiantly. “As I told you, I'm Captain Balestra of the Bellegrange."
Francesa couldn't help herself. Her whisper sounded clearly in the once-again silent room. “Then you decide who goes and who stays."
Captain Balestra frowned down at her, then slowly smiled. “Yes. As Mr. Kayl told your, uh, ‘First Officer’ back at the landing shuttle, we can't take everyone.” A sigh seemed to pass over the group. “I don't know what your expectations are, but as Mr. Kayl stated, the Bellegrange is much larger than the Verio was. We can carry most of the people in this accidental colony. But not everyone."
“Most?” the old man questioned. “Not a few? Not some? Most?"
“Yes. Mr. Kayl is going over the lists provided right now to determine your current population and match that to our capacity."
The worker woman's face reflected a sudden hope. “Then, after you've taken the Officers and Crew, it may be that some of us will also be taken up with you?"
Captain Balestra scowled. “Why does everyone assume these so-called Officers and Crew will get any priority? The criteria used to choose who goes are up to me. I'm not supposed to make value judgments, but that's my call."
The old man shook his head. “But they are obedient. They have accepted the authority of the Captain without reservation. The writings say—"
“These writings,” Captain Balestra snapped, her anger clear, “say due respect should be given to those in legitimate positions of authority and their orders should be obeyed as long as those orders are lawful. Have you actually read these survival rules? They're not about just being obedient. These rules tell you to look out for each other, to share resources, to work for the mutual good so as many as possible can survive."
Francesa's father, with a courage Francesa would never have suspected, stepped between Captain Balestra and the old man. “Please. Don't harm him. We know the writings say that. That's why we're here instead of being among the chosen. Because we didn't think giving obedience to the Captain was all that mattered, or even the most important thing in the writings. Because we'd help a sick neighbor even on the Day of Rest, or break the rules if following them seemed to lead to an injustice. The First Officer—all of the Officers and Crew—say such things are wrong because the Captain demands our obedience no matter what. If you mean to punish us for our actions, then so be it. We've only lived as seemed right, by the words in the writings. But don't harm this one. He says only what he was taught by those who live on the hill."
Captain Balestra stared at Francesa's father, her anger visibly fading. “I see. You have nothing to fear from me, sir. Not you and not this man, nor anyone here.” She gestured. “You're thin. You're all thin."
“Yes. The harvests have not been good. Not for years."
“You're to be credited for getting any harvests out of this land.” Balestra jerked her head toward the door, indicating the outside. “This is a lousy planet. The best option you had in this system, but only an equatorial location like this has a chance of livable temperatures on a world suffering through a centuries-long winter caused by meteor impact. Do you ever see the stars or are the clouds always in the way? And I assume there's no large animal or marine life to speak of?” A few workers nodded. “Died in the immediate aftermath, no doubt. And now, after a slight warming cycle caused by this world's slow axial variation, it's going to get a little colder. If my ship hadn't come by, I'd guess half of the people here would've starved to death in the next several years.” A scowl app
eared on her face again. “That First Officer didn't appear to have lacked for food."
“They get all they want,” Francesa said. Alarmed faces turned her way, but she kept talking, long-held resentment causing the words to pour out of her. “Because they're worthy. Because the Captain says the Officers and Crew have to get priority in everything. Food. And houses. And coal for their heaters and the best clothing. And we have to serve them."
Captain Balestra looked at Francesa for a moment before speaking. “The Captain says this, does he?"
“Yes.” Francesa felt something else swell up inside and blurted it out. “That's what the First Officer claims."
The silence in the room somehow conveyed shock. Captain Balestra gazed around, then focused back on Francesa. “That big building up the hill, the one with all the carving on it. Is that where the Officers live?"
Francesa nodded. “I work there."
“And you, and everyone here, lives in places like this?"
The old man's voice sounded ragged, as if the blasphemies being uttered were overwhelming him. “The Captain and His servants need places whose glory reflects His own glory, places where His works are seen—"
Captain Balestra slammed a palm onto the nearest table, causing everyone to jerk and the old man's words to cease as if they'd been cut off. “If you truly believe this Captain is some sort of deity then he wouldn't need anything from you to make him more glorious. As for his works, look around you! Every single one of you is a greater wonder and monument than any building could ever hope to be! Have you forgotten that?” She calmed herself, shaking her head. “It wouldn't be the first time, I guess. And it won't be the last, I'm sure."
Francesa's father was shaking his head as well. “I don't understand."
Captain Balestra nodded. “I'm sure it's hard for you all to grasp. Let's keep it simple. By rough estimate, I can take about three quarters of the population here back to civilization. Maybe a little more. As captain of the Bellegrange I am required to make the decision as to who goes and who stays. I need you to tell me everything that might help me make those decisions.” She smiled down at Francesa. “This one at least isn't afraid to speak truth to power. And she doesn't seem upset to see me."
Francesa couldn't help smiling back. “Your arrival meant the Watch forgot to give me the two lashes Officer Varasan ordered this morning."
“Lashes?” Captain Balestra's smile slowly went away and she looked at Francesa's father, who nodded.
“For breaking rules,” he explained.
“I see.” Captain Balestra's voice seemed colder than the wind outside. “Do the Officers and Crew ever get lashes?"
“No.” Francesa's father spat out his reply. “Everything they do is what the Captain orders, they say. So they can't break any rule or regulation unless the Captain has told them to do so. They can't be lashed for being obedient to the Captain, can they?"
“No, of course not,” Captain Balestra agreed in a tone which belied her words. “I need some representatives to talk to. Five of you. You're one,” she announced, pointing to Francesa's father. “The rest of you pick four more and make it quick. I have a lot more questions I need answered."
Her father turned to Francesa. “Go home. Tell your mother what's happening. She had to stay with your brother. All of you wait there for me."
“But—” Francesa started to argue.
The woman from the ship held up one hand to silence her. “This is your father? Listen to him. Captain's orders,” she added dryly.
Francesa was out the door before she realized the lady captain might have been making a joke with her last statement.
Despite her excitement, once Francesa had described events to her mother and given the half-roll to her brother the fatigue of the day began overwhelming her. She wedged herself in an upright sitting position, determined to stay awake until her father got home, somehow sure he would be home, but at some point simply passed out from weariness.
* * * *
She was awakened by a familiar hand on her shoulder. “Come,” her father urged. Francesa blinked, trying to come fully awake, barely making out in the dimness of the room her mother already standing and holding her brother. “Your cloak. Anything you don't want to leave. Get it quickly."
Francesa wobbled to her feet, hesitated, then pulled her old ragged doll from the thin blanket that served as her bed. She swept on the cloak, then looked at her father, unable to read his expression in the dark. “Where are we going?"
“You'll see.” Her father hustled them out and they began hastening up the slope. As they went, other workers and families joined them, until they were part of a column of people.
As they entered the courtyard Francesa gasped to see members of the Watch sprawled around the edge of the space. Her father made a shushing noise. “Don't worry. Captain Balestra said she would put them to sleep. They haven't been harmed."
Francesa kept staring at the Watch members’ bodies as they walked on, wanting to see the movements that would mark them as sleeping and not dead. When she finally felt sure of that and looked forward again, the star craft loomed over them. Her mind suddenly numb, Francesa kept walking, following her mother into the rectangle she'd seen earlier, stepping over the high edge and into a room where colored lights winked at points on one of the walls just as the polished stones did on the altar in the Bridge.
Her father said something to her mother, urging her onward through another, smaller opening, then took Francesa's arm. “The lady wants me here. You should stay as well."
Francesa came along as her father led her to the side of the room, where Captain Balestra stood watching the stream of workers enter. Balestra acknowledged their presence with a smile to Francesa and a nod to her father, then went back to watching, occasionally directing Francesa's father to keep the column of people moving as briskly as possible.
The line of workers finally stopped as more than a dozen men and women Francesa knew as friends of her father came in. “That's everyone,” one announced.
“You're certain?” Captain Balestra questioned, then frowned at something in her hand. “Ship systems logged a number coming aboard that equals the totals given in the census data we were provided."
“We never lied to the census,” Francesa's father assured her.
“And my ship systems are reporting no signs of human life down hill from this location. Good. We can take twenty more, if their mass averages the same as your people."
“Watch member Yeli is a good man,” one of the others offered.
Francesa's father nodded. “He's not like the others. And Watch member Tenal has a good woman for a wife. For her sake, he and his family could come."
“Fair enough. I need them and anyone else, up to twenty bodies, as fast as possible if they're to come at all,” Captain Balestra directed. “Can you bring them here without rousing the rest?"
“I don't know.” Francesa's father hesitated. “If the wrong people are awake..."
Instead of directly replying, Captain Balestra seemed to mumble something to herself for a moment. “I've used my lander's security systems to knock out everyone uphill from this spot. Take enough people to drag your friends. Now get going. Fast. And remember: only twenty."
Francesa's father pushed her against the wall with a gesture to stay as he rushed away with the others. Francesa stood there, rigid, still unable to grasp what was happening.
Captain Balestra murmured some more to herself as if she were talking to someone else, then smiled at Francesa. “I see you brought a friend."
Francesa stared down at the doll clutched in one hand, feeling heat in her face, and shoved the doll behind her. “I'm not ... that is..."
“Nothing to be ashamed of, girl. We all need things that bring us comfort.” Balestra stared out the opening at the world beyond. “Especially in places like this. It's not a bad thing, unless what brings you comfort comes at the cost of other people. You hang on to that friend of yours, so you never forget t
his place and why you and your family are leaving it while others must stay."
Francesa gazed up at her. “Why are we leaving? I thought—"
“You're leaving because you were still following the survival rules to the best of your ability. That's the justification I used. Those who tried to change those rules to benefit themselves, or because they thought themselves better than you, won't be coming."
Francesa was still thinking about that when her father returned with the others, dragging or carrying unconscious bodies with them. “Twenty-one,” her father gasped as he entered, three children in his arms. “There was another child—"
Captain Balestra raised that commanding hand, frowning. “Wait.” She paused, as if listening. “The children are small enough. We can take twenty-one. Now, get back from the hatch. The opening, that is."
Everyone crowded away, then the walls around the opening flowed together and sealed into a solid surface. Captain Balestra murmured to herself some more, then looked up at the workers around her. “We're lifting. Don't worry. You won't feel it. It'll take about an hour to reach the Bellegrange. Accommodations will be tight, and food rationed, but we should be okay until we reach port and the Sanctuary people can take charge of you."
Francesa's father laughed. “We're accustomed to small homes and little food. But hope is something we'll have to get used to.” He glanced at Francesa, showing surprise at her somber expression. “What's the matter? Surely you're not sorry to leave."
“No,” Francesa protested. “It's just ... what will they be thinking? The Officers and Crew, who were so sure they would be taken up. Instead, they're the ones left behind."
Captain Balestra gave her a grim smile. “You've got a good heart to still care about that. I left them what supplies and survival equipment I could spare, and I left them a message to think about. I told them I had an obligation to take those most in need, an obligation they should understand since the writings they revered urged that behavior. I told them those left would have to work hard to survive the coming colder period, but that since they'd proven very good at looking out for their own interests they should be well suited for the task. And I told them that anyone who believes in a powerful divinity who rules them perhaps shouldn't go around making decisions for that divinity, such as who is worthy and who is not."
Analog SFF, September 2006 Page 10
