"But I do," he replied, "since you have certainly gone out of your way to accommodate both me and my people. I must say that for you, Captain. You have done everything that you said you would. My scientists have swept the planet's surface since you completed your 'treatment' some hours ago. No trace of the of-fending creatures can be found."
"My people are very reliable," said Shelby. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw TYilley and Dunn-who had come up to the bridge specifically to witness this particular communique-look at each other with an approving nod. Even Garbeck had a relaxed air about her. That pleased Shelby. There were some officers who,
if their opinion were overridden, would nurse a grudge or just sit there and steam over it. Certainly Shelby was familiar enough with the type, having been one of them herself for longer than she would have liked to admit. She'd outgrown it (or, at least, she liked to believe she had). But it had never been an admirable trait of hers, and she disliked seeing it in others as much as she did in herself. Fortunately enough, Garbeck appeared to have risen above that in her attitudes and comportment. If she was at all upset that rules had been bent and the Makkusians spared slow depopulation through a pernicious insect, she certainly wasn't let-ting on. Then again, who would want to make an attitude like that public?
"Yes, your people are obviously very reliable," Hauman com-mended her. "And you will find my people to be... equally so." But as he completed the sentence, there was an unmistakable air of wistfulness in his tone.
"Meaning... ?" said Shelby.
"Meaning that we will... honor our pledge to join your United Federation of Planets."
"Even though it compromises your pledge of neutrality" Shelby was leaning back in her command chair, drumming her fingers thoughtfully.
"Yes, Captain. Even though." He still did not sound remotely happy about it.
"Well... good. Good," Shelby was nodding approvingly. "I'm pleased that you're going to stick to the agreement. I mean, yes, I understand that it does violate your philosophy. But... hell," and she smiled lopsidedly, "it's not as if you were pressured into mak-ing the promise, right? I mean, no one held a metaphorical gun to your head and told you, 'You have to do such-and-such, or else...' " Forming her fingers into a gun, she mimed blowing her brains out.
"Captain..." Hauman said with obvious hesitation. "I... hate to bring this up... but, well... that is, in fact, what did happen."
"No!" Shelby spoke with what was clearly a sort of false
"shocked" voice. "Is it?" She sensed Garbeck stirring uneasily in the seat next to hers, but chose to ignore it. "You truly felt that you were forced into the pledge? That it was coerced from you, against your will?"
"Well... yes." Hauman sounded very uncertain, as if unclear as to why something that self-evident was even being discussed. "Yes, of course it was against our will. I made that abundantly clear to you, did I not?"
Looking rather huffy over the mere notion of it, Shelby sat up straight and smoothed the line of her jacket. "You did not, sir. You did not make it clear at all. And I certainly wish you had."
"But I thought-"
Ignoring his befuddled expression, Shelby pressed on, "Be-cause we have a few philosophies and regulations back where I come from. And one of them states that any agreement entered into that is not completely mutual on the part of both parties is not an agreement at all."
"Captain," came a low, warning undertone from Garbeck.
"Not now, Commander," she whispered back, before continu-ing at her normal volume, "That's the entire purpose of entering into an agreement or contract. If someone compels you to do so, 'or else,' why... the very existence of the 'or else' negates any sort of good-faith dealing."
Hauman clearly understood where this was all going, but couldn't quite believe it. "Captain Shelby... are you insinuating that, if we wish to recant our agreement in this matter... there is a fundamental precept in your laws and philosophies that would allow such a thing to occur?"
"Of course."
"Captain!"
This time it was clear that Garbeck wasn't allowing herself to be ignored. "One moment, please," said Shelby as she turned to face Garbeck, the former's face a picture of innocence. "Problem, Commander?"
"Permission to speak privately, Captain?"
"Granted."
Garbeck had half-risen from her chair, heading toward the ready room, when Shelby cut the legs out from under her by say-ing curtly, "But later. Not now."
"Captain, I-"
"I said, not now, Commander. Was that confusing in some man-ner?"
For a long moment, Garbeck simply froze in place, and then, very slowly and very deliberately, she took her seat once again. She did not, however, look directly at Shelby.
"And what of the insects?" Hauman asked, suddenly cautious. "If I were to withdraw the agreement, would you-?"
"Put them back?" She laughed at the very idea. "No, not at all. Gone is gone, Hauman. Every one of those creatures-except for what's being held by my people for study-is nothing more than free-floating atoms."
"We have similar samples under investigation," said Hauman. 'Thanks to you, we should be rid of the beasts forever. But, in the unlikely event that we're not rid of them, we can continue our re-search.. this time without any help from the Federation."
Shelby heard McMac moan softly in their collective chests.
"So, what are you telling me, Hauman? That you are now pulling out of your commitment to the UFP?" She spoke so slowly and deliberately that her meaning could not possibly be lost.
A slow smile split Hauman's face. "Yes," he said, and then re-membered to add an air of reluctant tragedy to his voice. "I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm saying."
"Well!" She sat back, shaking her head and looking discour-aged. "I have to say, I'm obviously disappointed in your decision. It may indeed be in line with your world's philosophies, but I still feel the Federation has a great deal to offer you." She thought about it a moment, and then said, "I would like you to consider something, Hauman. I would like you to consider that it is be-cause of the UFP that your world now stands safe from that which nature turned against you. And it is because of representatives of
the UFP that you are under no obligation other than to live as good a life as possible. We are an organization that honors indi-vidual philosophies and ways of life, banding together out of no other motivation than mutual protection, and sharing in the won-ders of each other's cultures. Have you considered the possibility that, by exposing other worlds to the way your people think, you might actually be serving to improve the existence of others, rather than simply diminishing the quality of your own lives?"
"We had not considered that, no," admitted Hauman. He ap-peared moved by what she was saying, and stroked his chin thought-fully. "I cannot make any promises, Captain, but my associates and I will strongly consider what you have said... and what we have learned. Much of this is very new to us, but we are willing to admit that everything that we're doing... that, indeed, all of life... is a learning process. It is a foolish individual indeed who operates on the assumption that he knows everything there is to know. I may be many things, Captain, but I've never considered a fool to be one of them." He thought a moment longer and then added, "If it wouldn't be too inconvenient... would you be able to check back with us in, say, a month's time? There are individuals I need to discuss matters with, meetings to be held. As I've said, I cannot guarantee anything. But it is possible that, upon reflection, we may eventually be able to give you an answer more in line with your reason for coming here."
"All I have asked is fair consideration," Shelby said. "Exeter out." The screen blanked out, and she nodded approvingly to her-self. Then she looked around at her crew-and saw, by and large, scowls or looks of disappointment. Very quietly, she said, "Does anyone have a problem?" When no immediate response came, she said, "It wouldn't be wise to make me ask again."
All eyes turned to Garbeck, who cleared her throat. "It's just that... it was our fi
rst mission, Captain. It would have been nice for it to be a one hundred percent success. Instead, it's something of a mixed bag."
"Life often is, Number One," Shelby said easily. "But ultimately, it is not our mission to browbeat reluctant races into joining us."
"They're ingrates," said Dunn. "After all the work we went to-"
"It was a task we undertook on our own initiative, Dunn," she reminded him. "We did it because it was the right thing to do... whatever the Prime Directive might have had to say on the matter. Just as not pressuring the Makkusians into joining was also the right thing to do. Two wrongs may not make a right, but two rights don't necessarily add up to a third right either."
"Actually," MacGibbon noted, "three rights generally gets you back to where you started in the first place."
This actually drew a mild laugh from others on the bridge. "Trust a conn officer to make note of that," said Shelby, amused. "If that's the case, MacGibbon, then I think we're ahead of the game. Because my suspicion is that, when we check back with them, they will indeed want to join the UFP. And our mission will have ended successfully after all. It will just have taken a bit longer than we originally thought."
"I hope you're right, Captain," Garbeck said diplomatically. But there was something in the way she said it that set off a small alarm in the back of Shelby's head.
TAPINZA
"... AND OUR SON... MOKE..."
The uproar was instantaneous, but Tapinza didn't hear it at first because of the roaring in his ears. That roaring came from the blood that was pounding furiously through his head, as he watched his meticulously crafted plan fall apart.
Even as he watched the town meeting erupt into chaos, Tap-inza's entire world telescoped down to two individuals: Calhoun and Rheela. She was staring at him, thunderstruck, his words just beginning to sink in. It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. Her mouth was moving, but no words were coming out. Moke was next to her, jumping up and down, his face incan-descent with joy, pulling on her skirt and pointing to Calhoun while asking over and over again, '7s he? Is he?" Calhoun, in-scrutable as always, was saying nothing. Instead, he actually seemed to be enjoying the chaos that his little announcement had caused. The Praestor was gaveling for order, but no one was pay-ing attention yet.
That bastard... that bastard... Finally, words were creeping back into Tapinza's mind, fighting their way through the blanket of raw fury that had been draped over his head. How the hell had this happened? Where had this Calhoun come from, that he was
stepping in and making a complete bungle of a simple and elegant plan?
In essence, Calhoun had beaten him to the punch.
Tapinza had been just about to stand up, just about to say virtu-ally the same words as had emerged from Calhoun's mouth. He was going to claim paternity of Moke, give Rheela an out. Enable her to stay, to ally herself with, arguably, the most powerful man in town. Everyone was going to benefit from it, and if Rheela knew what was good for her, she would go along.
There was always the possibility that she would deny it, of course. If she did so, she would be tossing away a perfectly good gambit on his part, and that would be her decision to make. If she denied it, Tapinza would simply recant. "I was trying to help a woman so fallen that she seemed to need the help desperately," he would have said. This would naturally have gotten approval and support from everyone. It would have made him look generous, and her like the little ingrate that she was.
On the other hand, if she went along with his endeavor, then he would, in one stroke, have what he had been seeking to obtain. And then...
Then would come the possibilities.
For Tapinza, ever the man of vision, was seeing far beyond the relatively unimportant city of Narrin. He saw vast potential for great farms, massive growth areas producing food by the cartload, food readily generated thanks to the generous rainfall that Rheela would be able to provide him.
But even more than that... it would all be overseen by Tap-inza, and doled out according to who was most willing to pay for it.
Ohhh... the possibilities, the endless possibilities.
Except that this... this idiot Calhoun had opened his big mouth.
Rheela had not yet erased the shocked look from her face. Cal-houn, for his part, had stepped away from the wall and was com-ing toward her with slow, relaxed strides. "It's ridiculous to keep hiding it," he told her. "I want to do right by you... and by
Moke." The boy was looking up at him with eyes the size of saucers.
And still Rheela said nothing. "You-" was all she managed to get out.
He put his hands on her arms. "You want to do right by Moke... don't you?" he asked.
The babble of voices was tapering off into silence. Everyone was looking at Rheela, hanging on a silence that seemed endless.
Then she let out a sigh that sounded like an exhausted, yet re-laxed, gust of relief. "Of course I do," she said. At which point, Calhoun took her in his arms and kissed her.
And that was more than enough to set off another chorus of cheers. There was also, Tapinza couldn't help but notice, a rather vocal minority expressing out and out disbelief, scoffing noises that indicated just how preposterous and absurdly timed was this claim by Calhoun.
Loudest of all, predictably, was the Maestress. "Come now!" she said. "Are we to believe that you are who you claim you are?"
Calhoun looked at her with a puzzled expression. "I was un-aware, Maestress, that this town requires proof of parentage in all instances. Do you? Does every person in this room who purports to be the parent of a child who calls them father know, before Kolk'r and all, that they are unquestionably the true father?" He surveyed the room with a stare that was almost fearsome. "All cities have their secrets, things they would rather keep hidden. I would not suggest, Maestress, that you advocate pulling them all into the light. I do not know how much support you would muster for that endeavor."
The Maestress was about to reply, but then she saw the faces of those around her. The open nervousness, the clear evidence that no one wanted to even open that door, much less walk through it.
Brilliant, thought Tapinza grimly. He plays upon their darkest fears like a master musician. The odds are that everyone here is exactly "what they appear to be, no more and no less. But he has
them so off balance that they don't know what to say, or even what to think.
"In that case," said Calhoun, "I do not see where you have the right to single out Rheela or myself for close questioning. That field of examination is too dangerous to withstand evenhanded application... wouldn't you say, Praestor?" He deliberately ig-nored the Maestress, instead focusing on the nominal leader of the community.
Praestor Milo harrumphed loudly once, and then said in a stri-dent voice, "Well... if the Majister has admitted to his... in-volvement... in the matter of Rheela and her son, then I hardly see where we have the right to say otherwise.'*
For one moment, Maester Tapinza thought that seeking Rheela's cooperation in the production of rain was going to be un-necessary, since the Maestress looked as if she was ready to sum-mon a pure thunderstorm herself. She was about ready to eat thunder and excrete lightning, no question. But then Maestress Gawfiel reined herself in, and said nothing aside from, "Best of luck... to you both. To all three of you..."
"When did this happen?" Spangler suddenly asked. He was in full journalism mode. "How did it? How did the two of you meet?"
'That is no one's business," Calhoun told him.
"Yes, but the people want to know-"
"It's good to want things," Calhoun replied, smiling faintly.
"This has been a very busy meeting," the Praestor called out. "The time is getting late and, frankly, my friends, I'm exhausted. If there are no objections, I would like to call this meeting adjourned."
Tapinza wanted to voice half a dozen objections, starting with, / hate Calhoun, but, wisely, he kept his council. "This meeting is declared adjourned then," said the Praestor cheerfully
, banging the gavel once.
Calhoun reached over and draped an arm around Rheela's shoulder. "Come, dear," he said gently. "Let's go to... home. We can speak more there." And he guided her out the door toward the street.
Naturally, Tapinza was out the back door and around to the front before anyone else had come close to exiting the hall. When he drew within range of Calhoun, he slowed, not wanting to run up to him like some sort of breathless fool. But he knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to inform Calhoun that he had made a very serious blunder. Maester Tapinza was not someone that he desired to trifle with. He had thought, at the very least, that Calhoun would eventually be someone he would be able to deal with. But if Calhoun was determined to make their relationship an adversarial one, that was fine with Tapinza, Not for the first time did he consider the possibility of Calhoun as an enemy, and the conclusion he reached the second time was no different than the first: He could handle a dozen like Calhoun with no trouble.
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