“Correct.”
“What about the Scion, hmm?” he said, eyes widening as if he had just torpedoed the whole theory. “Each one we encountered was just an ordinary man. He didn’t seem to have any powers.”
“Didn’t he?” Keeler asked. “He told us to go to the Temple of the Z’batsu, and we did. He told us not to contact our ship, so we didn’t. He told us to surrender our weapons, and we did. The people the Gamma Team encountered warned them, never listen to the Scion.”
“Mind control?” someone put in.
“The power of persuasion, anyway.” Keeler said. “That may be the ultimate power. If you did have a planet where you had people engaging in non-stop revelry, you would need individuals whose authority would be obeyed unquestioningly, for simple reason of public safety.” A veteran of many Spring Breaks in Kandor, Keeler knew this well. This left one thing to be decided. “So, now, what do we do with them?” The questioner sat in the seat on Captain Keeler’s right sat a jowly, tall, and heavy-set man, about ten or fifteen years his senior. He had spent the meeting reclining as far back in his chair as possible. His name was Roarke, and he had chaired the Philosophy Faculty back at the University of Sapphire on New Cleveland.
“Here is the issue,” Keeler stated. “One hundred and sixty million sentient life-forms on this planet, not counting whatever might live in the oceans. At least one-hundred and fifteen million of them are humans, living in conditions of slavery, servitude, or poverty. I know some of you may not be familiar with that word, but it means extreme deprivation. Do we have a moral obligation to do anything about it, and if so, what?”
“Morally, there is no issue against our intervention. Our society is clearly superior to theirs in that it maximizes human freedom and self-determination. We provide ourselves with a higher physical and spiritual standard of living. I would say, and every Saint and Priestess on the ship would agree,” Roarke continued in his grave baritone, “that the moral question is moot. It leaves the question of what we can do, and there we have several choices, most of which won’t work very well, and the rest won’t work at all.
“We could use the force of arms to reconstruct their society. We have superior firepower. All we have to do is, well, kill a whole lot of people, and then stay in orbit for the next ten or twenty years while we teach the rest how to stand up for themselves. Not to mention, we’ve got ten or twenty million down there as brain-damaged as the kid we brought back. We put all our regeneration chambers to work and, maybe, some time in the two-hundredth century, we’ll take a bite out of that number.
“Alternately, we could just bomb the existing social structure down to the foundation, again, killing a whole lot of people in the process, but we have no guarantee that what gets rebuilt is any better than what we bombed.
“We could eliminate the ruling caste, or just render them sterile and let them die out. Then again, pardon me for splitting hairs, but I think our moral authority is limited to re-building their civilization, not killing off a significant percentage of the population.”
“Then, again, we could arm the people who are most likely to bring about change. We’ve examined this planet’s social structures, which are constantly shifting, but basically amount to 1,600 principalities, or prefectures. There are about eighty of these, located around the little comma-shaped continent in the middle of the planet, that are really bad. There are about eleven hundred more around them, further out. Still, not exactly model counties, but some are better than others.
“On the far periphery, you have a few, less than forty, that are actually pretty good, or at least as good as it gets on EdenWorld. We could give them weapons, technology, and let them over-run the planet, but the reason these societies are more egalitarian may be precisely because they have no real power, and what they would change into if they achieved power may be as bad as what exists now.”
“Ranking Peter,” Keeler interrupted. “You did this at Meridian as well. You always seem to have a rationale for doing nothing.”
“I am just cynical enough, Ranking William, to think that as bad as things are here, well-meaning interference may not be what is best for these people.”
“Make a suggestion, Roarke.”
“Since you asked, good captain. My plan would be, not to give them weapons, not to fight their battles for them, but give them the truth and see what they make of it. Let’s give them the truth of their world. Let’s give them the truth of our worlds. Let’s show them what humans can achieve and let them run with it.”
Keeler grinned. “The optimist emerges from the cynic’s closet.”
“Bill,” he knew Keeler hated it when he called him Bill. “Our mission is exploration. We are in no way equipped to occupy, re-make or re-model any world. Let a Phase II ship make that decision. We just give them the truth and let them deal with it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Eden - The DaySide
Landing party Gamma had touched down in a Prefecture called Nanawat. Nanaway was one of the largest prefectures on the planet, mainly because it was largely scrubland and grassy prairies. Its people prided themselves on their self-sufficiency and on having enough common sense to keep their distance from the politics and intrigues of the “Inner Prefectures.” They produced much more than they needed, and their ships plied the golden seas of Eden, carrying food, clothing, and tools to the other prefectures.
It was widely said that if Nanawat (and the bordering prefectures of Chulac and Tling, with which it had formed a loose confederacy) had anything worth conquering, they would have been annexed by another prefecture long ago. In truth, their independence had more to do with the fact that every free citizen was expected to be heavily armed, and trained to defend his lands and properties.
They were also, as Lieutenant Morgan had observed “very good at making things.”
The settlement closest to the landing site had been led by a man called Dr. Cuthbertson, whose title was simply, “Headman.” Dr. Cuthbertson strolled down a large open field, along a pathway between two rows of framework constructions, where a fleet of aircraft was taking shape. They did not look exactly like Aves, but the resemblance was close enough, Another man, the man who owned the field, was watching a team of workers attaching a structural plate to the ship’s upper hull.
“Well met, Landowner Markab”
“Well met, Headman Dr. Cuthbertson.”
“I see you’ve captured the shape of the visitor’s sky-ships quite well. Will they fly?”
“I believe they will. We will need to synthesize anti-matter for fuel, but the gravitational drive principle is fairly straightforward.”
Dr. Cuthbertson nodded. “Very good … and of the weapons?”
“Landowner Hale’s men tested the first prototypes at the firing range yesterday. We have managed to duplicate the firepower, but we will need to improve the targeting mechanism.”
“How long?”
“Another three gyres,”
Dr. Cuthbertson looked at the ships taking shape and his heart swelled. As a boy, he had been a stable slave in the service of the Scion of Ventana Prefecture, a vile and petty little man, who had abused him in ways ranging from perverse to sadistic. A High Guardsman had taken pity on him and convinced the Scion to sell him into the service of a Shipmaster. The ship had foundered off Nanawat, and only he had survived. Adopted into a family of tradesman, As he stared through the morning haze, it was as though he could see the changes coming to his world. He was not the only one with contempt for the Hauptarchy. There were many Freedmen in the confederacy and in neighboring prefectures, and rumors of whole camps of escaped slaves on the far side of his world.
He patted his old chum on the shoulder. “See if you can do it in two. We will need weapons. Lots and lots of weapons.”
I have not seen Tactical Commander Redfire since his return, but I understand he underwent some manner of trauma on the surface. According to what I have been able to piece together from talking to the other peopl
e in the landing party, Redfire met a woman down there, and may or may not have mated with her. They disappeared together after returning from the slave rescue mission. (Note: All involved parties have been unanimously approved for commendations by the Command Core.) She has not been seen since, despite the best efforts of subsequently. Landing parties to locate her. The villagers do not seem alarmed by this, saying she sometimes leaves to hunt game in the nearby wilderness. (Killing and eating other animals seems distasteful to me, but I have always found the scent of raw meat erotic. Strange, isn’t it?) They do not suspect Tactical Commander Redfire of engaging in any foul play and expect their guardian to return “soon.”
Redfire’s life on board ship will not return to normal so easily. Pegasus – Deck 50
Flight Captain Jordan knew of a place few others on the ship did. Out on Deck 50, several sections forward of the last section of habitation, a single junior officer’s quarters had been activated. It was listed as the inhabitation of Jojo Shabadu, which very few people knew was the occasional pseudonym of one of Sapphire’s foremost destruction artistes. She tapped on the reception plate. It returned a two-word message. Go Away in bright green letters.
She removed a small patch, about 10 centimeters square from an inner pocket. She placed this on the door panel, to which it adhered magnetically. She drew back her fist and punched it hard. There was a brief spattering and crackle of energy, and the door opened.
“I told you no to come in,” came a voice, belonging to a shadow near the back.
“Then, you shouldn’t have given me the tool,” she said, holding up the door-jacker. He and his former art crew had used on in New Cleveland, once, burglarizing several homes to remind people what crime was like. They had given everything back, of course. Redfire stepped out of the shadows, toward the dim light of the fore-room. He looked a fright, like he had neither slept, eaten, nor bathed since returning from the planet and receiving his summary physical exam — which was, in fact, the case.
“You weren’t in your quarters.”
“They don’t suit me, just now. I feel like a stranger invading my own privacy.”
“You always did get sappy when you’re melancholy.”
“I’m surprised you took the trouble to find me.”
“I was worried about you. You have been off-duty for three days.”
“I’ve been fasting.”
“I didn’t think you believed in that.”
“I don’t, but it feels like the right thing to do.”
“I think we have some things to talk about.”
“If you want a divorce now, you have cause.”
She almost slapped him, then caught herself. “I don’t want a divorce. You are not getting out that easily.” She stroked his brow along the hairline, one stroke, not quite gentle. “I’m angry, and I’m hurt. I need to get through this. I don’t have any pity for you, though.”
“I am not doing this out of self-pity. I’m not even doing it out of guilt.” He looked at her, something desperately hard in the shape of his eyes. “It’s like poison, and the more you take the more you want, and when you stop taking it everything breaks down.”
She was silent for a moment. Her eyes searched the back wall of the room, which was hung with holo-posters from his exhibition. Her eyes fixed on the one for the Matthias Civic Center bombing. “Demolition of Civic Responsibility: A Symphony in Three Parts.” After the performance, while everyone else was sifting through the rubble, she had gone back to his control podium to find a pair twin sisters lying in wait for him, clad only in strategically-arranged flowers and vegetables. He had professed that he did not know them, had never met them before, which the two girls corroborated. Nevertheless, a fierce argument had ensued, which led to her relocating to an Auxiliary Defense Station in the Cerulean Ocean and he disappearing for nearly a year in the Arcadian Rainforest, emerging to destroy an abandoned environmental monitoring station, but spelling out a marriage proposal in the debris.
“I am very ashamed of what I did down there,” he spoke in a hoarse, gentle voice. “I can’t explain why I did what I did, what came over me. I … when I met this woman. Her life was so different than anything I could imagine. I didn’t even realize where things were going until it was too late to turn back.
“When we were on the ice, fighting for our lives, rescuing those people. I was so charged up, I felt like if I pointed at the sky I could shoot lightning from my fingertips. And she was there. Then…” He shook his head.
“Go on.” It was killing her to hear it, but she had to keep listening. He sighed. “Have you ever been sick with a fever, and your whole body felt like it was burning? Have you ever had a fever that made you shake, and your head swim, and you couldn’t tell if you were awake or asleep. In Arcadia, monks eat the leaves of certain trees to produce the same symptoms. They do it to get out of themselves. That’s what it felt like, like I was out of myself.”
She closed her eyes. In truth, she felt a little bit that way now.
“Dr. Reagan largely corroborates your story. Your male hormones, and your sex markers were both off the scale. Your brain chemistry was altered, even your body. Under the circumstances, I have to forgive you.” From the tone of her voice, forgiveness would be something she was working on for some time before she achieved it.
“I let it happen. I should never have let it happen.”
“You shouldn’t have, but you did. Where do we go from here? Seduction by an alien woman with overpowering pheromones was never covered in our marriage counseling.”
“Do you want to stay together?”
“Za,” she said, and hesitated. “We have always had a strange relationship. We don’t live together. We see each other only when we choose to. It isn’t what most would call a marriage, but we like it that way. Is either one of us going to find someone else who can tolerate that arrangement?”
“You shouldn’t stay with me just because you can’t think you’ll find someone else. You’re beautiful, Jordany, always the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known. Certainly more beautiful, and smarter, and stronger and everything than I deserve.”
“Damb right.” She put her palm on his eyelids. They did feel feverish. “I’ll see you again in three days, and you can tell me how it goes.”
As she turned toward the door, Redfire called after her. “There is something else, Jordany, something much worse, more terrible than anything else.”
Of course there was, she thought.
He looked away from her. “Winter wanted a mate. She couldn’t mate with any of the men in the village. They were slave caste. She needed an equal, and she chose me.”
“How does that make it worse?”
“If she needed a mate, she must have been in heat,” he explained. “She was fertile, my love. She wanted to procreate, and I think she succeeded.”
She agreed. This was worse, far, far worse. “Don’t you want to go back? Don’t you want to find her?”
Against the screaming his heart, he shook his head. He went over to Jordan, put his arms around her and buried his forehead in her neck. Soon, she felt his warm wet tears soaking into the shoulder of her outfit.
Remember the jerk who carried me from the cargo bay to the commander’s quarters. (I have a delicate sense of equilibrium. I don’t handle being shaken around like a dog toy.) Unfortunately, he is not being frozen and sent back to Sapphire. He had been taken off the ship’s active duty roster, and degraded to the level of Non-Core Civil Support. He dodged a bullet from XC Lear, and apparently managed to work a favor from LTN Change (whom, as I have stated earlier, is weird chick writ large. Of course, only the weird can navigate in hyperspace, but she is weirder than weird.)
Pegasus – The UnderDecks
“It’s in here,” Eddie told them. “Come on.”
“Eddie…” Change and Driver were being all but dragged down a dark and narrow causeway, chilled almost like winter itself, and silent, and silent.
“I know… De
ck –112, you can’t go any lower on this ship without a re-breather pack and a pressure suit. We’re almost there.”
He led them down the passageway, and finally found the hatch he was looking for. He palmed the latch panel and it open, sliding above and below into the deck to reveale another set of hatches that opened to either side. “Lights,” he called into the room. “Look it over, compadres, Future Home of ‘Fast Eddie’s Inter-Stellar Slam ‘n’ Jam, Mark I.’”
It was a cavernous space, a curved ceiling was festooned with power conduits and structural supports. It was very cold. The floor curved at the corners.
“O.K. It may not look like much now,” Eddie said. “But imagine it with tables, tastefully subdued lighting, a bar on that wall, a band in that corner playing Cayenne music…”
Matthew Driver touched the identification plate. “This used to be an emergency flush receptacle for radioactive wastewater.”
“The key words are ‘used to be’ and ‘auxiliary’,” Eddie explained. “Tertiary, which meant two other systems had to fail before it could be used. We’d still have at least two minutes warning before the place would have to be evacuated, and the wastewater can always be re-routed.” He shouted triumphantly. “This is going to be the coolest dive on this ship.”
“Do you really believe the crew are going to descend to the lowest level of the ship, pass through a dark, cold passageway to spend time in a radioactive wastewater holding tank?”
“Cool people will,” he said confidently, with a voice that said you don’t spend your youth being thrown out of bars without learning a few things. “This place has something none of the Recreational Areas Topside has. Authenticity. That’s what will bring them down here. Besides, I don’t need a big crowd. As long as I can break even, I can stay in business.”
“Good luck,” Matthew said, with sincerity or the closest approximation his doubt would allow.
“It’s not quite a deal yet. I need the approval of three senior officers to use the space… I got two already.”
They saw that Captain Keeler’s sig was affixed to the documentation. No surprise there. They were surprised at the other sig. “Flight Captain Jordan?”
Worlds Apart 02 Edenworld Page 35
