There was evident shock in Koscuisko’s eyes now, and obvious pain. If it hadn’t been for the steely front Koscuisko had presented scant eighths ago, Tutor Chonis felt he might have been fooled into feeling sorry for his Student. But Tutor Chonis had seen the temper of Koscuisko’s will, and he knew better than to believe that he could afford to give a sixteenth if he was to hope to retain the upper hand.
“It makes no sense to risk the resource when failure means a loss of four hundred thousand, Standard. It is wasteful. Fleet cannot afford it.”
Still Chonis was tempted, so tempted. Koscuisko’s conflict was honest and clearly painful, even if he expressed it in such neutral language. All the same, Chonis knew the line he had to take for the sake of the Fleet. For the sake of Koscuisko’s own survival as well, in a world where the only authority would be a hardened Command Branch officer whose word would be law and who would not take kindly to Koscuisko’s autocratic defiance. For Koscuisko’s own sake, Chonis had to break Koscuisko’s spirit, his pride, his will.
“Fleet expects its Inquisitors to confine themselves to their stated duty. And not go off chasing hints and suspicions, that’s Security’s business.” Of course once he got out there he would be sent hunting, from time to time, not so much to gain confession as to see what else he could uncover; but that would keep for now. For now the point was that Robert St. Clare would be disciplined then probably killed as an unrecoverable resource, and all because Andrej Koscuisko had stepped out of bounds. “Are there any questions?”
“There is one thing.”
He knew he’d made his point, but Koscuisko’s face held none of the conflict he’d seen there moments before. It was the face Koscuisko had come in with, all over again. Chonis knew by that token that there was hope for Koscuisko’s survival after all.
“Yes?”
“If, what is his name, St. Clare is a bond-involuntary and under orders, then he cannot be convicted of a Class Two violation. The administrative instruction states that a bond-involuntary cannot be put in jeopardy by the issuance of contradictory, equally binding legal orders.”
It was a weakness in the system, and Koscuisko had found it out. He had hunted it out as quickly and as surely as he had hunted St. Clare’s secret out. He was too good for his own good: but as long as he could be convinced to conform, it would be all right.
“Ordinarily you would be correct.”
“What is out of the ordinary about this situation? A man has been placed in artificial jeopardy through the issuance of contradictory orders. The Administrator — I presume — has ordered him to confess to one thing, but never to the other. I have ordered him to confess to me his truth, and tell me what it was that he had been directed to do.”
And probably — Chonis mused — if he were to review the training record, he’d find that Koscuisko had in fact used that language, at one time or another. It was an ingenious defense. Too bad it could not be allowed to work.
“I’m afraid the Administration cannot accept your reasoning. In this instance the order you issued was not binding or lawful, inasmuch as you did not know your prisoner-surrogate to be under orders at the time that you gave your instruction. And your surrogate in turn had prior lawful clearance to disregard orders from you, for the sake of the exercise.”
“And for this point of Law, the Administration would rather destroy the resource than salvage the man?”
Failure to obey lawful and received instruction was a Class Two violation either way. What difference did it make? “Explain yourself.”
“My order negates the previous one. St. Clare has disobeyed me by attempting to withhold the confession I demanded of him. I have the option of disciplining him myself or referring him for the Class Two violation. And if I discipline him, Fleet need not lose the resource, since my options are restricted to the Class One level.”
“You have a point, Student Koscuisko.” Should he give false hope or quash any hope right now? “What reason would the Administration have for endorsing such an unorthodox resolution to the problem?”
It seemed that Koscuisko hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “I could swear very solemnly to abuse my Security whenever possible, and never forget myself so far as to let the truth get in the way of the confession that I have been instructed to obtain. Would that not conform to the Fleet requirement?”
There was the sound of genuine petition in Koscuisko’s voice, regardless of the form of his offer.
But it was no good.
“Thank you, Student Koscuisko. That will be all.” No, they could not afford to let Koscuisko have his way.
Koscuisko could never be permitted to doubt that he had brought an essentially guiltless man to torment and to death because he had stepped outside of his boundaries.
###
The door to Tutor Chonis’s office opened and Koscuisko came out with a look on his face that was desperate and analytical at once. Joslire made his salute, but Koscuisko ignored it, and Koscuisko had always been careful to acknowledge, as a courtesy, that which was demanded of Joslire in respect for the officer’s rank.
“I will go to Infirmary, Mister Curran,” Koscuisko said. “Be so kind as to show me the way.”
There was no arguing with it, of course, but he was responsible for reporting on Koscuisko’s state of mind, and therefore a little probing was in order. “According to the officer’s good pleasure. But the officer has not eaten, and it is well past mid-meal.”
Koscuisko had turned his back, starting down the hall as if he didn’t really care where he was going as long as he was going away from Tutor Chonis. Pivoting suddenly on his heel now, Koscuisko glared at Joslire, who had to step back hastily to avoid running into him.
“‘The officer’ does not have time. I’ll eat in the lab. Let’s go.”
Koscuisko had to know that St. Clare was not in Infirmary. Why was he in such a hurry to get there? Joslire couldn’t understand the tension that he sensed. He had to hurry to catch up with Koscuisko. The one thing he did know was that he had better stay with his officer, at all costs.
He had watched with sickened fear as Koscuisko caught the minute crack in St. Clare’s discipline — “begs leave,” because “this troop begs leave,” rather than “I beg leave” as a man would in the first person — and forced it wide open. He thought he knew how his officer had felt when Koscuisko had realized that not only was his “prisoner” no such thing, but that the man was to be brutally disciplined for having permitted any shadow of the truth to escape him.
Why was Koscuisko going to Infirmary?
Koscuisko had full access to dedicated lab space. Tutor Chonis would not revoke it because of this incident. Was he really concerned that Koscuisko meant to take some medication to relieve himself of his guilt, and his life with it? No. He didn’t read that kind of desperation in the set of Koscuisko’s shoulders, or in the angle at which Koscuisko held his head. But the desperation was real and immediate.
So what was going on?
Koscuisko was silent on the way and stood mute in the security clearing area once they arrived, letting Joslire do all the talking. He wasn’t looking at anything that Joslire could identify, his eyes apparently fixed on some target several eighths down the corridor on the other side of the wall.
“Student Koscuisko, with Tutor Chonis. Laboratory space to be provided ad lib at the Student’s pleasure.”
The Security responsible for Infirmary were Station Security rather than teaching staff. Joslire had acquaintances among the troops, but they needed a Chief Warrant to clear Koscuisko through to his laboratory space — it was procedure. It took a moment for the Security post to find the Warrant on duty and log the release in due form, but Koscuisko never stirred from where he stood. Koscuisko might have been asleep with his eyes open, for all Joslire could tell. Except that he did react immediately once Security had received the clearance they required.
“Logged and listed, very good, Curran. The officer has been assigned fou
r-one-H-one. Travis can show the officer the way. Will the officer be requiring Curran’s attendance?”
Because otherwise Joslire had no business in the Infirmary area, and good little bond-involuntaries simply didn’t go where they had no business being. If Koscuisko didn’t want him, he’d have to go to Tutor Chonis and let the Tutor know that Koscuisko was surrounded by every chemical substance a man could want for any purpose, and unsupervised as well; and Tutor Chonis would have to authorize surveillance inside Infirmary, and Koscuisko would notice sooner or later, and it would not sweeten his temper by much.
Koscuisko turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Joslire with cold empty eyes. Empty on the surface, because the mind was far away, working furiously to solve a problem whose identity Joslire could not begin to guess.
“I’ll want to send him for my supper when the time comes,” Koscuisko said. “And in the meantime, he could bring my rhyti.”
It was good enough for Joslire, and good enough for the shift supervisor as well apparently. “There is no impediment. If the officer will please follow Travis.”
The laboratory space assigned to Koscuisko was deep within the Infirmary complex. Joslire had to keep a sharp eye on the turnings to be sure that he was going to be able to get in here and out again for Koscuisko’s meal. It turned out to be a smallish room, not much larger than Koscuisko’s quarters; their guide bowed Koscuisko through, meeting Joslire’s eyes with mild curiosity, and then prepared to leave Koscuisko to his work. Whatever it was.
“If the officer requires anything further, I’ll send an orderly,” Travis said. She had a pleasant voice, neutral and professional, that showed no hint of curiosity as to what was going on.
“I want three-eighths to think.” Koscuisko’s statement in response was startling after his contemplative, absorbed silence. At least Joslire was startled. “Send an orderly after three-eighths. Or show Joslire where to fetch one. From the pharmacy, of course.”
And then he sat down at the documents-bench and stared at the blank screen as if the rest of the world had abruptly lapsed back into the state of nonexistence that had been its position since he had left Tutor Chonis’s office.
Travis shrugged from where she stood out in the corridor, safely shielded now from Koscuisko’s line of sight by the intervening wall. “I’ll send the orderly,” she repeated, speaking directly to Joslire now that Koscuisko had effectively dismissed her. “Are you going for rhyti, or shall I?”
“Thanks.” The option was appreciated, but Travis had no way of knowing how Koscuisko liked his rhyti. Koscuisko was particular. “What if he needs you in a hurry?”
What if Joslire needed help with him, in other words. Travis grinned and answered the question he hadn’t asked. “Security call, your basic black button, both sides of the door. Guaranteed response time, two skips of a ‘cruit’s heart. Anything else?”
“If there is he hasn’t let on yet.”
She winked and went away, and he retreated into the lab, closing the door.
To stand and watch, and wait Koscuisko’s bidding.
After a while Koscuisko bestirred himself to activate the documents-review screen, apparently finding several entries of interest. When the orderly came, Koscuisko discussed some drugs with her, names that meant nothing to Joslire and apparently little enough to the orderly. Koscuisko sent her away to prepare an analysis cart for him, sending Joslire away at the same time; but Joslire wasn’t worried any longer by then. If the chemicals, the drugs, that Koscuisko had ordered could be used against himself, surely the orderly would at least have recognized them. The memory of the exercise aside, Koscuisko did not feel like a man at risk, to Joslire’s mind. He seemed too completely absorbed in an abstract issue of some sort to be thinking about anything as messy and mundane as suicide.
Joslire was surprised to find out how late it had gotten to be — Koscuisko’s third-meal shift already. He took a meal as well as the rhyti back to the lab, but Koscuisko didn’t react to his return — apart from reaching for his rhyti just as Joslire got it stirred and set out for him. Too deep in his analysis, whatever it was. Joslire sighed and once more covered the meal tray, waiting for Koscuisko to remember that he hadn’t eaten anything since his fast-meal in the “morning.”
Except that Koscuisko didn’t seem to notice.
The hours wore on, and Koscuisko did not seem to be paying attention. Joslire stood on watch, since that was what he was expected to do, wondering how long it would be before the officer’s lack of sleep and lack of food caught up with him.
Not any time soon, obviously.
Computer analyses and reaction models, more chemical profiles, time out to scan a long text article, then back to the imager to tweak a holo-model of some chemical formulation or another.
Hours . . .
“Joslire.”
What was Koscuisko up to, anyway?
Had he decided to lose himself in his work?
He’d had a very trying day; most Students found themselves exhausted beyond belief by the unexpected demands of the Intermediate Levels. A man couldn’t really expect himself to work all day on a jug of rhyti. It wasn’t that effective a stimulant.
“Mister Curran, I have been remiss. Are you with me?”
What?
“I want to see Tutor Chonis, Joslire. I regret that I must insist upon it immediately.”
Joslire blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Koscuisko was standing in front of him, eating a piece of cold egg-pie taken up from the meal tray Joslire had brought him, how long ago?
Asleep.
He’d fallen asleep.
A fine Security troop he made.
“The officer’s pardon is — ”
But Koscuisko wouldn’t let him finish. “I know, I know, ‘respectfully solicited.’ Yes? It does not import. I want to see Tutor Chonis, do you know where he sleeps?”
Well, if Koscuisko wasn’t interested in being apologized to, there was nothing in particular he could do about it. “That information is not available. An emergency call can be made at the officer’s discretion.”
“You needn’t be cross with me, Joslire, although I am at fault. I should have sent you to bed.”
It wasn’t that, even if he couldn’t explain it very well. It was only that he was asleep, and reverting to the safety of absolute formality accordingly for his own protection. Koscuisko was still talking —
“Do please make the call, then. I don’t know how much time I may have left. In fact I am afraid to ask.”
Afraid to ask about what “time left”?
He’d never known an officer to break the secret. He had no idea any more what was on Koscuisko’s mind. But he did have an idea of his own, something that had just occurred to him — as if it had taken an unscheduled nap to remind him of the unaccustomed freedom available here.
“Laboratory facilities are not under surveillance,” he said. “Chief Belyss told me so. There is no one listening to whatever it might please the officer to say, should the officer wish to take the opportunity to swear.”
In fact Infirmary and the Administrator’s Staff areas were the only places in the entire facility that were not monitored, as a matter of principle. He could see understanding come up slowly into his officer’s eyes; and then all the self-composure seemed to spark out of Koscuisko at once. Koscuisko reached out for him and grabbed his over-blouse — alarming; but, as Joslire realized, only for emphasis. And perhaps to keep his balance. Koscuisko didn’t raise his voice, but the fiercely controlled desperation that Joslire heard was more affecting to his carefully guarded heart than howls of outrage could have been.
“How can they have done such a thing?”
Then, as if he only then noticed what he was doing, Koscuisko seemed to master himself once more. He loosened his iron grip at Joslire’s collar, taking care to brush away a stray crumb from his egg-pie as he did so, and collected his energies back into himself to continue more calmly. No less desperately, however.
Only now, as Koscuisko fought for self-control, did Joslire realize how passionate Koscuisko actually was about this; perhaps about other things, as well. He had done such a thorough job of wearing his calm, neutral Student’s mask that Joslire had not dreamed there was such passion in him, apart from the passion Student Koscuisko seemed to be developing for pain. It was like meeting a stranger in place of the man whose meals he had been preparing all this time.
“It cannot even be said that he disobeyed his orders. How could it? He revealed nothing. Oh, perhaps one little mistake was made, but no violation. And they will murder him for it.”
Joslire searched for something he could say that Koscuisko could use to bring himself back under control. “Participation in the exercise is voluntary, as it please the officer. And solicited on Safe, to ensure that he was genuinely free to decline without repercussions. He knew the risks and accepted the penalty. All of us did.”
“All of you . . . ”
Koscuisko was pale to begin with, and now the shock had whitened his countenance until he looked almost blue with it. “Oh, Joslire. It is beyond shameful. That man is to be tortured and probably killed, for no good or necessary reason. I can make no sense of it, and yet I am to be a part of it. How can I hope to function within such a dichotomy? There is a clinical term for this conflict, Joslire . . . ”
He knew what Koscuisko was getting at. “It is a useful thing to focus on — for those tasked with the officer’s responsibilities.”
Koscuisko was still talking, as if he hadn’t heard. “But it is a false refuge, grotesque cowardice. One has need of all one’s wits to survive in such an environment. One cannot afford any separation of personality.”
A surprising turn, Joslire thought. His standing orders were to encourage the doubling, if possible; to support the formation of a “not-me” persona that would be able to fulfill an Inquisitor’s duties, while the more morally acceptable “me” persona remained safe from taint, removed and remote, deploring the cruelty of it all. So successful had the psychological trick proven over time that the Administration was considering teaching some rudimentary techniques, to try to reduce the steady loss of functional Ship’s Surgeons.
An Exchange of Hostages Page 16
