by GARY DARBY
The Scoutmaster’s answer was blunt, quick. “No, as were other operational details.”
His mouth tightened for a moment before he went on. “What you read is the original report’s redacted version. Placed there by shall we say, certain politicos on the High Council after they reviewed the initial summary and had it sanitized for the public archives.
“The original is now classified at a very high level and only accessible to a few individuals. We can share what we know with you because we, along with a number of senior Star Scout officers saw the original, before they removed it from the database and replaced it with the redacted version.”
“But why?” Dason questioned.
“At the time,” Tarracas replied, “what wasn’t known to the general public was the fact that in addition to the Gadions’ criminal activities within the Imperium they also had elements operating in deep space.
“They were attacking not only Star Scouts but Imperium outposts and even Imperium military. For the Star Scout Corps to have an officer associated with the Faction, well—”
Grolson interrupted to say, “The politicos didn’t want the fact that the Faction was strong enough to attack Imperium military out in the public eye.
“The High Council kept it away from the populace for quite a while. It wasn’t until the casualties began to mount that the public demanded answers and those details came to light.”
He glanced at Tarracas and murmured, “Sorry, I guess I still have a burr under my saddle over that.”
Dason lifted his hand and dared to rub at his forehead. Bleakly, he asked, “So, you’re saying that the original version had the reference to the Gadion Faction?”
“That’s right,” Tarracas responded. “However, the council didn’t act fast enough. A large number of officers up and down the line was able to read that first report.
“How it got out, I don’t know. The rumors began to spread, not only within our organization but outside as well.”
Hesitating, he took a moment before saying, “The allegations were pretty damning. A Star Scout officer in league with the Gadions. Grand Assembly members started asking questions. There was talk of a cover-up, of deep-seated corruption within our ranks.
“And in the eyes of a large number of officers, Veni cast the Corps in the worst possible light. In their view, what happened went against everything the Star Scouts and the Scout Oath stood for.
“The commanding general at that time, General Kozlov, was one of those who felt that way, and he lobbied the High Council to keep the original narrative from the public archives.”
“Damage control,” Grolson muttered.
“The damage was already done,” Tarracas replied curtly.
Dason drew in a sharp breath. “So Star Scout Command judged my father guilty without a chance to defend himself.”
“In all fairness,” Tarracas hastily replied, “not all scouts felt that way and not everyone agreed with the actions taken.”
“But enough,” Dason countered, “that when people think of Veni they think of my father, and not in the best light. Isn’t that right?”
The two Star Scouts exchanged glances before Tarracas said, “I’m afraid that’s true.”
“And,” Dason responded, “if those same people find out that I’m Deklon Marrel’s son they’ll see him in me.”
Grolson shifted as if uncomfortable with Dason’s allegation, but he met Dason’s frank stare without looking away. “Human nature being what it is, that’s very possible.”
He turned to Tarracas. “He has a point, Scoutmaster. Even after all these years there’s a lot of old-timers around who took Veni pretty hard.”
Tarracas laid his fingertips on his cherry wood console and glanced downward. Speaking in low tones, almost to himself, he sighed, “Yes, even after all these years.”
The Scoutmaster’s soft response caused Dason to think that Tarracas held something back and that he hadn’t revealed all.
But it wasn’t for him to challenge or question as to why. That Dason had learned this much was nothing short of a miracle.
Still, he had to ask, “Scoutmaster, did they ever consider that the Gadions kidnapped or killed my father and dumped his body elsewhere?”
Tarracas gave a small nod while answering, “That and the possibility that the saurians carried off his body. The investigating officer discounted those possibilities, and others, for various reasons, all of which were plausible.”
Dason wanted to sit down, but that wasn’t something you did without the Scoutmaster’s invitation or direction.
His father accused of being a Gadion Faction! While Dason had known of the allegation that there was a criminal conspiracy, he had never heard it mentioned in the same vein as the Gadion Faction.
Was it true? Could it be true?
He had to admit that it did answer a number of questions, in particular the one that Dason had wondered about his whole life.
His mother told him at the last, that she had always believed that Dason’s father was still alive. That someday he would find them and they would be together again.
She had died with that hope on her lips.
If so, why hadn’t he ever tried to find his wife and son? If he had crossed over to become a Gadion, that would explain why he had never come back.
Once in the Faction, you never returned to who or what you were before, and that included being a husband and father.
At the moment, Dason didn’t know if this revelation answered his questions or if they raised new ones. He felt deflated, confused.
On the one hand the Scoutmaster had seemed to say that his father’s alleged behavior didn’t matter to him regarding Dason’s novice scout status.
On the other hand, how did you deal with the fact that the evidence seemed to suggest that your very own father might be part of the evilest group in the Imperium’s long history?
His bewildering array of thoughts was interrupted by Grolson’s saying, “Am I finished here, Scoutmaster?”
“I believe so,” Tarracas replied and walked Grolson to the door, speaking so low that Dason couldn’t hear.
While the two talked, Dason tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts. His eyes flicked to the beautiful piece of artwork that stretched across the side wall.
He wondered why the Scoutmaster didn’t have a flowing wall hologram there, as did most people, instead of an actual painting. The thought caused him to peer at the scenery depicted in the mural a little closer.
In the painting’s foreground was a large man whose light armor couldn’t hide his muscled body, sitting astride a magnificent black steed, holding a flowing golden banner aloft.
Handsome bare-chested young men carrying head-high spears marched alongside the horseman. The copper-toned leader’s countenance held both sadness and determination, while the young men’s expressions were of a certain eager hopefulness.
They strode with sure steps below snow-capped mountain peaks while a shimmering, emerald forest blanketed rounded foothills in the near distance.
It was obvious to Dason that the rider led an army marching to battle.
Though not familiar with the scene, Dason assumed the panorama represented a past historical event, either on Terra, or perhaps elsewhere, which surprised Dason.
He would have thought that with the Scoutmaster’s star side exploits, a picture of a surreal OutLand landscape would be more appropriate.
Dason gazed at the mural and his eyes centered on the young men. They were about to go to war, yet their eyes shone with bravery and resolution. There was no fear or turmoil and he wondered if his face, his eyes, would ever be able to show the same.
He felt a presence behind him, and in a soft voice, Tarracas asked, “You find my two thousand stripling warriors interesting, Novice Scout?”
“Uh, yes sir, I do. It’s beautiful artwork.” Dason found the change in topic disconcerting. How did the Scoutmaster know that his thoughts were on the mural?
If
he were allowed to stay, he hoped that someday Tarracas would teach him how to read minds. He knew the instructor scouts had the gift, since they always seemed to know what the novices were thinking.
Tarracas took a step forward and waved a hand at the colorful fresco.
“It is a depiction of a remarkable event from an ancient book about my ancestors. The man astride the stallion is a great warrior king.
“The army he leads is of two thousand young men, mere striplings, who left their families to defend their homes. Though brave and confident, they march against a ferocious enemy who outnumbers them and will give no quarter in battle.
“Before these young men were born, their fathers were a bloodthirsty lot who had no respect for the inherent right of human beings to life. They slaughtered countless innocents.
“But a miraculous event changed their hearts—forever. In consequence of that change, they took a sacred oath and covenanted with their God to never take up arms again or to kill any human being.”
“Even to protect their families and homes?” Dason asked, daring to interrupt.
“Even to defend their families and homes,” Tarracas replied. “The mothers of these young men taught them from their earliest youth of their father’s faith, and of their sacred oath.
“And, that a promise, whether made to deity, or to another person, or to yourself for that matter, should be held in sacred trust.”
Tarracas stared at the painting, almost in a reverent manner before speaking in a hushed tone, “When war came, these young ones, not wishing for their fathers to break their oath, and not having made the same promise, left their homes.
“Leaving behind all that they loved, their mothers, their fathers, their families, they swore allegiance to the warrior king and promised that until their last breath, they would shield their people and loved ones from war’s desolation.”
Tarracas turned from the mural, went to his desk and sat down. Dason waited for him to continue. When he didn’t, Dason overcame his natural resistance to question the Scoutmaster. “Sir, begging your pardon, but what happened to the striplings?”
The Scoutmaster raised his head, peered at the mural for a moment before he turned and stared into Dason’s eyes.
In a still, quiet voice he said, “An oath, taken as an inviolable promise by the oath maker is a mighty thing.
“It becomes the hallowed ground of a person’s mind and character. It elevates the individual’s mental, physical, and emotional powers so that he, or she, can perform great deeds that under ordinary circumstances they would not be able to accomplish.”
Tarracas paused and for long seconds seemed to be lost in thought. Dason grew a little nervous waiting for Tarracas to speak.
Was the Scoutmaster wrestling with Dason’s ties to Veni and Deklon Marrel’s unsavory past? Was he still considering dismissing Dason from the novice scout ranks?
When Tarracas spoke, he posed a question that was so off the previous subject that it took Dason by surprise. “Novice Scout Thorne, what does the Star Scout Oath mean to you?”
The question left Dason speechless though he didn’t miss the fact that the Scoutmaster used “Thorne” and not “Marrel” in addressing him.
Had he passed the test? Could this be Tarracas’ s way of telling him that he remained in the program? Or did he still face scrutiny?
Dason considered the Scoutmaster’s pointed question. Grolson in his Scout Ethics course had drilled the novices on the oath in Dason’s first semester. The course had bored him, and he often nodded off.
One such catnap had cost him a twenty-page thesis and a one-hour oral presentation to the class on the question: “Which guarantees the success of a team, culture, nation, or society—personal free agency or the survival of the fittest?”
Dason spent two sleepless nights preparing his paper only to receive a mediocre grade after cramming the document with voluminous quotes and little original thought.
During his oral defense of his paper, in class, Grolson peppered him with dissenting comments such as, “Oh? What about the Donner Party, or Froken’s Colony?
“Recheck your use of Ulan’s Leadership Index Equation; you’ve inverted the wrong coefficient in the second clause.
“Read Sten’s article in last month’s Star Scout Review. He’d say you’re in a double corkscrew orbit.”
Later, he’d wondered, was Grolson seeking an answer to the question or was he just testing Dason’s mental faculties under sleep deprivation?
But he had to admit that the exercise deepened his perspective on the nature of free agency and its positive effects on personal growth, and its overall benefits to any society.
He concluded that free agency propelled individuals forward in terms of liberty, thought, and enlightenment, whereas the savagery inherent in the survival of the fittest, at least for human societies, led to a loss of freedom, decay of personal responsibility, and debased the human spirit and condition.
Dason had determined that just as water seeks its own level, there were those whose natural instinct led them to protect, embrace, and promote free agency.
However, that was countered by those who would, if left unchecked, deprive every human being of their birthright to choose their life’s course.
One night, a few days after Grolson’s grilling, Dason had almost fallen asleep when he came awake at a sudden thought.
Grolson’s real lesson was that one had to accept the Scout Oath by free agency, without intimidation or force or it became of no consequence to the oath taker.
And if the oath maker accepted the oath’s precepts in the spirit of free agency, it emancipated rather than enslaved.
But now, Dason wasn’t sure of just what the Scoutmaster wanted, so he slowly began to recite the oath and offered a simplified version of Grolson’s explanation of what the oath entailed.
“Of my own free will and choice, I pronounce this oath and do covenant that . . . I am entering into and accept the conditions of this oath without undue coercion or being forced to do so.
“I will do my best to do my duty at all times, in all places, in all climes, and with all people.”
He drew in a breath and said, “Upon taking the oath, I am bound by personal honor and integrity to perform all lawful tasks and assignments to the full extent of my capabilities.”
Pausing for an instant to collect his thoughts, he went on. “I will obey all lawful orders of the Imperium and Star Scout Command which I believe means that I will follow and carry out the orders of my superiors in the Imperium and Star Scout Command.”
He glanced at the Scoutmaster to try to judge the man’s reaction but Tarracas’ face remained impassive so Dason continued.
“On whatever star paths I stride and worlds I visit, I will respect the sanctity of life, taking life only in the defense of my own or for those for whom I hold responsibility.”
Shifting his weight uncomfortably as he had the feeling that he was making the wrong impression on Tarracas, he continued, saying, “As I understand it, that clause means that I am a commissioned explorer and representative of the Imperium.
“Sworn to find, investigate, and report whatever I uncover on my missions. I am to respect life in any form, and it is forbidden to take life without just cause but I am allowed to do so in self-defense or to protect others.”
He recited the next passage in low tones, “I will safeguard the lives of my teammates, holding their lives as sacrosanct as I do my own.
“That means that with exceptions required by mission requirements, I will never endanger the lives of my fellow scouts, or others through negligence, complacency or criminal conduct.”
Tarracas remained silent, not moving a muscle in response.
Dason felt that he was miserably failing the Scoutmaster’s expectations but he doggedly continued. “I will magnify my abilities by keeping myself physically fit, mentally alert, and morally just.
“This passage states that all scouts are to increase their sk
ills by mental and physical exercise and training. They are to be fair and impartial, and to respect the laws, culture, and beliefs of all societies.”
Letting out a breath, he recited the final sentence of the oath. “From my First, to my Last Trail, I will Return with Honor.”
The last clause hit close to home, and Dason choked a little while saying, “And that I will never disgrace the Star Scouts or dishonor the Scout Oath.”
Tarracas snorted and fixed his eyes on Dason. “An excellent class recitation. Now tell me what the oath really means to you.”
A little confused at the Scoutmaster’s continued insistence on an explanation, Dason tried again. “I believe the oath embodies a general and particular set of principles for the conduct and actions of all Star Scouts and—”
“No!” Tarracas exclaimed.
“A rote answer. Your test scores tell me that you are conversant with your reading material. I want to know what . . .” He pointed to his head and then to his heart, “This—and this say to you about the oath.”
For a long time, Dason stayed silent. Because of Veni and everything it stood for, he knew how important it must be to Tarracas that he understood Dason’s motivation to be a Star Scout. Dason tried to think of what he could say that he hadn’t already.
To be honest, he had never given the oath much thought. Like Star Scout laws and regulations, it was just there. To obey and follow, not to think about!
Dason’s gaze swept over the mural. The young men’s mothers had taught them; his mother had taught him.
“Scoutmaster,” he began in a halting voice, “I guess I’m not sure what the oath means to me right at this moment. I have to admit; you’ve given me a lot to think about.”
He gestured at the stripling warriors. “My mother told me that my father believed that it didn’t take perfection to become a scout, and there are no perfect people in the Corps.
“But what they have in common is an intense curiosity to explore what’s Out There and share the rewards among all humankind, and not just the few.
“So, they place their individual and personal desires aside to work for the benefit of all.”
Lowering his gaze, he murmured, “She believed in my father. I would like to do the same, but for now, I would like to prove that I’m not . . .”