“Let me go, damn you!” Collier thrashed about in the orderly’s grasp but could not break free.
“Here we go,” the orderly said, dumping Collier somewhat roughly, despite the light gravity, onto the bed. He/she pressed a button on the side of the bed, and fabric restraints quickly secured Collier to the sheet.
“Sorry to have to do that, sir, but it’s for your own good. You’ll thank me later,” the orderly said, then pressed another button on the bed’s frame. “Patient secured. Recommend physician consult,” he/she said.
Collier felt the fabric envelop him. It wasn’t rough, but there was a firmness to the restraints that resisted all his attempts at escape. His head was still spinning from the mere effort at walking across the floor. Despite his own pride, he ceased his struggling and lay back in the bed, panting.
The orderly stepped back from the bed but remained in the room, watching Collier with an air of calm benevolence.
Doctor Agtaa came in, his/her eyebrows raised slightly. “So, what’s the matter?”
The orderly started to answer, but Collier interrupted. “I don’t want to stay here anymore, that’s all. Am I free to go or aren’t I?”
Agtaa glanced at the orderly. “I think I can handle it from here.” The orderly nodded and left the room. Agtaa came closer to the bed, but Collier noted that she/he kept out of reach. “We won’t keep you here if you truly want to leave,” she/he said, “but you haven’t been taught yet just how our community works. We feel that when you are shown the nature of our community, you will either want to stay or at the very least work to better the community just as we have worked to better you.”
Collier digested that. Agtaa spoke as if reciting from a script, though his/her sincerity came through clearly. “You’re saying I will want to pay you back. Believe me, I already do want to pay you back. You’ve done a great job with me, probably saved my life, and I am anxious to pay you back. In metal,” he added sharply.
“I’m not qualified to discuss the nature of your work,” Agtaa said calmly. “That’s not my function in the community. But I have sent for a Commissar, as I said earlier, and sh’he should be arriving shortly. Sh’he will explain all that I can’t.”
“Sh’he?”
Agtaa smiled slightly. “The pronoun we use for ourselves. ‘She’ and ‘he’ put together.”
“Right. Anyway, I think I am strong enough to make it to my ship, if you’ll just release me.”
“I don’t think that’s wise just yet,” Agtaa purred.
“So I’m a prisoner here.”
“No, of course not. Everyone in our community is free. Including guests such as yourself.”
“I’m very glad to hear it. Sounds like you have a wonderful utopia here. I don’t want to spoil it, so if you could just press whatever button you need to get these off of me, I’ll be on my ship waiting to talk to your sh’he commissar.”
Agtaa looked pained. “I can’t, Collier. You’ll have to wait for the Commissar.”
Collier stared at the doctor for a moment. “So I’m not a prisoner.”
“Of course not.”
“But I can’t go yet.”
“No.”
Collier sighed. “You know the word ‘contradiction’? ‘Oxymoron’?”
“Of course. There’s no contradiction here.”
“I’m free like anyone else, but I can’t leave.”
“Exactly,” Agtaa said brightly. “I’m glad you understand. I’ll be back with the Commissar presently.” Sh’he turned to leave, then turned back. “I almost forgot. You asked for a communications linkup to your ship.” Agtaa pressed a button on the side of the bed and spoke into the air. “Please send in the servo for room epsilon.” Sh’he pressed the button again and looked back at Collier. “The servo will hook you up to your ship. It’s the same machine that served you lunch a few hours ago. Just tell it what you want.”
“What if I tell it to let me go?”
Agtaa smiled. “It won’t do that just yet. You need to speak with the Commissar first.” Doctor Agtaa left the room, smiling gently. The servo machine entered a few seconds later, sliding up to the bed and presenting a small holoprojector.
“Hi there. I need to contact my ship, the Dulcinea. It’s supposed to be—”
“Connecting,” the servo said in the same pleasant androgynous voice.
“Skipper?” Sancho’s voice sounded near-panic. Although he could hear Sancho, the holoprojector was still dark.
“Sancho, glad to hear your voice. Status report, please.”
“Skipper! Are you all right? Where are you?”
“I’m fine. Status report, please,” he said firmly.
“Oh, right. I think I can interface with whatever computer you’re using to contact me. Have you got holo now?”
The holo display lit up. “Yes. Send the data. Can you dim the lights in here?” he asked the servo. The room grew dark.
Figures and schematics danced before him from the holoprojector, relaying the welcome news that the Dulcinea was unharmed.
“Looks like you got through this pretty well,” Collier said as he continued to examine the data. “Why didn’t you revive me before the gravity assist landing?”
“I wanted to, Skipper, but there were too many holes in my understanding. I couldn’t even calculate a percentage chance you’d make it, I was so unsure.”
“I know how you hate that,” Collier chuckled softly despite the circumstances. Talking to Sancho, even from the confines of the hospital bed, buoyed his spirits.
“I made contact with the people here on Ganymede and advised them of the situation well in advance of our approach. They told me they could take care of not only the parking orbit but also your revival. They said it was child’s play. That’s what sealed the deal for me to leave you alone.”
“I can’t really argue with the results, Sancho, since I’m here and apparently in good health, except for some weakness. How did they establish the parking orbit?”
Sancho relayed the technical data behind the maneuver, which involved some Ganymedian robot ships attaching thrusters to the Dulcinea that were quite a bit more powerful than her own engines. Collier nodded in approval when Sancho told him that although the Ganymedians had insisted on taking control of Dulcinea’s functions for a smoother maneuver, Sancho had denied them this and controlled the ship himself, though under the guidance of the Ganymedian astrogators. He had brought the ship down to the surface himself.
“Good work, my friend,” Collier said. “I think I’ll be able to get back to the ship in a little while. Seems I am to be held here until I meet with some government official. How are we for supplies?”
“Not much, Skipper. Negligible propellant, maybe twenty man-days’ pressurized atmosphere. About the same in biologicals. Unless we top off the fuel tanks, I don’t know how we’re getting out of here.”
“Understood. I’m sure I owe these folks something for all they’ve done, so we’ll have to figure out payment when I meet with the commissar guy.”
“That, at least, shouldn’t be a problem, Skipper. The—”
Collier quickly interrupted. “Yes, yes. I read you.” Sancho fell silent. Collier hoped his computer understood that the communications linkup was almost certainly being monitored by whatever government spy service existed on the planet. He didn’t want to have to tell Sancho to keep the wand a secret.
“Understood, Skipper,” Sancho said, and Collier sighed in relief.
Collier caught movement from the doorway, and spotted a tall figure silhouetted in the rectangle of light from the hallway. “I think my visitor is here, Sancho. I’m going to talk to him or her for a while. I’ll see if I can get back to you soon.”
“Copy that, Skipper. Good luck,” Sancho said, and the transmission ended.
“Thanks,” Collier murmured, the
n instructed the servo to bring the lights back up. The ceiling glowed again, illuminating the newcomer. This one was more masculine than Doctor Agtaa, though there was still a marked feminine quality to his(?) smooth, youthful face. He or she wasn’t wearing a hospital coat, but rather a smooth tunic not unlike the one Collier had on. It was a cream-colored garment that set off the darker hues in the newcomer’s flawless face.
The visitor smiled that same guileless smile that Agtaa and the orderly had, and said in a lilting contralto, “Collier? I’m Commissar Opos Tacat. Glad to meet you finally. Doctor Agtaa says you are almost strong enough to return to your ship, which I gather you are anxious to do. If it’s all right with you, I’d like to talk to you a bit about our community here: what we’re trying to do, how we all fit in, how you might choose to fit in with us.” He sat down on a three-legged chair near the bed. Collier had mentally identified Tacat as male, although the official was likely another hermaphrodite
The sheer weight of the official’s words pressed down on Collier, and he felt off-balance by the other’s smooth eloquence. “I don’t know about that. Why—”
Tacat chuckled precisely three times and interrupted smoothly. “Perhaps I am being slightly premature. Let us say that I want to explain all the moving parts of our community to you. As a spaceship captain, I’m sure you understand moving parts. Allow me to show you the, well, the diagram of our community.” He paused, but his demeanor gave no sign of relinquishing control of the conversation. He looked at the restraints and frowned. “I don’t think these are necessary, do you?” Studying the bedside control panel, he murmured, “Now, which one is … ah. Here we are.” He pressed a button and the straps retracted back into the bed. “I’m sure I have nothing to fear from you,” he added, patting the bed sheet paternally.
“And there are orderlies who will wrestle me to the ground even if I did try anything,” Collier grumbled.
Tacat ignored the comment and started to speak. His voice was pedantic but not unpleasant — like a grandfather reading a book to a grandchild. “Ganymede has been an independent community for about eighty years. Earth years, of course. In that time, we have come to understand that community survival and strength lies in the collective purpose. We celebrate the individual traits and abilities of each member of the community, and allow each individual to grow the community in the way that fits them best. Because of this,” Tacat’s voice lowered, as if he was deviating from a set speech to add an aside to Collier specifically, “we don’t have money. At least, not the way you know it.”
Collier used the aside to break in. “Listen, Mr. Tacat, I’d love to hear all about your community and even study it sometime. But I don’t plan on becoming part of it, so—”
Again the smooth interruption. “Please, Collier. Hear me out. What harm can there be in listening?”
Collier sank back into the bed. It was obvious the commissar was going to deliver his speech, and the fewer interruptions the faster it would be over.
“We have had to make allowances for trading with Ceres, with Mars, even with Luna and Earth, but internally, we don’t have money. Each of our citizens works at what sh’he is best at, and thus we all share in the common plenty of our collective labors. Doctor Agtaa, for example, is a gifted physician. Sh’he therefore works here at the health bay. I am talented in administration and bureaucracy, so I am a commissar. And so on.”
“So how do you get paid for your work, if there isn’t money?”
“We’re compensated in different ways. Mostly, we all work because we have a sense of pride in our jobs. We are compensated with various luxuries depending on our needs — needs based on the kind of work we each do.”
“‘Some animals are more equal than others,’” Collier murmured.
Tacat smiled patronizingly. “We’re well aware of the ways in which such a community can go wrong. We have many, many safeguards to ensure no person tries to take advantage of hizzur position.”
“Where do I fit in to this? As an outsider, and a man, I imagine I represent a problem for you.” Collier placed slight emphasis on the word man.
“As a halfie — pardon me, non-hermaphrodite — you don’t pose any problems. But from what you would call an economic sense, you do create a slight issue. We all work according to the maxim, ‘Every worker receives from the community as much as sh’he has given it.’ Unfortunately, you have not given anything to the community. We were happy to help you — we owed you nothing less simply as a member of the human race. But you must see that our charity to you deserves a reciprocal gesture on your part. You see that, don’t you?”
In a small part of his brain, Collier admired Tacat’s ability to maneuver himself so smoothly. He offered platitudes that didn’t quite add up, claimed moral plateaus while swamping in pragmatic lowlands, but did it with such grace and eloquence that Collier couldn’t help but be impressed.
“Mr. Tacat, if you ever found yourself back on Ceres, you could hire yourself out as a corporate mouthpiece.”
Tacat smiled, but only with his mouth.
Collier noted that and imagined what nerve he must have hit. “Skip that. What I gather from your description is that I’ve taken from the community, but haven’t contributed to it, and you’d like to balance the books.”
Tacat sighed softly. “I don’t think you grasp the concept of a currency-free society. Let—”
Collier’s interruption was far less elegant than Tacat’s had been, but it was nonetheless effective. “Oh, I understand. You don’t have money, I don’t owe you anything, but you would like me to contribute to the community for the services you have rendered me. I happen to agree with you, sir, uh, siradam. If you will allow me to go to my ship, I can arrange to contribute to the community sizeable amounts of precious metals that I am sure your collective here can use.”
“Collier, you still don’t understand. The precious commodity is not in your ship, no matter what you are carrying. What you have to trade is simply yourself.”
Collier sat up quickly, felt his head spin for a moment, then seized the commissar’s tunic. “You’re not going to lay a hand on me, understand? I don’t care what you think you need from me, you’re not going to get it. I don’t want to blast out on a debt, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you do anything to me because you think I owe it to you.”
Tacat glanced casually at Collier’s hand and spoke calmly. “The capitalist culture from which you came must be dark indeed to place such thoughts in your head. You think us barbarians? Cruel experimenters who want to play with your life for some twisted pleasures?”
“You seem to have done so to yourselves,” Collier said, glancing at the commissar’s groin.
“Ah. Our hermaphroditism. You think we are going to emasculate you. I promise, we will do no such thing. Unless you ask us to. Please remove your hand.” The last was said with the first hint of iron any Ganymedian had shown him. Collier did not act immediately, and when he did, he removed his hand with a smirk.
“Whatever you say. But you’re not touching me, understand?”
“We won’t alter you in any way unless you wish it,” Tacat said carefully.
Collier’s eyes narrowed at the man’s evasiveness. “I’m getting tired of all this dancing. Just tell me in plain words what you want. I’ll decide if I want to give it to you. Surely, such a community as you say you have shouldn’t be afraid of some direct speech, should it?”
“We are afraid of nothing. You, on the other hand, need to be handled with care, since you come from such a fragile capitalist system.”
“I don’t need to be handled at all,” Collier growled.
“Very well. The commodities you possess are ones you can give to our community without losing them yourself. Although we are a thriving society of eight hundred and ninety-three individuals, our founders numbered less than one hundred, and too many of them were not genetical
ly sound. To this day, we still suffer the effects of our improperly planned beginnings. We so rarely interact with non-Ganymedians that we are largely an inbred group. What you can supply us with is your germ plasm. We can then use it, or some of it depending on your genetic strength, to continue to improve our own genetic diversity. It is no loss to you, and will be a great benefit to us.”
Collier stared at Tacat for a few moments and almost burst out laughing. “That’s all? You need some of my sperm? Jesus, why all the buildup for that?”
Tacat smiled back. “I’m relieved you’re so agreeable. That makes the rest of the request so much simpler.”
Collier’s grin faded quickly. “There’s more?”
“Yes, but if you’re willing to donate your germ plasm to us, the rest will be nothing in comparison. We will also need your knowledge,” Tacat said casually.
“My knowledge? Of what?”
“Of everything,” Tacat said, tilting his head slightly in puzzlement. “Our greatest asset, and in fact a major export to other capitalist communities, is our scientific acumen and knowledge. Through experimentation, research, and assimilation, we grow our knowledge base at every opportunity. Knowledge belongs to the whole community. It is something that one can give to another and not lose oneself.”
Collier frowned. “I’m supposed to teach you everything I know? That will take a long, long time.”
“Oh, we have methods to copy your knowledge in a relatively short period of time. A matter of days, not years.”
Collier felt a coldness running down his spine. “You’re not going to do anything to me. I already made that clear. Not going to make me some kind of unisex thing, and certainly not going to do anything to my brain. I’ll be happy to give you my spunk, and I’ll teach you a few things you want to know, but I’ll do both of those things my way, not yours.”
Tacat sighed. “Now you see why I wanted to prepare you. You persist in thinking we are some kind of amoral cult who wishes you harm. Let’s remember what we have done for you. We have rescued your ship, which was on course to exit the system never to return. We have revived you from an ill-conceived and dangerous drug coma. We have fed and clothed you and treated you as an honored guest. In return, we ask for a genetic contribution that you will never miss, and we ask you to contribute to our store of knowledge. Why do you insist on thinking of us as bloodthirsty monsters?”
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