Seele said nothing as I talked—no attempt to make me admit that Yarrun’s death was an accident, no easy comments on what I should or shouldn’t have done. She simply listened and let me tell the story. When I was finished, she asked, “What do you want to do now?”
“Apart from pushing the High Council out an airlock?”
She didn’t smile. “Is that what you need to do, Festina?”
“Someone should.” I gave her a look. “Why didn’t you?”
“You think Chee and I could actually sway the council?” She shook her head. “We gave it a shot: all the silly things you see in entertainment bubbles. Letters marked TO BE DELIVERED TO THE PRESS IF SOMETHING HAPPENS TO US. Sworn affidavits, with accompanying lie-detector certificates. A plan for confronting the council in public forum…naïve nonsense. At worst, we could have made ourselves an inconvenience—forced the council to sacrifice a scapegoat low down the chain of command. But before we could do even that, we were outmaneuvered. We’d taken too long to set things up. The council was ready for us.”
“What happened?”
“We were shown trumped-up documents proving we were mentally unstable…histories of our inventing complaints to get back at superiors who were only doing their jobs. The frameup was quite thorough. Maybe we could defeat it in court, if we had enough resources to expose the lies; but we didn’t.” She spread her hands wide, then let them fall. “What could we do? And the alternative they offered looked better than getting locked up as liars or paranoids.”
“The alternative was becoming one of them!” I protested. “How could you stomach that?”
“I may have become an admiral,” Seele said, “but I was never one of them. That’s an important distinction. The Outward Fleet has many admirals: seven different ranks of them. Only the top rank sits on the High Council. Most other admirals do reasonably honest work—pushing papers, organizing this project or that, keeping the wheels turning. The council are the ones who make policy. Chee and I weren’t even traditional admirals. We were officers without portfolio, so to speak. Or perhaps, officers without politics—without obligations to people who had paid us favors and without the ambition to seize more power. The shrewd half of the council realized they needed people like us to be troubleshooters and muckrakers…just as they needed Explorers for the same work. They need people to do the job, Festina. To stand apart from the mentality that says, ‘It’s someone else’s problem,’ and to do the thing that needs doing.
“Chee set up his spy network to keep an eye on planetary bureaucr&cies,” Seele went on. “I did the same within the Admiralty itself. We did good work, Festina. We saved lives that would have been lost through greed and negligence. I’m proud of what I’ve done, even if I had to put on an admiral’s uniform to do it.”
“But you still let them send Explorers to Melaquin,” I said.
“How could I stop it?” she asked. “The High Council likes using Melaquin to solve their problems. It’s convenient. And the League of Peoples doesn’t object. That’s what makes the council happiest; the League doesn’t give a damn. If the League ever intervened—if there was even a suggestion the League might intervene—the council would cower and back off. They’re terrified of being labeled a non-sentient governing body.
“Like the Greenstriders,” I said.
“Precisely. But for forty years, I’ve tried to think of a way to involve the League in Melaquin, and haven’t made a millimeter of headway. Sending humans to an Earthlike world doesn’t put them in lethal danger…not when you compare Melaquin to almost every other planet in the galaxy.”
“No…” I said slowly.
“I promise you,” Seele went on, “I’ve tried to rescue Explorers from time to time, but I’ve always been stopped by the picket ships. You’re the first person I’ve got out, and that was only because the ship with the other Explorers distracted the sentries. I’ve tried to help as much as I could. Most of the time, I hear advance rumors about missions to Melaquin, and I tip off the Explorers involved. Unfortunately, the council moved on Chee while I was distracted with other business. I only found out when I received your eggs….”
Her voice trailed off, but I was only half paying attention. “Admiral,” I said, “I know what I want to do with my future.”
“What?”
“First, we head for the High Council chambers on New Earth….”
The Chamber of the High Council
Guards saluted crisply as we marched into Admiralty headquarters—saluted Admiral Seele, of course, not me. I wore nondescript black coveralls, without insignia. It was one of the five recognized uniforms for Explorers, but it was also the sort of drab attire any civilian worker might wear. Since I had no apparent blemishes or flaws, the guards likely took me for nothing more than a repair-worker.
Gaining admittance to the High Council chamber took more work: mostly bluster on Seele’s part. She repeated the word “urgent” to more than a dozen obstructionist deputies before we were grudgingly passed through. Anyone else might never have bullied the gatekeepers into surrender; but as semiofficial troublespotter for the Outward Fleet, Seele could demand immediate attention in a crisis. When the last bureaucrat buckled under to Seele’s insistence, we only had to wait in the council’s anteroom for five minutes: just long enough to be scanned for hidden weapons and for Seele’s identity to be verified.
They can’t have bothered to identify me. If they had, they might not have blithely admitted an Explorer who was supposed to be on Melaquin.
The doors in front of us opened. Admiral Seele strode forward, with me matching step two paces behind.
The president of the council, Admiral Vincence, smiled politely as Seele reached the foot of the Round Table. He did not invite her to take a chair. “Admiral Seele,” Vincence said, “you have an urgent need to address us?”
“There is a pressing matter for the council to consider,” Seele replied. “But I will not be the one to address you.” She gestured for me to come forward. “Proceed, Explorer.”
Several admirals whispered at the word “Explorer.” Apart from Chee and Seele, I may have been the only Explorer who’d ever entered the chamber. I saluted with perfect crispness. “Admirals,” I said, “my name is Explorer First Class Festina Ramos, and I bring important news from Melaquin.”
The whispers swelled into hostile murmurs. I kept my eyes aimed straight ahead, on Vincence. He stared back, unruffled; when the mumbling receded he said, “I’ve heard of you, Ramos. Were you not assigned to explore Melaquin under the command of Admiral Chee?”
“Yes, sir.” For a moment, I was surprised he had bothered to learn which Explorers were sent with Chee. Then I remembered I had probably been handpicked for the Landing because Admiral Seele had shown interest in me.
“I suppose,” Vincence said, “that this pressing matter concerns Admiral Chee? Or is it the Explorers who recently attempted to leave Melaquin? You must be aware that they failed. Their ship has been confiscated and they themselves returned to the planet’s surface. Do you and Admiral Seele think you can blackmail this council into changing that?”
“No, sir,” I replied.
“Then what do you wish to tell us?” He spoke with an air of languid condescension.
“I wish to inform the council that it transported a dangerous non-sentient creature to Melaquin.”
The sharp intakes of breath around the table were the most satisfying sounds I have ever heard in my life.
“The creature was Explorer First Class Laminir Jelca,” I went on. “To my certain knowledge, he murdered two sentient beings on Melaquin, and attempted genocide on an entire sentient species. Jelca could only have traveled to Melaquin under the express orders of this council. Therefore, the council must be held responsible.”
“How do we know this is true?” a nearby admiral asked.
“Because I say it’s true,” Seele answered from my side. “Have I ever lied to the council? And do you think I’d lie about somethin
g as serious as this? Jelca nearly destroyed Melaquin’s entire biosphere.”
“But that has nothing to do with us!” blurted a man on my right. “He couldn’t have been a murderer at the time we sent him.”
“You’re right,” I agreed. “In fact, it was the action of this council that drove Jelca to non-sentience. His rage at being marooned turned him into a killer.”
Admiral Yincence wasn’t looking nearly as languid now.
“Furthermore,” I continued, “I must inform this council that the introduction of Explorers to Melaquin has severely disrupted the native society. There have been incidents of rape, property destruction, and ruinous cultural pollution. Even if such acts are not explicit violations of League statutes, they demonstrate a pattern of jeopardy this council cannot ignore.”
“Explorer!” Vincence snapped. “This council will decide what it can and can’t ignore.”
“No, Admiral,” I replied, “the League of Peoples will.”
Seele stepped up beside me and placed a document on the table. “Admirals,” she announced, “I am officially presenting you with the Explorer’s report of all that she witnessed on Melaquin. In light of the report’s contents, I recommend that the council immediately terminate all missions to Melaquin, for the safety of the sentient race living on that planet. The council cannot keep sending potential murderers into a peaceful and defenseless society. I might point out, the case of Laminir Jelca demonstrates that previous good behavior is no guarantee a person will remain sentient under such conditions. If you continue to banish Explorers to Melaquin, the League will surely conclude you do not care if one of those Explorers becomes infuriated to the point of murder.”
“But we didn’t realize this was happening!” the admiral on my right protested.
“You do now,” I said. “And if you don’t do anything to correct it, the League will know.”
Silence fell around the table. At last, Vincence collected himself. “Our thanks for your report, Explorer. May I ask you and Admiral Seele to withdraw into the anteroom? The council must discuss these matters.”
Seele and I snapped perfect salutes and did an about-face. In perfect silence, we left the chamber.
Slow to Catch On
Ten minutes later, Vincence came out to see us. As he entered, I heard raised voices inside the chamber; but Vincence closed the door too quickly for me to tell what they were saying.
“A few are slow to catch on,” Vincence told us with an apologetic shrug. “They think if you two disappear, we can continue with business as usual. They don’t understand the League…not as well as you obviously do. Now that we know there’s a risk, we have to take action. Anything else would be gross indifference to threats against sentient life. The High Council would be branded non-sentient, and the whole Fleet grounded until we were removed.”
“So what are you going to do?” I asked.
“Under other circumstances, we might force a few councillors to resign and blame it all on them; but we won’t fool the League with token gestures. Whatever we do has to be real. I should think we’ll appoint a commission to review all Exploration practices and make sure we aren’t subjecting other sentient races to unnecessary risk.”
“There have been similar commissions before,” I said.
“True.” Vincence gave me a thin smile. “But we’ll have to follow the recommendations of this one: the League will be watching. They’re always watching.” He turned to Seele. “We’ll need your input, Admiral, when we decide who’s appointed to the inquiry. No toadies—people who will honestly ask the necessary questions.”
“I’ll tell you one name right away,” Seele replied. “Festina Ramos.”
I tensed but Vincence only nodded. “Ramos is at the top of the list,” he agreed. “It will show our contrition. We’ll also include some other Explorers from Melaquin—we can’t sweep them under the table. Full disclosure, full acknowledgement of blame…at least behind closed doors. If we do everything else right, we won’t have to wash our dirty linen in public.” He chuckled without humor. “Thank God the League has plenty of caste species where the leaders never explain decisions to underlings.”
“Sir,” I said, “if you think I’ll keep quiet—”
He held up his hand to stop me. “Here’s the offer, Ramos. I’ve skimmed your report enough to see details which are…politically delicate. Do you really want the public to know that an Explorer tried to rip away the atmosphere of an inhabited planet? The outcry would hurt the Explorer Corps as much as the High Council. And there’s no point in revealing it now. You’ve won—period. The Council must stop sending Explorers to Melaquin. We have to review every aspect of Exploration missions. We have to admit our mistakes and do everything we can to rectify them. We also have to make reparations—to the other banished Explorers and to you. In the spirit of which…do you want to become an admiral?”
“Not especially,” I said.
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Vincence shrugged. “But I think you’ll do it anyway. Chee’s position is vacant…and before you break into cursing, yes, he was victim of a great injustice too. We’ll schedule an inquiry to decide whose head should roll. In the meantime, however, Admiral Chee needs a successor. Since most of his spies are retired Explorers, we think they’ll be more cooperative if their new leader comes from the Corps.”
“I don’t want to be an admiral,” I told him. “The thought turns my stomach.”
“Festina,” Seele said quietly, “the job is important. I know what you must be feeling—I felt the same forty years ago. But someone has to do Chee’s job. Someone has to take the responsibility.”
“I’m an Explorer First Class,” I objected. “A dozen ranks away from admiral.”
“Chee’s people will teach you the job,” Vincence said. “He has a top notch staff. You’ll have their respect and the respect of government leaders too. You’re smart, you’re committed, and best of all, you’re an Explorer who doesn’t look like an Explorer anymore. Perfect admiral material.”
I caught my breath. I forced myself to remain calm. “All right,” I said, “I’ll take over Chee’s work.”
“Good,” Vincence smiled.
“And for the good of the Corps, I won’t tell the public what Jelca did on Melaquin.”
“Also good,” Vincence nodded.
“And you can make me an admiral,” I said.
“Done,” Vincence replied.
“But…” I reached up to my cheek, dug in my fingernails, and pulled down hard. The artificial skin came off like an adhesive bandage, ripping away from my cheek with a good fierce sting. “I’m afraid,” I said, “I’m going to be an admiral who looks like an Explorer.”
My Second Graduation
And so….
This afternoon, the Explorer Academy held its annual graduation ceremony. As always, a number of admirals sat on the podium. As always, one of those admirals gave the commencement address.
This year, that admiral was me.
Me with my purple birthmark. My disfigurement. My pride.
The lecturer who introduced me claimed I was the Explorer who made good. The Explorer who had earned respect. The Explorer who sat on the review commission and made a difference.
Let’s hope that’s true.
I stood in front of the graduating class, ready to tell them their world was changing. “Greetings,” I said, “I am a sentient citizen of the League of Peoples and I beg your Hospitality. My name is Festina Ramos and I take great pride….”
The rest of my words were drowned out by applause.
Commitment Hour
To Linda:
Here’s another novel you don’t have to finish if I get hit by a bus.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to the usual gang of writers (Linda Carson, John McMullen, Dave Till) for providing initial feedback as chapters came hot off the printer, and to Robert J. Sawyer, Richard Curtis, and Jennifer Brehl who read the whole thing in one chunk. Thanks to
o to Shelley Goetze who told me the name of that little bump at the back of your neck (while she was giving me ultrasound for a broken leg…but that’s another story).
Finally, thanks to Chris Blythe, Eric Bristow, Duncan Bristqw, and Larry Hackman who first walked with me from Tober Cove to Cypress Marsh. Death to quill pigs forever!
ONE
A Net for a Duck
The night before Commitment, I was down in the marsh with the frogs and the fish, sitting out the time on a mud-crusted log and waiting for the gods to send me a duck.
I’d spent hundreds of hours in that marsh when I was young, practicing my violin. Elderly mosquitoes may still tell their larvae about the human child who was so busy rehearsing arpeggios he didn’t have time to swat. Our village doctor claims I forced her to work daily from dawn to dusk, gathering and grinding the herbs I needed for skin ointment when I came home each night. But back then, Cypress Marsh was the only place the Elders of Tober Cove let me practice; they said if they let me play in town, the noise would curdle milk.
Now that I was twenty, they’d stopped complaining. I’d become our cove’s most gold-getting export: shipped down-peninsula to weddings, harvest festivals and spring struts, earning five times as much as any fisher or farmer. My foster father told me the Elders sometimes fought over which of them could take the most credit for my success; but the real credit should go to the dragonflies who discovered that where there’s a violin, there are all the mosquitoes a bug can eat. They saved my blood and bone…and even today, Cypress Marsh dragonflies come buzzing at the sound of violin music, like children hearing the dinner bell.
As I sat on the log that night, I considered taking up my bow and giving the dragonflies a thank-you serenade. Of course, I’d brought my violin with me—I never left the cottage without it under my arm, even when I set out to my “day job” hauling nets on the perch boats. The violin made my work easier: in the middle of the afternoon, someone would always say to me, “Fullin, we could sure use a tune.” Then I passed a couple hours playing “The Maiden and the Hungry Pigboy” while the other men bent their backs.
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