The Lotus Eaters cl-3

by Tom Kratman

  Donati thought there was something about the man at the desk to mark him as foreign, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. That man continued to write for several minutes before closing the folder and looking up.

  "My name is Mahamda," the man said, in accented Spanish, "Warrant Officer Achmed al Mahamda. I am a recent immigrant to Balboa. From Sumer. You are going to tell me everything I want to know about the drug trade, how it works, who are the players, where are the facilities, what are the routes, how much money is involved, where it is, and how to confiscate it.

  "You're going to want to lie to me. Don't."

  Excursus

  Government of Balboa, from Global Affairs Magazine, Volume 121, Issue of 10/473 AC

  Each tercio, or regiment, of the Legion del Cid, the armed force of the Republic of Balboa, sends to the Senate one senator who serves for an eight year term, with one quarter of all senators being reelected—or not, as the case may be—every two years. Senators are elected by their regimental centuriate assembly, composed of the discharged veterans of the regiment.

  Upon graduation from initial entry training, all newly minted soldiers are assigned to a political century, an arbitrary grouping of exactly one hundred. (That is to say, officially it is arbitrary. In practice, wealthier and better educated people appear to be deliberately scattered among the centuries not only to reduce their political influence but to force those wealthier and more influential types to watch out for their century-brothers.) Soldiers killed in initial entry training are also counted, and their names enrolled in the other centuries being filled at the time of graduation.

  That is one type, one might call it the "post-revolutionary" type, of century. The other type consists of those who were soldiers prior to the "revolution," which is to say prior to the election of Raul Parilla as President of the Republic and prior to the establishment of the Senate. These, plus their dead comrades, of which there were very many, were formed into political centuries shortly after the Parilla assumed power.

  No one is ever added to or dropped from a century's rolls. No one votes within his century until formally discharged from the Legion. No century ceases to exist, or loses its voting power, until the last member has died. This has not yet happened.

  Biennially, all the centuries of a tercio meet, together, at the tercio's main cantonment area or on the grounds of the regimental club, whichever is most convenient. There, six classes of decision are made by the voting members of a century. The first of these is for the political centurion, a position of some local honor and thus avidly sought. The political centurion directs the century in its voting, runs administration for the next two years, oversees the century's Health, Welfare and Mutual Aid Fund (managed by Banco de la Legion, S.A.), tallies the vote and, in the ultimate extremity, leads the century in combat.

  The second decision is whom the century shall support in the political campaign for the National Legislative Assembly, before which campaign the centuriate assembly is invariably set to meet. The second decision is only the century's preference, as the final decision of support is determined by the full regiment's centuriate assembly. Support in this case means two things: A) Members of the regiment are honor bound to vote for the candidate selected, as a group, even though votes for election to the National Assembly are individually tallied by secret ballot and B) the members of the regiment, indeed the entire regimental organization, will canvas aggressively for that candidate. In practice this has meant that not only do the veterans of the nation's armed forces absolutely control the Senate, but that they also exercise de facto control of the legislative assembly, given that the purely civilian populace tends to scatter its own vote. Nothing requires that the civilians do this, of course. It should go without saying, but we'll say it anyway, that no regimental centuriate assembly has ever yet endorsed a non-veteran for public office. Note that the veterans never win every seat in the Legislative assembly. They have never yet failed to take over half.

  Thirdly, in presidential election years, the century votes for whom the entire national centuriate assembly shall support for the offices of the President and Vice Presidents of the Republic, the President also being Commander in Chief of the Legion and Princeps Senatus. There is currently a constitutional amendment pending to make this office completely the purview of the centuriate assembly.

  The fourth decision concerns the regiment's senator. This is decided by a majority vote of the centuries. It is entirely possible, and sometimes happens, for this to be a minority popular vote.

  It is also worth mentioning that regiments are of different sizes, different annual intakes, and have varying numbers of political centuries. Senators do not vote their own persons, in senatorial deliberations; they vote the number of centuries in their particular regiments.

  Fifthly, in addition to regimental senators, there are also another five percent at-large seats which are open only to persons who have earned high awards for valor in action, the Cruz de Coraje en Oro con Escudo y Espadas, or higher. In practice, this level of award is so rare that these could conceivably become lifetime seats were Balboa ever to have a lengthy period of peace. These at-large seats are voted on by all the political centuries of all the regiments, with those half dozen or so candidates garnering the most centuries being seated.

  As an aside, there is a theoretical third class of senator, composed of ex-Presidents who have completed a second term without being impeached. These seats are to be for life.

  Both valor seats and for-life seats vote the average number of centuries for the rest of the senate, i.e. total number of political centuries divided by the number of regimental senators.

  The sixth class of decisions made by the centuriate assemblies is called ratification. In the ratification process any century may, by popular vote, call for any law or treaty passed by the Senate, or any decision of the National Supreme Court, to be subject to ratification. If said law or decision is not ratified by at least one third of all centuries, they are rendered null and void. Since the legislative system is bicameral, nullification of the Senate's passage of a law also nullifies the bicameral passage of the law. This, because it is something of a pain for the centuries, is rarely used, though it has happened and laws have been nullified and decisions overturned because of it.

  * * *

  A word should be said here about minority representation. The typical, average regiment, because women only enter the Legion at about twenty-three percent of the rate of men, is predominantly male, said males being typically nationalistic, conservative, heterosexual, and more or less religious and patriarchal. Nothing has been done to ensure atheist or internationalist proportional political representation, but there are four "special" regiments, the Tercio Gorgidas, the Tercio Amazona, the Tercio Santa Cecilia and the Tercio Socrates that are set aside for gays, women—both lesbian and heterosexual, the handicapped and those very aged who elect to serve in some capacity in their sunset years. (These four regiments are the only regiments into which someone can permanently transfer after accession into a different regiment, though such transfers are voluntary and rare.) If nothing else, this gives each of those groups a distinct voice and the opportunity to barter their votes for fair treatment, beyond which perhaps no political system dependent upon consent of an empowered majority can really go.

  * * *

  Finally, we must address two peculiarities of Balboa's political system: 1) its structural traditionalism and conservatism—so at odds with its partial but widespread socialism—and 2) that, as a practical matter, the dead keep their vote, if not indefinitely, then often long after they have died. The latter is reinforcement for the former.

  Consider: War, which is perhaps the Balboans' major export industry in the form of high priced auxiliaries, typically reduces the numbers, hence the political power, of those who have no objection to waging it. Under the Balboan system, while those individual numbers may be reduced, the political power of the class that feels that way remains at full s
trength, since the centuries in which those people were joined vote at full strength on their behalf, even after death.

  Consider: People tend to grow more conservative with age. The fact that members of centuries are not replaced means that those centuries grow older and more conservative even as their strength of numbers lessens. This weights the Balboan political process, more or less heavily, in favor of conservatism and traditional values.

  Consider: The entire gamut of philosophies we tend to think of as Liberalism, Internationalism, Cosmopolitanism, Tsarist-Marxism, Progressivism, Humanitarianism, etc. have as one of their major values one form or another of anti-militarism. These people, and Balboa has something approaching its share, tend not to join the Legion, not to be accessed into political centuries, to be barred from most public offices (though some do squeak through into the legislative assembly), and thus to be effectively politically disenfranchised, even though they may retain the right to vote for the Legislative Assembly.

  Chapter Twelve

  The inevitable transition from left wing progressivism to oppressive hereditary aristocracy, on Old Earth, was already written plain in the nature of what was then called the "Transnational Progressive Movement," on that world, then, or "Cosmopolitan Progressive," now, on ours.

  It was and is written plain in the extraordinary care these people take to ensure the well being of themselves and their children. Are they part of a fund starved organization seeking to do good? This is no reason not to have human servants at their meetings to pour the water. Neither is it a reason for them not to be paid at the very highest rates prevailing anywhere. Less still is it a reason not to ensure that their children are funded to the best possible schools. And, take it as a given, they really need to live in the best their city of residence has to offer. And all at the expense of their underfunded organizations.

  It was and is to be seen in the grandiose titles and honors these people granted and grant themselves; "High" this and "Plenipotentiary" that, "Extraordinary" that and "Grand" this . . ."Your Excellency" and "Eminence."

  It was and is clear in the favors they do for each other, and each other's children, as it is in the bounties they salt away for those children.

  Indeed, it is seen in the broad harm they do humanity, even as they claim the good. For what does it matter if they ruin mankind, so long as the servants pour the water, the pay is high, their own children are cared for, their titles resound, and they have enough graft to pay for that First Landing mansion?

  —Jorge y Marqueli Mendoza,

  Historia y Filosofia Moral,

  Legionary Press, Balboa,

  Terra Nova, Copyright AC 468

  Anno Domini 2524 Anno Condita 471 UEPF Spirit of Peace, Luna Starship Holding and Storage Area

  High Admiral Wallenstein felt the shuttle bay doors slam shut through the metal under her feet. She couldn't hear them at all. The shuttle itself, on the outside a twin for the partially restored one in a subterranean workshop in the Isla Real, on Terra Nova, was already resting on the deck before the bay was sealed against the vacuum.

  Marguerite intended to meet the new captain, Richard, Earl of Care, on the shuttle deck. She didn't have to; indeed it was somewhat contrary to normal protocol. She was there because she absolutely didn't want the crew engaging in proskynesis and the only way to make sure that didn't happen was to be there, issue the order, and ensure it was carried out, herself.

  Debarking for the Earl and new captain had to wait until the air was returned to the shuttle deck and the reception committee had filed out and formed up. A recorded bosun's pipe sounded, the crew—other than Marguerite—came to attention, the hatch to the shuttle opened, and Richard, Earl of Care, stepped out.

  Elder Gods, Marguerite thought, he looks . . . scared. Oh, sure, he's trying to hide it but you can see that he's hiding it. Who would have thought? After being raised with all the arrogance of the First Class?

  Richard stepped down to the deck, faced Marguerite, and made a half bow. She returned about a tenth of it, doing little more than inclining her head. The Earl of Care then straightened, made a typically stiff cadet's salute and announced, "Richard, Earl of Care, reports to the High Admiral of the Peace Fleet."

  Marguerite returned the salute, and this she did fully, said, "Follow me," and without a glance backwards walked off the flight deck and through the hatchway.

  * * *

  Richard, Earl of Care, noticed the lovely brown girl tidying up Wallenstein's office as soon as he entered the room. She curtseyed and went back to her work until the High Admiral said, "Thank you, Esmeralda. We'll be fine for now."

  "Can I get you anything, my lady?" the ex-slavegirl asked. Like the other four hundred and seventeen slaves commandeered by the High Admiral, she'd been freed and given a choice. Since the choice was join the fleet or go back home—to TransIsthmia, in her case—she, like every one of the others, had chosen the fleet. Still, if she hadn't had all the choice imaginable, at least she was a genuine member of the crew, with pay and a degree of dignity and self worth. Wallenstein hoped those things might make up for the many, many indignities Esmeralda had suffered in her short life.

  Taking a seat by a small conference table, rather than at her desk, Marguerite told the girl, "If you would inform the cook that I and the Earl of Care will be dining here, my dear, I'd appreciate it."

  "Certainly, High Admiral," Esmeralda answered before leaving.

  Once the girl was gone, Marguerite asked, "Why the hell are you here, son?"

  "My Lady," said Richard, Earl of Care, "I don't really know why I'm here. All I know is that my uncle commanded and I had to obey." The boy looked both pained and embarrassed as he admitted, "High Admiral, I haven't the first clue about commanding a starship. Among the Class Ones at the Academy I wasn't even particularly high ranking, either in leadership or in academics."

  Meaning he couldn't afford to pay the bribes, thought Wallenstein, couldn't afford to or wouldn't. I wonder which it is.

  She asked.

  Richard gave a little sigh. His eyes rolled up toward the ceiling of the High Admiral's quarters. "My Lady, while some feoffs are still quite flush, Care is not. And for reasons I don't fully understand, my parents decided on having two children, of which I am the younger. My elder brother received the Grand Duchy of Microsoft, which is comparatively well off. With the tithes from Care, my father was able to buy me a spot at the Academy, but that was all."

  Hmmm. Other motivation for the SecGen: Take care of an impoverished relative? Possibly. But that's not important right now.

  Wallenstein ordered aloud, "Computer, Academy records, complete, Richard, Earl of Care." Those appeared on her viewscreen within the space of a few seconds.

  "But I thought those were—"

  "I'm the High Admiral now. I can get whatever information I want that the fleet has," she explained. Richard suddenly looked very embarrassed.

  Wallenstein forced a small smile from her face as she read. Four hundred and thirty-seven demerits. And that's after walking off an even larger number. Peer evaluations . . . bad from Class Ones . . . but generally good to very good from the Class Twos and Threes. Interesting. And no one who gets a C minus in "Appreciation of pre-Islamic Art in sub-Saharan Africa" but an A in "20th Century Music" can be all bad. Maybe, just maybe, I can work with this. But first a few questions.

  "You didn't seem too taken aback," she observed, "about the lack of proskynesis. Why?"

  Richard snorted. "My Lady, I know my peers. They don't deserve proskynesis. Neither do I. Neither does anyone."

  Oh, I can probably work with this.

  "What do you think about your new responsibilities as captain of a starship."

  The boy didn't even hesitate in answering, "That I'm utterly unfit for them. Not necessarily unsuited; about that I just don't know. But I am unfit for them as I am now."

  Yes, I can work with this.

  "What do you think you need to become fit . . . ?"

  * *
*

  Esmeralda knew she wasn't really fit to be the High Admiral's cabin girl. For one thing, she hadn't been aboard ship nearly long enough to become used to the reduced gravity. Nor did she really know any of the protocol. On the plus side, she could at least find her way to the galley and to small cabin Wallenstein had assigned her as quarters.

  For that matter, other than for her capture in TransIsthmia and shipment to Razona Market, she hadn't been a slave long enough, or profoundly enough, to really understand it. She'd been raped, of course, by her guards and the vendor. But that was to be expected. Nor was it anything new; she'd been raped with some regularity for the last couple of years by the household troops of Count Castro-Nyere. She didn't like it, not even remotely, but it was something one got used to especially when every girl of her class could expect it, and no one attached any particular shame to it.

  On the other hand, she'd had a strong feeling that being a slave, had that status continued, would have been awful indeed. And that's assuming she hadn't been stuffed into a wicker basket and burned alive by the Orthodox Druids as her former owner and vendor had indicated would happen if she failed to find a buyer.

  Now? Well, she wasn't precisely free. But she was well clothed, well fed, free from the threat of rape, and was even paid a cabin girl's stipend.

  Life could be a lot worse, Esmeralda thought, as she scurried between the Admiral's quarters and galley, than it is aboard this starship. And the High Admiral has never made any demands on me for any service my parents wouldn't have approved of. That I never expected when she brought me away from the market.

  * * *

  Starships were their own best flight simulators. Ideally, a captain would practice with his own bridge crew on his own ship. Unfortunately—