by Nōnen Títi
One last aerial image of DJar filled the space in front of the screen before withdrawing as Tjarkag turned off the programme. Jitsi had sat through the whole myth without interrupting.
“That’s it. Just an ancient story with too many difficult words,” Tjarkag said, getting up. “Besides it’s getting late.”
“I liked it. I like the old words. Maybe we should call our spacekabin ‘SJilai’ because it will be our kabin to a new life. We will be the ken to start all over.”
Benjamar lifted her down. “Nothing has been decided yet,” he cautioned her, since she was now talking about ‘our kabin’ as if she was already on it. He suggested she enter in the name competition Wolt had mentioned. The contest was to be held between the different Learners around Geveler and the islands, but since she didn’t go to Learners she could explain that in a message.
“Really?” Jitsi went to the seat in front of the pulseboard, which Tjarkag had only just left.
“Not now. It’s time to go. Your mom will be waiting,” Tjarkag said.
“Now,” Jitsi insisted. “It’ll only take a minute. Who do I write to, Opa?”
Tjarkag put up his hands and looked at Benjamar. He didn’t feel like a fight.
“There may be little time left to enter and she’s leaving for Freberer in four days. Give us eight minutes,” Benjamar replied.
Tjarkag relented and sat back down to let his father help Jitsi with her message. It took half an hour before Jitsi was happy with what she’d written and the wave had been sent. By that time Tjarkag was impatiently pacing the floor. Nevertheless she also managed to get him to create moulds of the mythological figures from the images on the screen for her. She liked playing with the plastic toys and her mother’s wave-unit didn’t have a mould bath. As always Jitsi had everyone do as she wished, but the smile in her eyes was worth it. She left with Tjarkag to spend a day with her mother, while Benjamar prepared for a debate that could mean not only the difference between life and death for himself, but maybe also for Jitsi.
The next day he took the short-distance airfloat into the city centre to meet Kalgar and Frantag. He found Daili there too. Even better. He’d not been back since that first time; he had waited until he had all his moves prepared. Kalgar had kept him informed. By now they would no longer expect him and Wolt’s interview was fresh in everybody’s mind. The stage was set; it was time to impress the audience and the audience was apprehensive as they came in four people strong.
Daili was also uncomfortable. This wasn’t her domain but Frantag had insisted she be there. Now she was banished to the end of the statuesque table where a seat was pulled up for her.
Kalgar started. He stressed that they were not getting their volunteers, despite having increased the age limit to six kor. There were only two moons left before the crew list had to be finalized. The farmers were the biggest problem; they were going to end up forcing most of them. After half an hour of discussions no progress had been made.
Next Frantag put his partikel into the wave and showed the plans which Daili, Branag and Aryan had drawn up together. He explained that taking children didn’t have to affect the amount of adults going if the parents were willing to share their living-spaces with their children.
Benjamar leaned back and nodded at Daili. That was the government’s main argument taken care of. He might not even be needed here.
“We understand all that, but we need to keep the children of DJar here. The risk is too great and they’re incapable of making a decision like that for themselves,” Jorg started.
“What about the userchildren?” Kalgar asked, having been prepared for that.
That resulted in another discussion between Jorg and Kalgar about the resources spent on children’s education and their use for the future. This was entirely beside the point. Benjamar had no intention of coming here moon after moon before he got what he wanted. He raised his hand as he stood up to end the debate between the two men.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Jorg, but I don’t think you care one way or the other about how many children do and do not go as long as you can get rid of all the userchildren you consider expendable. I also don’t think you care for the people who do want to go whom you are asking to leave their own children behind; people like Daili, who could help make this mission successful. You’re not willing to give in to reasonable arguments because it means handing over a bit of your power.”
Markag hushed Jorg, who was about to jump up. “We have given in a lot already regarding the journey. We’ve set our standards and that will have to be it. If Daili doesn’t want to leave her children she can stay on DJar, and so can your journalist friend if he has a problem with our requirements.”
Benjamar remained standing. “You know about expediency, Markag. You more than anybody should know that the requirements have to be changed if the proposal is wrong. Your initial idea isn’t working. You’ll end up with a half-empty kabin, which is not the purpose of this mission. Your objectives are to reduce the population and to start a new colony. Both benefit from children being allowed to go to Kun DJar.”
Markag argued that if this journey proved to be successful children would be allowed on subsequent kabins. The current government was not willing to take responsibility in case something went wrong.
“So you’ve decided together not to give in no matter what, is that it, Markag? First you go on public broadcast to tell all the people of DJar about this great journey and you mention volunteers. You found yourself a peaceful solution to the population problem. But when volunteers come forward you make them an impossible proposal. What will happen next is that you won’t be able to make your numbers, so you’ll recruit some more workers and users. You’ll force them onto the kabin just like Kalgar said. Do you know what the new expression will be, Markag? People will say that a soft eye cannot see that a plant shouldn’t walk.”
Markag had intended to say something, but closed his mouth again. The expression that a plant shouldn’t walk had become synonymous with failure ever since the Binur mission; a mission decided on too fast, with too little preparation and with the main goal of getting rid of a large amount of unwanted people. Of course, Flogos had been an idiot and his only concern had been saving face in the light of a promise he couldn’t keep; the promise of a paradise for scientists on Bijun after it was djariformed. When that project failed the kabin had been idle. The idea of Binur and a mas of workers and users had been too appealing for the president. Flogos had lived long enough to be told that the Binur kabin had never reached its destination.
Markag had more sense in him — or at least Benjamar had always believed so.
Markag didn’t suffer from his lack of height either and walked right up to Benjamar. “There’s no need to get nasty. You weren’t invited to this meeting. You’re no part of this journey and you are no longer part of the government,” he said.
“I told you I would keep coming back.”
“And now I’m asking you to leave and I’m sure that I’m not the only one.”
As the members of the government mumbled their agreement, Benjamar looked back at Markag. “You have your parrots trained well.”
The parrots responded with gasps of indignation, but not one of them stood up to confront Benjamar.
“This has nothing to do with you. This is about Kun DJar, a mission for which you are too old by twenty years. The only place you’ll be travelling is the Land Beyond,” Markag replied.
Benjamar straightened up. Now he had the emotions going, he’d have to make use of them. All eyes were on the two of them, including those of the room itself; the two small windows cast a dull light on the gloom.
“That may be so,” he said. “I just wonder if you want history to know you as the leader who successfully launched the first interstellar mission or the one who was too big-headed to learn from the mistakes of others.”
“Are you challenging me, Ben?”
“I don’t let myself in with challenges, but you
can name it what you will.”
Those behind him, those who were in this together with Markag, were quiet. The only one who usually wasn’t afraid to speak out was Jorg, but he frequently hurt Markag’s position more than he helped it.
When Markag didn’t answer, Benjamar continued, “Look, I came here to help them. I’m only asking for common sense. Is it so impossible for you to understand that people aren’t going to give up their children of their own free will? Not even for the good of DJar? You have a son; think about it.”
“I don’t have to listen to personal attacks. Why don’t you leave the building and return to your last few stations of retirement? Leave the running of DJar to us and let Kalgar and Frantag speak for themselves. They’re perfectly capable.”
The weakness of the responses irritated Benjamar. “Give these people what they want, Markag. Give them the right to take their own children. Give them the chance of a real colony. Unless you never believed that possible in the first place. Is that why you want to keep the good children here or are you blinded by the shine of your own eyes?”
“Be careful, Benjamar, that you don’t burn your tongue on the flames you’re spewing. Honour only comes to those willing to give up their own seed for the survival of the tree,” Markag fired back, his arms folded and ready to stand his ground.
That was more like it. It gave Benjamar a new angle for attack. “So do yourself a favour and give up yours. This journey can make it. I know it can, but it will fail if you don’t give in on the children matter. Don’t let your problem with your own child get in the way of reason. That isn’t like you, Markag.”
Benjamar had now attacked the man he’d considered a friend more than a colleague on his personal life as well as on his intelligence. Markag was hurt and it was visible in the way he sat back down. It wouldn’t take much longer. Benjamar softened his voice. “At least let the children of the people who want to go have a choice. Give the people the respect they deserve, Markag. There will be plenty of children left on DJar. Show them what real leadership is so one of them might one day follow in your footsteps and not end up like the rest sitting around this table.”
The assembly tried not to breathe too loudly.
“I’ll fight this thing to the end, Markag. As you know well, I have nothing to lose, not even my life.”
Markag was clever enough not to let this opportunity go by. He slapped his hand on the table. “You know, I’m sick of this whole kabin and everything associated with it! Every moon there’s another discussion about it.” He looked at Kalgar. “Just do as you please for all I care. Take the children in addition to the numbers we require. Give the children a choice if they’re old enough. Make your numbers and get the whole thing on the way.”
Benjamar nodded. That was what he’d wanted. In a few words Markag had not only given the mission what it desired, he had also told the government he didn’t need their support anymore. Not one of them stood up to say that this went against the principles of otacy. “One more thing.”
“What?”
“I’m going on that kabin with these people.”
Markag made a tired move with his arm. “Not as long as I’m still here, you won’t. I have just about had it. No more concessions.”
Benjamar gave Frantag a nod to say he was ready to leave. The two journey leaders assembled their partikels with dispatch. With children on board they would get more than enough volunteers.
It was only when they were back in their office that they voiced their gratitude for him pushing it. Benjamar waved it away. There wasn’t much to it if you knew who you were dealing with. He was more annoyed with himself than satisfied. He should have been able to get to his destination without petty personal attacks.
“But what about you? He didn’t give you permission,” Daili said.
“Not yet, but count me in, because I’m coming.”
By the time he expected the rest of the meeting to have finished, Benjamar walked the stairs down to Markag’s office.
“Now what?”
“You know what.” Benjamar sat down in one of Markag’s deep seats. “You could have given me my wish right there and shown all those puppets who’s in charge,” he said.
“I could have, but I didn’t.” Markag poured a drink of wine for both of them.
“Thank you. I would drink to your decision, but I can’t yet.”
“Why is that?” Markag asked.
“First I should tell you that I know of a man who’s going to Kun DJar. A man you know very well.”
“I know many people.”
“I’m talking about Harmon,” Benjamar said.
Markag leaned on the arm of his chair as he slowly lowered himself into it. “What do you mean, he’s going?”
“Exactly what I say, Markag. He’ll be part of the journey. He feels that he’s not wanted on DJar; not in his job nor by his father. He wants out.”
“Did you talk to him?” Markag asked.
“Of course. I don’t come to meetings unprepared. I didn’t want to mention it in front of the others.”
“You mentioned enough.”
Benjamar sighed. “I’m sorry about that. I shouldn’t have. The fact remains that you need to talk to him. Harmon is a good kid.”
“He’s weak.” Markag said, now looking even more depressed than he had at the end of the meeting. He asked if Benjamar knew about the liquor problem Harmon had and said that his son had appeared in court not so long ago for being drunk in public and received a last warning. He was weak and used the liquor to evade responsibilities.
Benjamar knew all this already, most of it from Harmon himself. “Being weak isn’t a crime, Markag, but if he doesn’t leave on the kabin he’ll end up a user. You know he will and he won’t last the four years you have left in office.”
“So did you come here threatening to make that public knowledge if I don’t let you go?”
Benjamar put down his glass. “You should know me better than that. I just want you to know that many people have many reasons for wanting to leave DJar. That doesn’t make them weak. All you want is a successful mission. Does it really matter if the extra people will be children or an old man? I have my reasons for wanting to go. One of them is that I’m not ready to die yet. Is that a crime?”
Markag shook his head. “I know about your granddaughter, Ben. I’m not totally ignorant either.”
“Okay, so we’re even. I’m not going to beg. I’m only saying—”
“If it’s her life that depends on it, maybe you should beg,” Markag interrupted. With a brisk move he stood up from his chair and picked up the glasses.
Benjamar got up too and stopped Markag from refilling his. “I need to go. I promised to pick up Jitsi. Talk to Harmon before he leaves, Markag. He’s still your son.”
He left the building to walk to Sofi’s home. Maybe Markag was right. Maybe he should give up his own seed. Was it fair to attack other people on their weaknesses to win a point? Could he tell Markag to make up with his son while leaving his own problems with Skawag unsolved? For Jitsi’s sake, couldn’t he let go of his pride if it meant he could take her onto the kabin? If there was a chance she might live — a chance DJar could not give her?
Southland
6/3/4/6184
The first thing Krakat said when Aryan arrived back from Depeter was, “We have a problem.”
“Shoot.”
“Remember that communications device we decided to ignore? The designer and the president are on their way with a news team to do a live broadcast.They’ll be asking to see it.”
Aryan didn’t see the need for panic. “Unless you’re taking them up to see the actual kabin, just tell them it’s already there.”
But that wasn’t all. There were rumours that the device didn’t exist. Markag was coming to get it straightened out and to put the public at ease. “He may ask for the drawings.”
Aryan tried to remember who had been aware of the request for a device and knew that it
hadn’t been installed.
“So what do we tell them?” Krakat asked.
“I don’t know. The truth, I guess. They were the ones who came too late with it. They can’t expect us to keep accepting changes and still make our date.”
The visitors arrived an hour later on a special birdwing. While the news crew set up their equipment in the main room near the model of the kabin, Markag asked the inevitable question right away.
Krakat explained that there had been no time to redesign the kabin. They had a schedule to stick to and a planet to meet.
“We weren’t informed. You led us to believe there was no problem. We promised the people that we’ll be able to communicate with the kabin all the way to Kun DJar,” Markag said.
“That was never going to happen. Most of the way, maybe, but that was always doubtful too,” Krakat answered.
The designer was a young woman who looked very disappointed right now. “I thought it would help you get more volunteers.”
Krakat assured her that the idea was good. Next time he would definitely install it. He mentioned the costs in wasted resources and time if he’d done so this time; it had just come too late.
“The people of DJar will want to know where the kabin is at any given time. Is that so much to ask? ” Markag asked, his voice — like his suit — too smooth and denigrating toward Krakat’s simple jumper and trousers. “It will boost their confidence in the points spent on the project. They would have understood a delay, but no news will make them restless. You could have told us that you weren’t able to make the changes.”
Knowing that he shouldn’t, Aryan jumped off the desk. “You mean it would have kept the people silent until you’d served your time in government?”
Markag reacted calmly. “I didn’t say that at all. I merely said that we wouldn’t have needed to mention the device to the people at all if you’d been honest with us. What doesn’t know doesn’t hurt.”
Aryan pushed his fists deep into his pockets so they wouldn’t do something stupid on their own accord, stepped closer to the president and lowered his voice. “Just like it won’t hurt if they aren’t told that besides the users, half the farmers are also being forced onto this kabin because Geveler can’t use them anymore?”