An Exchange of Hostages

by Susan R. Matthews

  “The Administration will accept four-and-forty as a good-faith demonstration, Andrej. Yes, it is a bit stricter than you would have liked, I know.” Perhaps Koscuisko had hoped three-and-thirty would do. Koscuisko had too much respect for pain, that was his problem. Bond-involuntaries were expected to stand two-and-twenty as a matter of course, six-and-sixty being considered merely adequate to get their attention.

  “The choice of instruments is to be made from among those provided at the Intermediate Levels?” Koscuisko sounded a trifle choked, but obedient and submissive still. “Am I to schedule this, or is it for the Administrator to do so?”

  Nodding, Chonis remembered a question he had been wanting to ask. “Yes and yes. That is, the Administrator will schedule the discipline once St. Clare is returned to duty. It goes on Record. I’d like to know, now that you’ve rested, if you could tell me what revealed the secret to you. — Oh, no further penalty will be assessed,” he added quickly, in the face of Koscuisko’s evident alarm.

  It was alarm shading into a subtle sort of confusion as Koscuisko searched his mind. “I’m not . . . exactly . . . sure. I had been thinking about how stubborn he was, which meant that he had courage, moral strength. Because I could tell how much he had pain. I started to wonder whether such a man would be offered a Bond, and then I wondered why I had thought that; and what it could have been that Sorlie Curran hadn’t wanted me to notice. I’m not sure. With your permission, Tutor Chonis.”

  No, Koscuisko had grabbed it out of thin air and St. Clare’s admittedly ambiguous mutterings. But if the secret could be caught out of things of the sort St. Clare had said, then no single bond-involuntary in the program would have been safe. Koscuisko had an empathic sort of truth-sense. He would be good at his work, if only he could be persuaded to relax and enjoy it.

  Figuratively speaking, of course.

  Leading naturally up to the next subject, one that Student Koscuisko had asked him about — as good an opening as any, Chonis congratulated himself. “Sometimes understanding comes without understanding how it’s come by. I should like you to concentrate on that aspect of Inquiry and Confirmation during your next exercise. Shall I schedule you for, say, three days from now? What do you think? Will you be rested enough?”

  The Sixth Level was as bad as it got — before it got truly unreasonable. Preliminary Levels concentrated on Inquiry; the Intermediate Levels, on Inquiry and Confirmation. By the time the Advanced Levels were reached, the fine line dividing Inquiry and Confirmation was necessarily smeared over with an overriding requirement to Execute. Prisoners weren’t even referred to the Advanced Levels without confession — if not theirs, then somebody else’s. And the Protocols more or less ensured that if the prisoner was referred at the Advanced Levels, the prisoner would die. Then skill became an issue: Die sooner? Die later?

  Chonis brought himself out of his meditation abruptly. He was getting ahead of himself, and Koscuisko hadn’t answered him. “Andrej?”

  “In three days’ time, yes, Tutor. I will be ready. And what is the Tutor’s pleasure for the meantime?”

  No argument, no neutral insistence on the tiresome fact that the Sixth Level had been originally scheduled for five days’ distance. Not three. Chonis decided that he liked this meek demeanor: Koscuisko, as good as his word, was trying to behave.

  “You’re to give us half-days in the lab and spend the rest of the time preparing for your practical exercise. You’re welcome to tinker with that speak-serum, if you like, but we do have a rather more specific need for your talents just at present.”

  “Yes, Tutor Chonis?”

  “Student Koscuisko. I know how much you dislike the idea of the Controlled List. And it is not the Administrator’s intent to demand disproportionate return for St. Clare. We will be content with a finite set of new drugs” — although he hadn’t discussed it with the Administrator in so many words. It didn’t matter. What he had decided to ask Koscuisko for would keep his Student busy enough.

  “I do not regret. I will not renounce. The bargain that I made. What did you call it? The exchange, as of hostages.”

  Chonis smiled at how apt his Student was. “We have a special need at this time for a library of sorts. I would like you to build for me three each of the four classes of Controlled List drugs, and I must specify that the three preparations taken together cover as broad a range as possible.” So that Mergau could be taught to use them for as many purposes, as many prisoners as possible, without requiring her to actually learn much of anything more than a list. “Your fellow Student will test these drugs in her practical exercises” — that startled him, even if he was too subdued to say anything — “and it goes without saying that all prisoners will be bona fide prisoners. Upon my word of honor, neither you nor Student Noycannir will be exposed to a prisoner-surrogate for the remainder of the Term.”

  It was just lucky they’d got a fresh batch in, what with the Term gearing up for the Advanced Levels. Mergau’s Fourth and Fifth could be recycled for someone else’s Seventh, if all went well.

  “You are content to sacrifice effectiveness for applicability, then. I think that I understand.”

  Not the whole tape, no. Not quite yet. But soon. As soon as Noycannir’s repeat on the Fourth Level, which he had better schedule for before Koscuisko’s Sixth if they were not to fall too far behind. “How soon do you feel you can have something ready for me?”

  Koscuisko shrugged, apparently distracted by the technical aspects of the problem. “It will not take long to update the first speak-serum for Nurail. If you have a Nurail” — for Noycannir’s Fourth Level? — “we could be ready perhaps tomorrow.”

  There should be no problem there; the Bench was blessed with a multitude of Nurail on Charges. They’d pick one out of the manifest for Noycannir’s Fourth Level. Then, of course, the formal trial of the speak serum against St. Clare would be a redundancy; but that part of the program had never been intended as a serious test, so it made little difference either way.

  Chonis nodded his approval, smiling. “Tomorrow, then. Give me your status first thing in the morning. Please don’t neglect your physical exercise, Andrej, I know how easy it is to become distracted, but really we must keep you in the very best of health. And Curran is responsible to the Administrator for you.”

  Rising from the table, Koscuisko bowed formally — as always — but there was something different, all the same. “As you wish it, Tutor. If I am to be excused now, I will begin in the lab immediately.”

  Then Chonis understood.

  There was no mockery in Koscuisko’s salute, this time.

  “Good day, Student Koscuisko.” Oh, this was getting better and better by the moment.

  St. Clare might be worth more to the Administration in the long run than Chonis had imagined.

  ###

  Rabin was afloat in a cushiony sea of pleasant music, the air full of the sweet smell of the spring-brake that bloomed for two short weeks through the late snow in the high windy. The disconnected drowsiness that addled his brains he understood; he’d been drunk before. There was no explanation that sprung to mind for the pictures he was seeing, but they were too pretty to object to. His primary concern was whether he would be able to remember what kind of liquor it had been once he woke up.

  “May I have status, please.”

  He heard the voice carrying through the breezy strains of the sheepshank pipes and wondered what it meant. A clear voice, a quiet voice, with a funny little accent — of course they all had accents. He’d never met anyone who could speak proper Standard, not since he’d left home. Since he’d been taken from home. But under the influence of whatever it was he was drunk on not even that nightmare of blood and screaming could move him to distress.

  “His temperature is fluctuating a bit, but well within the range the officer had specified as expected. Swelling doesn’t appear to be going down as well as the officer would wish, if the officer would care to examine?”

  Some other
voice. They were all his friends, he was certain. And because he felt so good that there wasn’t any room in his limited consciousness for any other possibility. A cooling breeze had come up from somewhere, and he shifted against its soft luxurious caress, reveling in the pleasure of it. Warm and happy, and a lovely breeze. Could life possibly get any better than this?

  Did he care about the multitude of ways in which it could get worse?

  “I think I’d like to follow up on these with more of the bmilc ointment. You’re quite right, though, this still looks ugly. I am inclined to hit it with another few sixteenths of ofdahl to get the swelling down.”

  Oddly enough, he could sense a sort of a pressure against his body, a pressure that made him nervous in an unfocused sort of way. There didn’t seem to be any pain associated with the pressure as it shifted from place to place; nor was the pressure itself very hard or very widespread. Why was he nervous? The touch was against his shoulder, that was why he was nervous. Why it should be so, he was unsure. He cleared his throat to complain about it; he could hear some whimpering, very close by, but the pressure lifted.

  “Let me have six eighths of the neural block. Immediately, if you please.”

  He held his breath, trying to understand who was crying. And he felt pressure, again, but only for a moment, and there was no more crying. The pressure that he felt was like a caress, now, soothing and comforting.

  “There, now, that’s better, isn’t it? Thank you, technician, I will apply the ointment, if I may. You may be dismissed, if you like.”

  There was nothing to worry about, forever. Or until he was sober again, which amounted to the same thing.

  He smiled and drifted off, content.

  ###

  “I am not sure we should be unconcerned about this,” Clellelan said, thoughtfully tapping his stylus against the stack of report-cubes. “I’m not rejecting your reasoning, Adifer. But there must have been half the Security on Station down in Infirmary last night.”

  “Perhaps an augmented third,” Chonis demurred politely. The chairs in the Administrator’s office were too comfortable for him to bother with becoming exercised over his superior’s displeasure. “There’ve been no reports of duty stations left unattended, after all. Have there been?”

  Chaymalt snorted from her position of repose at Chonis’s right. “Only because there wasn’t anyone left at duty stations to report anybody. What I’d like to know is how the word got out so quickly. What is it with these Bonds — do the governors lock into serial transmit when there are too many of them in one place? What? It was unnerving, is all I’ve got to say.”

  Clellelan set his stylus down, sighing in resignation. “Can’t say that I blame them. ‘The one is the many and the many are as one,’ I’ve heard them say. Infirmary staff would have appreciated his surgery on Idarec, so I can understand them joining in, but I’m not sure why Station Security decided to open the clinic area to the Bonds the way they did.”

  Nor did Chonis, come to that. But nobody had expected anything like a mass demonstration, or they’d have taken steps, so much went without saying. Bond-involuntary troops were easily managed as long as they were surrounded by the un-Bonded, but when there were too many of them in one place and emotion started to run high — as high as it had run on this Station last night — conditioning could fail. Unpredictable things had been known to happen.

  “It’ll get out, of course.” He was thinking out loud, since neither Clellelan nor Chaymalt seemed to have much to say. “Wrap a reputation around that boy before he so much as clears Orientation. Could be good for his old age, in the long run.” Could be helpful in ensuring that Koscuisko would live to see his old age. Fleet Medical Officers could be very unpopular people under Jurisdiction. If there was going to be an attempt made on the life of any given Ship’s Prime officer, it was good odds that it would be the Ship’s Surgeon who would be targeted.

  “Good for more than that.” Chaymalt had been relatively subdued all through the late morning’s informal staff review. Hadn’t made a single insensitive comment about bond-involuntaries for, oh, eighths now. Chonis wondered what had set her off angle. “Good for that man Idarec’s old age. Did I mention the diagnostic is calling for consciousness in three days? He was dead meat, Rorin, this time yesterday, I’d have told you to cancel his Bond and forget about it.”

  She more or less had told him that, Chonis remembered. More than a day ago. Was that what was on her mind? She certainly sounded emphatic enough.

  “Compared to the talent we’ve seen come through here the past eight Terms, Student Koscuisko is all the way out to Gissen, all by himself. All right, we already know he’s not your usual run of volunteer. I hate to think of him wasting his time with the Protocols, Rorin, I really do.”

  She sounded as if she meant it, which was unusual. Ligrose didn’t get excited about much of anything, not that he had ever noticed. Color in her cheeks, fire in her eye — he was going to have to review the surgical record, he decided, just to see if he could figure out what had gotten through to her like this.

  Clellelan was scowling at her in evident consternation. “What bit your elbow? He’s a good surgeon, he’s going to Scylla, he’s got eight years to mark. Eight years isn’t even all that long for Aznir. You know you can’t have him.”

  In the general, rather than the specific sense, of course. Yes, of course. Chaymalt looked a little sulky, all the same. “I just don’t like to see the waste, that’s all. You wouldn’t send a Tutor to teach the tweeners, would you?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t release restricted narcotics for a bond-involuntary on a Fifth Level, either. Let alone ad lib. And what kind of a limit is that? Four hundred thousand, Standard? Do you know what we could do with an extra four hundred thousand, Standard?”

  Chaymalt actually blushed. Whether in embarrassment or vexation, however, Chonis did not care to guess. “I don’t have to justify it. Any basic cost-benefit analysis would endorse the action.”

  Clellelan was clearly more up to date on what was happening in Ligrose’s area than Chonis had realized. Chaymalt didn’t seem inclined to let the issue rest, however.

  “I’m having a hard time understanding why I can’t have this one, while we’re on the subject. It isn’t as if he’d be likely to object — ”

  “If you declined to pass him?” Clellelan sat back in his chair. “Doctor Chaymalt. If you have any reservations to express about Student Koscuisko’s medical qualifications, we should restrict them to a more formal hearing. It would seem to contradict your earlier statements, however.”

  This was ridiculous. Chaymalt had never seriously challenged graduation on the grounds of insufficient qualifications, no matter how sarcastic she got; and the whole point was that Koscuisko was good. There was no precedent . . . but that was what the last two days had been like, wasn’t it?

  “I cannot object to the Student’s medical qualifications.” Chaymalt sounded subdued, but still resisting. “Quite the contrary. I simply cannot understand how a qualified neurosurgeon with his ratings could be adequately utilized at the Ship’s Surgeon level. There would seem to be an unusually extreme degree of difference between the two required roles.”

  Whereas indifferent surgeons made adequate Inquisitors, superlative surgeons made inadequate Inquisitors? Was that her point? Because if it was, all he would have to do would be to show her Koscuisko’s Fourth and Fifth Levels. Koscuisko clearly had the makings of a superlative Inquisitor, whether or not Koscuisko was interested in hearing about it.

  “How does the schedule look, Adifer?” Clellelan turned his attention toward Chonis, clearly determined to turn away from the potentially sticky hole that Chaymalt seemed bent on wedging herself into. Chonis put his glass down, clearing his throat. If he’d realized that Chaymalt was going to get emotionally involved, he’d have approached Clellelan privately; yet there was no help for it, he supposed, but to go forward bravely.

  “It depends on Doctor Chaymalt, to an extent.
” He hadn’t anticipated any problem, but it was always the unexpected issues that really fouled things up for one. “I’ve told him to take half-days in the lab, pending the speak-serum trial and his Sixth Level. I had assumed that Doctor Chaymalt would not object to waiving the clinical evaluation phase.”

  They usually sent Students to Infirmary for a week or so between Intermediate and Advanced Levels. The Fleet requirement for on-site evaluation of Students’ medical qualifications was a little outdated, perhaps, since their ability to perform as Ship’s Inquisitor was what counted. Nobody expected leadership from Chief Medical Officers anymore, and they had staff to support them. Koscuisko might well prove a throwback of sorts; Chonis wondered how Scylla was going to react to the anomalous presence of a Chief Medical Officer who was clearly capable of growing into the job. For once.

  Chaymalt was frowning, but Clellelan beat her to the mark. “I dare say our good Doctor has already done as much, even just this morning. What do you say, Ligrose? Any reservations signing his sheet?”

  They would ignore the potential threat that she had half-made, then. Well, that was one way to handle it.

  “I’ll sign the sheet on instruction either way, Administrator. And no, there’s no doubt in my mind about his fitness, not his technical qualifications, at any rate. I’d been looking forward to having him on Wards for a week. What’s the problem?”

  “We need him in his lab, Doctor.” Chonis figured he’d better pick up the argument, since he hadn’t filled the Administrator in quite yet. “As good as he may be on the floor, he’s possibly even better in the lab. I told him he could be responsible for his St. Clare, but if we’re to keep his course on schedule and make good use of his second rating at the same time, we need you to free up that referral block.”