Pilot X

by Tom Merritt

  PEACE AT LAST

  “Congratulations, Ambassador. We have a peace,” the Secretary said.

  Pilot X’s resignation as Ambassador was official but not yet logged. So this time it was forgivable that the Secretary got the title wrong.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Pilot X said. “How did that happen?”

  The Secretary laughed. “You have gained an immense sense of humor. But modesty does not become you. Be proud. Only Bolger can go to Nollisar. Someday that will be ‘only Ambassador X can go to Progon.’”

  “I do so wish I was displaying my vast and depthless sense of humor, but in point of fact, I had to leave Progon ahead of schedule and I haven’t taken my mission to Sensaur yet. Not the new one.”

  The Secretary nodded. “And you won’t need to go on that mission. It’s canceled. Look at this! I had assumed you’d seen it.”

  The Secretary showed Pilot X two messages. The first from the Progons started with the details of Ambassador X’s departure but finished with a sworn promise. The known parameters of the Dimensional War would not be expanded. The Progons would even provide a few details on Sensaurian-Progon conflicts.

  The next message from the Sensaurians expressed their regret at the passing of Ambassador X, but as a gesture of their shock at his loss, they agreed to the outlines of limits to conflicts in multiple dimensions.

  “So obviously we can’t send you to negotiate the details. They think you’re dead,” the Secretary said. “Well, we could send a younger you, but you know we didn’t. And they wouldn’t accept that. It’s not the way they do things. And we need a technical Ambassador for this anyway, not a field negotiator. This is a mop-up job. You did it! It was all worth it. I could not be more proud.”

  “So you’re not curious why they think I’m dead?”

  “I already found out. I asked you later. Brilliant, by the way.”

  “How so?”

  “Stealing a robot from the Progons and having it assassinate you and throw you off the Verity in front of a Sensaurian diplomatic ship? Brilliant.”

  “Oh yes. That is brilliant.” Pilot X wondered if he had just caused a paradox. He would now tell that story to the Secretary later. But he had just heard it from the Secretary. Unless. “Too bad it’s not what happened.”

  The Secretary laughed and slapped himself in the head. “Paradox! So obvious. And you’re so paradox-sensitive. But you used to bask so much in praise, you might not have noticed.” The Secretary wagged his finger at Pilot X. “You’ve grown up on me!”

  “So?” Pilot X probed.

  “What?” the Secretary asked.

  “Do you actually know why they think I’m dead?”

  The Secretary actually looked embarrassed. “Well, you know I don’t, since I just told that ridiculous story.”

  “Do you want to know? It’s fine if you don’t. I can keep a secret, you know.”

  “I’m on the edge. Of. My. Seat.” The Secretary punctuated every word with a jerky movement as he walked over to a lounge seat in the temporary office.

  “I told them.”

  “Told them what?” the Secretary smiled.

  “Told them I was dead.”

  The Secretary shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

  “They hailed me from their battleship near Alenda. I know you know that. There’s no way that slips past the planetary Observers. So I told them Ambassador X was no more.”

  “And they bought it?”

  “Yes. I offered a validated response. Truth-confimer. I said, ‘I am not Ambassador X’ and sent it to them. They independently confirmed it and were on their way.”

  The Secretary smiled with disbelief. “How did you pull that off? You couldn’t have corrupted their own confirmation!”

  “I was telling the truth.”

  “You were?”

  “I’m Pilot X. I had already transmitted my resignation. Or—did you not get it?”

  The Secretary giggled. “Well played. I hadn’t. Well, that was brilliant.” He slow-clapped in appreciation and stood. “You will be missed among the Ambassadors. And may I say, and I mean this, if you ever wish to return, say the word. I will reinstate you with no question. Especially after this.”

  Pilot X nodded his thanks.

  “Now before we part, I want to offer you a new position. Something that will allow you to say ‘I am not Pilot X’ and be telling the truth.”

  “I’m intrigued,” Pilot X said.

  He left the Secretary’s chambers satisfied that no one knew what really happened with the Sensaurians or the Progons. The Secretary would not therefore react in the way the Sensaurians and Progons planned, and the Dimensional War would not expand into the nooks and crannies of space-time to eventually destroy everything.

  In the hallways, a Messenger came running up to him. “Third time’s a charm.”

  “You don’t say. Why?”

  “Instructor X?”

  “Newly minted,” said the man who, up until minutes before, had been Pilot X.

  “It is my pleasure to invite you to a party in honor of Guardian Lau at the following point.”

  The Messenger handed over a small paper card with printed coordinates.

  “Thank you,” Instructor X said. “Sorry for all the trouble finding me.”

  “Finding you wasn’t the issue. I found you too much,” the Messenger said. “Enjoy the party.”

  The Messenger left Instructor X examining the card. Guardian Lau was a powerful woman on Alenda, arguably the most powerful. And she wanted him to come to her party and went to a lot of trouble to invite him only after he had become an Instructor. In fact, minutes after becoming an Instructor. Despite the Messenger’s troubles finding him, it ended up being a very precise invitation. Instructor X did not think that was an accident. He had a sinking feeling about this.

  For now, he had to begin teaching classes on piloting with the Verity as his official instructional ship. There was a lot of work to do. But the nice thing about being a time traveler was you could never really be late to a party. It didn’t matter when you left if you could control when you would arrive.

  THE PARTY

  “This is the Verity requesting permission for system entry.”

  “Roger, Verity,” system control responded. “Proceed to entry and submit credentials for orbit insertion point.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  Apprentice Def turned to Instructor X.

  “Well done, Apprentice Def. Think you can land it?”

  “Uh . . .”

  “It would be a shame for all of us if she can’t,” interjected Assistant Greb.

  “So true,” said Instructor X kindly. “I think they’re waiting for your response, Apprentice Def.”

  System control repeated its request for credentials, and Apprentice Def turned her attention back to the flight test. She completed the rest of the procedures by the rules: entering coordinates, issuing ship-wide directives, guiding the Verity from orbit into Capital airspace, and landing in the main shipyard.

  “Verity shows groundfall,” Apprentice Def reported.

  “Landing confirmed,” system control responded. “Welcome to Alenda, Pilot Def.”

  She beamed. She had passed. She was now a full-fledged Pilot. She would never have that feeling again, but it was one of the greatest feelings in the universe.

  This is why Instructor X loved his job. He loved seeing that expression on a new Pilot’s face over and over again. It let him relive it just a bit himself.

  He shook Pilot Def’s hand, and Assistant Greb took her out of the Verity for ship assignment. The era he was teaching in was a little more formal than when he had trained. He chose it partly because of that. He wanted the chaos to be as limited as possible. And since he was a decorated former Ambassador, he could choose whatever era he wanted.

  “Well, what did you think, Verity?”

  “She was acceptable.”

  That was high praise from Verity, who often merel
y acknowledged that the Pilot had “fulfilled test parameters.” Occasionally the ship questioned certain decisions during the test. Once, she had expressed her opinion that a Pilot should have failed rather than passed. Instructor X never asked her what she thought of the Apprentices who actually failed.

  “Wow. What makes her so acceptable?” he asked.

  “She reminded me of you in the way she handled commands. She trusted the ship to do its part. I like that.”

  For Verity, it was an emotional outburst. “Should I be jealous?” Instructor X asked.

  “Yes,” the ship said.

  Verity did not ever laugh.

  “Are you joking?”

  “Yes.”

  Instructor X shook his head. “Still needs work, but getting ever closer.”

  “Would you like me to set coordinates for the party?”

  This had become a regular refrain at the end of a test day. It was close to nagging.

  Instructor X sighed. He realized he had run out of excuses. He needed to show up at that party eventually, before he aged past the point of it being polite to show up.

  “Yes. I suppose we must. Set coordinates. Let me get dressed and then we can leave.”

  Instructor X put on a traditional Alendan suit of clothing. He wore a black velvet doublet over a red silk shirt with a palered sheer scarf around his neck. A titanium antigrav clasp held up flannel trousers. Instead of the traditional Gatrahide boots, he wore synthetic maroon slippers with tire-tread soles. He thought they looked more chic and were more durable in a pinch.

  “What do you think?” Instructor X asked Verity.

  “Are those the shoes you will wear?”

  “What’s wrong with the shoes?”

  “They’re not traditional. Your outfit is a traditional Alendan suit of clothing. Completing the look would require you to wear Gatrahide boots. Several pairs in your size are available—”

  “You think I should change my shoes.”

  “It is a matter of philosophical debate whether I truly think at all,” Verity answered.

  “That was a good one!” Instructor X snapped his fingers. “Just for that, I’ll change the shoes.”

  Guardian Lau’s estate was a working forestry farm. It balanced preservation of typical Alendan flora and fauna with sustainable lumber production. In other words, it was a combination of a botanical garden, zoo, and logging operation.

  All Guardians lived in some kind of working estate like this. The idea was that the Guardians, who served for life, should be able to live in comfort, but that comfort should not come at the expense of the populace. So the estates were lavish but paid for themselves. The Guardians did not own them but were considered their chief tenants. The landlord was a committee made up of the other Guardians, the Secretary, and a rotating sample of other government officials. However, the committee for each estate was chaired by its Chief, who was responsible for the estate’s profitability.

  All of this meant that Guardian Lau could have a party, but she couldn’t stop the work. So Instructor X listened to the chain saws and machinery in action even as he walked up the finely manicured lane to the main house.

  Keeping to the forestry theme, the main house was huge and wooden. It looked like an oversized mountain lodge, which was exactly what it was meant to emulate. And from a certain point of view, that’s what it was.

  It even had a porch. The largest wooden porch Instructor X had ever seen. Guests were out on it now taking in the night air and enjoying all manner of entertainments. The porch was as wide as twenty Alendans laid end to end, and it extended out from the house for the length of about ten Alendans. The overhang covered it all, making the porch feel like a great shaded wooden lawn.

  The lane ended at a wide path of steps that led halfway into the porch before they leveled with the rest of it. At the end of the steps, Guardian Lau herself stood, welcoming guests. Instructor X was right on time.

  “Oh, you made it!” Guardian Lau exclaimed, excusing herself from a couple of men who had just arrived before him, arm in arm. “I’m so glad. I’m so sorry about the Messenger. I asked him to be precise, and well, he was in the end, so I suppose that’s all that matters. Welcome to Featherwood, Instructor X.”

  “Featherwood,” Instructor X said. “Delightful.”

  “Oh, I know. It’s not very feathery, is it? But we all have to choose a new name when we move in, and the morning I became a Guardian, I was sitting on this porch and a trio of birds landed. And they were the most beautiful birds in the world, and I was just so taken that when they came to ask me to choose the new name, that’s what came into my head. Featherwood.”

  “It’s lovely,” Instructor X said. “Thank you for inviting me to the party. Are we celebrating anything in particular?”

  “Oh yes!” Guardian Lau exclaimed again, gesturing wildly. She gestured quite a bit when she spoke. She gestured quite a bit when she didn’t speak, Instructor X realized. She gestured a lot. “It’s the tenth local year since I took residence at Featherwood. Not subjectively true, of course, with all the travel that’s required, but I tried to land as close to it as possible. I think I’m only a year or two off. But any excuse for a party, eh?” she laughed.

  Instructor X laughed with her and didn’t know what to say next. But Guardian Lau was the consummate host.

  “Well, go on inside and get yourself something to drink and eat, and I’ll find you later. I have a certain—little thing—I need to talk to you about.”

  Instructor X found his way inside, and after a short while, he had a creamed farragut pastry and a bottle of Kreistner’s malt in his hands. He made small talk with a few people but no real conversation. It was mostly things like “great party,” “love Kreistner’s,” and “Do you know where the bathroom is?”

  After a few rounds of this sort of thing, Instructor X found himself getting close to a conversation with an elderly gentleman.

  “You’re that diplomat!” the man was saying. “The one who ended the war with the Sensaurians?”

  “I didn’t end a war. I did settle some differences with the Sensaurians on Pantoon once, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Peshle. You brokered a peace. Dragged the Progons in by their circuit boards too, if I remember right. Well done, Ambassador . . .” He waved, a bit embarrassed that he couldn’t remember the proper name.

  “X. And it’s Instructor X now. I’ve retired from diplomacy. Back to my first love, piloting. Training Pilots now, as it happens.”

  “Hmm. Not sure if that’s happened in my timeline,” the man said politely. It was a nice thing to say rather than admitting he didn’t know Instructor X well enough. “But I’ve done some traveling.” This was a genteel way that influential Alendans talked about their time traveling. “You are going to do more I think. Unless you’ve already done it and are just being humble.” He eyed Instructor X suspiciously.

  “I . . . don’t think so.”

  The man scoffed. “Well, you will. I know. I don’t really know—ha—but I know you’ll start, and that’s all that matters. Just remember something for me, will you?”

  Instructor X liked the man, even if he was a bit barmy. He nodded willingly.

  The old man leaned in. Instructor X could smell smoke and a bit of lemon. The man whispered, “Listen to what Guardian Lau has to say and do what she asks. But wait for the woman with the card to take your own action.”

  The old man leaned back and patted Instructor X on the shoulder.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, and if I may call you by the name I think history will remember you by, a pleasure to meet you again, Pilot X.”

  Instructor X could only stare as the old man tottered off. Guardian Lau startled him. “Ah, you met the Vice Counsel. Such a charming man. If you have a moment, Ambassador X. May I?” She motioned for him to follow her.

  For some reason Instructor X felt he was supposed to remember something about the man, but before he could jog his memory, Guardian Lau was whis
king him through the party at impressive speed.

  Instructor X marveled at Guardian Lau’s ability to keep her guests happy and feeling like they had her special attention without stopping for any appreciable amount of time.

  She led him to a library on the third floor that somehow had not been invaded by partygoers.

  “We should be able to talk privately here. No one else can see the door. It’s a little tech I picked up from the Briamuns.”

  “The library race?”

  She pursed her lips. “They don’t like being called that, but yes. The Briamuns are great storytellers and keepers of knowledge. They are far beyond librarians.”

  “I’ve never had the pleasure,” Instructor X said by way of apology. “I only know them by their apparently skewed reputation.”

  “I hope you get the pleasure someday. And you may. But that’s not why I wanted to talk.”

  “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  “I need you to take on the role of Secretary for about one orbit.”

  “Do what? For a whole orbit?!”

  “Your second question implies I don’t need to answer the first. I think you’ve heard of interims?”

  “Yes, there are some gaps in the timeline where a Secretary can’t visit or serve for various reasons. You get an interim Secretary to fill in those gaps. But I thought I knew all the Secretaries, even the interim ones. I certainly would have noticed a Secretary X.”

  “Your Secretaryship would be secret. And I misspoke when I said you needed to serve for an orbit. Your span of service will cover an orbit, but subjectively you’ll serve for four days: four secret sessions with the Guardians and a handful of other meetings. The current Secretary that you know will not know you filled in for him. At least we’re fairly certain he won’t. You’ll come back to this party after your four days and leave from here. Nobody will be the wiser but us.”

  “Why?”

  “Why you?”

  “Maybe, but first why at all?”

  “I can only explain that if you accept,” said Guardian Lau.