Zoe's Tale

by John Scalzi

  “You laugh at me,” the Consu said. It spoke perfect English, and in a light, gentle voice, which was weird considering how much it looked like a large and savagely angry insect.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just that it’s the second time in a day that someone’s said that to me.”

  “Well,” the Consu said. It unfolded itself in a way that made me want to run screaming in the other direction, and from somewhere inside its body a creepily humanlike arm and hand beckoned to me. “Come and let me get a look at you.”

  I took one step forward and then had a very difficult time with the next step.

  “You asked for me, human,” the Consu said.

  I developed a spine and walked over to the Consu. It touched and prodded me with its smaller arms, while its giant slashing arms, the ones the Consu used to decapitate enemies in combat, hovered on either side of me, at just about head level. I managed not to completely lose it.

  “Yes, well,” the Consu said, and I heard something like disappointment in its voice. “There’s nothing particularly special about you, is there? Physically. Is there something special about you mentally?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m just me.”

  “We’re all just ourselves,” the Consu said, and folded itself back into its self, much to my relief. “That is axiomatic. What is it about you that makes hundreds of Obin allow themselves to die to get to me, is what I am asking.”

  I felt sick again. “You said that hundreds of Obin died to bring you to me?”

  “Oh, yes,” the Consu said. “Your pets surrounded my ship with their own and tried to board it. The ship killed everyone that tried. They remained persistent and finally I became curious. I allowed one to board the ship and it told me that you had demanded the Obin convince the Consu to help you. I wanted to see for myself what sort of creature could so casually demand this, and could cause the Obin to fulfill it at such a cost to themselves.”

  It looked at me again curiously. “You appear upset,” it said.

  “I’m thinking about the Obin who died,” I said.

  “They did what you asked of them,” the Consu said, with a bored tone.

  “You didn’t have to kill so many of them,” I said.

  “Your pets didn’t have to offer up so many to sacrifice,” said the Consu. “And yet they did. You seem stupid so I will explain this to you. Your pets, to the extent that they can think, did this intelligently. The Consu will not speak to the Obin for their own behalf. We answered their questions long ago and it does not interest us to speak further on the subject.”

  “But you spoke to the Obin,” I said.

  “I am dying,” the Consu said. “I am on”—and here the Consu made a noise that sounded like a tractor falling down a hill—“the death journey that Consu prepared to move forward are permitted if in this life they have proven worthy. Consu on this journey may do as they please, including speaking to proscribed creatures, and may if asked appropriately grant a final boon. Your pets have spied on the Consu for decades—we were aware of this but did nothing about it—and knew the route of the death journey and knew the ceremonial ships those on the journey travel in. Your pets understood this was the only way they could talk to us. And your pets knew what it would require to interest me or any Consu enough to hear them. You should have known this when you made your demand.”

  “I didn’t,” I said.

  “Then you are foolish, human,” the Consu said. “If I were inclined to feel sorry for the Obin, I would do so because they had wasted their effort and diverted me from my journey on the behalf of someone so ignorant of the cost. But I do not feel sorry for them. They at least knew the cost, and willingly paid it. Now. You will either tell me how you demand I help you, or I will go and your pets’ deaths will have truly been for nothing.”

  “I need help to save my colony,” I said, and forced myself to focus. “My friends and family are there and are under threat of attack. It is a small colony and not able to defend itself. The Colonial Union will not help us. The Obin are not allowed to help us. The Consu have technology that could help us. I ask for your help.”

  “You said ‘ask,’” the Consu said. “Your pets said ‘demand.’”

  “I demanded help from the Obin because I knew I could,” I said. “I am asking you.”

  “I do not care about your colony or you,” the Consu said.

  “You just said that as part of your death journey you can grant a boon,” I said. “This could be it.”

  “It may be that my boon was to the Obin, in speaking to you,” the Consu said.

  I blinked at this. “How would it be a boon to them just to speak to me if you won’t at least think of helping me?” I said. “Then it would be you who wasted their sacrifice and effort.”

  “That is my choice,” the Consu said. “The Obin understood that in making the sacrifice the answer might be ‘no.’ This is another thing they understand that you don’t.”

  “I know there is a lot I don’t understand here,” I said. “I can see that. I’m sorry. But I still need help for my family and friends.”

  “How many family and friends?” the Consu said.

  “My colony has twenty-five hundred people,” I said.

  “A similar number of Obin died in order to bring me here,” the Consu said.

  “I didn’t know that would happen,” I said. “I wouldn’t have asked for that.”

  “Is that so?” the Consu said. It shifted its bulk and drew in toward me. I didn’t back away. “I don’t believe you, human. You are foolish and you are ignorant, that much is clear. Yet I cannot believe that even you did not understand what you were asking the Obin for when you asked them to come to us for your sake. You demanded help from the Obin because you could. And because you could you did not ask the cost. But you had to have known the cost would be high.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that.

  The Consu drew back and seemed to regard me, like it might an amusing insect. “Your capriciousness and callousness with the Obin interests me,” it said. “And so does the fact that the Obin are willing to give of themselves for your whims despite your lack of care for them.”

  I said something I knew I was going to regret, but I couldn’t help myself. The Consu was doing a really excellent job of pushing my buttons. “That’s a funny thing coming from someone from the race that gave the Obin intelligence but no consciousness,” I said. “As long as we’re talking about capriciousness and callousness.”

  “Ah. Yes, that’s right,” the Consu said. “The Obin told me this. You’re the child of the human who made the machines that let the Obin play at consciousness.”

  “They don’t play at it,” I said. “They have it.”

  “And it is a terrible thing that they do,” the Consu said. “Consciousness is a tragedy. It leads the whole race away from perfection, causes it to fritter its efforts on individual and wasteful effort. Our lives as Consu are spent learning to free our race from the tyranny of self, to move beyond ourselves and in doing so move our race forward. It is why we help you lesser races along, so you may also free yourselves in time.”

  I bit my cheek at this bit. The Consu would sometimes come down to a human colony, wipe it and everyone in it off the face of their planet, and then wait for the Colonial Defense Forces to come and fight them. It was a game to the Consu, as far as any of us could see. To say that they were doing it for our benefit was perverse, to say the least.

  But I was here to ask for help, not debate morals. I had already been baited once. I didn’t dare let it happen again.

  The Consu continued, oblivious to my personal struggles. “What you humans have done to the Obin makes a mockery of their potential,” it said. “We created the Obin to be the best among us all, the one race without consciousness, the one race free to pursue its destiny as a race from its first steps. The Obin were meant to be what we aspired to. To see them aspire to consciousness is to see a creature that can fly aspire to wal
low in mud. Your father did the Obin no favors, human, in hobbling them with consciousness.”

  I stood there for a minute, amazed that this Consu would tell me, in seemingly casual conversation, things that the Obin had sacrificed half their number for so many years ago but were never allowed to hear. The Consu waited patiently for my response. “The Obin would disagree,” I said. “And so would I.”

  “Of course you would,” the Consu said. “Their love of their consciousness is what makes them willing to do the ridiculous for you. That and the fact that they choose to honor you for something that your father did, even though you had no hand in it. This blindness and honor is convenient to you. It is what you use to get them to do what you want. You don’t prize their consciousness for what it gives them. You prize it for what it allows you to do to them.”

  “That’s not true,” I said.

  “Indeed,” said the Consu, and I could hear the mocking tone in its voice. It shifted its weight again. “Very well, human. You have asked me to help you. Perhaps I will. I can provide you with a boon, one the Consu may not refuse. But this boon is not free. It comes with a cost attached.”

  “What cost?” I said.

  “I want to be entertained first,” the Consu said. “So I offer you this bargain. You have among you several hundred Obin. Select one hundred of them in any way you choose. I will ask the Consu to send one hundred of our own—convicts, sinners, and others who have strayed from the path and would be willing to attempt redemption. We will set them at each other, to the death.

  “In the end, one side will have a victory. If it is yours, then I will help you. If it is mine, I will not. And then, having been sufficiently amused, I will be on my way, to continue my death journey. I will call to the Consu now. Let us say that in eight of your hours we will start this entertainment. I trust that will be enough time for you to prepare your pets.”

  “We will have no problem finding a hundred volunteers among the Obin,” Dock said to me. It and I were in the conference room General Gau had lent me. Hickory and Dickory stood outside the door to make sure we weren’t disturbed. “I will have the volunteers ready for you within the hour.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me how the Obin planned to get the Consu to me?” I asked. “The Consu here told me that hundreds of Obin died to get him here. Why didn’t you warn me that would happen?”

  “I did not know how we would choose to try to get the Consu’s attention,” Dock said. “I sent along your requirement, along with my own assent. I was not a participant in making the choice.”

  “But you knew this could happen,” I said.

  “As a member of the Council I know that we have had the Consu under observation, and that there had been plans to find ways to talk to them again,” Dock said. “I knew this was one of them.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I said.

  “I told you that attempting to speak to the Consu would come at a high cost,” Dock said. “This was the cost. At the time, the cost did not seem too high for you.”

  “I didn’t know that it would mean that hundreds of Obin would die,” I said. “Or that they would just keep throwing themselves into a Consu firing line until the Consu got curious enough to stop. If I had known I would have asked you to try something else.”

  “Given what you required us to do and the time in which we had to do it, there was nothing else,” Dock said. It came to me and opened up its hands, like it was trying to make me see something important. “Please understand, Zoë. We had been planning to petition a Consu on its death journey for a long time now, and for our own reasons. It was one of the reasons we were able to fulfill your requirement at all. Everything was already in place.”

  “But it was my order that killed them,” I said.

  “It is not your fault that the Consu required their deaths,” Dock said. “The Obin who were part of the mission had already known what was required to get the attention of the Consu. They were already committed to this task. Your request changed only the timing and the purpose of their mission. But those who participated did so willingly, and understood the reason for doing it. It was their choice.”

  “They still did it because I didn’t think about what I was asking,” I said.

  “They did it because you required our help,” Dock said. “They would have thought it an honor to do this for you. Just as those who will fight for you now will consider it an honor.”

  I looked at my hands, ashamed to look at Dock. “You said that you had already been planning to petition a Consu on its death journey,” I said. “What were you going to ask?”

  “For understanding,” Dock said. “To know why the Consu kept consciousness away from us. To know why they chose to punish us with its lack.”

  I looked up at that. “I know the answer,” I said, and told Dock what the Consu had told me about consciousness and why they chose not to give it to the Obin. “I don’t know if that was the answer you were looking for,” I said. “But that’s what this Consu told me.”

  Dock didn’t say anything. I looked more closely at it, and I could see it was trembling. “Hey,” I said, and got up from my chair. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I am not upset,” Dock said. “I am happy. You have given us answers to questions we have been asking since as long as our race has existed. Answers the Consu would not have given us themselves. Answers many of us would have given our lives for.”

  “Many of you did give your lives for them,” I said.

  “No,” Dock said. “They gave their lives to help you. There was no expectation of any compensation for the sacrifice. They did it because you required it. You did not have to give us anything in return. But you have given us this.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said. I was getting embarrassed. “It’s not a big thing. The Consu just told me. I just thought you should know.”

  “Consider, Zoë, that this thing that you just thought we should know was something that others would have seen as something to hold over us,” Dock said. “That they would have sold to us, or denied to us. You gave it freely.”

  “After I told you that I required your help and sent hundreds of Obin out to die,” I said, and sat back down. “Don’t make me out to be a hero, Dock. It’s not the way I feel right now.”

  “I am sorry, Zoë,” Dock said. “But if you will not be a hero, at least know that you are not a villain. You are our friend.”

  “Thank you, Dock,” I said. “That helps a little.”

  Dock nodded. “Now I must go to find the hundred volunteers you seek,” it said, “and to tell the Council what you have shared with me. Do not worry, Zoë. We will not disappoint you.”

  “This is what I have for you on short notice,” General Gau said. He swept an arm through the space station’s immense cargo bay. “This part of the station is just newly constructed. We haven’t actually used it for cargo yet. I think it’ll suit your purposes.”

  I stared at the immensity of the space. “I think so,” I said. “Thank you, General.”

  “It’s the least I could do,” General Gau said. “Considering how you’ve helped me just recently.”

  “Thank you for not holding the Consu invasion against me,” I said.

  “On the contrary, it’s been a benefit,” Gau said. “It stopped the battle around the space station before it could get truly horrific. The traitor crews assumed I had called those ships for assistance. They surrendered before I could correct the impression. You helped me quash the rebellion before it could get started.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  “Thank you,” said Gau. “Now, of course, I would like them to go away. But it’s my understanding that they’re here to make sure we don’t do anything foolish with our Consu guest while he’s here. The ships are fighter drones, not even manned, but this is Consu technology. I don’t imagine if they opened fire on us we’d stand much of a chance. So we have an enforced peace here at the moment. Since it works for me, not against
me, I shouldn’t complain.”

  “Have you found out any more about Nerbros Eser and what his plans are?” I asked. I didn’t feel like thinking about the Consu anymore.

  “Yes,” Gau said. “Lernin has been quite forthcoming now that he’s trying to avoid being executed for treason. It’s been a wonderful motivator. He tells me that Eser plans to take Roanoke with a small force of soldiers. The idea there is to show that he can take with a hundred soldiers what I couldn’t take with four hundred battle cruisers. But ‘take’ is the wrong word for it, I’m afraid. Eser plans to destroy the colony and everyone in it.”

  “That was your plan too,” I reminded the general.

  He bobbed his head in what I assumed was an acknowledgment. “You know by now, I hope, that I would have much preferred not to have killed the colonists,” he said. “Eser does not intend to offer that option.”

  I skipped over that piece of data in my head. “When will he attack?” I asked.

  “Soon, I think,” Gau said. “Lernin doesn’t think Eser has assembled his troops yet, but this failed assassination attempt is going to force him to move sooner than later.”

  “Great,” I said.

  “There’s still time,” Gau said. “Don’t give up hope yet, Zoë.”

  “I haven’t,” I said. “But I’ve still got a lot on my mind.”

  “Have you found enough volunteers?” Gau asked.

  “We have,” I said, and my face tightened up as I said it.

  “What’s wrong?” Gau said.

  “One of the volunteers,” I said, and stopped. I tried again. “One of the volunteers is an Obin named Dickory,” I said. “My friend and my bodyguard. When it volunteered I told it no. Demanded that it take back its offer. But it refused.”

  “Having it volunteer could be a powerful thing,” Gau said. “It probably encouraged others to step forward.”

  I nodded. “But Dickory is still my friend,” I said. “Still my family. Maybe it shouldn’t make a difference but it does.”

  “Of course it makes a difference,” Gau said. “The reason you’re here is to try to keep the people you love from being hurt.”