Federation World

Chapter 11

HlS first feeling was of betrayal. He wondered if Skorta had been as honest with him as it had seemed. But then he remembered some of the things it had said on the way to the city, at the school, and on the hyper-ship. Skorta had come across as an intelligent, liberal-minded, responsible, and perhaps potentially rebellious slave who did not mind talking a little hearsay or thinking for itself. To him, it had appeared to be a truly civilized and cultured being who was fighting its slavehood and beginning to win.

And now, Martin saw with a sudden flood of understanding, the fight was over.

“Your bio-sensors are going mad!” Beth said, sounding both angry and frightened. “Pulse rate and blood pressure are way up and your… Dammit, are you getting ready to do something stupid?”

There was no need to answer her because she would hear and see everything he was going to do. Martin moistened his lips and for the first time he turned to address the assembled Masters of Teldi directly.

“I have considered this matter fully and the possible consequences of making my decision,” he said, “and I wish to be once again the equal of my friend.”

For several interminable seconds there was neither sound nor motion in the Hall. Then Skorta walked slowly to an empty place at the horseshoe table and turned to face him, leaving Martin alone beside the Table of Interrogation. All sound and motion ceased again, and even Beth seemed to be holding her breath. He thought of asking permission for what he was about to do, then decided against it.

Asking permission was for slaves.

He removed and opened his backpack and spread the Federation flag across the table so that the silver and black emblem hung over the outer edge in plain sight of the Masters. Then he withdrew the weapon, the scaled-down replica of the Master of Education’s sword he had seen at the school, and laid it on top of the flag. The hilt, which also bore the Federation symbol, lay toward him. Then he folded his arms.

The Masters arose and seventeen hands went to the hilts of their swords, but this time the Master of Sea- and Land-borne Communications did not call a halt as it had done in the case of Skorta, the one-time teaching slave, because the interrogator was grasping its sword, too. Martin swallowed as seventeen swords were raised to Teldin shoulder height and held at full extension with their seventeen points directed unswervingly at his face.

“Will the new Master-Elect of Education,” the interrogator said, “please join the off-world would-be Master and guide it in the traditional words and response.”

Now I’m committed, thought Martin, but to what? The interrogator was speaking again.

“Do you accept sole and undivided responsibility for your words and actions, and omissions of words or actions, and the results thereof? Do you accept such responsibility for your property, whether animate or inanimate; its efficient working; its proper maintenance, training, feeding, and conduct toward the property of other Masters? Do you accept as your own responsibility the results of the conduct or misconduct of all such property, and will you reward, correct, or chastise the property committing such acts? Will you strive always to increase the efficiency, well-being, and intelligence of all your animate property in the hope that they will one day become capable of accepting the ultimate responsibility of a Master? As the bearer of ultimate responsibility, do you agree to defend with your life your person, property, and decisions and if, in the judgment of your fellow Masters, your actions and decisions threaten harm in large measure to your own or the property of others, that you will forfeit your life?”

Martin felt perspiration trickling from his armpits and he knew that if his arms had not been folded tightly across his chest, his hands would have been trembling.

“Consider carefully, off-world friend,” said the new Master-Elect, who was again standing beside him. “An impulsive decision does not impress them, even though the impulse was of friendship and loyalty. If you withdraw now your punishment will probably be a token one, possibly banishment from Teldi society and removal of Masters’ protection, neither of which will inconvenience you greatly.”

Martin cleared his throat. He said, “The decision was carefully considered and is not based solely on sentiment. I am not stupid, but I have been confused by your Master-slave relationship on Teldi, and by the true nature and function of the Masters. I am confused no longer.”

The swords were still pointed at him, so steadily that he could imagine that the scene was a still photograph, when Skorta spoke again.

“Raise your sword and hold it vertically with the base of the hilt resting on your flag,” it said. “Support the sword in the vertical position by pressing the palm of your hand against the point. You will exert sufficient pressure for the point to draw blood. You will then speak the words ‘I accept the duties and responsibilities of a Master,’ after which you will replace the sword and self-administer the appropriate medication to the wounded hand and await the response of the Masters.”

He nearly fumbled it, because the height of the Table of Interrogation made it necessary for him to stand on tiptoe to press downward against the point of the sword, so that the point slipped and jabbed him in the fleshy pad at the base of his thumb. But he was so relieved that the sword did not go skidding onto the floor that he scarcely felt the pain, even when the blood trickled slowly down the blade.

As steadily as he could, Martin said, “I accept the duties and responsibilities of a Master.”

The swords were still pointing at him while he replaced his on the flag and slapped an adhesive dressing on his hand. Then one of the swords swept upward to point at the ceiling. Another followed suit, then another and another until all were raised, then all seventeen swords were towered and replaced on their Masters’ flags.

Skorta bowed gravely and said, “The election was unanimous, off-world Master. You may speak to us now, and everything you say will be accepted as factual if you say that it is, and any demonstrations by mechanisms operated by you will be given similar credence. If your words or actions prove false or inaccurate you will, of course, be answerable to your fellow Masters.”

“I understand,” Martin said, as he removed the tri-di projector from his pack. “What if the vote had not been unanimous? Would I have had to fight?”

“Only as a last resort,” the Teldin replied, “and after many days debating other and nonviolent solutions. There are never enough Masters on Teldi, Martin. The senior slaves who become eligible for Mastership and are encouraged to apply are far too intelligent to want the heavy responsibility involved. But there are an occasional few who, like ourselves, are overtaken by a strange irrationality which makes us find rewards hi performing thankless tasks and… You are ready to begin?”

“I’m ready,” Martin said.

He waited until Skorta had returned to its place at the big table, then announced that he would describe and depict the events which had occurred on his home planet when Earth had been contacted by the Federation of Galactic Sentinents and its people offered citizenship. Indicating the entrance and wall facing their table, he started the projector. Several of the Masters made untranslatable noises as, in spite of the Hall lighting, there appeared a volume of blackness of apparently endless depth.

The show began.

He showed them the arrival of the gigantic matter transmitters in Earth orbit, and some of the feats of transportation of which they were capable. He showed them a few of the great, white cubical buildings which were the Federation’s examination and induction centers, and described how the people of Earth went into them to be rejected as Undesirable, accepted as Citizens, or classified as non-Citizens requiring further examination and training.

“But you’re telling them everything?’ Beth’s voice said anxiously in his earpiece. “Our tutor might not want that. Or don’t you care anymore?”

“I care,” Martin said. “But I’m not sure what our tutor expects of us. If it had wanted us to do or not do something, it should have been more specific, instead of simply telling us that the Teldi situation was entirely our responsibility. And I do care about these people, too much to be dishonest with them.”

“This Master business,” Beth said quietly, “you’re taking it very seriously.”

“Yes,” he said, then added quickly, “No more talking, die next bit could be tricky…”

Like every other planetary population offered citizenship, he explained, Earth’s people had been screened and divided into three categories-the Citizens, the non-Citizens and the Undesirables. The majority of applicants were successful and became Citizens, to move to the Federation World to begin lives hi which their potentialities could be fully realized free of all personal, political, and economic pressures. In the Federation, Citizens were not forced to do anything, because the type of people who would use such force were excluded as Undesirables.

But Martin could see that the Masters were becoming restless at the idea that they might be considered undesirable, and he went on quickly, “Unlike the Citizens, the non-Citizens obey orders and have to submit to training, but their work is vital to the functioning of the Federation. They have the option of becoming Citizens at any time, and they are…”

“Slaves,” one of the Masters said.

“Why must these beings leave their home planets to become Citizens?” another asked. “And are the new worlds suited to then- needs?”

What is a slave, Martin wondered. Aloud, he said, “There is only one world. Observe!”

The dark, tri-di projection blazed suddenly with the glorious, indescribable light that could be seen only amid the densely populated starfields of the galactic center. And hanging against that incredible, silvery field was a gigantic, black, and featureless shape, the shape reproduced on his Federation emblem.

“This,” Martin said, trying to hold his voice steady, “is the Federation World.”

It was a hollow body, he explained as simply as he could, fabricated from the material which had comprised this and many other star systems, and it contained the intelligent beings of over two hundred different species who were presently members of the Federation. The superworld enclosed its own sun, and its interior surface area was vast beyond imagining. The projected future populations of all the races in the galaxy would never overcrowd this world.

As the diagrams and detail pictures flashed into view, Martin tried to describe the awful immensity of the Federation World, its topology and environmental variations, its incredibly advanced supporting technology. But one of the Masters was waving for attention.

“Since the Scourge returned us to the dark ages, Teldi has nothing to often” it said. “Yet you are considering us for citizenship of this-this- Why, stranger?”

Martin was silent, remembering his own reaction on first seeing the Federation World. The Masters had had enough supersedence and frontal assaults on their feelings or superiority for one day. He softened his tone.

“The Federation accepts all levels of technical and cultural development,” he said. “Its purpose is to seek out the intelligent races of the galaxy and bring them to a place of safety before some natural or unnatural catastrophe befalls them. On this world they will grow hi knowledge and intermingle with other species, and, in the fullness of time, the combined intelligence of this future Federation will be capable of achievements unimaginable even to the most advanced minds among its present-day Citizens. And while all of its Citizens are climbing slowly to the scientific, philosophical, and cultural heights, they must be protected.”

He canceled the projection, and for a long time nothing was said. They were all staring at his flag, at the black diamond on a silver field which was the Federation emblem, but still seeing the tremendous reality which it represented. Perhaps he had shown them too much too soon, and had succeeded only in giving them an inferiority complex from which they would never recover. But these were the top people on Teldi and they had earned their positions by rising through the ranks. They were tough, honest, and adaptable, and Martin thought they could take it.

It was the interrogator who found its voice first. “You came here to judge us on our suitability or otherwise for this…this Federation. We may not wish to join, stranger, but we would be interested in hearing your verdict.”

To tough, honest, and adaptable, add proud and independent. Now Martin knew what he had to do.

But before he could speak, the Master-Elect of Education walked slowly to his side. Skorta was staring down at the Federation flag and not at Martin as it said, “Martin, this is important. If your pronouncement is open to discussion and subsequent modification, touch the hilt of your sword as you speak. If it is your own unalterable decision which you will defend, if necessary, with your life, then grasp the hilt firmly and hold the weapon in a defensive position.”

“They’re still in a state of shock,” Beth said in the angry, despairing tone of one who knows that good advice will be ignored. “And there are no guards on the door. Run?’

“No,” Martin said stubbornly. Through the translator he went on, “Before I deliver my judgment I must first draw analogies with the systems which govern Teldi and the Federation.

“Undesirables, troublemakers, the power seekers are excluded, rendered impotent, and ignored,” he went on. “The Citizens are free and protected, and the non-Citizens do the hard but interesting work associated with the maintenance of the World’s systems and ongoing projects. This work is not forced on them and the reason they do it is two-fold. They feel a self-imposed responsibility in the matter and they, regardless of their species or level of intelligence or competence, belong to that group of restless and adventurous entities who are not sure that the protected life of a Citizen is for them. They are the errand boys, the servants, the slaves of the Federation, save only in the area of personal responsibility.”

Around the horseshoe table hands were twitching restively toward their swords, but Martin did not touch the hilt of his own. Not yet.

“On Tekli,” he went on, “the system of government and the general display of mistrust were initially abhorrent to me, as was the tight mental control which apparently was being imposed by the Masters. But the reason for the mistrust and the insistence that hearsay be vouched for by a highly responsible person, a Master, became plain when I learned of the original cause of the Scourge. Regarding the control of imparted knowledge, I learned that much of the forbidden hearsay was available to low-level slaves trying for higher and more responsible positions. But few of them feel impelled to accept the ultimate responsibility. There are never enough Masters on Teldi.

“I also discovered,” Martin continued, still keeping his hand well away from the sword, “that the slaves of Teldi are, in spite of its low-level technology, the most self-motivated, independent, self-reliant, and widely trained group of beings that I have ever experienced or learned of through hearsay.

“There is no reason for that level of technology to remain low if the Scourge is removed,” he went on, hoping that the unsteadiness in his voice would not be apparent in translation. “I am not a Master of the mechanisms which can do this work, nor have I any direct knowledge of the length of time required, other than it will take many of your years. But the Scourge can be removed, allowing you to build again on the surface, and travel in safety, and grow…”

Martin broke off because he was talking to a three-dimensional picture again-there was absolute stillness in the room.

Slowly and deliberately he reached forward and gripped the hilt of his sword, then lifted it into a defensive position, diagonally across his chest.

Had he misjudged them? Was he about to misjudge them again?

He said gravely, “If the Federation was to set up examination and induction centers on Teldi at this time there would be very few beings judged Undesirable, and few also who would be accepted as Citizens. The great majority would be deemed unsuitable for the Federation World. I will explain.”

The Masters were either touching or gripping the hilts of their swords now. Like the slave population of Teldi, they were proud, independent, self-reliant, and fantastically caring of the animate property from out of which they had risen to become Masters. Any criticism of that property was a personal insult to them.

“Teldi is a special case,” Martin went on. “On Teldi there are never enough Masters, never enough people able and willing to accept the crushing responsibility that Mastership entails. In the Federation it is likewise said that there are never enough non-Citizens, and for a very similar reason: because the qualities required for the job are rare. It is my judgment that Teldins are not now and probably never will be suitable for Federation citizenship.

“It is my decision,” he said, tightening his grip on the sword, “that the Scourge be removed and your world left alone for at least three of your generations. And it is my confident expectation that when the Federation next contacts you, it will make a unique and most valuable discovery-a planetary population composed entirely of non-Citizens ready to assume extra-planetary duties and responsibilities.”

The Masters were sitting still and silent, and suddenly Martin knew why.

“My arrival on Teldi was not a secret one,” he said, lowering his sword and placing it on the Federation flag. As he resumed speaking, he slowly rolled the weapon in die cloth. “As a result, much new hearsay will arise and more slaves will be impelled to try for Mastership when the Scourge is gone and they realize what was and what will again be possible for Teldins. There is something I would like to leave with you, with your permission…”

He walked slowly toward Skorta with the flag-wrapped sword held before him in both hands, then proffered it to the Teldin. Behind and around him he could hear the movements of Masters getting to their feet and the soft, rustling sound of metal scraping against fabric, but he did not look aside.

“Martin,” the Teldin said, taking the sword from him, “I am honored to accept this additional responsibility of Master of Off-World Affairs and I, and my successors, will respect and promulgate the knowledge you have given us.”

It did not say anything else, and neither did the other Masters, but as Martin turned and began walking toward the entrance, they remained standing, silent, motionless and with their swords held high in salute until he had passed from sight.

On Teldi, he had belatedly realized, silence was approval. It meant that there was no dissenting voice.