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Authors: Steven Erikson
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arms of this chair retract completely—”
“Sir, I have been in T-packet communication with the Affiliation High Command and via it, the Umbrella Dictum Extempor Procreator.”
“Really? Tammy allowed you that insane energy expenditure? Wait a minute, I’m supposed to sign off on those!”
She crossed her arms. “Captain, you were the subject of that document. I do have independent powers as adjutant, in particular with the Office of the Extempor Procreator—would you care to review them?”
“Good grief, no. Boring beyond belief. Fine, you have issues with me and so decided to use up a planet’s annual energy expenditure in order to lodge your complaint. I begin to fear, Adjutant, that you are insane. We are headed into hostile space—”
“You were tasked to investigate a smuggling operation, sir!”
“And you all mocked my instincts when I dared suggest that smuggling was only the tip of the iceberg!”
“Excuse me? I didn’t—”
“Do you really think I don’t monitor all ex-ship communications, Adjutant? Do you really imagine that I wasn’t aware of your private conversation with the admiral, not to mention the Pope of Science?”
“Those were encrypted!”
Hadrian collected a handful of ball bearings from a tray on his desk. He began rolling them in one hand as he studied the woman standing before him. “The admiral’s fatal flaw,” he said, “is that he underestimates Hadrian Alan Sawback. It seems he has infected you with the same. Fine. What does the Affiliation have to say about me?”
“I’m surprised you don’t already know!”
“Very well,” Hadrian said, sighing. Then he smiled. “How do you like my smile now, by the way? Dazzling, yes? Where was I? Ah, yes, the Affiliation. I’m curious, how would you describe the Affiliation of Civilized Planets? As an organization, I mean. In the broadest terms. Its philosophy, its goals, its day-to-day operations?”
“What is all this?”
“Indulge me.”
“The Affiliation is an alliance of progressive spacefaring civilizations engaged in the promotion of civil values: peace, exploration, trade, the open exchange of ideas between sentient species. To date, three major civilizations are full-standing members, with the Ahackan Cultural Symbiota at Tier-Three Engagement—”
“Tier-Three, yes, a situation that has not advanced into full membership in almost ten Terran years. Why is that, do you think?”
“Well, certain ideological disagreements are holding things up—”
“Adjutant, according to the Common Agreement on the Definition of Sentience, and by ‘Common Agreement’ let’s be plain and state that every civilization but one has accepted the definition—and that includes our most belligerent enemies, by the way. The exception? Why, Terra! Or to be more precise: humans! By that agreement—”
“Captain! There is no way in Darwin’s Church that we will ever acknowledge that full range of sentience!”
Hadrian leaned forward and slammed the ball bearings on the desktop. “Exactly!”
Her face twisted. “Parrots? Bonobos? Orangutans? Dolphins? Dogs and meerkats?”
“All sentient!”
“Nonsense! If they were, we’d all be … well, murderers !”
Hadrian leaned back. “Well then, there you have it. The Affiliation of Civilized Planets? Poppycock! The disaster, Adjutant, was that we stepped into space with technological superiority over our nearest neighbors, and all because some damned Transition Ship from the galactic center broke down and fell into orbit around Earth!”
“That EMP nearly destroyed us!”
“Rubbish. The tech windfall—what we could figure out of it—from those idiots more than made up for that. Strip it all away, Adjutant! We’re a bunch of overbearing, pontificating, arrogant, self-righteous pricks. Our news media is full of deliberate misinformation and propaganda, and most Terrans in the Affiliation either don’t care or they haven’t the wits to care! In fact,
“Sir, I have been in T-packet communication with the Affiliation High Command and via it, the Umbrella Dictum Extempor Procreator.”
“Really? Tammy allowed you that insane energy expenditure? Wait a minute, I’m supposed to sign off on those!”
She crossed her arms. “Captain, you were the subject of that document. I do have independent powers as adjutant, in particular with the Office of the Extempor Procreator—would you care to review them?”
“Good grief, no. Boring beyond belief. Fine, you have issues with me and so decided to use up a planet’s annual energy expenditure in order to lodge your complaint. I begin to fear, Adjutant, that you are insane. We are headed into hostile space—”
“You were tasked to investigate a smuggling operation, sir!”
“And you all mocked my instincts when I dared suggest that smuggling was only the tip of the iceberg!”
“Excuse me? I didn’t—”
“Do you really think I don’t monitor all ex-ship communications, Adjutant? Do you really imagine that I wasn’t aware of your private conversation with the admiral, not to mention the Pope of Science?”
“Those were encrypted!”
Hadrian collected a handful of ball bearings from a tray on his desk. He began rolling them in one hand as he studied the woman standing before him. “The admiral’s fatal flaw,” he said, “is that he underestimates Hadrian Alan Sawback. It seems he has infected you with the same. Fine. What does the Affiliation have to say about me?”
“I’m surprised you don’t already know!”
“Very well,” Hadrian said, sighing. Then he smiled. “How do you like my smile now, by the way? Dazzling, yes? Where was I? Ah, yes, the Affiliation. I’m curious, how would you describe the Affiliation of Civilized Planets? As an organization, I mean. In the broadest terms. Its philosophy, its goals, its day-to-day operations?”
“What is all this?”
“Indulge me.”
“The Affiliation is an alliance of progressive spacefaring civilizations engaged in the promotion of civil values: peace, exploration, trade, the open exchange of ideas between sentient species. To date, three major civilizations are full-standing members, with the Ahackan Cultural Symbiota at Tier-Three Engagement—”
“Tier-Three, yes, a situation that has not advanced into full membership in almost ten Terran years. Why is that, do you think?”
“Well, certain ideological disagreements are holding things up—”
“Adjutant, according to the Common Agreement on the Definition of Sentience, and by ‘Common Agreement’ let’s be plain and state that every civilization but one has accepted the definition—and that includes our most belligerent enemies, by the way. The exception? Why, Terra! Or to be more precise: humans! By that agreement—”
“Captain! There is no way in Darwin’s Church that we will ever acknowledge that full range of sentience!”
Hadrian leaned forward and slammed the ball bearings on the desktop. “Exactly!”
Her face twisted. “Parrots? Bonobos? Orangutans? Dolphins? Dogs and meerkats?”
“All sentient!”
“Nonsense! If they were, we’d all be … well, murderers !”
Hadrian leaned back. “Well then, there you have it. The Affiliation of Civilized Planets? Poppycock! The disaster, Adjutant, was that we stepped into space with technological superiority over our nearest neighbors, and all because some damned Transition Ship from the galactic center broke down and fell into orbit around Earth!”
“That EMP nearly destroyed us!”
“Rubbish. The tech windfall—what we could figure out of it—from those idiots more than made up for that. Strip it all away, Adjutant! We’re a bunch of overbearing, pontificating, arrogant, self-righteous pricks. Our news media is full of deliberate misinformation and propaganda, and most Terrans in the Affiliation either don’t care or they haven’t the wits to care! In fact,
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