Lisa fixed LaStrande with a cold gaze. “Surely you’re not suggesting that my former husband’s actions should bar my son from assuming his rightful duties as a citizen?” Her voice was razor-edged.
“Of course not,” LaStrande replied smoothly, “but the Council must consider that every action has a cause. We are critically short of fissionable fuels. Why? Because twenty years ago Douglas Morgan led an expedition Earthside and refused to return here. Refused!”
“But he sent the nuclear fuels we needed,” said the fat man next to Alec, his voice a placating whine.
LaStrande nodded. “Of course he did,” he replied, dripping sarcasm. “And five years later, he was pleased to allow us to have a little more of the fissionables we need to remain alive. And then a third time, five years after that, he doled out a bit of nuclear fuel to us. But nothing since then. He has refused to send us any further shipments of fissionables, despite all our efforts and entreaties. For the past five years he has held us hostage to his renegade ego. And for the past five twitching years we have sat here politely discussing what we should do, while our fuel reserves dwindle toward zero.”
The Council members mumbled to each other and shifted nervously in their seats.
“Morgan is still down there Earthside, turning himself into some sort of barbarian emperor and thumbing his nose at us!” LaStrande’s powerful voice rang against the rock walls of the chamber. “He knows how desperately we need those fissionables. He knows we will all die without them. But does he care?”
“No!” several Councilmen shouted.
“And now we’re expected to follow the lead of his wife, and send his whelp down there? To help us obtain the lifeblood we need? Or to help further Douglas Morgan’s schemes for setting up an empire on Earth that will eventually kill us all?”
Several Council members pounded the table and roared their approval of LaStrande’s attack. Kobol sat back, idly tugging at his ear, saying nothing and looking inscrutable behind his mustache and thick eyebrows.
Alec burned with anger. He clenched the arms of his chair, coiled inwardly and was ready to leap to his feet to shout them down. But then he looked at his mother.
She sat there silent and unmoving, an ice-queen, waiting for the fools to shout themselves out. Only her eyes were alive, and they blazed with cold fury.
The Councilors’ shouting raggedly tapered off to a few scattered mumbles, then went dead. The chamber became absolutely silent.
Then, in a voice that Alec had to strain to hear, Lisa said, “Councilman LaStrande, your concern for our future and wellbeing has led you beyond the bounds of politeness and common sense. Surely you don’t believe that the offenses of the father taint the son—and the wife, as well.”
LaStrande blinked his watery frog’s eyes at her. “I, eh... I merely wanted the Council to, em, to consider all the facts of this matter.”
“Including,” she countered, steel-hard, “the fact that I have lost a husband. Renounced him, years ago. Including the fact that my son, my only child, has been raised without a father, and feels all the taunts and sick little innuendos that you have so rashly brought into this debate. Including the fact that my son has volunteered to head this dangerous expedition so that he may prove to all the foulmouthed and petty-minded fools in this community that he is his own man, not a duplicate of his traitorous father! Include those facts in your considerations, Councilors. Include them all!”
They all sank back in their chairs, as if pushed by the force of Lisa’s words. LaStrande sat down and studied the table top before him. Kobol smiled wanly and crossed his legs.
“Madam Chairwoman,” called white-haired Catherine Demain, sitting two seats to Lisa’s left.
Lisa nodded to her.
“I’m sorry that this debate is reaching such an unfortunate level of incivility,” she said, without getting up from her chair. “But a critical point has been raised by this outburst. Douglas Morgan has committed treason against us. There’s no other word for his actions, even though I counted Doug among my closest friends on the day he left for Earthside. The question is, why did he do such a horrible thing? Why did he turn against us? Is there some factor in his psychological makeup that—forgive me—might have been inherited by his son? Or is it...”
Alec shot to his feet without thinking about what he was doing. Barely controlling his voice, he said, “I will not sit here and listen to my mother and myself being discussed like two specimens in a biology lab.”
The Councilor at his right reached for his arm, but Alec pulled away and started walking around the table toward Catherine Demain.
“Since I volunteered for this expedition I have been subjected to every possible physical and mental test that the medical staff could devise. My record is available to all of you for the most intense study.”
He stopped at the Councilwoman’s chair. She had to turn and look up to see him. Clutching the chair’s high back and looming over her, Alec asked, “Have you studied my record?”
“Yes, of course I have.”
“Is there any indication of any unbalance whatsoever?” Alec found that deep inside him his anger was being supplanted by another emotion: not joy, exactly, but a thrill, an excitement, the tingle of power.
“No,” Catherine Demain replied softly. “All of your tests were... well, you got excellent ratings.”
“You yourself ran many of those tests,” he said, looking down at her.
She nodded and turned away from him.
Alec swept the room with his eyes. “I know that I’m young. I know that my father failed us all—but he failed no one so badly as my mother and myself. And I also know that I’ve scored higher in every test, from word-association to heavy gunnery, than any citizen in this community. If my name were Kobol, or LaStrande, or Nickerson, you wouldn’t have had the slightest hesitation in approving me to head the expedition. That is the truth and we all know it.”
“You are out of order,” Lisa said firmly. “Apologize to the Council and return to your seat.” But her eyes sparkled.
He grinned at his mother. “Sorry. I beg the Council’s indulgence.”
As he went back to his seat, one of the younger women Councilors called for the floor.
“Councilor Dortman,” Lisa acknowledged.
Sylvia Dortman had been a strong supporter of Alec’s nomination, one of Lisa’s most dependable allies.
But now she looked troubled. “There’s no sense trying to ignore the problem that’s bothering all of us,” she said. “And that problem, quite simply, is trust. We trusted Douglas Morgan and he failed us. Deliberately. Can we trust his son?” Before anyone could reply, she quickly added, “I’m not questioning Alec’s loyalty or strength of purpose. I’m not questioning his physical or mental abilities. I’m not even questioning his intentions. But the basic fear remains. His father was just as capable and well-liked and respected—more so, from what I’ve been told. And Douglas turned traitor. We don’t know why. Equally, we don’t know what Alec will do when he reaches Earth.”
For long moments no one said a word. All the Councilors turned to Lisa, waiting for her reaction. Alec sat rigid with tension, staring at his mother like the rest of them.
At last, Lisa said very softly, “We are beginning to hear repetitions of previous discussions. A motion has been made to put the question to a vote. Who will second the motion?”
“One moment, please.” LaStrande again. “I suggest that we change from our usual voice vote to a secret ballot. To assure complete freedom of choice.”
“Very well,” Lisa said. Her eyes closed and her voice sounded infinitely weary. “If there are no other objections...”
Why? Alec raged silently at her. Why vote now, before these stupid arguments have been laid to rest? Then he saw the withering look Lisa was firing at Sylvia Dortman and he suddenly understood. She wants to get the vote in while she still has the majority. She’s afraid that our support is crumbling away.
The Councilors voted by pressing the appropriate button on the tiny panels set into the table at each of their places. Their votes were registered by the computer and displayed on the viewscreen on the wall. Fifteen Council members, eight votes needed to carry the election.
The screen flickered and showed: COUNCIL VOTE. SIX VOTES FOR MORGAN. FOUR VOTES FOR KOBOL. FIVE ABSTENTIONS.
Twisted around in his chair to read the screen, Alec felt fear for the first time. Five abstentions! They could swing the vote to Kobol. Just four of them could!
“We’ll have to take another ballot,” Lisa said.
“Madam Chairwoman.”
It was Kobol. He had stayed silent through the debate so far, as propriety demanded. But now he rose to his feet, a lanky unfolding of knees and elbows.
“There’s been enough debate,” he said slowly, nasally, “to convince me that further discussion could split the Council into antagonistic factions and cause divisions among us that might not be healed for years. I think the time has come for a compromise, in the interests of peace and unity.”
“What do you have in mind?” Lisa asked.
With a humorless smile, Kobol replied, “If we look only at the various physical and mental tests that we’ve all been subjected to, there’s no question that Alec is the best qualified man to head the expedition Earthside. What we’re arguing about here is a question of trust—or guilt, really.”
Alec could not take his eyes off Kobol’s face. Something was going on behind the mask he wore.
