Executive (16 page)

She did not react.

“ Ce chemin, où méne-t-il? ” Hopie inquired. I may have misrendered that; I can't be sure.

Amber looked at her, smiling as if she had spoken foolishly.

“ C'est tordant, c'est rigolo,” Hopie said.

Amber smiled, agreeing.

“ Voilà ce qu'il me faut! ” Hopie said, pleased.

“Now will you enlighten me?” I inquired with a bit of an edge, though I was pleased that my daughter shared my facility with language. I can learn any language I choose to, but, of course, it requires time and effort, so I don't do it without reason. I had mastered Spanish, English, and Russian but never had occasion to learn French.

Hopie smiled, enjoying my discomfort. “First I named the language,” she said in English. "Then I asked

'Where does this road lead?' I thought—you know, it's a kind of road we are following here, and maybe—"

“Understood,” I said. “Good question.”

She smiled, pleased. “Then I said, 'It's terribly funny!' and she agreed, and I knew she did understand, because she doesn't smile unless she has reason. So I exclaimed, 'That's exactly what I want!' Daddy, it worked! Now she understands French.”

“And nothing else,” I agreed.

“She's like an old-fashioned computer. You tell it the code, and it is instantly set in that mode and doesn't react to anything in any other mode, even though it has all modes in its circuitry.”

“Like a primitive computer,” I agreed, nodding. “But she is a human being.”

“People do funny things to people,” she said, frowning. “They mem-washed you, Daddy.”

“I recovered,” I said. “But Amber—I don't know how far we should meddle until we understand exactly what has been done to her. We don't want to hurt her.”

“Of course, we don't!” she agreed. “But checking languages shouldn't hurt her.”

“It shouldn't,” I agreed. I felt a certain unease, fearing that we were doing something risky or wrong, but I couldn't define it. “If we proceed cautiously.”

The next two years were filled with activity of every sort. Again I don't want to slight the very serious business of government, but the truth is that Spirit handled most of the scutwork, so I merely had to make my appearances and statements as directed, make basic decisions of policy, and sign documents where indicated. As I have made clear, Spirit really ran the Tyrancy. Had others realized this, she would have had less freedom, and I more. I realize that seems backward. I had more time to myself than she did, but I was also the subject of increasingly determined attempts at assassination, so I had to restrict my life for the sake of safety. Spirit was always busy, and I would not even see her for weeks at a time, but because she was not known as the Mistress of Empire, she was not such a target. She could go fairly freely around the globe, negotiating in my name, and others believed that if anything happened to her, it would only evoke the fury of the Tyrant (true) and bring a similar replacement for her office (false).

I gave Ebony her turn with me. I find myself being slightly defensive here but can only repeat that my way with women is the way that seems correct to me. Ebony was part of my staff-family, and she deserved her share. That does not mean that I loved her or necessarily found her physically attractive.

But I had known her many years and respected her as a person. She had never made any pretense at being beautiful or brilliant; she was good at running errands and absolutely conscientious in that. When any of us gave her a thing to do, we had no further concern; it would be done properly and on schedule.

She had been especially useful to Shelia, who could not get around freely in her wheelchair. Of course, I paid all my staff members a decent wage—well, Spirit did; I don't even know what the figure was but knew it was fair. They served me with a devotion that deserved a greater recompense, and now was the time of payment.

Thus it was that I found myself in bed with Ebony, though I confess I would have preferred Coral. I admit that this period following the Navy and my marriage left me somewhat out of sorts sexually. Some prefer to believe that folk in their fifties have little remaining interest in sexual expression. This is not the case in my experience. My interest remained as strong as ever, though my performance had slowed somewhat. Thus an act that might have been completed in two minutes when I was twenty was more comfortable in half an hour at fifty, not because my body had slowed to that degree but because my urgency had. The young tend not to understand about timing and savoring.

Ebony introduced me to an oral technique she called “Around the Planet.” She began at my navel and proceeded in a kind of tightening spiral, her tongue covering every part of me. I had not imagined how stimulating this could be when properly performed. She moved me around as suited her, closing in on my center of gravity, and the effect became so strong that I felt compelled to warn her: “Pilot, that ship is about to take off without you!”

“Ships don't make single flights,” she said, and proceeded unabated.

Maybe not, but this one fired its drive very soon thereafter, unattended. She proceeded as if it hadn't happened, and in an amazingly brief interval, the drive was ready to fire again. She continued to use her tongue and her mouth, and presently the urgency overcame me a second time, this time attended by her lips.

I thought it was over, but I was mistaken. Still she continued, the detumescence that should have occurred was halted, and the ship was fueled for a third takeoff. When she deemed the occasion appropriate, she mounted me in the normal manner and moved in such a way that I did indeed come to a final culmination. She had not had pleasure in her own body before, but now she joined me in a pulsing climax.

“Did Q match that?” she inquired as we subsided.

“Once,” I said. Indeed, I was not sure I had ever before had a triple conclusion. I had not known that men were capable of multiple performances, especially at this age, but it seems that they are, when suitably managed.

She relaxed, satisfied. She had evidently proved her point.

Thereafter I felt no disappointment when it was Ebony's turn; she had her own expertise. And for a year or so I had, if it is fair to phrase it that way, three mistresses, who scheduled me somewhat in the manner that the multiple wives of ancient sultans had, seeing that I had no sexual frustrations. Perhaps one would look askance that I include Shelia in this number, but though she could not move her legs, she was worthy in other respects, and I always felt comfortable with her. I should clarify that our time together at night was not always physically sexual; the companionship of these three women was just as important to me.

Yet, gradually, a dissatisfaction came upon me. That may seem ungracious in the extreme, and certainly I did not voice it to the three, but in retrospect I must say it was so. I think it was the fact that these were working personnel. They had been chosen for reasons other than sexual, and while I deeply respected them all, I did not love them. They were too close; I knew them too well. They were not my mistresses; they were the members of my personal staff, who served me to the best of their ability in all things. Their sexual accommodation had to be a secondary thing, temporary, until I found a woman who was not a respected associate. I did not view it that way at the time; I view it that way now, in my effort to understand the subsequent events. I believe that I desired some new romance, with some less knowledgeable woman, so that I could take the initiative and feel more like a man than a pampered creature.

I called my first formal cabinet meeting, on Spirit's advice. It was in the hallowed Oval Office, and the media were excluded, with one exception.

“As Tyrant, I have no need of conventional organization,” I informed the group. “This may be the only cabinet meeting held. But I felt I should introduce you formally to each other, so that there is no confusion about the offices you hold or the rationale for them. All of you will report directly to me, or, in my absence or unavailability, to my sister Spirit, or to Shelia, who will see that I am kept current.” I put my hand on Shelia's shoulder, for her wheelchair was beside me. “She has my complete confidence, and she will respect yours; if she tells you something, you may rely on it. If it sometimes seems that she is running the planet, that is probably the case.” I smiled, and the others smiled with me, but we all knew there was a fair amount of truth in the statement. If Shelia made a commitment in my name, and it turned out to be in error, I would do my best to honor it, anyway, to avoid mutual embarrassment.

I turned to the man on my right. “Senator Stonebridge is in charge of economics,” I said. "He will take what measures are necessary to balance the planetary budget and thereafter to reduce or eliminate the planetary debt. This has not been accomplished in centuries, but it is my mandate and I mean to honor it.

The United States of North Jupiter at this point is on the verge of becoming a net debtor nation; we shall restore it to creditor status."

I turned next to Gerald Phist, seated next right. “Admiral Phist is in charge of industry. This includes farming, food procurement, and the preservation of the environment, which has, at times in the past, been degraded by the excesses of industry. He will restore Jupiter to a position of leadership in technology and production and efficiency, and will eliminate such waste and fraud as has existed in the past.” I spoke as though this would be easy to do, but we all knew that Phist's job would be as difficult as Stonebridge's.

Roulette, Phist's wife, was next. “Rue Phist is not a citizen of Jupiter,” I said. “As Tyrant, I have abolished that requirement for service. She is in charge of crime, and she will eliminate it as a factor in Jupiter's economy. This includes all types, violent and monetary and sexual.” Roulette nodded and smiled and leaned forward, and Stonebridge's eyes nearly popped as her deep cleavage flexed. I knew he would be meeting with her individually, as economics and crime interacted; he would discover that she had a competent head above that competent bosom. I had selected mostly from my own closest circle, because I understood these people best, but I had not ignored competence.

Spirit was next. “My younger sister, Spirit Hubris,” I said, “is in charge of interplanetary relations and implementation of policy. She is my second in command and will govern in my absence. This has been so throughout our relationship.” And I suffered a flash memory of Spirit as a child, with her finger whip, using it in my defense. She no longer had the whip, but nothing had changed between us. At forty-seven she remained a fine figure of a woman too.

Ebony was next, looking somewhat out of sorts in this company. “Ebony did not ask for the post of population,” I said. “I thrust it on her. She will find means to bring our burgeoning population under control, so that it will not devastate us. She will consult with the others to see that such measures as she implements will not interfere with their projects.”

“Tyrant, if I may...” Stonebridge said cautiously. I nodded and he continued: “A significant portion of our population problem originates beyond the territorial boundaries of North Jupiter. I doubt that the domestic problem can be solved without reference to the external problem. Immigration—”

“Illegal aliens cost us twenty-five billion dollars a year,” Ebony said. “But if we try to wall them out—”

“Jupiter industry would suffer,” Phist said.

“So we must solve the international and interplanetary problem first,” Roulette said. “Illegal aliens are my concern too. We shall have to have an early meeting, Senator—those of us whose concerns overlap, as in this case.” She flexed her cleavage at him again.

“By all means,” Stonebridge agreed immediately, as any man would.

I was privately pleased. Ebony was no intellectual giant and made no such pretension, but she did do her homework. She had, by this interchange, achieved a measure of acceptance in this group, in Stonebridge's eyes and in her own. They would get the job done.

Next was Faith. “My older sister, Faith Hubris,” I said. “She is in charge of poverty. She will abolish it—again, consulting with others of you to be sure that her programs do not conflict with your own.” I glanced around the group. “I expect there to be constant interaction among you. When you come to me with a program, be sure you have already cleared it with whoever overlaps. If you cannot agree on policy, then I will arbitrate. Shelia will coordinate any required meetings.”

I came to Hopie. "My daughter is in charge of education. She will arrange for it to become competent and relevant. Whether this includes job training or retraining you will work out among those who overlap.

I suspect that means most of you."

Then Mondy: “Admiral Mondy is in charge of intelligence. He will probably not be interacting often with the rest of you, but Shelia will show him all of your reports, and he will inform you of what he deems relevant to your interests.”

I completed the circle with Thorley. “As you know, I agreed never to infringe on freedom of the press,” I said. “Though Thorley's political philosophy differs from mine, and he opposes the Tyrancy on principle, he is enough of a realist to accept the situation, and I do not keep secrets from him.” I paused, remembering how the man had stepped into a laser beam intended for Megan and won my lasting gratitude—and hers. I might differ from Thorley on every other matter, but I respected his courage, integrity, intelligence, and dedication to principle, as he respected mine. I was about to surprise him.

“Sir, I know you want no part of this administration,” I told him directly. “You came here in your capacity as a commentator, and you are free to publish what you will. This is to be an open administration in every matter other than immediate planetary security or private scandal, and of these you will also be advised. I believe you now know the actual nature of the Jupiter invasion of Ganymede.”

He nodded, with that wry quirk of a smile. “I am now asking you to participate in this administration, in a capacity I doubt you can refuse.”

“I do refuse!” Thorley said, startled. “I do not care to lend any portion of my reputation to the Tyrancy.”

“The position of censor,” I said.

Thorley actually spluttered, and there was a ripple of laughter around the circle. “The only censorship I would approve is no censorship!” he exclaimed. “I would consider any such institution a clear and present breach of—”

He paused, for I was nodding affirmatively. He smiled ruefully. “You wish me to enforce the absence of censorship.”

“I can think of no one better qualified for that post,” I agreed. “It is necessary that the person in charge have the discretion to distinguish between legitimate privacy of individual interests and the right of the public to be informed about the nature of its government. The integrity to abuse neither.”

“And if I should decline, I would be by implication condoning what I abhor.”

“You know that even the best intentions can be corrupted by time and circumstance,” I said. “Today I support total freedom of the media, but how will it be after I have wrestled with error and inadequacy? It is better to have a censor who is not otherwise committed to the policies of the Tyrancy.”

Thorley raised his hands. “Sir, you have mouse-trapped me. I am left with no choice.”

“That is the nature of tyranny,” Spirit said, smiling. But she knew, as I did, and as Thorley did, that this appointment signaled more emphatically than any other my intent to honor the commitments that had brought me to the Tyrancy. I did not intend to be corrupted by power.

I was dangerously naïve, of course.

We brought in linguistic experts, folk who practiced many languages, and explored Amber's potential.

She was indeed not limited to Spanish, English, and French. She knew Russian, Arabic, German, more than one dialect of Chinese, and sundry others, though she spoke in none but Spanish.

The specialists explained it to me in terms I could understand. Amber had not been mem-washed or otherwise abused. She was a member of the class sometimes called idiot savants. Her brain was in effect miswired. The material was there but could not be properly applied to the ordinary concerns of normal folk. Her intelligence, in Spanish, was low-normal; in other languages, she was technically a moron. But she could remember a certain amount of what she heard.