Statesman (34 page)

And, in this manner, the veto of Laya was reversed, and the lives of the Prince and Princess were saved.

An order was sent for the Dalai to return from Earth, his long exile over. The Middle Kingdom had installed the Panchen, but now the Premier made no objection to the restoration of the Dalai.

I had a fancy funeral, of course, but this is not a subject of interest to me. I will only say that everyone of note came: Megan, Thorley, Hopie, General D of Gaul, all the ranking leaders of the System, all welcomed to the Middle Kingdom for the honor paid the Tyrant of Space. What was important was that my death had accomplished expeditiously what my life might not have: the salvage of the Dream. I was spared the humiliation of a bedridden decline. My only regret is that Forta had to die with me; she deserved better, but it was the way she wanted it. She was a good woman, my final one in life.

And mankind was headed for the stars.

Within weeks of my father's death, the woman named Reba delivered to me the diaries he had kept throughout his life. This was a surprise to me; I had not known that he was writing them, or that I was to be the beneficiary of this information. But I had to read only a few pages of the first manuscript to realize that these should be published, because it was manifest that a major aspect of the Tyrant's existence was unknown to the public that his life benefited so greatly. It is true that there is now an impressive monument to the Tyrant of Space, the conservator of the Dream and architect of man's diaspora to the galaxy; he turned man's vision outward to space instead of inward to self-destruction. But the intensely personal and human side of him was known only to his close associates, a number of whom predeceased him. He was known as a ruthless killer and insatiable womanizer, but these diaries show that he was neither, once his nature is understood. I myself have on occasion condemned him for his “women”

without understanding that it was indeed a reciprocal relation, and that sex was only one component of relationships that were anything but casual. If I, his daughter, misunderstood him, how much worse must it be for those who knew him only by reputation? So now I knew I owed it to him to present this side of him.

I edited these five manuscripts, covering the five major periods of Hope Hubris' life, in chronological order, not getting into the next until the prior was complete. I did this because I did not want to introduce any distortions, conscious or unconscious, into the manuscripts. This policy led me into surprises and perhaps traps, but I maintained it to the end.

Thus it was that I came to the conclusion of my father's life story, and received a shock. It didn't stop at his death; it carried a short distance beyond it, as has been seen. I hesitate to call this impossible, but it does lead to some interesting speculation. How can we account for this? Could the Tyrant have written it himself, before traveling to Laya, somehow anticipating the details of his demise? This seems extremely doubtful, if only because the finale was so bizarre he could not have anticipated it in such detail. All the facts presented in it are accurate, as far as I have been able to ascertain. The manner I was met at the Laya border and delayed until they had completed what they deemed to be a suitable retribution for the murder of the Tyrant, even the words I spoke at the end—I simply do not believe that he could have anticipated this. If he had, certainly he would have acted to save Forta, even if, as he claims, he sought his own death to force the issue of the veto.

Could someone else have written it? No; the manuscript was locked in a safe whose mechanism recognized only his own touch and mine, and it was undisturbed when I recovered it. No other person had access to it, not even his sister.

I examined the handwriting. Only at this point did I recognize the change in it. The major portion of the manuscript is written in his own hand; the final portion is written in my hand. I wrote the conclusion—and yet I did not. I had no intention of doing such a thing, and no memory of it; it is not the way I work. I could not have done it—yet my hand gives me the lie.

I can offer only one explanation: My hand wrote it, but I did not. The spirit of my father must have visited me and used my body to complete his narrative. I realize that this sounds preposterous, but it was the way he worked. He was visited throughout his life by others he had known, living and dead; perhaps it should not be surprising that subsequently he visited his daughter. He did say, in the course of the manuscript, that he believed he could do something very like this, and I must confess that at times I was aware of his presence, even when we were geographically separated by the planets. I was surprised and pleased to read the confirmation of such contact; as nearly as I can ascertain, our experiences did coincide. At any rate, whatever the explanation, I accept the manuscript as written, and leave its mystery for others to ponder.

I received another shock when I realized what my father had written about his sister Spirit. He said she had a baby. Forta, then emulating Spirit, was naturally astonished; she had known nothing of this. So was I, for he made it clear that that baby was me.

All my life I have assumed that I was the illegitimate offspring of Hope Hubris, adopted because he felt a tie of blood he could not otherwise acknowledge. Certainly a blood affinity was evident; many physical tests have indicated a closeness that can hardly be ascribed to chance. But here he says he was rendered sterile in space, and it is true that sterility in men varies in direct proportion to their time in space, and he had logged much time. Sterility? Surely he would have known, and if he said it, it was true. But that means that he could not have been my father.

Now, abruptly, the obvious was apparent: Hope was not my father, Spirit was my mother. She had logged similar time in space, but women are not similarly affected, and remain fertile. Suddenly many things fell into place: why Hope had seemed so unconcerned about the charges against him. “Show me the mother of this child,” he had announced publicly—knowing that as long as the search was for a Saxon mother, it could not be successful. For I am, as he puts it, a Saxon/Hispanic crossbreed; the evidence of my genetic heritage is clear.

Why should Hope Hubris have suffered a lifetime of suspicion about this matter, when he could readily have demonstrated its falsity? And why had his wife Megan so firmly supported him? Now it was clear: both were protecting Spirit. It has always been known that Spirit would do anything for her brother, literally, even to having sex with him or to letting him die in his own fashion; her loyalty knew no bounds.

Now it is clear that that loyalty was returned. Hope truly loved his sister, and never was it more apparent than in the manner he protected her from scandal by taking it on himself. Only when he was dying, and losing his judgment near the end, did he let slip that secret, thinking that the conversation would never be known. Only in his private account is it revealed—an account that could only be made public by the hand of the very person concerned. His daughter— Spirit's daughter—me.

And so I went to Spirit, and now I recount, as aptly as I am able, the conversation that we had.

“You are my mother,” I said.

Spirit is a hard woman, generally known by others as the Iron Maiden, but now she opened her arms to me, and I fell into them, and we cried for some time. Then she said: “So he finally told you, Hopie.”

“He wrote it in his manuscript,” I said. “I never suspected, before.”

“Because you are so like him,” she said. “You inherited so many of his ways.”

I laughed. “I can't read people!”

“Have you ever tried?”

That silenced me on that subject; indeed, I had never thought to try. But I had another subject: “Then who is my biologic father?”

"When Hope debated Thorley, in Ybor, at the outset of their respective careers, a man tried to assassinate my brother. It was so fast, we were unprepared. Hope avoided him, of course, and so did I, but then he turned his weapon on Megan, and she stood frozen, being unused to violence. He fired—and Thorley leaped out of his chair and intercepted the beam. He saved Megan's life. But he sustained a grievous injury himself. 'Take care of this man!' my brother told me, and I knew that nothing we could do for Thorley could repay the favor he had done us, for had Megan died then, so would Hope have died. I took Thorley to his home, for he was no better off financially than we were then, and I took care of him. I used a disguise so that there would be no suspicion; it was a trick I had learned from Helse, Hope's first love and a truly nice girl. I became a Hispanic boy, Sancho, and obtained groceries and performed chores in that guise, sustaining him while his wife was absent.

"But he knew my identity, of course. He asked me to be open with him, when we were in private, and so I was. It was in my own guise that I dressed his wound and helped him get around and bathe. I did it because of what we owed him, but the better I came to know him, the more I respected his qualities. He was a handsome man, and an intelligent one, and an honest one, and though we existed at opposite political and social poles, I found myself attracted to him. And he—his wound, taken in our service, was in the groin, deep and serious, and though the medication healed the flesh, he was fearful for his potency.

“Thus it was that what happened happened. He recovered his potency, and I had his baby. But we could never let it be known, because he was married and I was Hispanic; news of it would have destroyed his career, and that of my brother. But I could not give up the baby. So I brought it to Megan, and she—she was, is a great woman.” Here she could not continue, for she was crying again. But I already knew the rest. I held her, as she had held me in my infancy, and now the secret between us was gone.

I knew too that Megan had not been entirely unselfish in her adoption of Spirit's baby. She had done it to please Hope, of course; but more than that, for herself. She had perhaps not realized that she wanted a baby, until she had been offered one. Possibly she had not wanted just any baby, but this particular one overrode her reluctance. Because she had been the one Thorley's act of heroism had saved. Megan had always been one to pay her debts, of whatever nature, and she owed Thorley her life, and had no way to repay it. Spirit had done what Megan could not; Spirit had brought a life to Thorley. That love child could not be acknowledged, but it required loving care. Megan took that baby, and in that manner she repaid Thorley and Spirit for her life, using her life to raise their child. It was also the closest she could come to having Hope's child, and so she would have wanted it even if there had not been the debt.

I was that child. I could not have had a better mother than Megan, or a better father than Hope Hubris, and I do not deny them now. But how much my new knowledge of my natural parentage adds to my life!

“Must this remain secret?” I asked.

“That is for you to decide.”

“But people could be hurt—”

“Thorley's wife is dead. My brother is dead. Times have changed. I may marry Thorley. We can no longer be hurt by your origin. Do what is right for you.”

I was stunned. “You—Thorley—still?”

“I am the mirror of my brother. Apart from him, I have loved two men, and dallied with others. The first is dead; the second is not. What would you have me do?”

“I... I meant no judgment of you! I only—” Now I remembered the times Thorley had been with us, as when he joined Hope's first expedition to Saturn, when Hope was Governor of Sunshine. That had been, nominally, for the news—but also for the secret love between Hope's leading critic and his sister. And, perhaps, to be with me, the child who had not known. So many events to be reinterpreted!

And who was to interpret them? “Aunt Spirit—” I faltered, embarrassed, but she only smiled. The habit of a lifetime is not readily erased by a single revelation. “Spirit, your story must be told!”

She shook her head. “Hopie, I have never written personal things down; only my brother did that. Now I am the Tyrant, carrying on in his stead; I have no time for such a narrative.”

“Then tell me, and I shall write it for you!” I said. “There is so much that you alone know, that will otherwise be lost with you.”

“But the time, even for that—”

“In snatches,” I pleaded. “At odd moments, when you are free. Tell me, or dictate briefly for a tape that I can later transcribe. Any way possible, so that I may have your story, for now I realize that it is not finished with my father—with Hope Hubris. All the details he omitted, because you took care of them—”

She shook her head in negation. “Hopie, it just isn't feasible! You have no idea how busy I—”

“It cannot end here, my sister, my love!”

Spirit stared at me, though I had not spoken. At least, I don't think I—it must have been the presence who wrote the final chapter of the Bio of a Space Tyrant. I do not know; I cannot explain it. I only know that for a moment I felt the presence of my father, the Tyrant. I had, it seemed, inherited a number of his traits; I hoped I had not also inherited his madness.

Then Spirit bowed her head. “As you wish, as ever, my brother, my love,” she whispered.

And so it was that I commenced the editing of another volume after I had thought the task complete. The narrative of the Iron Maiden, my natural mother. The current Tyrant, as she guided mankind on toward the stars.

Solar Geography

Planet

Earthly parallel

Mercury

South Africa

Venus

North Africa

Earth

India

Luna

Ceylon

Mars

Asia Minor (Moslem)

Phobos

Israel

Deimos

West Bank of Jordan

Asteroid Belt

Pacific Islands

Hidalgo

Hawaii

Chiron

Cyprus

Jupiter North

North America

Jupiter South

South America

Jupiter RedSpot

Mexico

Amalthea

Bahamas

Io

Puerto Rico

Europa

Jamaica

Ganymede

Cuba

Callisto

Hispaniola

outer moons

Lesser Antilles

Saturn North

Russia

Saturn South

China

inner satellites

Philippines

outer satellites

Indonesia

rings

Taiwan

Titan

Japan

Uranus

Europe

Miranda

Crete

Ariel

Sardinia

Umbriel

Ireland

Titania

England

Oberon

Iceland

Neptune

Australia

Triton

New Zealand

Nereid

Tasmania

Pluto

Antarctica

Charon

Falklands