want his death on my conscience, either. I don’t want to do it.”
Henry just looked at him with a steady eye.
“Only as a last result,” Jensi finally said.
“All right,” said Henry, and sighed. “Only as a last result.”
* * *
“Political rally seems likely,” said Henry. “How about that?”
“I don’t know,” said Jensi. “I’d think so, but since it’s for the opposition candidate, I’m not so sure. He always supported the underdog. But maybe he’s changed.”
“So, possible, but maybe not likely. What about the school ceremony? Does he have anything against education?”
“He didn’t want me to join my foster family,” said Jensi. “School might be tied into that for him, something that he feels separated us.”
“But it’s a new school opening,” said Henry. “Not a school that you went to. I know his mind is broken, but as a symbolic gesture it doesn’t amount to much.”
His mind is broken? thought Jensi. And then thought, Yes, Henry’s right .
“Someone on the colonial authority is cutting the ribbon,” continued Henry. “Is it anybody he knows?”
“Who is it?”
They looked at the vid notice. “It doesn’t say,” said Jensi. “No way to tell without going.”
“Even then, we probably won’t know,” said Henry. “Who knows what he’s been up to or who he’s met over the last several years. Still, not likely. What about the ambassador from EarthGov? What’s his name?” He scrolled through the vid until he found it. “Jedrow Berry. Name ring a bell?”
Jensi shook his head.
“All right,” said Henry. “That’s okay. Doesn’t mean anything. He’s a representative of EarthGov authority. That might be enough.” He sighed. “Basically nobody seems all that likely. Nobody is jumping to the top.”
They sat across from one another in silence until, finally, Jensi said “So what do we do?”
“Do? We draw straws.”
* * *
Jensi felt like he was going mad, his mind straining to see a connection that either wasn’t visible or simply wasn’t there. He felt like Istvan, always searching for a pattern, trying to see something that nobody else could see.
How would Istvan think? he wondered, his head throbbing. He tried to put himself in the place of his brother, tried to remember the erratic way he had responded to those situations that had seemed clear and straightforward to Jensi, but they were all moments from childhood, and even thinking back on them he could neither understand them nor extrapolate them into something relevant to the present situation. He had long understood that something was seriously wrong with the way Istvan viewed the world, as if he were seeing everything through a different lens than everyone else, a dark and smoky lens that distorted everything and made it false. But how could Jensi, more or less normal, simulate that way of seeing the world?
Solemnly, Henry took four scraps of paper and wrote a word on each one: rally, press, school, port. Then he folded each into a smaller square and jumbled them in one hand.
“Do you want to choose first, or shall I?” he asked.
Jensi reached out, took a piece of paper from Henry’s hand.
“Open it,” Henry said.
“You go first,” said Jensi.
Henry closed his eyes, felt around among the pieces of paper, chose one. Together they opened them. School, said Henry’s. Port, said Jensi’s. Henry reached out, placed his hand on Jensi’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said, and they both left.
6
Commander Grottor stood at the helm, hands clasped behind his broad back. There was nothing about his stance to suggest that he was anything but relaxed, but within his head the thoughts spun back and forth. He knew altogether too little about the project to be comfortable. He was not sure exactly what he was getting into.
He turned and looked behind him. There on the bridge to one side was a technician named Jane Haley. She was young, fairly fresh out of the
Henry just looked at him with a steady eye.
“Only as a last result,” Jensi finally said.
“All right,” said Henry, and sighed. “Only as a last result.”
* * *
“Political rally seems likely,” said Henry. “How about that?”
“I don’t know,” said Jensi. “I’d think so, but since it’s for the opposition candidate, I’m not so sure. He always supported the underdog. But maybe he’s changed.”
“So, possible, but maybe not likely. What about the school ceremony? Does he have anything against education?”
“He didn’t want me to join my foster family,” said Jensi. “School might be tied into that for him, something that he feels separated us.”
“But it’s a new school opening,” said Henry. “Not a school that you went to. I know his mind is broken, but as a symbolic gesture it doesn’t amount to much.”
His mind is broken? thought Jensi. And then thought, Yes, Henry’s right .
“Someone on the colonial authority is cutting the ribbon,” continued Henry. “Is it anybody he knows?”
“Who is it?”
They looked at the vid notice. “It doesn’t say,” said Jensi. “No way to tell without going.”
“Even then, we probably won’t know,” said Henry. “Who knows what he’s been up to or who he’s met over the last several years. Still, not likely. What about the ambassador from EarthGov? What’s his name?” He scrolled through the vid until he found it. “Jedrow Berry. Name ring a bell?”
Jensi shook his head.
“All right,” said Henry. “That’s okay. Doesn’t mean anything. He’s a representative of EarthGov authority. That might be enough.” He sighed. “Basically nobody seems all that likely. Nobody is jumping to the top.”
They sat across from one another in silence until, finally, Jensi said “So what do we do?”
“Do? We draw straws.”
* * *
Jensi felt like he was going mad, his mind straining to see a connection that either wasn’t visible or simply wasn’t there. He felt like Istvan, always searching for a pattern, trying to see something that nobody else could see.
How would Istvan think? he wondered, his head throbbing. He tried to put himself in the place of his brother, tried to remember the erratic way he had responded to those situations that had seemed clear and straightforward to Jensi, but they were all moments from childhood, and even thinking back on them he could neither understand them nor extrapolate them into something relevant to the present situation. He had long understood that something was seriously wrong with the way Istvan viewed the world, as if he were seeing everything through a different lens than everyone else, a dark and smoky lens that distorted everything and made it false. But how could Jensi, more or less normal, simulate that way of seeing the world?
Solemnly, Henry took four scraps of paper and wrote a word on each one: rally, press, school, port. Then he folded each into a smaller square and jumbled them in one hand.
“Do you want to choose first, or shall I?” he asked.
Jensi reached out, took a piece of paper from Henry’s hand.
“Open it,” Henry said.
“You go first,” said Jensi.
Henry closed his eyes, felt around among the pieces of paper, chose one. Together they opened them. School, said Henry’s. Port, said Jensi’s. Henry reached out, placed his hand on Jensi’s shoulder. “Good luck,” he said, and they both left.
6
Commander Grottor stood at the helm, hands clasped behind his broad back. There was nothing about his stance to suggest that he was anything but relaxed, but within his head the thoughts spun back and forth. He knew altogether too little about the project to be comfortable. He was not sure exactly what he was getting into.
He turned and looked behind him. There on the bridge to one side was a technician named Jane Haley. She was young, fairly fresh out of the
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