Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (77 page)

CHAP
TER
25

Most
of
the
Others
who
had
been
called
back
to
Association
had
not been
on
the
planet
since
their
graduation
from
Dahno's
training program,
and
they
seemed
to
revel
in
returning
as
wealthy,
elite members
of
interstellar
society;
until
they
came
to
Dahno,
most
had been
young,
poor,
and
without
useful
social
or
political
ties.

They
were
impressed
by
the
fleet
of
spacecraft
now
owned
by the
organization,
as
well
as
by
the
luxurious
facilities
Dahno
and Bleys
had
moved
the
organization
into.
They
all
well
remembered the
elderly
building
in
which
they
had
once
been
trained
and lodged.

Invitees
began
arriving
a
couple
of
days
before
the
conference's scheduled
beginning,
and
Bleys,
Dahno
and
their
staff
were
kept busy
finding
ways
to
make
their
guests'
stays
as
enjoyable
as
possible;
Association's
entertainment
facilities
were
limited
at
best.

Eventually
all
were
on
hand,
and
the
meeting
could
begin.

On
the
evening
before
the
official
opening
of
the
convocation, Bleys
hosted
a
small
party
for
a
group
of
the
invitees,
people
he
had picked,
after
dealing
with
them
for
a
day
or
two,
as
most
likely
to
be influenced
by
what
he
had
to
say.
All
were
second-
or
third-level Others.

Late
in
the
evening,
when
most
had
taken
enough
food
and drink
to
become
congenial,
but
not
yet
drunk,
Bleys,
holding
a brandy
snifter,
moved
across
the
room
to
settle
himself
on
a
sofa near
which
several
conversations
had
been
taking
place.
The
conversations
died
away
even
though
he
spoke
no
word;
their
eyes
were all
on
him.

"Please,
you
shouldn't
call
me
Great
Teacher?
Bleys
said,
in
response
to
a
question
from
Prosper
Fulton,
one
of
the
delegation from
Cassida.
"We
Others
are
all,
in
our
way,
family,
and
I
like
to think
of
us
as
brothers
and
sisters."

That
drew
smiles,
and
there
was
some
movement,
as
if
they
all felt
a
momentary
impulse
to
draw
together
in
a
closer
group.

"It's
a
family,
then,
that
I'm
proud
to
be
a
part
of,"
Fulton
said now,
glancing
about
the
circle
of
Others
who
had
gathered
around Bleys.
"But
if
you
don't
mind,
I
feel
you
and
Dahno
arc
the
elder brothers
of
our
family.
I
know
both
of
you
have
different
tasks
than those
of
us
who
spend
our
time
on
the
worlds
we've
been
sent to
...
I
guess
I
just
wanted
to
ask
for
some
idea
of
what
you
see
as our
current
situation,
and
where
you
think
we're
headed."

Eyes
in
the
circle
became
serious
above
their
smiles,
but
Bleys laughed.

"You're
trying
to
get
a
preview
of
my
speech
for
tomorrow
morning's
opening,"
he
said.
"Were
you
planning
to
sleep
in?"

"I
think
what
Prosper
may
be
asking,"
Ameena
Williams
said, from
her
place
behind
the
sofa
where
Prosper
was
sitting,
"is
for something
personal
from
you—I
mean,
I've
heard
you
speak
many times,
during
your
visits
to
New
Earth,
about
our
abilities
as
leaders of
the
human
race,
and
the
importance
of
our
task
of
taking
up
that leadership
position
and
using
it
to
lead
the
race
to
greatness.
But when
it's
put
that
way,
it
seems
a
little
cold,
or
maybe
distant;
so we'd
like
to
hear
something
from
you
about
your
own
personal
vision:
about
what
you
personally
want,
and
why
you
personally
are involved
in
this."

Bleys
frowned
down
at
the
snifter
in
his
hand,
as
if
trying
to
see
a vision
in
the
brandy
there.
The
silence
held,
and
at
last
he
looked
up.

"I
have
been
blessed,"
he
said
at
last
in
a
formal
tone;
and
as
he looked
up
into
their
faces
he
could
see
that
the
words
chimed
agreeably
with
most
of
them.
All
of
those
here
had
been
raised
on
one
of the
Friendly
planets,
and
found
religiously
themed
speech
comfortable
and
familiar.

He
looked
back
down
into
his
snifter,
giving
the
impression
of one
too
shy
to
let
his
soul
show
from
his
eyes.

"I'm
just
like
most
of
you,"
he
went
on.
"I
grew
up
a
virtual
outsider
on
this
very
planet,
feeling
that
no
one
understood
me,
that
I didn't
belong.
But
I
was
lucky
to
have
a
brother
who
felt
much
the same
way,
and
then
doubly
lucky—or
blessed—to
find
a
group
of people
who
understood
how
I
felt."
He
looked
up,
to
see
their
emotions
naked
before
him.

"At
first
I
thought
of
us
all
as
a
kind
of
large
family,"
he
went
on; "a
family
that
would
care,
and
would
take
care
of
each
other."
He cautiously
scanned
them
as
he
spoke,
trying
to
judge
the
effects
of his
words.

"But
I
think
I've
learned
of
something
even
larger,
even
better," he
continued.
"I've
learned
that
we
Others
aren't
really
completely separate
from
the
rest
of
the
human
race.
Yes,
we
have
abilities
they don't
have,
and
we
sec
things
a
bit
more
clearly
than
they
do.
Above all,
we
have
a
unity
of
purpose
they've
never
had,
or
perhaps
once had,
but
lost."
He
shook
his
head.

"My
own
'personal
vision,'
I
think
you
called,
it,
Ameena?
I
guess I'd
have
to
say
it's
to
know
that
every
person
I
will
ever
meet
is
as able
and
competent
as
we
Others
are—to
let
the
entire
human
race have
a
feeling
of
comradeship
and
caring
like
that
we
feel
when
we're among
ourselves."

"Is
that
even
possible?"
Peter
Cossey
said
from
the
end
of
the couch.
"Isn't
it
true
we're
so
advanced
over
the
average
human
being
we
can
never
be
completely
on
a
level
with
them?"

"That
may
be,"
Bleys
said.
"For
now.
I
think
that
will
change over
the
course
of
time—if
we're
willing
to
reach
in
that
direction."

"Are
you
suggesting
we
need
to
change
what
we've
been
aiming to
do?"
Prosper
Fulton
said
now.

"No,
I
don't
think
so,"
Bleys
said.
"In
fact,
I
think
it's
a
natural outcome
of
what
we've
been
doing."

"You
mean,"
Ameena
Williams
said,
"you
believe
our
leadership of
the
race
will
over
the
long
term
result
in
all
of
them
lifting
themselves
up
to
our
level?"

"That's
exactly
what
I
think,"
Bleys
said.
And
he
watched
a
few tentative
smiles
blossom.

"Well,
then,"
Ameena
said,
her
dark
face
displaying
puzzlement,

"am
I
wrong
in
thinking
that
many
of
the
rest
of
the
race
are
opposed to
us,
and
may
even
be
prepared
to
fight
us?"
Eyes
swung
to
Bleys
for an
answer.

"You're
not
wrong,"
he
said.
"In
fact,
some
are
already
preparing for
war."

"War?"
someone
asked
from
the
other
side
of
the
room.
"How can
we
deal
with
that?
And
how
does
that
help
us
do
what
we
want to
do?"

"War
is
certainly
the
last
thing
we
want,"
Bleys
said.
"Please don't
take
my
words
to
mean
I'm
seeking
out
anything
like
that. But
I
think
you
all
know
that
war
often
results
when
people
have conflicting
ideas.
I
suspect
you've
all
seen
that
in
your
own
lifetimes—"
They
all
nodded.
"—and
sometimes
it's
just
unavoidable."

"War—with
who?"
Prosper
Fulton
asked.

"War,
I
suspect,
on
multiple
levels,"
Bleys
said.
He
looked
about the
circle
once
more,
checking
for
emotions
that
could
give
him feedback
on
the
effectiveness
of
his
words.

"Most
of
you
are
working
on
worlds
already
under
our
leadership,"
he
went
on.
"On
those
worlds
you're
finding
that
some
are beginning
to
resort
to
force
to
resist
the
direction
in
which
we're trying
to
lead
their
societies
...
but
it
may
well
go
beyond
that." He
paused,
as
if
thinking.
"They're
finding
allies
in
the
Exotics
and the
Dorsai."

"The
Exotics
and
the
Dorsai?"
Burton
Taney
asked,
as
if
appalled.

"Those,
yes,"
Bleys
said.
"Those
two
cultures—I'm
sorry
to
say I
don't
see
any
way
they
can
ever
be
brought
to
see
what
we're
trying
to
do
...
it's
as
if
they
have
their
own
visions
for
the
future
of the
race,
and
they're
incompatible
with
ours."

"But
we
can't
win
a
war
against
the
Dorsai!"
Sami
DeLong
said.

"On
the
contrary,"
Bleys
said,
"they
can't
win
a
war
with
us." There
were
murmurs
of
puzzlement
all
about
him.