“I am the man lately known as Theodore Vega but previously known as Thomas Janna and Charles Clifford. I was born with another name but that need not concern us here. Many will know me as ‘Alexander’.”
A stir passed round the court. Everyone recognised the code name of one of the most infamous terrorists the Quiet People had produced.
“The lottery which put me on board the Kalindy was ‘adjusted’ by sympathisers in ‘Big News’. My background as a Water Weed harvester was constructed to withstand media scrutiny. I had a job to do on the Kalindy and I have done it.
I am here to stand trial for murder - for many murders as the facts have been presented. I plead guilty.”
There was a collective intake of breath and Vega seemed to be enjoying the dramatic moment.
“I plead guilty to only one murder, however, which is the only legally correct reason for this trial. But there are other facts which I must be explain. Other causes… I shall have much to say about the deaths of all the Galactic Tourists in due course.”
There was complete silence in the court room and the GalCon generators were dark.
“With one exception I didn’t kill them”, he reiterated. “That is important and I will make it clear in my defence. I enabled their deaths. I was an anti-midwife to them all. I did them a necessary kindness.
The exception was Prince Falym. He needed a little more ‘help’. But he was a regular - a human being. That in itself was the reason and as I shall explain, it demonstrates the purpose of my actions.
I must say something about that purpose now.
Today we are gathered at the edge of the Conclave of Old Earth. They will be deciding the trading laws and colonising rights for us all. But why?
Usage and custom say that we must all acknowledge the Alta-Tsey. But again I ask why? Certainly the Twenty Seven represent a cross section of the races in the Confederacy but are they worthy? The Core Worlds have their demands. Is it right for regular culture to be subsumed beneath the weight of Confederacy custom? No! We must keep our purity and way of life separate. The Conclave will be controlled by a mad mixture of races who have no moral authority over we regulars and who show every sign of decadence. They talk about descendency but what they really mean is independence. We regulars must take our independence.
In this Trial I will show to the Core Worlds, and to those who are prepared to acknowledge it in the Alta-Tsey, the weakness of the Tourists and by extension the weakness of their species. Let the Core Worlds go free. The Quiet People are speaking at last!”
The Trojan Amphitheatre was packed. Quella glanced round from the low table at the edge of the stage to glimpse a mixture of human, epsilon, zeta and eta. Behind her the crowds had been gathering for the last hour in ranks running to the limit of the station ‘E’ ring. It was the second day of the Trial and media interest was intense. Following Vega’s opening shocking propaganda statement of the day before he had promised to explain each death in turn. ‘Big News’ had a permanent studio at the Amphitheatre and that had given them a tremendous advantage over their rivals when it was decided that the case would be tried here. Their built in cameras had multiple angles onto the bank of rising desks where the ‘twenty seven’ sat and deliberated, and overhead shots of the dock where Vega stood in the spotlight. The other agencies could only do their best with portable equipment and many of them had adopted ring side seats which they defended against all comers.
The lights were lowered in the room and the Instrument of Order began the GalCon invocation. It was time for the case to continue.
Two months had passed since Kalindy XII arrived in Earth orbit. Quella had spent nearly all that time in intense interviews with her Vital Void employers (talking to the Centrum both individually and collectively) and with officials of the newly convened court of Galactic Law. She had not been allowed to leave the confines of Troy, the enormous orbital city some fifty kilometres in diameter and two deep around each of its five concentric rings. It was the largest completely artificial space structure in the Confederacy and made even the Kalindy seem tiny. But Troy didn’t have to go anywhere. The space city was permanently stationed in the leading gravitational well formed by the Earth, Sun and Moon and needed only relatively minor orbital adjustments from time to time to ensure that it stayed there. ‘E’ ring span at the necessary rate to generate Earth Normal gravity so Quella’s exercises hadn’t been wasted.
Each of the twenty seven signalled in turn that that they were ready to listen. They consisted of three alphans, one betan (by proxy to an epsilon), one deltan, three epsilon, one zetan, two etans, one thetan, two iotans, one kappan, two lambda, one mu, one nu, two omicron, one sigma and six regulars (five of whom were new melanists). This was broadly similar to the composition of the true Twenty Seven who made up the Alta-Tsey but modified somewhat according to legal availability and circumstances, and in favour of the races represented on the Kalindy’s roster
“Today I shall account for the deaths of L’Rrantora and Kaal Dol”, Vega began. A translator relayed his words in GalCon and GalCon B. “Corrin Pharmaceuticals are rich”, he continued, ”Very rich. And much of their wealth has been generated under the leadership of L’Rrantora. Everybody knows that. But few individuals know just how L’Rrantora operated and most of those are now dead.
The Quiet People found out. And we found something else out too. L’Rrantora had taken a Slerrick Death Contract. I don’t expect you know what a Slerrick Death contract is so allow me to elucidate.”
Yes I do, Quella thought. Mr Big Eye has already enlightened me.
She looked around the Amphitheatre. From the ceiling long green vines and lianas were strung with orchids. Small black butterflies fluttered above the heads of the crowd. It was the fashion in Troy to break the artificial metal arcs with extravagant vegetation which exceeded in luxuriance even the capabilities of the Kalindy’s ecosystem. All this growth made it seem like the Trial was taking place in the depths of a mysterious jungle. And Quella felt that it was. The unknown jungle of the human mind and heart.
Vega had finished his introductory remarks about the Death Contract and was moving on.
“L’Rrantora was only a young ‘outrider’ when he had the opportunity to ‘Take the Grazing’ of Iscolia. I remind you that Iscolia is the only continent where Ocyfoil will grow. Control of Iscolia is control of Ocyfoil and that means control of Invicerine production. It is through his monopoly of Invicerine that L’Rrantora eventually attained his powerful position at the head of Corrin Pharmaceuticals. When L’Rrantora took the ‘Grazing Rights’ no one had any real idea how important they would be (or he would certainly have faced tougher competition).
"Nevertheless… Although Iscolia is a small continent and the omicrons didn’t then count it amongst the Great Territories, possession did grant the Herd Leader, something we might call ‘Bull Rights’ at planetary congresses. ‘Bull Rights’ are an important prize to an omicron. There was more than one ‘outrider’ with a claim to the continent and L’Rrantora’s was amongst the weakest.
"I expect you all know the official story. Forget it. L’Rrantora had to play very dirty when he won Iscolia. Specifically he had to have one of his rivals ‘gored’. That is the phrase an omicron uses for a contract killing but you won’t have heard of it. No omicron would ever admit that such a thing can ever happen in their society. Omicrons base their racial philosophy on the ‘unity of herbivores’. They are supposed to despise carnivores who can even contemplate killing one another. Let the galaxy take note. Omicrons are not so pure as they claim!
"However a ‘goring’ isn’t something which can be easily arranged. So L’Rrantora had to make a deal with some old enemies and these enemies had requirements of their own. They agreed on a Slerrick Death contract. L’Rrantora’s rival would be done away with and in return he would ‘gift’ his enemies a certain island called Unpaloon which would almost certainly come into his possession after he won Iscolia (and which happens to lie quite close to Kuum where the Slerrick Death Contract originated). Unpaloon is an important religious centre for some omicron herds. It is claimed that the ‘White One’ once swam to Unpaloon from Iscolia.
"The terms of the contract were quite precise but they allowed a reasonable time scale for fulfilment. It was anticipated that there might be political complications associated with the transfer of power on Unpaloon and that L’Rrantora would need time to deal with them. He was given five local years (about six standard years) to meet his side of the bargain. If he failed, the Death Contract would become active.
"Unfortunately for L’Rrantora, his acquisition of Iscolia was not followed by automatic rights over Unpaloon. He had ignored some of the old ‘Grazing Privileges’ and he was opposed by the Great Western Herds who maintained outposts all along the Tormal peninsula. By making alliance with the Green Plain Herd, they were able to effectively frustrate his ambitions.
"But the omicron are pragmatic. Although the period for the contract expired a long time ago, L’Rrantora was already becoming very wealthy. He managed to buy his enemies off. They were quite happy to take his Promises instead of his life. It was a better deal. And so matters remained until the Tour and then L’Rrantora met me….”
Quella glanced at the two omicron on the twenty seven. Their nostrils were flaring noticeably. She knew this signified rage. But why were they angry? Was it just the humiliation of their famous Fellow?
“You must be wondering how the Quiet People came to know all this,” Vega said. “Well there was an element of luck involved but we had our contacts too. L’Rrantora had a number of enemies and not all of them benefited from his Promises. We were contacted by a certain faction who rather prefer him dead. I don’t think you’ll find it hard to guess who they are. We all know who controls Iscolia now.
"But its all perfectly legal. They had obtained the other half of the Slerrick Contract. All I had to do was to present L’Rrantora with the code - the broken half of the contract. He did the rest. He thought his herd would do better without him.
"So you see, I’m not guilty. L’Rrantora died because of his own weakness.. or the weakness of his race.
"I’m sure I’ve made some more enemies here today. They didn’t want the dirty secrets of their species aired in front of the galaxy. But I’m afraid that’s exactly what I want. I took their Promises to act as their proxy but I don’t need them.”
Vega reached into his cloak and in a gesture of pure showmanship scattered a bag of middle tech coinage all over the floor.
“The omicron are hypocrites. No one can take them seriously.”
He smiled at the two furious members of the twenty seven as the cameras closed in on them.
A buzz of intense excitement rose from the Amphitheatre. This was more dramatic than anyone had imagined. It took several minutes for calm to return and when it did the Proscriber made an announcement.
“The accused has requested that the L’Imalo and L’Oraso be struck from the register of the twenty seven on the grounds of their incrimination. When such a charge is made the twenty seven must vote. Let them vote now!”
And the vote went against the two omicron and they were replaced with regulars. Vega smiled grimly. The whole process took an hour. The court was still unsettled when he began again.
“Kaal Dol was destroyed by his own arrogance and his own ignorance”, Vega said. “He was a piece of living history and he thought that gave him the right to know more about history than anyone else - to understand the details of the duelling machines almost without going to the effort of studying them. I proved him wrong. I understood him perfectly and more importantly I understood his machines.
"The duelling machines are surrounded by myth. The are drunk with myth until they can’t face sober scientific reality. To hear certain thetans speak you’d think they give direct access to some mystical metaphysical level of truth. Bullshit.
"The duelling machines are just machines : like a pistol or a rifle they are a tool to kill with - nothing more. I understood this. Kaal Dol didn’t.
"Some of my associates amongst the Quiet People have studied duelling machines very carefully. They are extremely interesting and it is quite amazing that they can operate on neurological tissue across biosphere boundaries. They achieve this universality by responding to electrical impulses independently of the supporting chemical substrate. But there isn’t an isomorphic relationship between the finely tuned patterns representing thetan thought and those in humans. The human substructure may be capable of interpretation by a duelling machine but it is necessarily a flawed interpretation. Duelling machines were not designed to map human thought.
"Kaal Dol challenged me to a duel because I challenged his world view. He never stood a chance because I knew how to exploit the killing pathways of the machine which no thetan could trigger directly.”
Vega paused.
“He wanted to die though,” he continued. “Transient art is dead and he wanted to join it. It was a passing fad which has had its day. Dol couldn’t stand losing the limelight. He’d had a tortured life as an infamous Clone and he had grown to thrive on it - to need the attention like a life saving drug. To be threatened with indifference was more than he could stand… Even his wealth couldn’t protect him from the galaxy’s ennui. I believe he would have seen the fatal duel as his last work of art. Although he was surprised when I beat him he was also pleased. The records from the duelling machine will show this if they are examined. I have every confidence because I knew Kaal Dol. Look at the records. They trace the final scribbling of his brain and for a thetan they tell a sort of truth. Do not accuse me of murder. I did him a kindness.”
He paused again and bowed his head.
“The court will be adjourned”, the Proscriber said. “Evidence remains to be gathered.”
The captain was staying in a comfortable but not luxurious oval suite, close to the Amphitheatre. The lights had cycled to local intensity and the shuttered corridors were dim or dark. Ordained night had come to this sector of Troy but one of the team of Vital Void legal advisors was still talking to her.
“Galactic Law has many protocols,” he said. “Alexander has exploited the right to an opening statement of unlimited length to take and hold the attention of the Core Worlds and the Confederacy. But in Galactic Law any number of others may also speak before the Proscriber begins the prosecution. I feel it would be of benefit to us all if you were to clearly state those facts we know - to mitigate Vega’s interpretation. Others could make the case but it will be more powerful coming from you. And I thought you might like to speak. Shall I request a hearing from the twenty seven?”
Quella swallowed. She hated this Trial. She hated the intolerance ‘Alexander’ was cultivating and the claustrophobia of the Trojan amphitheatre. She felt sick to the stomach with the long grinding endurance of the affair now that matters were completely outside her control. Part of her wanted nothing more to do with the whole business. Let the Law take its course without her.
But then she thought about the vital recording which Mr. Big Eye had made shortly before its death. She thought about the progress of the Conclave, the mood of the Core Worlds and the nature of the Quiet People. And she thought about her duty to her deltan superior who had become a friend. It was better that she make the statement herself.
“Yes,” she said. “When Vega has finished I will reply.” But she slept badly and woke tired and unhappy.
When the court reconvened for the third day the investigators had already reported back. The day’s proceedings began with an account of their findings, read by the single thetan in the twenty seven.
The duelling machine had been taken from Kalindy’s stores and analysed at Ganymede, under the direction of the thetan embassy on Earth. As luck would have it the embassy had a local expert on duelling machines who, like Dol, had been an avid collector. He was able to confirm what Vega had suggested. Dol did have a death wish. To everyone’s discomfort there was no case to answer but the reopening of the issue left a general air of deep distress. Quella imagined that was exactly what Vega wanted. He had begun to speak again.
“Zaralova-Justa was too proud. Proud and insecure. Ambition was her downfall - the same ambition which had brought her to the Twenty Seven.
She died because of a dare. I simply suggested to her that she couldn’t make that last ride on Avarance.
"Like many powerful individuals, Zaralova-Justa seemed unable to realise that the universe does not recognise the authority of the Confederacy. Once I had suggested (admittedly with some subtle taunting) that she lacked courage to challenge those last waves, she had to prove me wrong. It’s not her courage a question now - it’s her intelligence.
"Of course it took time to prepare the nu for death. Between Soop and Dyviss I made considerable efforts to cultivate Zaralova-Justa. I liked her. She was very straightforward. But I had a job to do for the Quiet people and I did it. The galaxy now know how irresponsible the nu can be. Do you want to listen to that kind of irresponsibility from the Alta-Tsey?”
There was a sudden dreadful commotion from the stalls where the twenty seven sat. The nu representative had leapt over the thin steel partition and was lumbering straight towards the defendant. Someone screamed in the front row and at the same time, twin darts struck the enraged giant. Court security agents swarmed onto the stage and before the nu could manage more than another two steps it slumped down tranquillised, like a rampaging grizzly bear shot by park rangers. Quella was sure this image would occur to many regulars. An excited babble of loud voices rose from the crowd.
“The Trial is adjourned,” the Proscriber said, the GalCon cutting through the noise. “We will resume tomorrow.”
In the sanctuary of her room, Quella flicked idly through the news channels. They were divided almost equally between those which were concentrating on the Conclave and those reporting the Trial. Troy was completely gripped by the drama of the Trial. An etan ‘appraiser’ had been appointed to take the place of the nu on the twenty seven and analysts were already deciding what effect this might have. It wasn’t only Troy. The system wide channels were just as obsessed with the unfolding story of the voyage and its implications and Quella knew that the whole Confederacy would be following the trial closely. But she’d had enough of it for now and was more interested in the Conclave. There were four main stories.
The Great Metal Deficit in the Helicon sector was a long standing problem but a cause of much debate. It concerned engineering difficulties in this remote outpost of the Confederacy where some peculiar coincidences of galactic geography had led to a concentration of first and early second generation stars. The Twenty Seven proposed a limited grant be awarded to assist in the development of Far Ithuron as a trading station and gateway to the sector.
Uthorovian, the epsilon physician had been canonised. Two thousand standard years ago she’d performed the first parasite assisted operations which were now standard practice in all extant epsilon communities (although they’d been politically controversial for a hundred years afterwards).
The New Melanist systems of Katpolar and Rending had achieved ‘preferred trading status’ with the Katabatic Ring, a group of dissident zetan colonies.
Representatives of SoFarSoGood and Heaven were campaigning for special tax exemptions for Core World products shipped on the Minor Trade Axis.
But after she had listened to all the debate on these issues Quella’s mind returned inexorably to the Trial and she began to mentally rehearse her speech. It seemed likely that she would have to deliver it next day. For the second night she slept uneasily and woke early.
The fourth day began a little later than usual. The twenty seven had requested a short private debate and although it was unusual for such a thing to happen it was not without precedent. So the media, the crowds and the participants were kept in suspense for an extra hour. Quella found it strange to observe Vega during this period. He seemed small and diminished when he wasn’t at the centre of attention.
He was quite an actor, Quella realised. For him this whole trial would be one long performance - one for which he had been preparing for the whole of his life. Every morning before the cameras started she had watched him breath deeply and it was is if he drew courage from the very air, sucking psychic power from the crowd in the courtroom who were his immediate audience to project it out to the untold millions who were his intended audience.
It happened again as soon as proceedings resumed and Quella wondered if that was part of the reason why the twenty seven had taken this break. Left to himself Vega was controlling the tempo and mood of the whole trial.
“With Falym it was personal,” he began. “He was making a nuisance of himself to the Captain and I didn’t want that.”
He flashed Quella an outrageous public wink across the width of the Amphitheatre. She felt her stomach knot in anger. How dare he even appear to treat this all so lightly!
“I had to manipulate the prince a little to persuade him to take the risk he took. I appealed to his vanity. In some ways this was similar to the technique I used with Zaralova-Justa.
"But - and this is an important point - he wouldn’t have died unless I’d actively assisted him. For this reason I say that Falym was bold, Zaralova-Justa reckless. For this reason I plead guilty to only one genuine murder.
"I’ve taken long enough. Let me finish with Mr. Big Eye. The deltan representative of the Vital Void Centrum came to see me between Janine and the Sirian Collective Worlds. We had a long conversation and I have no doubt that it was recorded and you will find it in the ship’s data stores. I explained everything to the fungus, just as I have now explained it all to you. It was impressed by the thoroughness of my planning. And in the event that this planning succeeded I had anticipated just such a visit. Knowing something about deltan psychology I reminded it of a few more facts. Mr. Big Eye was personally responsible for authorising the construction of the Kalindy XII. It was also the entity which had proposed the outrageous glamour of the great ‘Galactic Tour’ as a way to rescue an incredibly expensive failure. Now that failure had been magnified a hundred fold so that the name of the Kalindy was infamous on a thousand worlds. Trans Galactic and Supra Light were laughing in the face of Vital Void. Vital Void’s interests might be damaged for years to come and Mr. Big Eye could not possibly continue on the Centrum.
"Deltans have a strange sense of honour. They hate to ‘let the side down’. I proposed that suicide would be the most appropriate response. Just before we reached Earth Mr. Big Eye killed itself by ingesting a subtle rubidium poison complex.
"It couldn’t face the consequences of its actions. That is my charge against the Deltans. They manipulate and they scheme but they haven’t got the courage to see things through. And I out thought Mr. Big Eye all the way.
"I am a regular - a human being. And I stand before you to face Galactic Law.
The Core Worlds want to be free to trade internally without Confederacy restrictions. Let the Confederacy make its own rules. Why should we care? It isn’t necessary for humanity to take notice of the reckless, inadequate and foolish races who want to control us.
"On behalf of the Quiet People I have proved that neither nu, omicron, thetans nor deltans are fit to be represented on the Twenty Seven. Abolish the Alta-Tsey!
Now make of my Trial what you will....”
As Vega drew to a final conclusion Quella’s mind had drifted away into other dimensions. The restless nights had made her sleepy so that she was finding it a little hard to concentrate. She also knew that this last part of his account was missing a crucial part of the truth. And she had lost interest in the long narrative of his rationalisations. When the GalCon signals of the Proscriber flashed out into the amphitheatre she wasn’t ready.
The legal advisor touched her arm lightly.
“You must go now,” he said gently.
She gathered her thoughts and walked across the silver floor to the Speaker’s Podium, suddenly apprehensive and acutely conscious of the interest of millions. It was quite different from the confidence with which she had faced Ship Law as a witness on the Kalindy. Standing before the court, her mouth was dry and for a moment it was as though she were the guilty party. And in a way that was exactly what she felt - guilty by omission. Guilty of not protecting the tourists from Vega. But even as she acknowledged this feeling she knew that it was wrong. It was time to make an answer to ‘Alexander’.
“We’ve all heard what ‘Alexander’ has to say. And in a little while the prosecution will began and justice will be served. But before the formal proceedings resume, as the former captain of the Kalindy I wish to make a short personal statement - a reply to Theodore Vega.
"Vega is making sweeping statements about racial inadequacies based on the example of these poor tourists: individuals who it seems were carefully targeted by the Quiet people. Generalisation from such particular examples is a crude rhetorical trick. Mr. Vega has a very selective (not to say cynical) view of irregular nature. But other interpretations are possible; even more probable. Let me say something about each of the deaths.
"L’Rrantora is the most difficult case. He might well have been a murderer. We don’t yet have complete proof of Vega’s accusations but it doesn’t matter. Let’s accept for the sake of argument that he did all the things he’s accused of. Still, murder is certainly not unknown at the top of human society. I can’t tell you how common it is amongst the omicrons but I might suggest the old human moral,
‘And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother’s eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?’
"Now think about Kaal Dol. He died because he didn’t realise the implications of the adaptation of a Duelling machine to allow for thetan to human interaction. Vega calls it foolishness. If that’s the most serious indictment he can come up with it’s pretty inadequate. But in any case is it really foolishness? How could he have known that the humble ‘Water Weed harvester’ was setting out to trap him and how could he possibly have guessed the lengths to which the Quiet People would go in studying Duelling machines with such a lethal purpose in mind? Of course they would understand this aspect of Duelling machine behaviour better than Kaal Dol when they had made such a special study of it!
"Kaal Dol’s ‘death wish’ is beside the point. Vega set out to kill him in a cynical way which may technically qualify as legal but which is morally untenable.
"Moving on to Zaralova-Justa and Falym, even Vega admits that he used the same technique to kill them both and I find his tenuous distinction between them completely laughable. Take it from me that jumping into a Strip Engine is an extremely stupid thing to do. I don’t think there’s much evidence either way about the relative risks of plunging late into the cloud tides of Avarance, and launching yourself at an extremal black hole. Personally I wouldn’t recommend either. So who was courageous and who was foolhardy? I think they were both foolhardy. It’s only courageous to take chances when there are legitimate reasons for it. I agree that pride isn’t one of them. But this doesn’t make a case to damn the whole nu species or the whole human species for that matter!
"So we come to Mr. Big Eye who has been sadly misunderstood by ‘Alexander’. Fortunately Mr. Big Eye can speak for itself.”
A ripple of interest and excitement passed round the Amphitheatre.
“I don’t mean to say that it’s alive. The deltan is dead and it committed suicide just as Vega has told you. But not for the same reasons. Mr. Big Eye recorded a statement for this Trial - a sort of a valediction which was passed to me. Watch and listen.”
She glared pointedly at the accused. The lights above the Amphitheatre were dimmed and a prismatic projection screen was lowered through the greenery. Cameras swivelled frantically round on their mounts to take in this unexpected intervention. Mr. Big Eye was speaking.
“Citizens of the Confederacy, greetings from beyond the grave,” the fungus began with a grim joke. “I have already recorded my personal farewell to my colleagues on the Centrum, my staff, the crew and the captain. This message is for the Galactic Law Trial or for any investigation which may follow. I do not know at what stage in the proceedings it will be played but I must assume you are addressing the question of my death. When I have completed this message it is my intention to take my own life but I want everyone to understand why.
Theodore Vega has revealed himself to me as ‘Alexander’. He has told me all about his clever scheme to discredit the Confederacy. I understand the ambitions of the Quiet People for the Core Worlds - but they do not! They are wishing for nothing other than descendency. They may claim that humans must be independent and they may chaff at the common rules imposed by Galactic Society. But they should remember that human beings are Dominant and set many of those rules today. Isolationism is a chimera. Humanity cannot be isolated again. Once a species has Emerged they must take full responsibility for their actions and that means that they must face up to their duties in the Confederacy for as long as they can bear it. When it can no longer be borne they must accept descendency. It is too early for human beings to accept that. Perhaps they should no longer think of themselves as ‘regulars’, Dominant ought to be sufficient, but the way of the Quiet People is not the answer. I believe this more strongly than anything else.
"The Confederacy has kept the peace for as long as reliable records survive and they must continue to do so.
"Mr. Vega thinks that the death of the tourists will provoke derision in the Core Worlds and expose the weakness of non human cultures. But I think he is wrong. I think that is his biggest mistake. It betrays a fundamental misunderstanding not only of human nature but the nature of all sentient beings who claim membership of the Confederacy.
"I won’t live to see if I am right but let me make a bet with ‘Alexander’ from beyond the grave. I bet that his actions will do more to consolidate the Confederacy than to break it up. I’m staking my life on it.
"There are two major factors which unite us all - birth and death. We can all experience the joy of continuation of the species in a hostile universe and we must all come to terms with the final end of our own consciousness, no matter how long we may live. That is why everyone is so interested in the Kalindy and its ‘Voyage of Death’. There is a visceral horror and fascination with Death which is universal.
"The Galactic Tour has already gone beyond the confines of history to touch at the roots of a deep underlying archetype. It requires only one thing more to attain the status of Legend.
"It requires a clean sweep.
"All the tourists must perish at the hand of the dread executioner - death personified - ‘Alexander’. So I must perish in order to elevate this sorry voyage beyond the sordid purposes of Mr. Vega. I prophesy that after I am dead the galaxy will look on this Journey and wonder. And far from dividing along petty racial lines they will remember their common experience and be united.
"We must all live through the burdens of life as best we can. And we must all die….”
And with that Mr. Big Eye extended a probing mycelium into a dark bowl : and the colour seemed to flow out of the bowl and into its own substance so that the delicate flesh began to bruise and to blacken before their eyes. And in moments the fungus had started an accelerated deliquescence; the biological cell walls breaking down, no longer able to support the complex structure of its body; the liquid contents escaping with their precious cargo of intellect and memory. Before the projection faded the deltan had been reduced to a lifeless pulp.
