Needless to say, they were entranced by the work that had been accomplished in the short trip to Earth, and none of the notables present commented on the lack of personal success on Rabat’s part. This, of course, only fueled the fire of her malice.
Following the completion of Dr. Chuen’s impassioned presentation, the last of her team chiefs to speak, she stood up and took her place at the podium that stood like the hub of the half-wheel of padded chairs from which the eyes of the Council looked down upon her.
“Mr. President,” she said in her best subordinate voice, “ladies and gentlemen of the Council, let me conclude the research team’s statements with some observations that may serve as food for thought as the Council considers the subject’s place and future within the Confederation.”
Rabat did not notice the Navy yeoman who entered through the room’s rear doors like a stealthy field mouse and hurriedly sought out Admiral Zhukovski, who sat beside Melissa Savitch in the small audience arrayed well behind the podium. Zhukovski listened to the man for a moment, then dismissed him. Melissa noted the fleeting impression of a smile across his face, but he refused to answer her signaled question: What was that about?
“As you have already heard,” Deliha went on, “while the subject has adapted extremely well to Standard, he has not uttered a single word of his adopted language, nor has he given any insight whatsoever into Kreelan customs or capabilities outside of those with which he, personally, is endowed.
“In short, he has consciously withheld information that is vital to the security of the Confederation, despite the clear understanding on his part of our need to learn of his experiences. Further, the physiological alterations to the subject apparently have been accompanied by no less significant psychological changes, which undoubtedly are responsible for the subject’s genius level scoring in several areas of the psychological test battery and a phenomenal score in the extra-sensory perception portion of the tests.”
Several of the council members raised their eyebrows at that. It was common knowledge that some individuals possessed a certain “sixth sense,” in some cases active at a level that could be measured with the appropriate scientific techniques. However, Reza’s test results weren’t simply phenomenal; they were literally off the charts.
“Finally,” Rabat continued, “it is my professional opinion and conclusion, as leader of the debriefing mission, that this physiological and psychological transformation was indeed deliberate on the part of unknown powers within the Kreelan Empire, and was done with malignant intent toward the Human Confederation. This leads me to recommend to the Council that the subject be treated as a significant threat to Confederation security, and should be peaceably confined while a much more thorough interrogation is undertaken using all measures appropriate to the potential threat.”
The room fell into a quiet, uneasy murmur. While at home or at meetings dealing with the social welfare of their frequently embattled worlds, the members of the Council generally were predisposed to show dignified compassion. But in matters of security, brought up in the dark times of a seemingly endless war that had cost billions of lives and dozens of worlds destroyed, a more callused eye was focused on matters such as those at hand; conflict did little to instill trust in those besieged.
It’s happening again, Melissa Savitch thought to herself as she saw the mood of the room swing from nearly awestruck interest to fearful muttered musings. Rabat had even managed to play Reza’s strengths against him, Melissa saw now, using his superior abilities to highlight the fears Rabat was trying to draw out. Melissa’s spine became a rod of iron as she made to stand up and take a stand against this insanity. This was not about any threat to Confederation security, it was not about Reza’s right to be human if he so chose. It was about power. “I object to–”
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Zhukovski rumbled, his good hand unobtrusively drawing Melissa back down into her seat, its strength communicating her need to cooperate quickly, “Gospodin Prezident and Council, I would like to speak, if I may.”
Without another word, Melissa sat down.
“By all means, Admiral Zhukovski,” the president said pleasantly, but with a poker face to conceal any thoughts of his own. While Zhukovski was one of the only people in the room whose judgment he truly trusted, the president also had to be a politician, which sometimes forced him to ignore good advice for far less noble purposes. They were on far more delicate ground than even Zhukovski probably realized. Mistakes here could trigger political repercussions that could topple the present government, and the president chose not to think about what would happen to the Confederation as a democracy if that happened.
Zhukovski bowed his head to honor his commander-in-chief before he began to speak. “It seems we find ourselves balancing future of entire race on outcome of one man’s knowledge, and yet again are tempted into quick solution based on scant knowledge we ourselves possess. And all of this based on premise that Reza is not necessarily Confederation citizen, that he is different, not one of our kollektiv, and thus may be treated in any fashion found desirable and convenient, even unto death.
“But this… rationale, it would seem, now has – how do we call it? – litmus test.” He held aloft the message the yeoman had left with him. “It has come to my attention that certain young Navy officer has personal knowledge of Reza Gard as youth on Hallmark.”
This caused a stir of surprise in the audience and across the semicircle of the Council.
“Do you mean to say, admiral,” boomed Senator Borge, the president’s chief rival from the Opposition Party, “that this person knew Reza from before the Kreelan attack?”
“Exactly so, honorable senator,” Zhukovski told him. “And to answer any question of how viable is her knowledge, I submit that it would be in best interests of all concerned if this officer was allowed re-introduction to Reza in hopes of verifying his identity, and to perhaps help build personal and cultural bridge he may cross to join our culture.” He glared at Rabat and Major General Tensch, who still openly advocated a deep-core procedure on Reza, whether he was found to still hold citizenship or not. “I would also suggest that reintroduction be made here, for all members to witness. Only a few who now sit in this room have ever laid eyes on young man whose fate we charge ourselves with deciding. It would be only fair to him.” And to ourselves, he added silently. “I am sure Dr. Rabat’s host of experts can provide Council verification of Admiral L’Houillier’s officer, that she is telling truth both about what she knows and about whatever may take place should Council agree to such meeting between her and Reza.”
“Do you feel confident that this is so, Dr. Rabat?” the president asked.
Rabat seethed at the way Zhukovski had boxed her into a corner, but there was no alternative, for the moment, at least. She had to cooperate or she would look like that fool Tensch.
“Of course, sir,” she admitted evenly. “I think even Reza has been baselined enough to know if he is telling the truth.” This was the best compromise statement she could make without leaving herself open to charges of outright lying; in all the time the team had worked with Reza, not one single time had he lied or even bent the truth, to the best of their knowledge. If he did not wish to address something, he would simply remain silent. Apparently, silence or the complete truth were the only options available to his tongue. “And the officer Admiral Zhukovski has mentioned should be easy enough to deal with.”