“Well… that varies. The value of the obligation depends on how much time a woman has been in service. Of course, their maintenance is added to the total, as are any extraordinary costs such as further transportation…”
“You mean feeding, clothing, doctoring, and then transporting them, possibly against their will to say, Respite, actually adds to their obligation?”
“Naturally. Any unobligated citizen would have to pay for those things…”
“But they’d have a choice, Jenks,” Matt pointed out. “And to then charge them for transportation to another place where they can be further enslaved for someone else’s gain…!”
“I thought we’d moved past the ‘slavery’ dispute!” Jenks said.
“No, we haven’t, because that’s still exactly what it is! What’s to stop an owner of an ‘obligation’ from just shifting a worker-a woman!-around as long as he likes, island to island and workplace to workplace, constantly adding to her ‘debt’ for her entire life?”
Jenks blinked. “I… I honestly never thought about it like that.” He seemed sincere and… horrified. He straightened. “I’m a Naval officer, and until recently, I avoided politics as best I could.”
Bradford grunted. “It sounds as though the vast majority of your people have as well. Most are probably as ignorant as you, if the majority of these-possible-abuses take place on your frontiers.” He raised an eyebrow at the others. “Do remember that we’re still dealing in conjecture here. We have no evidence that this ‘perpetual obligation system’ actually occurs, just a speculation that it might.”
Matt almost laughed. He was still digesting some of Bradford’s new theories regarding how they might have wound up ‘here’ in the first place. “Lack of evidence has never stopped you from ‘speculating’ away on every conceivable topic, Courtney!”
Bradford grinned and stroked a nostril with his forefinger. “Indeed. But let us leave off persecuting the poor commodore for now. The system he described does seem to have begun innocently enough. Through our own brief contact with these Company thugs-virtual Nazis, if I may make so bold-we do have ample evidence of their treachery and deceit. I do not find it at all difficult to believe that the ultimate result of this particular institution has been perverted, warped, and molded to fit whatever diabolical agenda the Company ultimately serves.”
“Hear, hear!” exclaimed Lieutenant Grimsley, Jenks’s exec. He’d remained silent, slowly sinking into his chair throughout the discussion. If Jenks “avoided” politics, he’d always tried to pretend they didn’t exist. At least before Billingsley abducted the princess and the others. Emboldened by his voice, and the generally agreeable response to his words, Grimsley turned to Matt.
“Pardon me, Captain Reddy, but may I ask why you are suddenly so interested in the cost of these obligations?”
“Sure,” Matt replied. “Gold isn’t really money among our friends. Not yet, anyway. That said, we took on a… little… when we refueled at Mindanao-‘Paga-Daan.’ I’d like some idea how many Respitan women this ship can purchase out of bondage… and set free.” He looked at Jenks. “You might want to think about that too. One way or another, we’re going to kill this goddamn ‘Honorable New Britain Company,’ so the ‘trade’ is basically over, if I have anything to say about it. Consider this: all these women who’ve been under the Company and, yes, Imperial thumb for all these generations probably don’t have much loyalty to either one. You say some still even adhere to this sick mix of Catholicism and… whatever else it is. Those I ‘buy’ will have the options of staying where they are, becoming free citizens of the Alliance, or maybe even joining the United States Navy, God help me. At least in noncombat roles. I’ll bet most choose between the latter two.”
CHAPTER 15
Andaman Island
A lmost all the commanders of every force within what was now inclusively described as “First Fleet” were present in Aahd-mah-raal Keje-Fris-Ar’s vast quarters aboard Salissa Home. The sole exception was Greg Garrett, who was patrolling the strait aboard Donaghey, dodging mountain fish and chasing the few Grik ships still trying to sneak past. The meeting began with a friendly meal, in the Lemurian way, and no serious business was discussed until the last plate was removed. It didn’t take long for the diners to finish. All were anxious to discuss the outcome of the Battle of Raan-goon. Overall command of First Fleet had already been formally turned over to Keje, and he sat at the head of a long, ornately carved dining table. Formal dining tables were not the norm among sea folk, who tended to eat from plates on their laps while lounging on comfortable cushions, but that sort of arrangement was awkward when discussions involved so many. Somebody always had to shout to be heard. The vast table allowed a formal setting where discussion could take place with everyone at eye level and easy to hear-if Navy decorum was observed.
Keje had taken the idea from the hideous green-topped wardroom table aboard Walker, and he encouraged the same kind of free-flowing back and forth he’d witnessed there. His table wasn’t green, however; it was a well-oiled, polished, inlaid thing of beauty; hand-carved with delicate raised relief and possessed of deep, dark, mysterious grains. It would probably never be used for surgery, but it served all the other necessary purposes. Those around it all sat on stools, an essential compromise, and one that didn’t inconvenience humans or Lemurians. ’Cats and their tails always had a difficult time with human chairs.
Keje glanced around the table, listening to the gently rumbling conversations, and then wiped his mouth with a napkin. Pushing back his stool, he raised his large cup of seep.
“My friends, comrades in the Holy Crusade of our time, let all Fleet elements that participated now add the word ‘Raan-goon’ to the folds of their flags, to commemorate this great victory!”
There followed applause, foot stamping, and a little gentle knocking on the magnificent table amid the hoots of approval. Even the captains of Scott and Kas-Ra-Ar were pleased. They’d both initially been put out by the rumored proclamation, and Captain Cablaas-Rag-Lan of Scott even transmitted a protest to the flagship. He’d suggested that Salissa herself shouldn’t claim the honor if they couldn’t. Keje patiently replied that Salissa brought the planes and Scott and Kas-Ra-Ar escorted Salissa, so of course they had “participated.”
“Let it be recorded on the flags,” Keje continued, “and let it be set down in the very Sacred Scrolls! Let the Scrolls also reflect that Commodore Ellis led First Fleet to its first victory, and General Aal-den designed the battle that exterminated the Grik from the environs of Raan-goon!” There was more acclaim, and Keje poised his cup to drink. “My friend Adar, once Sky Priest of this very Home and now Chairman of the Grand Alliance, has received my report and asks that I offer these words: ‘May we all pray to the Heavens above in whatever way we choose, that this victory will be the first of many, leading to that final, ultimate victory when the Grik vermin are no more!’ ” Everyone drank then, and the room thundered around them. Keje sat and motioned for more seep. “Now,” he said, as the celebration waned, “tell me everything that went wrong.” There was no accusation in his tone, only a genuine desire to learn what hadn’t worked so they could fix it next time. Next time there might be no room for error at all.
“Your Excellency,” Jim began, addressing Keje as the head of state he was, but Keje held up a hand.
“Commodore Ellis-yes, you will retain that designation for now-we have finally solved that… bureau-craatic… issue quite nicely, I believe. Mr. Letts struck upon the solution while holding his drooling new youngling, as I understand it.” There was laughter. “It strikes me as… appropriate, and even elegant, perhaps.” He looked around. “I have accepted a ‘Reserve Commission’ in the Amer-i-caan Navy! While I command First Fleet, I am aahd-mah-raal only. I still have a vote in the Allied Council, but as a different person, representing a different Home. I think Mr. Letts was pondering the profound contrasts between being both a father and Adar’s chief of staff at the same time. He realized that the one duty need not preclude the other. In any event, Salissa has accepted a reserve commission as well, and for the purposes of First Fleet, she is the U.S. Navy Ship CV-1, Salissa!”