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“How far?” Marle-Marja prodded. “You said that you are here to help us and that you want us to trust you. How can you expect us to trust you if you hide things from us?”

  “I come from a place where two suns shine bright during the day and reflected light from three moons illuminate the night,” she answered.

  Marle-Marja’s mouth fell open. He was about to ask Kristi another question when she announced, “We have arrived.”

  The hovercraft headed for an arrow-shaped island, surrounded on all sides by a jagged coral reef.

  “Look at that!” Marle-Marja exclaimed, his face pressed up against a viewing portal. “No ship could ever sail through that reef. Its hull would be crushed in an instant.”

  “That’s for certain,” Ulric stated. “Even if a ship did come out this far, it could never land on that island.”

  The hovercraft flew over the entire island, providing them a panoramic view of their new home. There were several pools of fresh water, the island’s shore was dotted with tall coconut trees, and its interior was blanketed by raspberry bushes. A small, grass-covered hill stood invitingly at its center, surrounded by a massive grove of blueberry bushes.

  “It’s a good thing that I like raspberries and blueberries,” Marle-Marja announced as they glided toward the hill. “It looks like fish and berries are going to be our primary foods.”

  They landed on the grassy hill. As soon as they had stepped away from the hovercraft it floated up into the sky and, as it turned to head back the way it came, Kristi announced, “This is your new home. You will be safe here. There is plenty of food and water, and no predators. I will visit you from time-to-time to make certain that you are all doing well, and to work with Conor.”

  Baer ran his toes through the soft, warm sand, his fishing line stretched far out into the water. In the distance, three white-faced seabirds darted quickly across the water’s surface, their eyes searching for fish. They dove into the water, one after the other, each emerging with a fish held firmly in its beak. Marle-Marja strolled lazily up the beach heading in Baer’s direction. The sun shined brightly, reflecting off of the water. It was a beautiful, nearly perfect day. Almost precisely like it was on the day they arrived on the island more than three years earlier.

  “Do you think that those seabirds are trying to show you how to fish?” Marle-Marja asked with a big grin.

  Baer smiled and answered, “It’s just a matter of time. Patience is a virtue, that’s what my mother used to say. You will see.”

  Marle-Marja sat next to Baer and leaned back, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sunshine as it washed over his face.

  “Ah,” Marle-Marja sighed, pushing his face up toward the sun.

  Baer smiled and took a moment to check his fishing line, making certain that it hadn’t snagged on any rocks.

  “It is a great day,” Baer stated, giving the line a slight tug. “But it will be even better after I catch tonight’s dinner.”

  As the warm, summer breeze caressed their faces, Conor ran by and nearly tripped over the fishing line.

  “Watch where you are going!” Baer shouted as Conor hurried off toward a nearby grove of coconut trees. “What’s the rush?”

  Conor continued on, yelling over his shoulder, “Sorry. Got to go. Kristi is waiting for me and I’m late. See you later.”

  As Conor disappeared into the trees, Marle-Marja leaned toward Baer and asked, “Another lesson? That’s three days in a row. What do you think she is up to now?”

  “I don’t know,” Baer answered, straightening out the fishing line.

  “I wonder what she is up to,” Marle-Marja repeated, gazing in the direction Conor had gone. “I don’t like this at all.”

  “Relax,” Baer answered. “Kristi would never do anything that would harm Conor in any way. You are just jealous that you cannot have him all to yourself.”

  “I am not jealous!” Marle-Marja stated defensively. “I just don’t like all of this secrecy. And have you noticed that the lessons are becoming more frequent? She used to meet with him once a week, then twice a week, and now it is every day. Something is up and I don’t like not knowing what is going on. I don’t like it, not one bit.”

  “The hardest part of being a good parent is knowing when to let go,” Baer stated, reaching for his fishing pole.

  “He’s three years old!” Marle-Marja exclaimed. “I hardly think that it is time to let him go.”

  “Three going on 20,” Baer answered.

  “He may look like he’s 20,” Marle-Marja replied. “But we both know that he is still a baby. He trusts everyone, especially her. She is up to something. I know it.”

  “Relax,” Baer repeated. “If it wasn’t for Kristi, we would all be dead.”

  “Maybe so,” Marle-Marja replied. “But I have a bad feeling about this. I can feel it in my bones.”

  Conor stood at the bottom of the hovercraft’s staircase, waiting for Kristi to appear. He tried his best to put on his “who me?” look of innocence. Kristi walked down the staircase and was not amused.

  “You cannot get off that easily,” Kristi announced, her soft, feminine voice filling his mind. “Where have you been? You are late. You know that the robocameras orbiting this planet will be over this island in just a few hours. We must take advantage of every window of opportunity.”

  Conor smiled and answered apologetically, “I was exploring and I guess I forgot about the time. But I wasn’t just playing around. I was practicing. I came across this old wart hog and I had him walking around on his hind legs. You should have seen him. It was hilarious.”

  “That is not funny,” Kristi answered sternly, not amused at all. “This is not a game. You have special powers and you must develop them. You have a job to do.”

  “What do you mean I have a job to do?” Conor asked.

  “You will be leaving this place soon,” Kristi answered.

  “I will?” Conor asked out loud, forgetting in his excitement that he was supposed to be using telepathy. “Are we all going?”

  “Yes,” Kristi answered. “Baer, Ulric, and Marle-Marja will accompany you and I will continue to visit when I can avoid the robocameras.”

  “Where are we going?” Conor asked excitedly.

  “To the northern plains,” Kristi answered. “The Tolls are in disarray. Most of their chiefs have been killed. But there are still many Tolls warriors who are in hiding and there is an innkeeper in the village who has organized a resistance movement. We will start with them. They need a leader to unite them. You are their rightful King. They will follow you. It’s time we retook this world.”

  Chapter 8

  THE COMMON GOOD

  Michael slammed his fist on the computer console.

  “That is insane!” he shouted.

  Dee Sanders leaned forward, her face filling the computer screen.

  “Don’t yell at me!” she shouted. “It’s not my fault. I’m just the messenger.”

  Michael sank back into his chair, a note of resignation sweeping across his face.

  “This is ridiculous,” he sighed. “They can’t reverse themselves now.”

  “They can, if they want to,” Dee replied. “It is unusual, but you have to admit that the timing of that little war on that pet planet of yours could not have been worse.”

  “That was three years ago,” Michael answered. “There has been very little bloodshed since the Batar took over.”

  “True, but there has also been absolutely no technological development on that planet since they took over,” she continued. “You know how it works. It’s all about the credits. It looked like they had a chance when the Court voted for the implant. Now, it’s not looking very good. The new rulers on your planet are brutes. Not exactly the kind of genetic material that we are looking for.”

  “They were given 50 years to achieve spaceflight and 100 to reach the nearest star,” Michael answered.

  “They killed the implant,” she answered. “Not exactly a good start. Plus, yo
u know how it is. There are planets that have exhausted their natural resources, others that have severe overpopulation problems, and still others that simply want a place to send their undesirables. They are demanding that all viable planets with primitive populations be rebooted and opened up for colonization and mineral extraction. You were very lucky that your planet was granted a reprieve. However, given what has happened, many on the Court doubt that it will ever be a viable trading partner. They think that it would be better to do a reboot now and get it over with.”

  “I hate that word,” Michael stated. “Reboot makes it sound so simple and clean. Why don’t they just call it what it is – global genocide.”

  “Careful,” she replied. “It’s not wise to use such language, even over a secure channel. You know how it works. The Court decides the fate of all non-Member planets. The Justices have your reports and the robocameras have been recording events on that planet for years. The Justices will take everything into consideration and make the decision that is best for the common good.”

  “For maximizing credits,” Michael answered.

  “That is the common good,” she replied. “Always has been, always will be.”

  “Easy for you to say,” Michael continued. “You are not the one facing extinction.”

  “As I said before,” Dee answered. “It’s not my fault. I am just the messenger.”

  “So,” Michael continued with a loud sigh. “What can we do to fix this mess?”

  “I’m not sure that we can,” Dee answered. “The planet’s fate will be decided sometime during the current Court session. Frankly, it does not look very promising. Their technological development has stagnated and their social development has regressed. Aerial scanning shows huge mineral deposits under the inhabited continent. The extraction companies are drooling over the prospect of developing that land. Plus, it has the most appealing climate of the four continents. It’s ideally suited for colonization.”

  “But what about them?” Michael asked. “You just can’t exterminate them.”

  “It’s not up to me,” she replied. “Maybe some planets will take them in. But I doubt it. In the old days, there was always someone willing to take in primitives to do jobs that no one else wanted to do. Robots do those jobs now.”

  “But the fighting has stopped,” Michael pleaded, wondering if he had made a mistake by not telling her about Conor’s rescue. “They just need some more time.”

  “Not my call,” she answered.

  “They are a good risk,” Michael continued.

  “Not my call,” she repeated.

  “I would be willing to give up my discovery bonus to buy them some more time,” Michael stated.

  “Noble gesture,” she answered. “But that’s a pittance compared to what the land and mineral rights will generate at open auction.”

  “I have invested a lot of time and effort on these people,” he continued. “I know them. I know them very well. They show great promise. It would be a mistake to kill them. A very big mistake.”

  “It sounds to me like you have become emotionally involved,” she stated. “You know the rules. Keep your distance. Maybe you have spent too much time on that planet.”

  “This is crazy,” Michael answered. “With a little assistance and some time they can achieve spaceflight.”

  “They were given a reprieve,” she answered sharply. “They messed up. And let me remind you of something. This is not a debate. My call to you is simply to inform you of the Court’s decision to reconsider the planet’s reprieve and that you are being recalled to Rylyn. You are to leave that planet will all due haste and report back to me when you arrive. Sanders out.”

  The computer screen went blank. It then flickered twice. Dee’s image reappeared. She placed her right index finger to her lips, signaling Michael not to say a word. A security override message scrolled across the bottom of the screen, indicating that the message was being delayed momentarily as it was being scrambled, encrypted, and reassembled.

  “Sorry for all of the drama,” she continued. “Brandix thinks that my messages are being monitored. I am now using his personal security channel to protect this conversation. The Justice’s channels are impregnable. Our first conversation was for the benefit for those who might be listening in. This one is fully secure. As you might have guessed, the review of your planet has little to do with their lack of technological progress. That is just the pretext being used.”

  “I knew it!” Michael exclaimed. “What is really going on?”

  “You are,” she answered. “There is an organized effort on the Court to discredit you.”

  “Discredit me?” Michael asked, shocked. “Why would anyone on the Court give a damn about me?”

  “Because,” she continued, her eyes scanning the room about her, as if she expected someone to be listening in on their conversation. “There is going to be a vacancy on the Court. And not just any vacancy. The Chief Justice herself is stepping down. That opens up the Court for new leadership. And the person who fills that seat will have a role in picking the new Chief Justice. As you can imagine, a lot of people are interested in running for that seat and who that person might be. Your name has appeared on the short list of possible replacements.”

  Michael was flabbergasted.

  “You have got to be kidding,” Michael stated. “I’m not a politician. I have never run for anything in my life. Besides, I am very happy with my current job. Who in their right mind would nominate me?”

  “Actually,” she stated, a sly grin spreading across her face. “I talked Brandix into nominating you.”

  “Dee!” Michael exclaimed. “Don’t you think that you should have asked me first?”

  “I thought about it,” she answered. “But I knew what you would have said. You would have said that you are very happy roaming around the universe with Alex and Kristi, searching for planets to join the Consortium.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Michael answered defensively. “I am living the dream. I do what I want, when I want. And I actually like what I do for a living. It does not get any better than that.”

  “It’s time for you to grow up,” Dee stated. “You can do so much more.”

  “We have accomplished quite a lot,” Michael answered. “We have discovered three barren, but habitable planets that are currently being colonized; another one with abundant mineral deposits and a treasure trove of exotic wildlife; three others are now Full Members; another is now a Junior Member; and this one shows promise. No one has done anything close to that.”

  “Exactly my point,” Dee answered. “The three of you have been an impressive team. No one else in the entire Interstellar Reconnaissance Service comes close to what the three of you have accomplished. That is precisely why you would be a great nominee for the Court. The people adore you. You are a living legend. The videopapers have portrayed you as a swashbuckling adventurer with a heart of gold. We couldn’t ask for a better, more electable candidate. Your positives are through the roof. Besides, think of the good that you could do for the IR program. As you know, its budget has been frozen for years. Many in the Assembly want to do away with it entirely. Paying bounties to mercenaries is cheaper than keeping the IR program going. Mercenaries don’t demand pensions, vacations, and longevity pay increases. They get paid for results, not promises.”

  “That is only half of the story,” Michael interrupted. “Mercenaries may cost less, but they don’t give a damn about the planet’s inhabitants. All they care about is the discovery bonus. If we turned all exploration over to them we would rarely, if ever, have any new Junior Members. We all know what mercenaries do to newly-discovered pre-spaceflight populations. They reboot them. To them, it’s all about maximizing credits.”

  “I agree,” she answered. “Brandix also agrees with you. But credits talk. You know the old saying; in the long-run we are all dead, so enjoy the day. There are many voices in the Assembly who see reboots as a way to enjoy the day.”

>   “Those people should be rebooted,” Michael answered.

  “That is why you need to be on the Court,” she continued. “You are smart, honest, and open-minded; rare commodities these days. You also see the value of looking to the future and planning ahead. You also know when it’s time to cut your losses when you are dealt a losing hand. You would make a wonderful addition to the Court. Brandix is just one vote short of controlling the Court. He needs your help. I need your help. The IR program needs your help. Don’t let those who live for today ruin it for the rest of us.”

  Michael knew when to surrender.

  “Let me guess,” Michael stated. “There is no way to withdraw my name from consideration. Am I right?”

  “Not unless you want to end my career,” Dee answered. “And lose that planet of yours.”

  “That is really low,” Michael stated. “What you are really saying is that unless I come home, campaign for the job, and win – these people are all dead.”

  “Welcome to the world of interstellar politics,” Dee answered, waiting for Michael to say what she knew he had to say.

  “Well, then,” Michael announced, reaching for the off button. “I guess that you have a candidate.”

  “Great!” Dee exclaimed, her image fading away. “You will not regret this.”

  Michael leaned forward and answered the now blank screen, “I already regret it.”

  Chapter 9

  A CHANGE OF PLANS

  Michael leaned over and buckled Conor’s restraining belt.

  “There is nothing to worry about,” Michael reassured him as he tightened the belt. “There is a little jolt and then some pressure on your chest. But that lasts for just a moment or two, and then that’s it.”

  Conor forced a smile. He did his best to look completely relaxed and at ease, but this was a lot different than flying in the hovercraft. Michael’s starship was nearly a quarter of a mile tall and hundreds of feet across. He knew that the odds of anything going wrong were infinitesimally small, that there had not been a major accident during a lift-off or a landing in over a millennium. But this just felt wrong.