The Lotus Eaters

Any example of power without the sense of, and acceptance of, responsibility is doomed to disaster.

The elites separate themselves out in space from the ill effects of their ill-conceived programs and inane philosophies. They separate themselves socially and informationally from being reminded or informed. Thus, they award themselves power and influence without any concomitant responsibility. This, however, is not the only way that the separation of power and responsibility can occur.

As the elites separate themselves in space, so do the masses separate themselves in time, voting for the immediately good and pleasurable and leaving it to their heirs, should they have any, to pay the price. The people may vote themselves hefty pension and retiree medical programs from their governments. If they have neither the sense of responsibility to save on their own behalf, nor to bear and raise the children who will work on their behalf, such irresponsible schemes are doomed . . .

In no area is irresponsibility as likely to grow as in matters of sex. Elites, being irresponsible and especially sexually irresponsible, encourage this sort of irresponsibility on the part of the people . . .

—Jorge y Marqueli Mendoza,

Historia y Filosofia Moral,

Legionary Press, Balboa,

Terra Nova, Copyright AC 468

Anno Domini 2525–2526 Anno Condita 471 UEPF Spirit of Peace, Lunar Orbit

Maneuvering in zero G, while carrying a cup of coffee, was no mean feat. Fortunately, the cup was sealed and Esmeralda had had some chance to practice. She smiled shyly as she placed the magnetic-bottomed cup into an indentation in the arm of Richard's command chair.

The Earl of Care couldn't help but notice how the girl's midnight hair billowed out in a sort of halo framing her face. He thought she was unbearably lovely.

'Thank you, Esma,' Richard said warmly. 'Any last message from the High Admiral?'

Esmeralda leaned close and whispered, 'She says, 'Do it. Now.' '

The Earl of Care and Captain of the Peace sighed. 'I was afraid of that. Wish me luck.'

'You know I do, Richard,' said the Isthmian girl.

They weren't lovers, surprisingly. At least Marguerite was surprised. But Esmeralda was quite young and Richard, in this as in other matters, quite decent. Also, as he'd admitted to Wallenstein when she'd asked, he was for a Class One rather inexperienced.

In time, perhaps.

Richard pressed a button on the chair, close beside the zero G coffee cup. 'High Admiral, this is the captain. The tugs are ready. We're ready. Three hundred second countdown to begin maneuver out of the lunar shadow begins in . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . now.'

* * *

Further aft in the ship, in the admiral's bridge, Wallenstein fretted far more than Richard did. The big Kurosawa screen on one wall was split into a dozen frames, showing the Captain, several different views of the rest of the bridge, forward of the ship, the tugs, the former colonization vessel, Jean Monnet, trailing, with its tugs, and certain critical ship's charts.

Marguerite fretted, I've drilled the boy silly, hand carried him as much as I could, pushed him into the deep water when that seemed a good idea, mentored and nagged and . . . Elder gods, I hope I prepared him well enough.

The speakers concealed in the walls announced, 'two-thirty-seven . . . two-thirty-six . . . two-thirty- five . . .'

Marguerite concentrated on the image of Richard's face. He's doing pretty well with the whole 'confident look' thing. And his voice is steady. The crew seems not too worried. And I'm being an old woman.

Marguerite felt the ship shudder around her as the tugs took magnetic hold. It wasn't, strictly speaking, necessary to use the tugs. Yet saving reaction mass for emergencies was always wise.

'One-twenty-two . . .'

* * *

'Seventy-seven . . . Seventy-six . . .'

'Stations report,' Richard ordered, his voice much calmer than he really felt. He remembered all the simulation he had screwed up, and remembered them deep in his bones.

'You're doing fine, Richard,' Esmeralda whispered again. She still hadn't left the side of his command chair. He found a considerable comfort in her proximity, more perhaps than he consciously recognized.

'Navigation nominal, reaction mass temperature and pressure optimal . . . Engineering, ninety-six percent power, captain . . . Life support, air mix optimal . . . Medical . . .'

'Fifty-two . . . fifty-one . . .'

'Lunar laser boost station reports ready to push, Captain.'

'Forty . . . thirty-nine . . . thirty-eight . . .'