The Lotus Eaters

keep their vote, if not indefinitely, then often long after they have died. The latter is reinforcement for the former.

Consider: War, which is perhaps the Balboans' major export industry in the form of high priced auxiliaries, typically reduces the numbers, hence the political power, of those who have no objection to waging it. Under the Balboan system, while those individual numbers may be reduced, the political power of the class that feels that way remains at full strength, since the centuries in which those people were joined vote at full strength on their behalf, even after death.

Consider: People tend to grow more conservative with age. The fact that members of centuries are not replaced means that those centuries grow older and more conservative even as their strength of numbers lessens. This weights the Balboan political process, more or less heavily, in favor of conservatism and traditional values.

Consider: The entire gamut of philosophies we tend to think of as Liberalism, Internationalism, Cosmopolitanism, Tsarist-Marxism, Progressivism, Humanitarianism, etc. have as one of their major values one form or another of anti-militarism. These people, and Balboa has something approaching its share, tend not to join the Legion, not to be accessed into political centuries, to be barred from most public offices (though some do squeak through into the legislative assembly), and thus to be effectively politically disenfranchised, even though they may retain the right to vote for the Legislative Assembly.

Chapter Twelve

The inevitable transition from left wing progressivism to oppressive hereditary aristocracy, on Old Earth, was already written plain in the nature of what was then called the 'Transnational Progressive Movement,' on that world, then, or 'Cosmopolitan Progressive,' now, on ours.

It was and is written plain in the extraordinary care these people take to ensure the well being of themselves and their children. Are they part of a fund starved organization seeking to do good? This is no reason not to have human servants at their meetings to pour the water. Neither is it a reason for them not to be paid at the very highest rates prevailing anywhere. Less still is it a reason not to ensure that their children are funded to the best possible schools. And, take it as a given, they really need to live in the best their city of residence has to offer. And all at the expense of their underfunded organizations.

It was and is to be seen in the grandiose titles and honors these people granted and grant themselves; 'High' this and 'Plenipotentiary' that, 'Extraordinary' that and 'Grand' this . . .'Your Excellency' and 'Eminence.'

It was and is clear in the favors they do for each other, and each other's children, as it is in the bounties they salt away for those children.

Indeed, it is seen in the broad harm they do humanity, even as they claim the good. For what does it matter if they ruin mankind, so long as the servants pour the water, the pay is high, their own children are cared for, their titles resound, and they have enough graft to pay for that First Landing mansion?

—Jorge y Marqueli Mendoza,

Historia y Filosofia Moral,

Legionary Press, Balboa,

Terra Nova, Copyright AC 468

Anno Domini 2524 Anno Condita 471 UEPF Spirit of Peace, Luna Starship Holding and Storage Area

High Admiral Wallenstein felt the shuttle bay doors slam shut through the metal under her feet. She couldn't hear them at all. The shuttle itself, on the outside a twin for the partially restored one in a subterranean workshop in the Isla Real, on Terra Nova, was already resting on the deck before the bay was sealed against the vacuum.

Marguerite intended to meet the new captain, Richard, Earl of Care, on the shuttle deck. She didn't have to; indeed it was somewhat contrary to normal protocol. She was there because she absolutely didn't want the crew engaging in proskynesis and the only way to make sure that didn't happen was to be there, issue the order, and ensure it was carried out, herself.

Debarking for the Earl and new captain had to wait until the air was returned to the shuttle deck and the reception committee had filed out and formed up. A recorded bosun's pipe sounded, the crew—other than Marguerite—came to attention, the hatch to the shuttle opened, and Richard, Earl of Care, stepped out.

Elder Gods, Marguerite thought, he looks . . . scared. Oh, sure, he's trying to hide it but you can see that he's hiding it. Who would have thought? After being raised with all the arrogance of the First Class?

Richard stepped down to the deck, faced Marguerite, and made a half bow. She returned about a tenth of it, doing little more than inclining her head. The Earl of Care then straightened, made a typically stiff cadet's salute and announced, 'Richard, Earl of Care, reports to the High Admiral of the Peace Fleet.'

Marguerite returned the salute, and this she did fully, said, 'Follow me,' and without a glance backwards walked off the flight deck and through the hatchway.

* * *

Richard, Earl of Care, noticed the lovely brown girl tidying up Wallenstein's office as soon as he entered the room. She curtseyed and went back to her work until the High Admiral said, 'Thank you, Esmeralda. We'll be fine for now.'

'Can I get you anything, my lady?' the ex-slavegirl asked. Like the other four hundred and seventeen slaves commandeered by the High Admiral, she'd been freed and given a choice. Since the choice was join the fleet or go back home—to TransIsthmia, in her case—she, like every one of the others, had chosen the fleet. Still, if she hadn't had all the choice imaginable, at least she was a genuine member of the crew, with pay and a degree of dignity and self worth. Wallenstein hoped those things might make up for the many, many indignities Esmeralda had suffered in her short life.

Taking a seat by a small conference table, rather than at her desk, Marguerite told the girl, 'If you would inform