Societies must have rules. They do not survive otherwise, Van protested.
The Farhkan laughed. You are correct. Societies must develop rules. Rules that are imposed in the name of a deity are always flawed. They are flawed because they are inflexible. The universe changes. Even the laws of the universe are not inflexible.
Van had to think about what sort of flaws the Farhkan meant. Without firm guidelines, human beings can bend anything in any fashion.
Is that not true of any creature that develops intelligence and the ability to reason?
That wasn’t exactly an answer, was it? You’re saying that there are no moral absolutes?
A solar flare explodes from a sun. A culture, a species dies. This happens in the universe. Is this unethical? How can it be? That is how the universe is. A human finds a way to create a solar flare; he uses it to destroy a world. Why is that any different from what the universe does time and time again?
It is different, Van protested.
The result is the same. Do you claim the universe is unethical?
Intelligent beings have the right…the duty…to create order and ethics.
For whom? The universe? Do you have this duty to create or impose your order upon me? Or upon all Farhkans? Do I have the duty to impose such order upon you? Upon all humans?
Van could sense a combination of irony, coldness, and yet even humor in the projections of the Farhkan.
Are you saying that there is no such concept or requirement as ethical actions? he asked.
Did I ever suggest that? You are confused if you think so. Think upon what Pilot Desoll did. Until you do, there is little more that you will learn.
Van doubted that he had learned anything—except that the Farhkans seemed strangely indifferent to Trystin’s use of the nova device.
We are not indifferent. There was a sense of both regret and amusement. Never have we been indifferent to those who struggle with ethics. Why would you think we are indifferent?
You helped…you allowed…
Is there any difference between imposing a rule or forbidding an action? When are either effective or useful?
Van knew he had an answer, but was still struggling with what it might be.
We have allowed you to question. That we never allowed Pilot Desoll. The universe changes. You must ask yourself why he acted as he did, not us. There was a long pause. You may go.
The room shifted, and Van blinked.
When he finished blinking, the room was empty, the door leading to the corridor open once more. He looked around, but the room remained. He left the chamber and began to walk down the musky, clean-smelling corridor back to the Joyau…slowly.
Why had he come? What had he hoped for?
Answers. He had wanted answers.
The Farhkan had thrown the questions back at him, as if to say that Van knew or could find those answers. Or the answer to why a man Van had thought ethical had murdered five hundred million people.
He frowned, realizing that they had given him something. Jhare had as much as said that there was an answer.
But was there? Or were the Farhkans playing a far deeper game, one that menaced the entire human race? Yet why would they do that? They clearly had the resources and the technology to wipe out any human system they wanted.
Van kept walking. Questions or not, answers or not, he had too many systems to visit, beginning with Keshmara. And then Meroe.
But there were answers…weren’t there?
Chapter 80
A tall man in shifting white robes and a turban—probably the same aide Van had seen the last time he had been in Keshmar—ushered him into the fifth-floor waiting area.
“The minister will be with you shortly.” The tall man bowed and turned, leaving Van alone.
Van made his way to the wide armaglass window offering a west-facing panorama of the planetary capital. The morning sun gave the River Khorl a deep blue appearance that highlighted the plaza beyond and the domed and templelike buildings that seemed to be everywhere in Keshmar.
“Director Albert?” offered a heavyset man in white robes, who stood by the doorway to the inner chamber. “The minister will see you.”
Van entered the minister’s receiving office, with its circle of stools set around a low table.
Minister Sahid, a good head shorter than Van, stood before the chairs and table. “Director Albert…a pleasure to see you again.”
“It is equally one to see you, too, Minister Sahid.” Van bowed.
“Please be seated.” The minister gestured to the stools.
Van waited until the older man seated himself. Almost as soon as he had, a young man carried a tray with two small cups upon it into the room, presenting the tray first to Van. Van could smell the strong black café even before he picked up the cup.
“I was most sorry to hear of the death of Director Desoll. You are kind—and diligent—to come to see us.”
“You have always been supportive of IIS, and we share the same objectives in seeking to maintain the independence of smaller systems.”
“Your efforts have been most valued in the past.” The minister offered a crooked smile. “There are some who would say that times have changed and that we have no need of them now.”
“There are those, I am sure,” Van replied. “There are always those who advocate throwing away that which has served well following any apparent success.”
The minister laughed. “You sound just like him. Not in your words, but in the sentiment of those words. I share that sentiment. Yet…”
Van nodded gravely. “There is a time where one must bend. You believe that perhaps a token reduction in the annual retainer…”
“My opponents, and I do have such, Director, they would wish more than that.”
“I am most certain that they would. Yet there are many who need our services…and once we are committed…”
“I have said as much, and they asked if I would request more than a token reduction.” The minister offered a helpless shrug. “You can see that such places me in a difficult position.”
“Most difficult.
