“Margaret Bain,” she said when I entered, just a tiny hint of question in her voice, as though to make sure she had the right person.
“Yes, Provost,” I said.
She gave a little sigh and riffled through several papers on her desk. It was one of the conceits of ACoLaP that the people there, both teachers and students, still read words from paper; it was a truism that very few other people did.
“Four members of your class have been selected to attend a meeting that’s being held at the local Dominion Offices. It’s a meeting of diplomats, high officers in Earthgov, plus a few Gentherans. They want a few advanced students to sit in, on the theory that you’ll all be working for them in the next few years and will do a better job if you know what’s going on. Not sure that I agree, but it’s not my place to argue.” She emitted a smile brief enough to indicate she might be jesting, not long enough to indicate real humor.
“I’m very flattered,” I said.
“Don’t be, not yet. Here’s the secrecy oath you’ll be required to sign. Don’t think it’s just a matter of routine. It’s deadly serious, and unless you’re absolutely sure you can abide by it, don’t sign it.”
I remember clearly only one phrase from the document, which was “…on penalty of death,” but that one was enough to make me look up, startled.
“I said it was serious,” she remarked with another of those lightning smiles, a mere lip-writhe of amusement.
“I…I’m pretty good at keeping my mouth shut,” I said, thinking twenty-some years of perfecting the trait had succeeded remarkably well.
“If you’re sure you can, go ahead and sign it. I confess, I’d love to attend myself. I’ve never seen a Gentheran.”
“You probably wouldn’t,” I said without thinking. “They wear suits and helmets. Nobody ever sees them.”
She looked momentarily offended, then relaxed. “Of course. I’d forgotten that you were on Mars.”
The upshot was, I signed, and she gave me an identity card that had a password under a seal and told me where to go on the following day and not to mention it to anyone, not my parents, not my boyfriend, if I had one, or anyone else. I really would have loved to tell Bryan, but he was working that evening, so I was saved from temptation.
The following day, I went as directed, presented my card, seal intact, and was fed through a whole series of identification procedures involving eyes, fingers, biometric, physiometric, how I smelled, and the like. Finally, I was shown to a seat at the back of a windowless room containing a large conference table and chairs plus the usual side table holding drinks: nova-coffee, nova-tea, bottled Swish in three flavors that differed only in color. Each chair was equipped with a full-sense viewer, very advanced technology that I’d been exposed to only a time or two. I was gawking at the viewers when three of my fellow students came in, we nodded to one another without speaking, and they sat down at some distance. At first I was surprised to see them, for these very elite students were not particularly good at their studies. They made error after error in class (many of which our teachers simply ignored); on written tests they always scored incredibly well (adjective chosen for precision, in that no one believed the scores were real). They had a sneering attitude toward students from less exalted backgrounds than their own very moneyed ones. All of them had family members among the Directors of the College, and that probably explained why they were here. I had bested all of them scholastically, which had led more than one of them to advise me, sneeringly, that my test scores didn’t matter, for the “way things were,” they would succeed, and I would fail. So far as I could tell, none of them had any experience whatsoever with the way things really were, having been untouched by reality since birth.
Within moments, doors at the other side of the room opened, and several humans and Gentherans (small, as I’d been told, and in suits and helmets) filed in and were seated. I was so amused to see that the Gentherans were seated in elevator chairs, permitting them to rise to the level of the table, that for a moment I did not recognize that one of the ascending chairs held someone I knew: Chili Mech! She was staring at me.
I grinned and waved. She said something to her neighbor, lowered her chair, and came over to me. “Margaret, is that you?”
“Chili. It’s so good to see you! I had no idea you’d be here.”
“You must be one of the ACoLaP students! Good for you. You always said you were going to learn every language in the universe.”
“If I said anything that egotistical, I was very young and foolish.”
Chili said, “I must get back. They’re going to convene. In case you didn’t know it, Margaret, this is a meeting of both Dominion Central Authority and Earthgov Executive Council. You’ll understand why when you hear what’s going on. Can we get together during the break?”
“Certainly,” I said. “I’d love to.”
When the roll was called, I noted there were representatives present from the colonies, Chili being the one from Mars. The Gentheran names were real tongue twisters, the first speaker being named Sister someone. It sounded a little like Lorpa, if one accepted that there wassomething subtly wrong with both the L and the R. We were not allowed to record or take notes, but nothing had been said about not remembering, and I have a very good memory.
Sister Lorpa spoke Earthian very clearly, in a high, sweet voice, starting without preamble to describe something called the “ghyrm.” I recognized this as a Cantardene word meaning “eater.” She said Gentherans
