A Call to Darkness - Michael Jan Friedman [32]
Nor, to be fair, had anyone from Central Defense thought to inform him that there was an armed and capable ship in his sector. With its appearance so close on the heels of the recent conscription, one might have expected that Fulfillment would be notified.
“Councillor, I was not apprised of the larger ship’s existence-not until well after the damage had been done.”
Orian’tuc’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “Surely, however, your superior knew of it. Didn’t you think to contact him-before you did anything?”
“No, Councillor. It is my duty to make speedy work of conscription. Recruits must not be lost to either the failure of their life-support systems or external threats to the ships themselves. Those are my orders.”
Orian’tuc glanced at Fidel’lic, who was seated beside him. But he said nothing more.
“When did you realize your error?” asked Eliek’tos.
Your error. Inwardly, Dan’nor cringed at the phrasing.
“I thought that there might be a problem, Councillor, when the computer remained incapable of destroying the ship. A second scan revealed no newly detected life-forms. So I ordered a check of the computer.”
“And it revealed,” said Eliek’tos, “a malfunction, which was responsible for the ship’s never having been eliminated.”
“As you say, Councillor.” Dan’nor heard the slight tremor in his voice and hoped it had escaped the notice of the Council. He sensed that this hearing was coming to a close, and he still had no sense of where he stood.
“Are you saying, then,” asked a fourth councillor, “that we have a computer to blame for all of this? A simple malfunction has brought down this plague of a… what is it called? Enterprise?”
A trick question. Blaming the incident on the computer would have been the worst strategy of all. After all, a machine was only as good as the people in charge of it.
“No, Councillor. With all respect, I am not saying that.”
Orian’tuc looked at him. “No? Then where would you say the blame lies?”
He had no choice. There was only one avenue open to him.
“It lies with me, Councillor. I was in command when the error was made. I gave the order to conscript the eight occupants. Nor did I cheek for a malfunction until it was too late.”
There. He had said it. But with any luck, they would give more weight to other things he had said. For instance, his information about the other facilitator, which Eliek’tos had confirmed. And they would direct their anger at him instead of Dan’nor.
He didn’t dare look for his fate in their faces because Orian’tuc was still in eye contact with him. And even if he could have glanced around, he would probably have learned nothing. Councillors were not likely to give their conclusions away so easily.
“Are there any more questions?” asked Eliek’tos.
No one spoke.
“Then you are free to go, Dan’nor Tir’dainia.”
The Fulfillment Facilitator bent his neck again. “Thank you, Councillor.” He took two steps back, out of respect. Then, as crisply as he could, he turned and left the chamber.
Dan’nor didn’t bother to sneak a look at the guardsman again-to see if his expression had changed any. He just kept walking, listening to the sharp click of his heels against the intricately patterned paving stones of the corridor… to the clang of the doors as they closed in his wake.
He walked through shafts of sunlight projected by the windows set high in the southern wall. On his other flank, ancient tapestries depicting great and bloody battles found new glory in the red gold light.
He might have done better, he decided. He might have been a little less nervous. A little quicker with his answers, a little more to the point…
Gradually, the sound of another set of footfalls invaded his reverie. He looked up.
And saw his superior, Conscription Master Boron’bak, approaching from the opposite end of the corridor.
As they drew closer to one another, their eyes met. And locked.
Each knew that the other was a potential source of danger. An enemy, in fact, for as long as the investigation went on. Each knew that the other would gladly sacrifice