Joan Vinge - The Snow Queen

So she actually believes she’s going to be chosen Summer Queen. She hears voices telling her she’ll win. Jerusha paced slowly in the rattling emptiness of the Chief Justice’s antechamber, too nervous to sit still on the forlorn assortment of abandoned furniture. Against odds of hundreds to one? No, Jerusha, the universe doesn’t give a damn what she believes… or you do, or anybody else. It doesn’t matter.

There was nothing to distract her mind but the fuzzy negatives of places where things had been and no longer were in this sad, anciently naked room. But a new set of things, and people, would be back in their place when the Change came again to enduring Carbuncle. Things change all the time; but how much of it is real? Does any choice any of us ever makes, no matter how important it seems, really cause a ripple in the greater scheme of things? Passing the window, she saw herself superimposed on the image of the metamorphosing city, studied the reflection silently.

“Commander PalaThion. It was good of you to come. I know how busy you’ve been.” Chief Justice Hovanesse stood in the doorway, held up a hand in courteous welcome, and she managed to forget that she had been kept pacing out here well past the appointed time of the invitation.

She saluted. “I’m never too busy to discuss the Hegemony’s welfare, your honor.” Or mine. Or to watch a man eat his words… She touched his hand politely, and he gestured her ahead of him into the inner room. It was a meeting room, with a long table built out of smaller tables and cluttered with portable terminals. The usual assortment of local Hedge bureaucrats she had come to know and loathe sat around it, intermittent with actual assemblymen, mostly strangers to her. They had, she supposed, been making the last of the obligatory reports on every imaginable aspect of their occupation of Tiamat. Even on a world as unpopulated and underdeveloped as this one the process of departure was leviathan. The few Kharemoughi faces she could see clearly looked exceedingly bored. Thank the gods I’m only a Blue and not a bureaucrat. She remembered that since she had become Commander she had hardly been anything else. But yesterday I was a real officer again.

She stood listening to the patter of their applause, of palms against the table surface, absorbing their reception while she compared it mentally to the one she had been anticipating until yesterday. Most of the civil officials assigned here on Tiamat were from the same part of Newhaven, like most of the police; the Hegemony felt that cultural homogeneity made for more efficiency. And today, at least, the fact that she was one of their own being honored in the presence of Kharemoughis seemed to outweigh the fact that she was only a female. She bowed with dignity, acknowledging their tribute, and took a seat in the mismatched chair at the near end of the tabl

“As I’m sure you all have heard by now,” the Chief Justice stood at his own place, “Commander PalaThion uncovered, and at virtually the last moment thwarted, an attempt by Tiamat’s Snow Quee to retain her power…”

Jerusha listened covetously to the report, savoring every flattering adjective like the scent of rare herbs. Gods, I could get used to this. Even though Hovanesse was a Kharemoughi himself, he was aware that as Chief Justice he reflected her glory today, and he was laying it on thick. He sipped frequently from a translucent cup; she wondered whether it was really water, or something to numb the pain of paying her compliments. “…Even though, as most of us here are aware, there was a certain amount of — controversy about appointin a woman Commander of Police, I think she has proved that she is capable of rising to a challenge. I doubt if our original choice for the post, Chief Inspector Mantagnes, could have handled the situation any better if their positions had been reversed.”

That’s for damn sure. Jerusha glanced down in false modesty, hiding the glass fragments in her smile. “I was just doing my job, your honor; as I’ve tried to do it all along.” With no help from you, I could add. She bit her tongue.

“Nevertheless, Commander,” one of the Assembly members stood up expansively, “you’ll finish your service here with a commendation on your record. You’re a credit to your world and your gender.” One or two Newhavenese coughed at that. “It just goes to show that no one world, or race, or sex, has a complete monopoly on intelligence; all can and shall contribute to the greater good of the Hegemony, if not equally, at least according to their individual abilities…”

“Who writes the graffiti inside his braincase?” the Director of Public Health muttered sourly.

“I don’t know,” behind her hand, “but he’s living proof that living for centuries doesn’t have to teach you anything.” She saw his mouth twitch and his eyes roll in a fleeting moment of comradely aggravation.

“Would you care to say a few words, Commander?”

Jerusha flinched, until she realized the assemblyman hadn’t even been aware of anyone speaking besides himself. Don’t let me choke, gods. “Uh, thank you, sir. I didn’t really come here planning to make a speech, and I really don’t have the time.” But wait a minute — “But since I’ve got you all here listening to me, maybe there is a matter important enough to spend our time on.” She stood up, leaning forward on the slightly uneven tabletop. “A few weeks ago I had a very disturbing question put to me: a question about the mers — the Tiamatan creatures we get the water of life from,” for the benefit of any assemblyman who was or pretended to be ignorant of it. “I was told that the Old Empire created the mers to be creatures with human-level intelligence. The man who told me this had the information directly from a sibyl Transfer.”

She watched their reactions spread like ripple rings colliding on a water surface; tried to guess whether it was genuine — whether the Assembly knew, whether the civil officials did, whether she was the only human being in this room who had been blind to the truth… But if any of them were faking their amazement, they were good at it. The murmurs of protest rose along the table.

“Are you trying to tell us,” Hovanesse said, “that someone claims we’ve been exterminating an intelligent race?”

She nodded, her eyes downcast as she spoke, treading lightly. “Not knowingly, of course.” In her mind she saw the bodies on the beach: but kit ting them just the same. “I’m sure no one in this room, no member of the Hegemonic Assembly, would let anything like that go on.” She glanced deliberately at the oldest Wearer of the Badge among them, a man in his sixties who just might be left over from long enough ago. “But someone knew once, because we know about the water of Life.” If he did know, he wasn’t letting her see it on his face; she wondered suddenly why she wanted to.

“So you are suggesting,” one of the other Kharemoughis demanded, “that our ancestors consciously buried the truth, in order to get the water of life for themselves?”

She heard the extra grimness that weighed down ancestors, and realized that she had made a misstep. Criticizing a Kharemoughi’s ancestors was like accusing one of her own people of incest.

But she nodded, firmly, stubbornly, “Someone’s did, yes, sir.”

Hovanesse took a sip from his glass, said heavily, “Those are exceptionally ugly and unpleasant charges to bring up at a time like this, Commander PalaThion.”

She nodded again. “I know, Your Honor. But I can’t think of a more appropriate audience for them. If this is true—”

“Who made the accusation? What’s his proof?”

“An off worlder named Ngenet; he has a land-grant plantation here on Tiamat.”