Choices | Page 4

the least bit fooled.
"Kieara Cjhar," he said, following my gaze as I watched her move with
Kuhn from one offworld delegation to another. "One of his daughters.
The eldest. She's a leading disciple within the Red Catholic Church.
Like father like daughter, I suppose." He made a face. "Not someone
you'd want to get involved with," he added pointedly.
"You speak from experience?" I asked, knowing that he didn't. At the
official level relations between Tradurians and offworlders were
severely constrained--one might even have gone so far as to suggest
they were virtually non-existent. Not for lack of effort on the part of
offworlders, however; it was the choice of the Tradurians to remain
essentially isolated. Even on matters of trade the dealings were brief
and to the point. Not that we'd anticipated much else when we'd begun
this delicate process of bringing the worlds of Unity back into the fold
of the Federation following the long harsh decades of war.
Burrye regarded me levelly. "I'm here to advise you, Captain."
"Advise, yes," agreed. "But I make the decisions, Mister Burrye."
"You're not on a ship anymore," he said bluntly. "There's none of that
full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes business here."

"Thank you for reminding me," I drawled, none too sarcastically. "And
yes, I'm not on a ship anymore. Haven't been for years. So you might
be advised to be cautious when referring to me as Captain. I'm sure the
Reds wouldn't be particularly enamored of the fact that the Federation
embassy is headed by someone who once fought on the front lines
against them."
"Aye,aye!" he said, snapping off a mock salute.
I shot him a dark look of disapproval, but knew it wouldn't change
anything. Burrye was a career diplomat, a man genengineered for the
foreign service. He knew no other line of work; and his life had been
devoted to this one cause. So it was understandable that he might feel
somewhat resentful of a spacer being given an essentially diplomatic
assignment. He was undoubtedly convinced I'd been awarded this
posting as something of a sop for years of service in a war for which
we'd all paid a high price. It was unlikely I could disabuse him of that
notion--though if he'd looked around, he'd have discovered that most of
the ambassadorial positions that had opened up in the defeated Unity
were occupied by former Fleet officers. And for good reason. The
Federation didn't trust the Unity--or what remained of it. Unfortunately,
one of the compromises that had brought about the peace had been to
include a clause in the Terms of Surrender that had prohibited the
placement of military attaches in any of the new embassies. To get
around that, the Admiralty, which was handling the administration of
peace for the Federation, had merely assigned former Fleet officers as
heads of the various missions they'd opened throughout the Unity. We
were here to make sure that the Unity couldn't re-establish itself
militarily. So for now men and women like myself had assumed a
different sort of command: One that was no less challenging and no
less important than when we'd skippered those floating arsenals of
democracy for which Fleet was better known.
But I was first and foremost a spacer. I'd been genengineered for it.
From the moment of my conception my fate had been determined.
Determined by the choices of my parents. I wasn't a diplomat, and
Burrye knew it. As far as he was concerned, that meant I was a risk to

the success of this mission. Maybe he was right.
"No offense," Burrye said, continuing in his earlier vein, "but it's a bit
of a stretch from commanding a warship to heading a mission like this,
don't you think?"
"Not at all," I assured him. "Being the captain of a ship can be the
supreme test of diplomacy. When you're dealing with the lives of
nearly a thousand men and women, not to mention the frequent
confrontations with all manner of ships and worlds, you soon acquire
quite a feel for this sort of thing. However, I trust that you'll keep me in
line, should I make a misstep." I looked at him forcefully, making it
clear that he had better work with me and not against me. If it were the
latter, then he'd soon find himself catching the next ship out from
Tradur. Not that I was sure he'd mind being chased from this world.
Burrye put down his drink and made a stiff bow. Then he straightened,
as though coming to attention. "You can rest assured, Captain, that I'll
serve to the best of my abilities."
That was what I was afraid of.

4.
If you imagine a tropical paradise on Earth, then you have a good