Choices | Page 6

try to turn their backs
on the guardians of the faith did so at peril. The price they could pay
for such audacity was dear.
Burrye was right in wondering just who had won the war. In the
twentieth century, when Hilter's forces had fallen to the Allies, the
Nazis had been crushed and virtually wiped from the face of the Earth.
But when the Federation had finally prevailed in its long struggle
against the Unity, Red Catholicism and all its many institutions had
remained. Yet this was a religion responsible for the deaths of millions
in the years since its fiery birth. In the name of the Red Catholic Popes
who had reigned through the decades of conflict, tens of thousands of
Empaths had been hunted down and slaughtered. Butchered like
animals. And in its quest to broaden the compass of its reach, whole
worlds had been razed to eliminate them as a threat to the faith.
"You should at least take someone with you," Burrye said.
I gave him a dry look. "That would hardly help foster trust, now would
it?"
"With all due respect, Captain, I don't think the Reds are deserving of
anyone's trust."
"You puzzle me, Jacob," I said.
He frowned.
"You act like someone with a grudge," I explained. "I've seen Empaths
with less animosity towards the Unity than you seem to harbor."

Burrye's face coloured. "I just wonder why we're so magnanimous," he
said. "They killed millions. You of all people should know the brutality
they exhibited. You were there, on the front lines. You saw people die."
"Yes," I whispered. "I saw people die. Too many. Which is why I'm
here. I've no desire to see more people join those who have already
suffered our folly. I want to see this peace work, Jacob. And if that
means showing a little humility when it comes to the Red Catholics, if
it means accepting that they'll continue to be a part of this Empire, then
so be it. That's infinitely preferable to war. Only someone who has
never fought in one could think otherwise," I added pointedly.
"Perhaps, Captain, you've become too hardened by your years of
service."
I arched a brow and regarded him quizzically. "Meaning?"
"Meaning that perhaps you can no longer understand the pain of those
of us who lost loved ones because of the Reds."
I felt a small kernel of rage explode somewhere within me, but I didn't
unleash it. What would have been gained by railing at him? How could
he know his words were like a stinging slap across the face? Unless, of
course, he'd intended them to be just that.
"We in the ships weren't machines out there," I said in a slow,
deliberate manner. "It wasn't easy killing people. It never is. And
despite what some might suggest, you don't become hardened to it. The
only way one ever kept one's sanity was to tell oneself that it was us or
them. And better it be them than us."
Burrye shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't mean to imply--"
"I think I know what you meant," I said brusquely. "And now if you'll
excuse me, I've a meeting to attend." I made to leave my office.
"Captain," Burrye called after me.

I turned and looked at him.
He stared back at me, looking somewhat contrite. "Good luck," he said
at last.
"Luck is for the unprepared," I said, remembering an old adage from
my days in the Academy. And then I left, hurrying out of the embassy
on my way to my appointment with Kieara Cjhar--where I soon
discovered I should have paid heed to another little tidbit of Academy
advice: expect the unexpected.

6.
"Put this on," my guide said. He handed me a black, hooded cloak. "For
the scanners," he explained, noting my perplexed look.
"I'd have thought that it would have taken something a little more
sophisticated than this," I mused aloud as I donned the garment.
He laughed. "They are more pious on Tradur than they are on
Chastity," he said in a lumbering baritone. "It has always allowed the
Church to rule by fear. Little need for expensive security devices when
you can achieve the same thing by threatening would-be transgressors
with the wrath of God." He laughed again, a brittle, cynical laughter;
and then he pulled the hood of his own cloak up over his head, burying
his face in shadow. He started forward, motioning for me to follow.
We stepped from the safety of the embassy's encompassing shield and
out onto the ill-lit avenue we'd all taken to calling "Embassy Row."
There was no one in sight, which was the whole idea. Without checking
to see whether or not I was following, the guide headed quickly up the
avenue, towards