The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet

Day 169, GC Standard 307 THE COMMITTEE

“Please place your scrib in the receptacle,” said the AI in the waiting room.

“Why?” Ashby asked.

“No unauthorized recording of audio or images is permitted within Parliament meeting facilities.”

Ashby glanced at the camera nodes lining the ceiling. He hadn’t had any plans to record anything, but it did feel the slightest bit unfair. He hadn’t authorized anyone to record him. But he opened his satchel, took out his scrib, and placed it in the wall drawer, as requested.

“Thank you,” said the AI. “The committee will see you now.”

Ashby took a step toward the door, and paused. Something made him think of Jenks, waiting patiently through dockside AI speeches he’d heard dozens of times over. “Do you have a name?” Ashby asked.

For a moment, the AI said nothing. “Twoh’teg,” he said. A Harmagian name.

Ashby nodded. “Thanks for the assistance, Twoh’teg.”

“Why do you want my name?” Twoh’teg asked. “Have I offended in some way?”

“No, no,” Ashby said. “I was just curious. Have a nice day.”

The AI said nothing. His silence sounded baffled.

Ashby stepped into the meeting chamber. The brightly lit walls were rounded, no corners, no windows. The committee—eight in total—was seated in a semi-circle behind a smooth continuous desk. Harmagians, Aeluons, Aandrisks, Quelin. Ashby was very aware of being the only Human in the room. He involuntarily glanced at his clothes—folded pants, collared jacket, the best he had. Kizzy had whistled at him as he’d walked to the shuttle. Here, though, alongside the representatives’ finely dyed fabrics and expensive adornments, he felt plain. Worn, even.

"Captain Santoso,” one of the Aeluons said. “Welcome.” She gestured to a desk facing the circle. He sat. The desk was high enough to make his arms rest awkwardly, but the chair, at least, was designed for his species.

A Harmagian spoke. “This committee recognizes Ashby Santoso, ID number 7182-312-95, captain and owner of the tunneling ship Wayfarer. Captain Santoso, you understand that everything you say at this meeting will be recorded and preserved within the public record?”

“Yes, I do,” Ashby said. Apparently they needed his authorization after all.

“Very good. We shall begin.”

“Captain Santoso,” said the Aeluon. “On behalf of this committee, I want to extend my deepest regrets for the danger you and your crew encountered, as well as the damage suffered by your ship. I understand that the Transport Board has compensated you for your repairs, as well as paid off your contract?”

“Yes, they have.” He had initially been surprised by the generosity. It would’ve stung a bit to have used the contract money on repairs, instead of new equipment, but he would’ve understood the logic there. The Transport Board, however, seemed very eager to smooth things over. He was sure their public relations people were working overtime.

“And you suffered no casualties, correct?” said one of the Aandrisks.

“We lost our AI. She suffered a cascade failure, and we were forced to reset.”

“Well,” said the first Harmagian. “At least no one was hurt.”

Ashby took a quiet breath, slowly.

“The committee has read your report of the incident at Hedra Ka,” said the Aeluon. “But there are some details we’d appreciate you going over with us.”

Ashby nodded. “Whatever will be helpful.”

“You had no prior contact with any Toremi individuals before your arrival at Hedra Ka, correct?”

“That’s right.”

“And you did not speak with any Toremi individuals outside of the reception aboard the Harmagian carrier?”

“No.”

The other Aandrisk jumped in. “Not in the hallway, not in the airlock, even just a quick word?”

“No,” Ashby said.

One of the Quelin spoke. “Did the Toremi ship that attacked you contact you before firing?”

“No, no, they never said a word to us,” Ashby said. “Lovey—our AI—sent them a warning to stay out of our work area. She never got a reply.”

“What was the warning? What did she say?”

“I—I don’t know, exactly. Just to keep their distance. She was friendly and polite, I’m sure. She always was.”

“I’m sure whatever it was was fine,” the Aeluon said, giving the Quelin an admonishing glance. “At the reception, did any of the Toremi threaten you, or make you feel uncomfortable?”

“No, not that I can recall. They were a little odd, but that’s all.”

“Odd how?”

“Just different, I mean. Culturally.” He tried to think of something more useful to say. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“That’s all right,” said the Aandrisk. “We understand.”

“Who of your crew had contact with the Toremi?” asked the Quelin.

“Just myself and my pilot. As far as I know, no one else spoke with them.”

“Can you confirm that?”

“Can I—”

“Were you observing your crew at all times? Can you say with absolute certainty that none of them said anything to provoke the Toremi?”

The Aeluon’s cheeks flashed pale purple. Ashby knew that look. She was annoyed. “Let’s not forget who’s at fault here. His crew is not to blame for this.”

“All the same,” the Quelin said, fixing her black eyes on Ashby. “I want to hear his answer.”

“None of my crew left the room during the reception,” Ashby said. “I didn’t see any of them speak to the Toremi.”

“Do you know if any of them said anything insulting about the Toremi while they were in the room, regardless of whether they were speaking to them?”

Ashby knitted his brow. “I have no idea. I highly doubt it. The people on my ship are all well-behaved.” Somewhere in his head, Kizzy and Jenks waved at him with a pair of grins. But no, even they wouldn’t be that stupid.

“I’m sure they are,” said the Aandrisk, shooting the Quelin a look as well. “It’s obvious that this conflict runs deeper than anything your crew might have been involved with.”

“Possibly,” said the Quelin. “Though I do find it interesting that they fired on his ship instead of one of our ambassadors.”

“Makes sense to me,” said Ashby. “We were opening a door to somewhere they didn’t want to go.”

“Or to people they wanted nothing to do with,” said the Aeluon.

“Some of them,” said the Harmagian. “The dominant clan insists they are committed to—”

“Another time,” said the Aeluon smoothly. Ashby blinked. They weren’t seriously considering continuing the alliance, were they? It seemed like a lot to overlook, even with ambi on the line. The Aeluon continued: “Did you witness any altercations between the Toremi and GC staff during the reception? I know your time there was limited, but if there was anything…?”

Ashby thought. “No, I don’t think so. My clerk mentioned later that she didn’t think the Toremi had been invited.”

The Aandrisk nodded. “That matches with the other reports.”

“So the Toremi never threatened you, or anyone else there?” the Harmagian asked.

“No,” Ashby said. “The New Mother seemed welcoming, in a way. She said she was looking forward to seeing our skies. Her words.”

“Interesting,” said the Aeluon. She glanced at each of the committee members, and flashed her cheeks. “Thank you, Captain Santoso. We ask that you remain planetside until tomorrow, in case we have other questions, but for now, you are free to go.”

Ashby straightened up. “Wait, that’s it?”

The Aandrisk smiled. “Yes, your report was very thorough.”

Ashby frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’ve come all this way. Why couldn’t we have done this over the sib?”

“It’s GC policy in the event of an attack on civilians to hold a public hearing, including face-to-face analysis with affected parties, if possible.”

“Policy,” said Ashby, nodding. “Right.” He inhaled and looked down at his hands resting on the too-tall desk. “I don’t mean any disrespect, representatives, but your policies were supposed to protect me and my crew. I trusted in them. I trusted that we weren’t going to be sent anywhere that posed any danger outside what comes with the job.” He fought to keep his voice calm. “You sent us somewhere we shouldn’t have gone, and you’re still thinking about sending other people back. You put all of our lives at risk, without saying as much, and now you want to sit around and talk about policies.”

“Thank you, Captain,” the Quelin said flatly. “That will be all.”

“No,” said the other Aandrisk. “Let him speak.” He looked at Ashby and nodded. “Like he said, he came all this way.”

Ashby swallowed, unsure of what had gotten into him.

“Go ahead, Captain,” said the Aeluon.

Ashby took a breath. “Look, I don’t know about these things. I’m not a politician, I’m not on a committee. I don’t know the things you know. I don’t even know if my crew said anything to offend the Toremi. I don’t think they did, but no, I can’t say for certain. But what if they did? Someone says something stupid at a cocktail party, and that’s enough to go to war over? Those are the kind of people you want to bring into our space? You know, my ship nearly tore itself apart, I lost one of my crew, and yet, honestly, I’m glad there’s not an open tunnel there right now. You want people like that, who start killing that fast, walking around spaceports, flying through cargo lane traffic? How long before some shopkeeper gets killed over a price they didn’t like, or a bar gets torn up because some drunk spacer mouths off about something they don’t agree on?” He shook his head. “I don’t know why they attacked us. Thing is, neither do you. If you did, I wouldn’t be here. So until you come up with a policy that can guarantee the Toremi will never fire on a civilian ship again, I think you should leave them the hell alone.”

The committee was quiet. Ashby looked down at the desk. The Aeluon spoke. “You said you lost one of your crew. Do you mean the AI?”

“Yes,” Ashby said. The Harmagian’s tendrils flexed. Whatever it meant, Ashby didn’t care.

“I see,” said the Aeluon. She looked at him a moment, her cheeks shifting colors in a contemplative way. “Captain Santoso, could you wait outside for a few minutes?”

Ashby nodded and left the room. He sat on one of the overly soft couches, his hands folded, his eyes on the floor. Minutes passed by silently.

A nearby vox switched on. “Captain Santoso?” Twoh’teg said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for waiting. The committee has decided that no further questions will be necessary. They greatly appreciate you taking the time to join us today. You’re free to leave the planet.”

“Right,” Ashby said. “I pissed them off, huh?”

Twoh’teg paused. “No, actually. But please don’t ask me more, I’m not allowed to talk about what goes on in there.” The wall drawer containing Ashby’s scrib slid open. “Have a safe trip home, Captain.”