If only the Masters had not enslaved the population while they were saving it, and made knowledge available only to a favored, high-ranking few…
“In every society there must be persons with authority and responsibility in charge,” Skorta said suddenly, making Martin realize that he had been so affected by the Master’s history lesson that he had been thinking aloud. “No mechanism should be overloaded by a responsible owner. But you have been to my school, Martin, and you know that in practice every person is given a little more knowledge than it needs, in the hope that it will evince a desire for even more. Naturally, it is not given more until it has shown that it is capable of responsibly using the knowledge it already possesses.”
“I begin to understand,” Martin said. “The instructions of my Master were that I…”
“Please inform this slave,” the interrogator broke in, “that the instructions of its absent Master mean nothing to us. There are three instances of recorded hearsay describing the landing on Teldi of mechanisms which spoke our language and tried to show us great wonders projected into the empty air around them before they were destroyed. Our reply was that we would accept no communication unless it was delivered to us in person by a responsible Master. This slave is not a responsible person, its presence before us is an insult, and I cannot understand its Master’s purpose in sending it here when that Master is fully aware of the situation on Teldi.
“We are not yet decided on what to do with this slave,” the Master went on. “Should it be punished physically as is a child for persistent disobedience, or merely returned to its Master who will not act like a Master?”
Martin swallowed, thinking that a spanking from one of the overlarge Teldins would not be a pleasant experience either physically or mentally. He was also thinking about his tutor on Fomalhaut Three, who was most certainly aware of the problem, which Martin had been given full responsibility for solving. He could run away or try to solve this problem, the decision was his alone. Martin swore under his breath. He was beginning to view his tutor, the Teldin Masters, and even himself, in a new light.
“Before this decision is made,” he said to the teacher, “is it permitted that I discuss with you, my friend and equal, my instruction regarding…”
“Martin,” the Teldin said, “I am no longer your equal.”
Chapter 11
HlS first feeling was of betrayal. He wondered if Skorta had been as honest with him as it had seemed. But then he remembered some of the things it had said on the way to the city, at the school, and on the hyper-ship. Skorta had come across as an intelligent, liberal-minded, responsible, and perhaps potentially rebellious slave who did not mind talking a little hearsay or thinking for itself. To him, it had appeared to be a truly civilized and cultured being who was fighting its slavehood and beginning to win.
And now, Martin saw with a sudden flood of understanding, the fight was over.
“Your bio-sensors are going mad!” Beth said, sounding both angry and frightened. “Pulse rate and blood pressure are way up and your… Dammit, are you getting ready to do something stupid?”
There was no need to answer her because she would hear and see everything he was going to do. Martin moistened his lips and for the first time he turned to address the assembled Masters of Teldi directly.
“I have considered this matter fully and the possible consequences of making my decision,” he said, “and I wish to be once again the equal of my friend.”
For several interminable seconds there was neither sound nor motion in the Hall. Then Skorta walked slowly to an empty place at the horseshoe table and turned to face him, leaving Martin alone beside the Table of Interrogation. All sound and motion ceased again, and even Beth seemed to be holding her breath. He thought of asking permission for what he was about to do, then decided against it.
Asking permission was for slaves.
He removed and opened his backpack and spread the Federation flag across the table so that the silver and black emblem hung over the outer edge in plain sight of the Masters. Then he withdrew the weapon, the scaled-down replica of the Master of Education’s sword he had seen at the school, and laid it on top of the flag. The hilt, which also bore the Federation symbol, lay toward him. Then he folded his arms.
The Masters arose and seventeen hands went to the hilts of their swords, but this time the Master of Sea- and Land-borne Communications did not call a halt as it had done in the case of Skorta, the one-time teaching slave, because the interrogator was grasping its sword, too. Martin swallowed as seventeen swords were raised to Teldin shoulder height and held at full extension with their seventeen points directed unswervingly at his face.
“Will the new Master-Elect of Education,” the interrogator said, “please join the off-world would-be Master and guide it in the traditional words and response.”
Now I’m committed, thought Martin, but to what? The interrogator was speaking again.
“Do you accept sole and undivided responsibility for your words and actions, and omissions of words or actions, and the results thereof? Do you accept such responsibility for your property, whether animate or inanimate; its efficient working; its proper maintenance, training, feeding, and conduct toward the property of other Masters? Do you accept as your own responsibility the results of the conduct or misconduct of all such property, and will you reward, correct, or chastise the property committing such acts? Will you strive always to increase the efficiency, well-being, and intelligence of all your animate property in the hope that they will one day become capable of accepting the ultimate responsibility of a Master? As the bearer of ultimate responsibility, do you agree to defend with your life your person, property, and decisions and if, in the judgment of your fellow Masters, your actions and decisions threaten harm in large measure to your own or the property of others, that you will forfeit your life?”
Martin felt perspiration trickling from his armpits and he knew that if his arms had not been folded tightly across his chest, his hands would have been trembling.
“Consider carefully, off-world friend,” said the new Master-Elect, who was again standing beside him. “An impulsive decision does not impress them, even though the impulse was of friendship and loyalty. If you withdraw now your punishment will probably be a token one, possibly banishment from Teldi society and removal of Masters’ protection, neither of which will inconvenience you greatly.”
Martin cleared his throat. He said, “The decision was carefully considered and is not based solely on sentiment. I am not stupid, but I have been confused by your Master-slave relationship on Teldi, and by the true nature and function of the Masters. I am confused no longer.”
The swords were still pointed at him, so steadily that he could imagine that the scene was a still photograph, when Skorta spoke again.
“Raise your sword and hold it vertically with the base of the hilt resting on your flag,” it said. “Support the sword in the vertical position by pressing the palm of your hand against the point. You will exert sufficient pressure for the point to draw blood. You will then speak the words ‘I accept the duties and responsibilities of a Master,’ after which you will replace the sword and self-administer the appropriate medication to the wounded hand and await the response of the Masters.”
He nearly fumbled it, because the height of the Table of Interrogation made it necessary for him to stand on tiptoe to press downward against the point of the sword, so that the point slipped and jabbed him in the fleshy pad at the base of his thumb. But he was so relieved that the sword did not go skidding onto the floor that he scarcely felt the pain, even when the blood trickled slowly down the blade.