Pathspace: The Space of Paths (13 page)

It proved to be too much
for him to make the shield move smoothly with him, so he hit upon a
compromise. As he walked forward, nearing the shield, he made a new
one in front of it and dispersed the first one. Encouraged by the
success of this, he continued the process, making and dissolving
six shields in all before he bumped into the mirror. Hastily, he
dispersed the sixth shield, realizing it was outside the
building.
Idiot!

He spent the next hour practicing this,
first walking forward, then side-stepping with the mirror to his
left or his right. At the and of this he was sweating and starving
again. He hoped that this was like lifting weights, and that soon
it would be less draining. Otherwise he was going to have to carry
a gallon of water and a bag of food with him whenever he used it in
actual situations.

From now on, he resolved, he would practice
this every day until it was effortless.

When he opened the door to the library, he
found Jeffrey hunched over an old book. “What are you reading?” he
asked. Immediately he regretted the question, for two reasons. He
was interrupting something he wished he saw the boy doing more
often. The other reason was that his question might actually prompt
an answer, and he would rather discuss something else at the
moment.

“It's a textbook on neurophysiology, the
Atkern & Williams Second Edition.”

Before he could stop himself, the Honcho had
to ask: “Why on Earth are you reading that? You're not in training
to become a physician.”

“It was prompted by something someone
mentioned to me the other day,” was the vague response. “Did you
know the human body is neither a dictatorship nor a democracy … but
a combination of the two?”

Peter pulled up a chair, already regretting
this thread of conversation. There was no avoiding his next
question, even though he felt manipulated by his curiosity. “What
is that supposed to mean?”

“I was mulling over that old phrase we
sometimes use, the 'body politic', and wondered if the structure of
governments tried over the last few thousand years had ever
included anything similar to what we can observe in the human
body,” he said, looking up from the book. “For example, it's
undeniable the there are cells in the brain that send messages to
our muscles telling them when to contract more or less so that we
can walk and talk and so on. That would appear to be a top-down
control structure, like a monarchy where the ruler tells the army
to move or the diplomats to communicate.”

Now he really didn't like this thread of
conversation. Philosophy was all fine and good for abstract things
like the good and the true, he supposed, but it was better to work
with what existed in the real world than to ponder whether it was
the best system or not. “That sounds like monarchies are the best
system, then, because we know it already works for our bodies. Your
brain doesn't let your foot tell it what to do.”

“Maybe, maybe not. You see, while there may
be cells in the brain that tell each of our muscles what to do,
there
isn't
any one cell in the brain that tells all the
other brain cells what to do. To follow your analogy, obviously we
can't let the army or the diplomats tell the government what to do,
just as I don't let my foot make my decisions for me. But the part
of me that decides where I'm going to walk isn't a single cell –
that decision is made cooperatively by my entire brain. Just as in
the old United States, the decision to go to war was supposed to
not be made by the President or the generals, but by Congress. By a
lot of people agreeing that it was the right thing to do.”

The Honcho shifted in his chair. “I see what
you're saying,” he said. “Constitutional democracies are closer to
the brain-body relationship in that a lot of agreement, consensus,
has to be reached before marching orders are sent down to the army
or the diplomats. Is sounds great on paper.” He paused for effect.
“But son, there's a reason why the old United States broke up into
all the countries we have on the continent now. While consensus
makes sense theoretically, it's inherently a less efficient form of
government. You have to crowd a bunch of people into a room and let
them argue it all out before you can
do
anything. When a
crisis comes, that might be – and was – too slow to get the job
done. It takes too long to react to rapidly changing circumstances
and situations.”

“Yes,” Jeffrey said, although his facial
expression was saying the opposite, “but you handle that by
delegating local decisions to regional governors and commanders in
the field on-site wherever there are localized problems.”

Peter shook his head at that. “That kind of
patchwork government lasts, for a while. But sooner or later
regional differences lead to a breakup.” He scratched the side of
his nose. “It happened once in the so-called Civil War, and only
after years of bloodshed was the federal government able to force
the seceding states to come back into the Union. When the growing
chaos of the Fall, after the Tourists left, began to affect so many
critical local systems, it was inevitable that local troops would
rally around local governments, and force a de facto breakup of the
Union, as each region tried to maintain order in the absence of
coordinated Federal support.”

“But not all regions reverted to
pre-Democracy forms of government,” his son pointed out. “There's
the People's Republic of Wyoming, with their Congress of Workers,
up North. And I've heard that – “

“I didn't come here to discuss the
Communalists,” he interrupted. “I'm glad that you're thinking about
government, but I think it's high time you got some more practical
experience.”

Now his son looked wary. “What do you
mean?”

The sight and sentence warmed him.
Now
I've got
you
asking the
questions.
“I want you to take a small force North and do some
scouting. “

Jeffrey frowned at that. “Why me? You have
lieutenants for that.”

“Precisely why I need you to do this.
Someday you'll be in charge, and those lieutenants will be
generals. They won't like taking orders from someone without much
military experience, so by then you have to have some. It's time to
start. Report to Brutus at the local LS Army HQ.” The Runt opened
his mouth to say something, but Peter wasn't finished. “You'll be
second in command under him, so the troops won't dare give you a
lot of shit about your inexperience.”

Jeffrey closed the book and stood up, but he
was still frowning. “What are we supposed to look for?”

“The best way to invade Rado. Get as close
to their border as you can, and test their defenses without
starting anything major. You can burn a few farms to get their
attention, but no sacking any large settlements yet.”

“What happens if we meet resistance? I mean,
what do we do if we run into a patrol of Rado military?”

“I'm not sending you to start a war. Not
yet. Keep that in mind.” The Honcho slid his chair back with a
squeak and stood.. He regarded his son. “But if you do run into
them, and they insist on engaging you, well, kill them, of course.
As long as you don't let any escape to tell what happened, it'll
just mean we won't have as many to eliminate later.”

“
Send him in,” she said.
She glanced at another report, shook her head, and dropped it on
top of a stack of outgoing papers. This would be as unpleasant as
the previous interviews had been, no doubt. Why wouldn't he let it
go?

Ludlow strode in and planted himself in
front of her desk. The Governor stared down at another report. She
could feel him bristling even across the dozen feet that separated
them. It wasn't from being made to wait, however.

She shuffled the report to the OUT pile and
regarded him. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Ludlow?”

At least he got straight to the point. “I
hear he's taken on another apprentice. Why wasn't I notified?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Do you believe your
position here entitles you to a voice in the matter? I don't tell
the Army when I hire a new tutor for Aria.”

He scowled. “Not the point. He doesn't need
another apprentice. I'm still here. He should be teaching me.
Otherwise, the time he spent on me is like money thrown down a
well.”

“
He would not disagree
with that analysis,” she said. “But he has his reasons.”

“
Makes no sense at all.
Unless he's only
pretending
to
train a replacement.” Ludlow's eyes shifted to the pile of
documents in front of her. She bet he wished he could read upside
down.

“
I thought we both knew he
is not looking for a mere
replacement
,” she said. “He has no plans of retiring. Surely you know
that. His long term goal remains the same.”

Ludlow snorted. “You mean his school for
wizards? That was never a practical plan. The candidates are too
few and far between to ever get it started.”

She studied him. “Is that your opinion?”

“
Isn't it obvious? Even
the Tourists must have known that few of us would ever learn their
technology, otherwise they would have tried the same thing. Xander
isn't a fool. He's using that as an excuse to stay here and exploit
you as a resource.”

“
I'm afraid you lost me
there,” she said. “As the only real wizard in Rado he is a valuable
resource for me. How do you think he's exploiting his position
here?”

At the words “only real wizard” he flinched,
and she realized her choice of words had been insensitive. The poor
fellow still nursed ambitions in that area. But she had agreed with
Xander's decision to discontinue Ludlow's training (not that he
required her consent). She liked to think she had learned how to
tell who could become a Commander in her army and who could not,
and she had to assume that Xander was at least as capable within
his own specialization.

“
Well, apart from free
room and board and protection from his enemies, he gets your men to
scavenge for him. All those bits of alien trash they've collected
for him over the years.”

“
Those things are for the
school. They're not for him. They're part of something for the
benefit of everyone.”

Ludlow sneered at that. “Then why is he the
only one with access to them?”

Ah
, she
thought,
a second item on your agenda
. “For the same reason that only the Army has access to
military items. If we managed to locate a still-functional computer
of the Ancients, I wouldn't turn it over to
children
, would I?”

Ludlow's lips thinned and
his eyes narrowed.
Really, Ludlow,
she thought,
it is far too easy to prick your ego.
Am I trying to provoke hum into making a scene,
she wondered
, that will give me an excuse to eject
him from my employment?

“
No, of course not,” he
grunted, making an obvious effort to get control of himself and
reestablish his mask “But a second set of eyes never hurts. You
never know what someone else might notice that you yourself
missed.”

“
True enough,” she said.
“But I trust his judgment, in his own field. With regard to the
first matter you brought up. I do not pick his apprentices, so you
really can't expect me to order him to take you back on as one. Is
there anything else?”

He hesitated before answering. “Well, there
is another topic I wanted to bring up. But perhaps it can wait for
another time.”

She fixed regarded him. “Mr. Ludlow, I'm
sure you've heard rumors that we are preparing for another war with
Texas. If there is anything else you believe needs saying, I'd
advise you to say it now, in case I'm too busy to listen
later.”

He pursed his lips. “It's about your
daughter.”

She shouldn't have been surprised, but
mentally she shook her head. For a man of such limited ability, his
ambition was astonishing! “What about her?”

“
I cannot help but notice
all the time you are taking with her education. Yet is seems to
focus on the wrong things entirely. Geopolitics, for example. She
doesn't need that.”

The Governor put her hands on her desk,
palms down and resisted the urge to vault over it and strangle him.
“And why not?”

“
Oh come now,” he said,
smiling. “We both know she's destined for a political marriage
someday. She should be learning skills appropriate to such a
destiny.”

She leaned back in her
chair. “Oh? What skills are those? Are you saying my daughter
should be learning how to cook, how to gaze adoringly at a man and
give emotional support?”
Has he managed to forget who he
is talking to?
she wondered.
Is his
ego so enormous that it blocks out my face?

“
I wouldn't put it that
way,” he replied. “Perhaps she does need some knowledge of the
world, after all. But a little training on more feminine skills
would not be wasted on her.”

“
Thank you for your
advice, Mr. Ludlow. You may return to your duties.”

His eyes narrowed again, but instead of
speaking he turned and left the room. It was reassuring to know
that at least he knew when an interview was over. After the door
closed behind him, she closed her eyes and remembered a
conversation with the General.