Stewards of the Flame (5 page)

He wanted little to do with food, but Carla ordered for him anyway. She also ordered wine, and poured him some. Jesse accepted the glass gingerly. “You’re offering me this?” he asked in amazement.

“The drug they gave you wore off hours ago. I checked the file on it to be sure.”

“But all the same—”

“I believed you when you said you’re not an alcoholic,” she said. “I want to know.”

“Whether I can stop with one or two, you mean? Carla, I’m not going to want any of this for quite a long time.”

“Yes, you are. To hell with their goddamned aversion games! A few days of treatment can’t affect you unless you let it. Don’t.”

Impressed, he took up the glass and sipped it. Her eyes were on him. Presently he began to eat, and found he was hungry.

Carla seemed radiant, even elated, as if it were she who had escaped from prison. Her color was high. “You won!” she said. “It’s good to see you able to celebrate.”

“With wine, you mean?” He raised his glass. “It’s nice, but not worth the price. Was it for this I let you risk your job, and God knows what else?”

“Not for this. For a principle. And in the end, there wasn’t much risk.”

“You managed an official discharge,” he agreed. “How?”

She averted her gaze. “I’ve got a close friend on the staff. He—does favors for me sometimes.”

“Then I was not really cleared for release.”

“No. The substance abuse unit would never have let you go. Psych had to override, which required some hacking. That part was easy, but without the staff signature seal you wouldn’t have got past the door.”

He frowned; hacking could be a criminal offense. “Why should you stick your neck out for me, Carla? Before you brought my clothes the first time, you’d only talked to me for five minutes.”

“Sometimes that’s enough.” She smiled at him. “I do what I can, Jesse, and you’re from offworld. It’s bad enough for the rest of us, but when they start in on offworlders—”

“Medics are a pain everywhere,” he said, trying to be fair. “I suppose they mean well. Here, they seem to have got hold of all the funds they want, and I’d judge that makes them even more arrogant than on Earth.” That was the root of it, of course. Compulsory treatment couldn’t have been established without unlimited funding. He knew, without wanting to know, that the thing itself would not be hard to get people to vote for. Ongoing medical care was a blessing; most people would believe anything they were told about the need to force it on those who didn’t want to be blessed.

“They mean well,” Carla agreed. “So did the Verquistas, I’m told.”

“It’s not quite as bad as that,” Jesse said. “The Verquistas were a political party. They had the citizens of New America so thoroughly sold on their platform that there was no opposition to them; bit by bit, people on that planet voted away their own freedom.”

“And how do you think it is here?” she demanded, with some bitterness.

“Well, I guess the majority supports the medical lobby,” he said, “since they do seem to get the funding. I must say I don’t see how they get so much in a colony as small as this, though my ship’s cargo manifest showed that it’s a rich colony. But they’re not the government, after all.”

“But Jesse,” Carla said, “they are. Didn’t you know that?”

“Know what?”

“That the Meds are the government here, literally. There is no colonial administrator other than the Hospital Administrator. There is no legislative body other than the Medical Review Board. There’s no police force apart from the ambulance officers; all crime is classed as illness, and untreated illness is considered crime. That’s why they picked you up.”

“God!” Jesse said, staring at her. For the moment he couldn’t think of anything more to say.

“It’s one reason the Hospital’s so large,” Carla went on. “All our government offices are in it. As for funding, the Board levies taxes and skims health care costs off the top. They say all treatment’s free, of course, but we pay through the highest tax rates of any colony in the League.”

Horrified, Jesse protested, “All colonies have free elections now; that’s Colonial League law.”

“Oh, the Board is elected. The Administrator’s elected, too. We have campaigns just like anyplace else; there are lots of candidates and the vote’s close sometimes. But they are all Meds. It’s in our constitution—you can’t run for office without a medical degree.”

He sat for a moment, toying with his wine, absorbing all this. “How did it get into the constitution?” he asked finally.

Carla said, “It was approved by vote, of course. People thought it would be a waste of money to duplicate too much in a new colony. Obviously medical judgment had top priority. The history books say we have a unique arrangement that eliminates unnecessary bureaucracy.”

“And nobody pushes for constitutional change?”

“Oh, no. Almost everyone’s happy with this system. People feel secure with it; they know their health is being protected. Those who’ve grown up here don’t object to forced treatment even for themselves. But I—well, I knew that you, being from offworld, probably would.”

“Carla,” he said shakily, “I haven’t even said thanks.”

“It’s not necessary,” she told him, her green eyes glowing. Changing the subject abruptly, she went on, “Tell me about your ship.”

Jesse told her. He spoke of all the things that had been in his mind the past few days: the monotony, the hopelessness, the frustration. She was a good listener. They talked a long time, until the restaurant was empty and the waiter had dimmed the lamps. When they rose to go, he felt that Carla understood him better than anyone else ever had, anywhere.

“It’s late,” he said. “I’ve got to find a hotel somewhere.”

“You can come home with me for tonight,” Carla said easily.

He drew breath, his heart beating fast, but stepped back and let go of her hand. They had shared only a few hours. He hadn’t thought of her as a woman who would say that.

Carla gave him a smile, the clear, guileless yet knowing smile he had come to look forward to. “It’s not what you think,” she told him. “You’ll sleep on the couch. What I’m saying is that I trust you, Jesse.”

They went to her apartment, said goodnight. Carla went into her room and closed the door. Jesse stood for a while watching boats pass beneath the window, then settled himself with a blanket on the couch. He slept soundly. He felt more at home than he ever had before onworld.

~
 
7
 
~

In the morning, Carla sparkled with energy. “Today’s the start of my offshift,” she told Jesse. “We have a ten-day week here, five days work and five off, though lately I’ve done some trading. Now I relax. Some friends may show up soon; we have plans.”

“I’ll get out of your way,” Jesse said, wishing for plans of his own.

“No,” she told him. “Please stay awhile, Jesse. I want you to meet them.”

When he got out of the shower, she was talking on the phone. “Absolutely. A-OK,” he heard her say. “Come on over; I’m fixing breakfast.”

He stood watching her, wondering how to bring up the question that was puzzling him. Finally he came right out with it. “What’s all that electronic stuff in the bathroom for? I looked in the mirror and got my retina scanned, as if I were entering a high security site.”

Carla sighed. “Required telemetry to the Hospital, what else? A lot of medical data can be obtained from scanning people’s eyes.”

“Telemetry—even from the
toilet?
”

“Of course. The content is analyzed, and the armrest attachment checks your blood pressure. They had toilets like that on Earth as far back as the early twenty-first century; the idea was to help sick people keep track of their medication level. Here, everybody’s health is monitored from infancy on.”

“But what about families living together? And guests like me who use the facilities?”

“The computer checks the DNA.”

“God, Carla!” It was bad enough in the Hospital, but constant surveillance of private functions in people’s own homes . . .

“Some of the outlying islands don’t have satellite uplinks, so we’re allowed to be away for five days,” she explained. “But if we’re not signed out and the data doesn’t get through some morning, the Net generates an alarm and a repair technician shows up.”

Before he could comment, the first of her friends arrived, soon followed by the others. There were two women and two men, all about her own age, all with that serene yet vibrant air that was so characteristic of Carla, but in no other respect alike. Ingrid, Liz, Kwame . . . Jesse could not see what bound them together. Something did. They were all outgoing, seemingly free of worries or antagonisms, and he sensed a depth, a special intimacy between them.

While he was pondering this with the first three, Carla called to him from the door. “Jesse,” she said, as if making an announcement. “This is Peter.”

He was a tall man of slender build, light-skinned with tawny hair. What was most striking about him, Jesse thought as they gripped hands, was his self-possession. It was hard to guess his age. He was certainly far younger than Jesse himself, and his hazel eyes had an almost boyish sparkle and vitality—yet at the same time they were knowing eyes. Whatever caused him to seem young was not inexperience. He would not have looked out of place in a Fleet uniform. He was the kind of man you would trust your life to.

Well, thought Jesse, so much for any hope that Carla was free of attachments. He had best be on his way.

They insisted that he stay for breakfast. He found himself talking a lot while they ate; it was some time before he realized that all five of them were deliberately drawing him out. Were they really that interested in star freighters, or did they just feel sorry for his bad luck? Jesse wondered. Immediately he regretted the thought. An inner sense told that they were simply, and somewhat mysteriously, the most friendly strangers he had ever encountered. He felt comfortable with them.

“I watched your ship come in,” Kwame said, his black face alight with enthusiasm. “The first shuttle, I mean, from your mother ship—I work at the power plant and from our lunchroom, there’s a view of the spaceport. Were you aboard?”

“Not the one you saw. Till the cargo’s unloaded, I stay on the bridge, so I didn’t come down here before dark.” Ruefully he added, “This time I’d have been better off skipping my shore leave.”

“Maybe not,” Carla said, “if Fleet hasn’t everything. That is, you did escape the local equivalent of jail. And now you’re free.”

Free to do what? Jesse thought sadly. Wouldn’t he have been better off in space, dull though it often was, than at loose ends in a colony like this one? Then for the first time, looking at her, it occurred to him,
maybe not. . . .

“Perhaps Jesse’s aware that freedom’s limited here,” Peter remarked.

“I can’t say I like the kinds of laws you’ve got,” Jesse agreed. “But no doubt they do provide excellent care for people with real medical problems.”

“Well, that’s a matter of opinion,” Peter said slowly. All the others were watching him, Jesse noted. “Don’t feel you should hide yours out of courtesy to the natives.”

“Carla said most people like this system.”

“Yes,” Carla agreed, “but I didn’t say I choose my friends from the majority.”

Of course not, he realized. Independent by nature, she would not find docile sheep congenial. He smiled. “Frankly, I think there’s too much focus on health care even on Earth—and making it compulsory no doubt magnifies the problems that causes. Yet hating the Hospital’s no answer. Nobody likes being hospitalized on any world, after all.”

“That’s why people deny their feelings,” Ingrid said. “Dislike is normal, so they tell themselves to ignore it.”

“Sure. When we know it’s for our good, we do that.”

“Even where it’s a matter of indoctrination rather than compulsion,” Peter declared.

“I never looked at it that way—but yes, I guess you’re right. We are indoctrinated, or else we wouldn’t put up with half of what the medics advise. But how else could we nip illness in the bud?”

“You’ve seen where that sort of reasoning leads,” Carla murmured.

He stared at her, bewildered. Put that way, the colony’s laws were no worse than extensions of medical standards existing everywhere—to which, after all, there was little alternative. Yet he
had
seen, and wasn’t sure he could now face even Fleet checkups gladly.

Looking around at the group, he observed, “We’re all healthy. We’re not qualified, I guess, to judge what’s best for those not so lucky. It’s a matter of attitude, maybe—if some get sick because they’re taught to worry about sickness, others like us keep healthy to stay out of the clutches of the medics. I, for one, don’t plan to get caught with anything treatable.”

He was speaking lightly, but nobody laughed. Peter in particular lit up with unmistakable pleasure, as if he had just recognized an old acquaintance whose companionship he valued highly. Finally, out of a silence less uneasy than solemn, Carla rose and said, “It’s late. We’d better get going.”

Jesse rose too, ready to take his leave, but Peter stopped him. “Jess, we’re headed for an island where we spend offshifts,” he said. “We’d like you to come.” The welcome in his words was unmistakably genuine.

“Thanks, but I won’t intrude,” Jesse said, returning the smile. “It’s time I found myself someplace to live.”

“You’re not intruding,” said Carla. “Please come.” Then, as often happened with her, it seemed she picked up what he had not voiced. “I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “I didn’t think. There’s nothing special between Peter and me, Jesse. A lot of friends gather at this place we’re going, more than a dozen this shift, probably. We’d really like to have you. I’d have invited you sooner, but—” She paused for an instant, then concluded, “I wasn’t sure there’d be room in Peter’s plane.”

It was a six-place seaplane, moored in a basin that they reached by water taxi. At sight of it Jesse began revising his estimate of these people’s place in the colony. Peter, at least, must be wealthy. Perhaps inherited wealth—he was surely too young to have accumulated it, rich in diamonds though Undine was said to be.