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The lieutenant glanced at Trystin, then saw the name, rank, and decorations,
and looked away, coldly. "Lieutenant Rifori?"
The lieutenant followed the doctor into the office. Shortly, the doctor left,
and the door shut.
"It shouldn't be long. Major." Dr. Kynkara, her short hair graying, paused.
"Thank you." Trystin gave her a brief smile, grateful for the momentary
glimpse of humanity. Somehow, he expected coldness in battle and on the
perimeter line, but not in a medical center. And not in Cambria.
The doctor entered the office adjoining the one where the interview was taking
place and closed the door behind her.
Lieutenant Rifori left within ten minutes, a puzzled look on his face, until
he saw Trystin, and his face hardened again before he turned and rapped on the
staff office door.
After Rifori left. Dr. Kynkara ushered Trystin into her office.
The alien wore the same uniform/clothing as every Farhkan Trystin had met.
Were they all the same? And would he be talking with Rhule Ghere once again or
would it be Jhule? How many Farhkans were involved? Was the agenda going to be
theft once more?
Trystin inhaled slowly, taking in the vaguely familiar odor, the mixed scents
of an unfamiliar flower, a muskiness, and cleanliness.
"Major, this is Rhule Ghere. He is a senior . . . physician . . . in the
Farhkan . . . hegemony."
"I've met Dr. Ghere." Vaguely surprised that his voice was so calm, Trystin
nodded to Ghere.
The not-quite-human figure wore the same shimmering gray fatigues. The red
eyes still peered out from the iron-gray hair and square face, and the wide
single-nostril nose flapped with each breath above the protruding crystalline
teeth. "Greetings, Major Desoll."
Again, as they had before, the words scripted through his mind, but Trystin
knew somehow that the use of the implant was a fiction, a convenient one for
the Farhkans.
"Let me know when you're done," requested the doctor as she left.
"I will." Trystin waited until the door closed and the Farhkan's comm bloc
dropped over the room. He settled into the plastic chair opposite Ghere.
"What do you feel about theft these days?" asked the Farhkan.
"I still don't like it. How do you feel about lying? Or is misrepresentation
on the nonverbal level not lying?"
Ghere snorted, and Trystin wasn't sure the sound was a laugh.
"You are bright enough to get into trouble. Major." "You make that sound like
a threat. Doctor." Trystin added the next words on a subvocal level through
the implant. "Do your mental abilities include the induction of heart attacks
or cerebral 'accidents'?"
"I did not mean my words as a threat." Ghere seemed unruffled. "You have
thought, as I hoped you might, but you have not thought deeply enough." "How
about answering the question?" "That is a fair request. Yes, we can talk
mind-to-mind, but not to everyone of your species. The implant is symptomatic
of ability. That is, it is difficult to convey more than simple thoughts to
those who do not have the ability to mentally organize thoughts before
speaking them. Thus . . ."
Trystin nodded. Ghere's thoughts/words made sense, but whether they were fully
accurate was another question.
". . . and we cannot physically affect another entity directly by mental means
. . ."
Directly? That bothered Trystin, although he couldn't immediately Figure out
an indirect means. "How about indirectly?"
"No more than you can with spoken words." A silent laugh followed. "Now, you
might do me the honor of responding to my request about your feelings on
theft."
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"Theft isn't simple. It sounds simple, but it's not. If I waste people's time
with endless chatter, am I stealing their time? How do I know? I'd have to
guess whether they wanted to talk or they didn't. If I steal food to live, it
is theft, but is it so immoral if those I steal from have plenty?" "You still
do not wish to admit you are a thief?" Trystin shrugged. "You want a simple
answer to a question that isn't simple."
"Is not a failure to answer a question a form of lying?" Trystin felt what he
thought had to be amusement, and he answered. "Not if you don't know the
answer. Perhaps I should tell you that I don't know if I am a thief." "You
steal, or you do not."
"When you can give me a definition of theft, then I'll think about answering
the question."
"That is not the objective. In your own terms, are you a thief?"
Trystin paused. "The simple answer is no." "You should think about whether it
is the correct answer." After a mental silence, Ghere added, "Is there a
correct answer? Is your correct answer good for another being?"
"Probably not, but I also don't want to live in a society where people are
free to steal everything under the sun."
"So some theft is acceptable? You do not believe all theft is unacceptable?"
Trystin's forehead felt damp. The questions were simple enough, but a lot more
was going on than trying to answer questions. A lot more, and he could feel
the anger building inside him. Everywhere he looked, something was hidden, as
if everyone-except his father-had something to gain by concealment. And
everyone was judging.
"Is some lying acceptable?" asked Ghere, interrupting Trystin's thoughts.
"That depends on what you mean by lying. And by acceptable."
"It is strange. You humans pride yourself on beliefs and values that you claim
are absolute, and then you refuse to accept the judgments you have created by
those values." "That gives you the right to judge us?" snapped Trystin. "I
have not ever made such a claim. I have asked you to judge yourself, and you
have refused."
"And if I had? If I had said I were a thief. . . then what?" The snort that
seemed like laughter followed. "Then I would have asked you how you could be a
thief when you pay for what you use."
"Then why did you bother? You weren't going to accept any answer I gave."
Trystin could feel the anger building, anger fueled as much by the cold
reception in the med center as by the Farhkan game-playing.
"Because understanding what cannot be answered or resolved is the beginning of
wisdom."
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