“What of the Zacharians?” came like surf from Axor. “Is mercy possible for those tormented souls?”
“Tormented, my foot!” cried Diana, and stamped hers. She checked herself, drank of her martini, and said, while a slight flush played across her cheekbones: “Not that I’m after genocide on them or any such thing. Javak, no! But what will happen? You got any notion, Dad?”
“Yes, I do,” Flandry replied, glad to steer conversation into softer channels. “Not that a final decree has been issued; but I’ve been studying the situation, and … my word is not without leverage.”
He likewise sipped, drew breath and smoke, before he continued: “They’re unique. No other population, at least no other human population, could have kept a secret the way theirs did. Virtually every adult was privy to it. Let’s eschew quibbles about what ‘human’ really means.
“Their children, of course, are innocent, had no idea of what was going on. Can we kill them? The Merseians might, to ‘purge the Race.’ Whatever its entropy level, the Empire has not yet sunk to that.
“Pardons, amnesties, and limited penalties are going to be the order of the day. They must, if we want to shore up this social structure of ours so it might last another century or two.
“I think the punishment of the Zacharians will be the loss of their country. They’ll be forced to vacate—scatter—find new homes wherever they can. I’d not be surprised but what Merseia offers them a haven, and many of them accept. The rest—will have to make their way among the rest of us.”
“And what will come of that?” Targovi mused.
Flandry spread his hands. “Who knows? We play the game move by move, and never see far ahead—the game of empire, of life, whatever you want to call it—and what the score will be when all the pieces at last go back into the box, who knows?”
He tossed off his drink, tossed away his cigarette, and stood up. “My friends,” he said, “dinner awaits. Let us go in together and rejoice in what we have.
“But first—” his glance swooped about—”I’d like to give you three some extra reason for rejoicing. Diana, Targovi … are you really heart-bent on faring out yonder? I’m prepared to arrange that for you, however you choose. Trader, explorer, scientist, artist, or, God help you, Intelligence operative—I can see to it that you get the schooling and the means you’ll need. I only ask that first you think hard about what you truly want.” The girl’s and the Tigery’s spirits fountained radiance.
“As for you, Father Axor,” Flandry went on, “if you wish, I’ll obtain adequate funding for your research. Shall I?”
“God bless you, whether you like it or not,” the Wodenite replied, ocean-deep. “What you endow goes beyond space or time.” He crossed his hands on his forelegs and smiled, as a being may who is winning salvation for himself and his beloved.