Blessed are the persecuted, Part I
Johne Cook
Venti Phlagg
burst through the door. Tenerife looked up from his work. “Ambassador Phlagg,” he said, careful not to betray himself. “To what do I owe this... pleasure?”
Phlagg gestured around him. “Looks like you’re getting moved in.”
Tenerife said, “I travel light. I didn’t expect to be diverted here. I was actually on my way to a different post entirely.”
Phlagg said, “So you were summoned, then.” He stroked his chin in thought. “Do you know by whom?”
Tenerife shook his head. “Sorry, Ambassador. It’s a mystery to me. Would you like a seat?”
Phlagg sighed. “Sadly, I am Ambassador no longer, thanks to Senator Rache.” He started pacing furiously back and forth in front of the long, dark window looking out at empty space.
Tenerife sighed to himself. He twirled his pen absently in his right hand and worked to summon the goodwill he didn’t exactly feel. “What happened?” he said.
Phlagg stopped pacing and turned to stare out the window, or appeared to. Out of the blue, he answered Tenerife’s question with a question. “I was doing a good job with the Garçonne, was I not?”
Tenerife shrugged. He knew a rhetorical question when he heard one.
“I negotiated with them squarely, set up lucrative merchandising avenues for both Terrans and Garçonne, and drafted a new long-term trading alliance which I was due to sign this afternoon. I even looked past their Changes. Things were going swimmingly.” He turned and looked at Tenerife with a peculiar expression. “I was... effective.”
Tenerife didn’t follow all that, but caught enough. He allowed himself a small smile. “And?”
“I got to my office early this morning to finish up at the very crack of eight. Rache was there already, seated in my chair — MY CHAIR! — going through all my files without the grace to even ask for my password. He had someone crack open my files for him.”
“He broke into your office?”
Phlagg ignored the query and continued. “Rache looked up and quietly thanked me for my service. He even said I was a good Ambassador.”
“The nerve,” said Tenerife.
Phlagg shook his head. “He said it regretfully, like being competent was a bad thing.” Phlagg dropped himself into the chair in the corner. “And then he busted me down to clerk and dismissed me from my own office!”
“He what?” The pen slipped out of Tenerife’s hand and clattered loudly on his desk. “Did he say why?”
“He said something about taking more ‘direct control’ of ‘negotiations’ with the Garçonne.”
“If you were so effective, what’s his interest in the, what did you call them again?”
“It appears that being effective goes against his plans.” Phlagg cocked his head. “Have you not met the Garçonne yet?”
Tenerife shook his head. “I was called over on short notice without explanation. The packet shuttle that brought me from the Terran jumpgate was a pretty Spartan vessel — they didn’t have any data cubes onboard. It was a good thing I have my Eyeo™ PDA with me for reading material.”
Phlagg sat back while a smile slowly spread across his face. “Oh, you’re in for a treat!”
“After the Klakx, I understand the Garçonne are quite peaceable.”
“Oh, they are, as far as we know. The question is ‘why?’ They have no standing military that we can see.”
“Maybe they’re standing somewhere else.”
Phlagg laughed. “Where do I begin?” He started ticking things off on his fingers. “The Garçonne are shorter than we are. They’re apparently gentle beings who excel at cuisine, the arts, and making colorful, ingenious devices with their slim, nimble fingers. They don’t have hair on their heads the way we do. Instead, they’re covered head-to-toe with a fine, downy fur. They have an subtle sense of humor and the most interesting lavender eyes.”
Tenerife raised an eyebrow. “Lavender?”
Phlagg blushed. “Whatever. Purpleish, yeah.”
Tenerife crossed his arms and shook his head. “I still don’t get it. Militarily-speaking, the Garçonne sound remarkably unremarkable. I wonder what Rache’s real interest is?”
Phlagg couldn’t resist a knowing smile, almost as if he’d been waiting to deliver a punchline. “It’s a matter of the sexes.” He paused for effect. “All three of them.”
Tenerife blinked. “What?”
Phlagg leaned back in his chair with a smug smile. “The Garçonne have a complex sexual physiology. They are a monogamous species where social groupings occur in threes, called Triplets, where each person has a specific biological role. The Male carries what we might think of as pollen. He passes un-activated pollen to the neuter Medium, who activates the pollen and passes it to the Female, who contains the eggs.”
“That’s a lot of passing. How does that happen?”
“Chaotically, as I understand. Feverishly. There’s a lot of thrashing and moaning and pollinated Garçonne ‘dust.’”
Tenerife held up his hand in defeat and smiled. “Sorry I asked.”
“Anyway, the Female is the one who starts and ends the reproductive cycle, as she is the one who induces the pollen growth in the Male to begin with. While all three in the Triplet have equal worth, the Female is the instigator of the Triplet, and the male is the action agent of the Triplet finishing what the Female starts. Meanwhile, the Medium speaks for the Triplet as they are not as emotional as the female nor as aggressive as the male.” Phlagg paused dramatically. “But that’s not the most interesting thing.”
“There’s more?”
Phlagg leaned forward. “Every 18 months, the Triplet disappears behind closed doors for ‘the Torridity.’ When they reappear the following morning, each has metamorphed, physically Changed you might say, shifted automatically, genetically, naturally, into the next sexual role. Parts retract, extend, flatten, expand, all part of some kind of joint instinctive haze. It is a time of intense communion and wonder and still more dust.”
Tenerife was fascinated, if somewhat repulsed. “They rotate sexual identity?”
Phlagg nodded. “Every 18 months.”
“And Senator Rache doesn’t approve of this Garçonne biology?”
Phlagg looked morose. “He doesn’t approve of the Garçonne Triplet system. I’m not sure he even knows about the Change. He’s had a pretty one-track mind since he showed up.”
“When did he arrive?”
“Just a day before you.”
Tenerife shook his head. “With so much commerce just waiting for the go-ahead, something is strange, here. It’s like he’s acting exactly opposite of how a politician would act normally. Venti, I’m sorry you were removed from your post, but it sounds like it may be a blessing in disguise for you if he’s as severe as you say.”
Phlagg waved his index finger negligently in Tenerife’s direction. “You know I’m not one to talk about ‘blessing.’ Besides, I wouldn’t worry about me,” he said. “I’d watch my own back if I were you.”
“Me?” Tenerife snorted. “What does any of this have to do with me?”
Phlagg looked hard at Tenerife. “Because he’s replacing me with you, ‘Ambassador.’”
And at that moment, the door to Tenerife’s office burst open. The Terran who strode in was tall, silver-haired, and possessed a spectacular Van Dyke mustache.
Phlagg jumped to his feet as if he’d been shocked. “Senator Rache!” he stammered.
The Senator looked straight at Tenerife. When he spoke, the powerful bass in his voice shook Tenerife right down to his boots. “You may go, Phlagg. There is urgent business here to be discussed only among members of The Chosen.”
Phlagg didn’t quite sneer, and quickly disappeared down the hall. The Senator’s eyes didn’t leave Tenerife’s. “You don’t look well,” he said to the startled Tenerife. He tossed something blue onto Tenerife’s desk. “Ice pack, ‘Ambassador’?”
~~~~~
Tenerife’s thoughts were racing, but it was as if his mental engine was stuck in Neutral. One thing was sure —the Senator knew his file well enough to know that Tenerife had used that line himself to Venti Phlagg. He was as much as saying that there were no secrets from him. Tenerife didn’t care for the heat of the sudden spotlight shining squarely on his head.
Struggling to gain his composure, Tenerife reverted to trusty decorum. “Senator. Please, have a seat.”
The Senator waved that off and turned his back to Tenerife while he stared out the window. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Tenerife straightened his chair and sat, sitting uncomfortably upright. “Very well. Why are you here, Senator?” Tenerife snapped his fingers. “Wait, perhaps that’s the wrong question.” Tenerife dashed off a quick prayer for wisdom, more felt than subvocalized, and then it came to him. “Why am I here, Senator? Are you the one who had me re-assigned to Garçonne?”
The Senator barked laughter, whirled, and pointed his finger at Tenerife. “Very good, Ambassador!” He took a seat, adjusted his cufflinks, and looked lazily at Tenerife from under hooded eyelids. “I’m here to slow the reckless race to finalize this trading alliance with the Garçonne while I investigate the complexity of the socio-genetic environment.”
Tenerife shook his head. “Senator, I have no idea what you just said.”
The Senator said, “Between us, I am going to find a way to stall or shut down negotiations entirely with the Garçonne if I determine there is even a hint of a chance that their customs may poison our way of life back home.”
Tenerife actually blinked. “Wow. You just blurted that right out.”
Rache barked laughter. “Ambassador Tenerife, I’m a decisive man. This characteristic has stood me well in my rise to political power.”
Tenerife said, “Out of curiosity, what is it about the Garçonne that is deserving of such a strong reaction?”
“Besides their unnatural gender confusion? Besides their wanton traditions for pleasure and procreation?” He leaned back. “Other than that, nothing much.”
That made no sense to Tenerife at all. Tenerife considered his next words carefully, aware that nothing he said would likely make a dent. “If the Garçonne species are genetic hermaphrodites from birth, who are we to judge their physiology, their psychology?”
“Quite so,” said the Senator smoothly. “Only God judges.” He sat back and steepled his fingers. “Fortunately, I feel the will of the Almighty clearly on this issue, and intend to follow His leading.”
Tenerife didn’t know how to respond to that.
Changing the subject, the Senator said, “I picked you for this promotion because I read your file back on Earth. I understand you’re also one of the Chosen, a fairly recent convert.”
“Within the last year or so of my service in the Space Marines, yes. It is why I took my honorable discharge and joined the TDC.” Tenerife spoke slowly as he gathered his thoughts. “I must be honest with you, Senator. I think this may be a problem for me. As I understand it, one of the hallmarks of the Chosen is oneness of mind, thus demonstrating the existence of God. If God hasn’t given me the same conviction you have against the Garçonne, one of us must be confused.”
“It takes a big man to admit it!” agreed Rache. He smiled magnanimously and stood to leave. “Welcome to Garçonne! As a seasoned Elder in the faith, I look forward to instructing you in more advanced ways of The Chosen!” The Senator left as abruptly as he’d entered, leaving Tenerife to grasp at the tattered shreds of his composure.
~~~~~
A man walked past Tenerife’s door pushing a broom. He wore a short-sleeve VKE Oxford shirt and a pleasant expression.
“Greetings, Senator,” he said, but the Senator brushed past him without acknowledging him.
The man whistled tunelessly to himself and pulled an old-fashioned paper notepad from his back pocket. He pulled out an equally out-dated #2 pencil and made a note.
Tenerife rose from his chair and walked to the door. “Nice word processor you’ve got there.”
The man looked up. “Word processor? Oh, the pencil. Ha! Very good. Thanks. It’s old-school, but it never fails. I can even use this in zero-gravity.”
“A pragmatist!” Tenerife stuck out his hand. “Good to meet you. I’m the newly-minted Ambassador. Name’s Tenerife.”
The man tucked his pencil back behind his ear and shook Tenerife’s hand with a good, firm grasp. “Keith Von Klevver. Nothing happens on this station that I don’t know about.”
Tenerife pointed toward the retreating Senator. “You can never have too many friends out here. I’m with the Terran Corp of Diplomacy. What do you do up here?”
Von Klevver smiled. “TDC, eh?” He tapped the logo on his shirt. “I’m with VKE. My own job isn’t nearly as exciting. I do a variety of things. Right now, I push a mean broom.”
They both laughed.
Von Klevver said, “My credo is simple—you do your best work, and then you go home.” He checked the Comm display on his wrist. “And speaking of which...”
Tenerife waved. “I won’t keep you. I’ll see you around.”
Von Klevver sketched a mock salute, put his notepad away, and resumed sweeping, whistling a cheery little tune as he went.
~~~~~
Tenerife paced back and forth in his office in the same pattern Venti Phlagg had just days before. He stopped and removed the small obsidian triangle from its real wood case. “Eyeo™, what’s the good news for the day? I could really use some encouragement right about now.”
The tiny pyramid-shaped PDA chirped in recognition of the implied command. “From scripture: Romans 5: 3 - 5. ‘We rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.’ ”
“You call that encouragement?” Tenerife sighed. “Suffering leads to hope? What man writes like that?”
“I believe that would be the Apostle Paul,” said Eyeo.
“I believe that would be a rhetorical question,” muttered Tenerife.
~~~~~
As Tenerife settled in to his new office as Ambassador, his new secretary announced he had a visitor. He met a solitary female Garçonne. “Greetings. My name is Ambassador Tenerife. What shall I call you?”
She a fair bit shorter than he was with the slim build of a Terran runner. She didn’t have the longer hair of a Terran female, but her ‘fine downy fur’ looked natural and exotic on her.
Her large lavender eyes didn’t hurt, either.
She said, “My native name doesn’t translate well, so I’ve taken the liberty of adopting one of yours. You can call me ‘Chris.’”
Tenerife laughed despite himself and showed her to a chair. He found himself looking at her uneasily. She looked normal enough, but… “What can I do for you, Chris?”
She stared at him, unblinking, with those amazing lavender eyes. Tenerife understood Phlagg’s fascination with them, even as he was repelled by... something.
“I’m here on the station as a liaison, a representative of my people. My role here is to answer any questions you may have and work with you behind-the-scenes to finish crafting a successful trading alliance.” She took him in with a frank gaze with her stunning eyes. “You can think of me as your opposite number, Ambassador.”
Tenerife’s eyebrow raised and his traitorous pulse jumped. “How nice.” He gathered his thoughts. “Perhaps you could clear something up for me. I understand your family structure runs in threes.”
“Triplets, yes.”
He looked at the file on his desktop display. “I can’t help but notice that your credentials suggest you are here by yourself. Would it be impolite to ask where your mates are?”
Chris blinked slowly, which somehow unsettled Tenerife. “My status is not normal. Technically speaking, I am Detached — my better thirds remained behind on the planet. I am left to myself.” Her eyes grew heavy with lavender tears. “It is a lonely thing to be single in a society of threes.”
Tenerife felt a wave of shame wash over him. “I. Uh, is there no hope for you?”
“’Once unioned, always unioned,’” she said, like it was a common expression. “I volunteered for this duty, but when I did, my Trip-mates cast me aside and took another to them. An impulsive fascination on my part has become more permanent than I would have chosen had I thought this through more clearly. And now I must forge on alone.”
Tenerife nodded. “I, too, am alone, although I sense my solitude cannot begin to compare with yours. It’s small consolation, but you have my sympathy. If there’s ever anything I can do...”
“You are too kind,” she said. She wiped her damp eyes on the back of her hand. She collected herself. “For now, I’d like to concentrate on being one of the cooler heads we need to forge a stronger bond between Terrans and Garçonne. I will do anything in my power to see this through.” She stood. “Ambassador.”
As she rose and bowed and left, her words resonated in Tenerife’s mind. He endeavored not to take her lightly, for there is no more desperate being than one who has nothing to lose and no-one to go home to.
~~~~~
The weeks flew past. The Senator spent a little time each day with Tenerife, dropping in on him without notice, expounding on elements of their ‘shared’ faith, but always bringing the conversation back around to the nobility of the Terrans and the strangeness of the Garçonne. In the mean time, Tenerife tried to learn everything he could from Chris about the Garçonne and the trade agreement they were so near to signing.
Not that it helped one little bit.
~~~~~
Three months after he arrived, Tenerife received an urgent Comm message from Venti Phlagg to meet him at the little coffee shop across from the space dock. Tenerife showed up and checked his message on his wrist Comm while he waited. Phlagg strode quickly around the corner. “Venti. What’s...”
Phlagg sat down abruptly opposite him and held up his hand. “Look, we’ve have some bad history between us, and we’re not really friends.” Tenerife tried to speak but Venti waved him off and bulled forward. “However, I’ve uncovered something bigger than the two of us, bigger than both our worlds. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do as a clerk, but I think you’re in a perfect position to do something about it as Ambassador given the right information.”
Tenerife said, “What are you talking about?”
A waitress came by but Phlagg brusquely waved her away. “When Rache busted me back down to clerk, I figured it was largely a symbolic gesture. I wasn’t playing ball, and he wanted a Theist in that chair.” Venti practically spat the word.
Tenerife said, “Well, Rache doesn’t know me as well as he thinks if he thinks he can trust my belief system to support his bigotry.”
Venti said, “I debated just enjoying my de-facto vacation, but something about Rache’s attitude provoked me to show up to work at the clerk’s office and start going through records.”
Tenerife smiled. “Still trying to be ‘effective?’”
“Exactly. If I had been effective as an ambassador, I determined I’d be just as effective as a clerk,” said Venti. “I admit, it was tough boosting at first, but then I started to notice little things. None of the clues amounted to anything by themselves, but added together, they started to form a picture.”
Tenerife leaned forward. “What did you find out?”
“This is much bigger than you think,” Venti said. “For one thing, the good and holy Senator is interested in far more than just seizing some kind of moral high ground with regard to an alien species with different sexual roles and customs from ours.”
Tenerife shrugged. “That’s hardly damning. He’s a politician. Politicians tell more lies before breakfast than I did in my entire military career.”
“There’s more to it than that. When you were still in the Space Marines, did you know a Captain Motumbo?”
“Knew of him, yes. He captained a small Corsair-class research ship away from all the action.”
“Well, this Motumbo’s had a sudden and frankly inexplicable promotion. Furthermore, I think his rise to power is the key to what’s going here on.”
“Promotion? Promotion to what?”
Phlagg smiled grimly. “Get this — he’s...”
Before Venti Phlagg could continue, Senator Rache himself walked around the corner. Tenerife and Phlagg looked up, too surprised to even look guilty. Rache’s face looked flush and his eyes were wild with savage glee. “Ah, Phlagg, there you are. You almost left without this. You’ll want this for your voyage!”
As one, Tenerife and Phlagg looked at each other. “Voyage?”
Van Klevver walked around the corner, also out of breath, and called, “Senator. Here’s the suitcase you asked for from the locked room. You ran off without it.”
Rache took it. “Thank you, Mr. Van Klevver. I’m sure Mr. Phlagg here will quite appreciate having this along as well.”
Venti looked frozen, stunned beyond words.
Beyond them, the overhead declared the last call for the packet back to the Terran Moon base. Rache said, “Ah, there it is now. No time for wistful goodbyes! I had to pull some strong favors to get you onto this packet shuttle, ‘Ambassador’ Phlagg. When you get onboard the packet, open your last message.”
“Last message?” said Phlagg listlessly as Rache dropped the bag by Phlagg’s foot. Phlagg’s wrist Comm binged.
“Perfect timing! The message that just landed on your Comm,” said Rache smoothly. “Now off you go, and best wishes in your new post at Ragnor. Do me proud. Show them how ‘effective’ you can be!”
Phlagg looked desperately at Tenerife.
Quietly, Tenerife said, “I’ll see you when this is all over.”
Bitterly, Phlagg said, “How can you be so sure?” Then Phlagg stood and shouldered his bag. He took three steps, stopped, turned to Tenerife. “Give my regards to the Admiral,” he said. Then he strode off stoically toward the dock. He took a hard left turn without looking back and disappeared into the corridor leading to the shuttle.
Rache smiled and clapped Tenerife roughly on the shoulder. “That was a very near thing, eh?” and then he strode off down the corridor.
Van Klevver smiled awkwardly and did his half salute. Tenerife stared at him like he was a Changeling himself. Van Klevver’s smile faltered. He ducked his head, turned, and strode off, walking a little too fast for someone who was completely comfortable in his skin.
Tenerife slouched back down into his seat. Having the answer dangled in front of him and then ripped away was frustrating. Having the Senator push him into a spiritual place he didn’t believe in was worth a little righteous indignation.
But that wasn’t the worst part of it. Tenerife had paid for a system of belief with his soul, with his past, with his future. He expected something to make him feel connected to something bigger than him. After a year of loyal obedience and self-denial, when the chips were down, Tenerife expected to feel comforted, understood, connected.
But, like Chris, Tenerife had never felt more alone.
END of Part I
Come back here next month for the conclusion to
Blessed Are the Persecuted
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A veteran of various volunteer publications, Johne has been a proofreader for Deep Magic magazine, an associate editor for Bill Snodgrass' The Sword Review , and managing editor of Dragons, Knights, and Angels. Together with L. S. King and Paul Christian Glenn, Johne founded Ray Gun Revival magazine (RGR), devoted to space opera and golden age sci-fi. They refer to themselves collectively as the Overlords, and are often vaporizing someone's puny planet for various arbitrary infractions. In July, 2009, RGR celebrated the start of their fourth year of publication.
