One of those who received this report and read Jane's clinching paragraph was Gobawa Ekumbo, the chairman of the Xenological Oversight Committee of the Starways Congress. Within an hour she had forwarded copies of Jane's paragraph– politicians would never understand the actual data– along with her terse conclusion:
“Recommendation: Immediate termination of Lusitania Colony.”
There, thought Jane. That ought to stir things up a bit.
Chapter 12
Files
CONGRESSIONAL ORDER 1970:4:14:0001: The license of the Colony of Lusitania is revoked. All files in the colony are to be read regardless of security status; when all data is duplicated in triplicate in memory systems of the Hundred Worlds, all files on Lusitania except those directly pertaining to life support are to be locked with ultimate access.
The Governor of Lusitania is to be reclassified as a Minister of Congress, to carry out with no local discretion the orders of the Lusitanian Evacuation Oversight Committee, established in Congressional Order 1970:4:14:0002.
The starship presently in Lusitania orbit, belonging to Andrew Wiggin (occ:speak/dead,cit:earth,reg:001.1998.44-94.10045) is declared Congressional property, following the terms of the Due Compensation Act, CO 120:1:31:0019. This starship is to be used for the immediate transport of xenologers Marcos Vladimir “Miro” Ribeira von Hesse and Ouanda Qhenhatta Figueira Mucumbi to the nearest world, Trondheim, where they will be tried under Congressional Indictment by Attainder on charges of treason, malfeasance, corruption, falsification, fraud, and xenocide, under the appropriate statutes in Starways Code and Congressional Orders.
CONGRESSIONAL ORDER 1970:4:14:0002: The Colonization and Exploration Oversight Committee shall appoint not less than 5 and not more than 15 persons to form the Lusitanian Evacuation Oversight Committee.
This committee is charged with immediate acquisition and dispatch of sufficient colony ships to effect the complete evacuation of the human population of Lusitania Colony.
It shall also prepare, for Congressional approval, plans for the complete obliteration of all evidence on Lusitania of any human presence, including removal of all indigenous flora and fauna that show genetic or behavioral modification resulting from human presence.
It shall also evaluate Lusitanian compliance with Congressional Orders, and shall make recommendations from time to time concerning the need for further intervention, including the use of force, to compel obedience; or the desirability of unlocking Lusitanian files or other relief to reward Lusitanian cooperation.
CONGRESSIONAL ORDER 1970:4:14:0003: By the terms of the Secrecy Chapter of the Starways Code, these two orders and any information pertaining to them are to be kept strictly secret until all Lusitanian files have been successfully read and locked, and all necessary starships commandeered and possessed by Congressional agents.
Olhado didn't know what to make of it. Wasn't the Speaker a grown man? Hadn't he traveled from planet to planet? Yet he didn't have the faintest idea how to handle anything on a computer.
Also, he was a little testy when Olhado asked him about it. “Olhado, just tell me what program to run.”
“I can't believe you don't know what it is. I've been doing data comparisons since I was nine years old. Everybody learns how to do it at that age.”
“Olhado, it's been a long time since I went to school. And it wasn't a normal escola baixa, either.”
“But everybody uses these programs all the time!”
“Obviously not everybody. I haven't. If I knew how to do it myself, I wouldn't have had to hire you, would I? And since I'm going to be paying you in offworld funds, your service to me will make a substantial contribution to the Lusitanian economy.”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Neither do I, Olhado. But that reminds me. I'm not sure how to go about paying you.”
“You just transfer money from your account.”
“How do you do that?”
“You've got to be kidding.”
The Speaker sighed, knelt before Olhado, took him by the hands, and said, “Olhado, I beg you, stop being amazed and help me! There are things I have to do, and I can't do them without the help of somebody who knows how to use computers.”
“I'd be stealing your money. I'm just a kid. I'm twelve. Quim could help you a lot better than me. He's fifteen, he's actually gotten into the guts of this stuff. He also knows math.”
“But Quim thinks I'm the infidel and prays every day for me to die.”
“No, that was only before he met you, and you better not tell him that I told you.”
“How do I transfer money?”
Olhado turned back to the terminal and called for the Bank. “What's your real name?” he asked.
“Andrew Wiggin.” The Speaker spelled it out. The name looked like it was in Stark– maybe the Speaker was one of the lucky ones who learned Stark at home instead of beating it into his head in school.
“OK, what's your password?”
“Password?”
Olhado let his head fall forward onto the terminal, temporarily blanking part of the display. “Please don't tell me you don't know your password.”
“Look, Olhado, I've had a program, a very smart program, that helped me do all this stuff. All I had to say was Buy this, and the program took care of the finances.”
“You can't do that. It's illegal to tie up the public systems with a slave program like that. Is that what that thing in your ear is for?”
“Yes, and it wasn't illegal for me.”
“I got no eyes, Speaker, but at least that wasn't my own fault. You can't do anything.” Only after he said it did Olhado realize that he was talking to the Speaker as brusquely as if he were another kid.
“I imagine courtesy is something they teach to thirteen-year-olds,” the Speaker said. Olhado glanced at him. He was smiling. Father would have yelled at him, and then probably gone in and beaten up Mother because she didn't teach manners to her kids. But then, Olhado would never have said anything like that to Father.
“Sorry,” Olhado said. “But I can't get into your finances for you without your password. You've got to have some idea what it is.”
“Try using my name.”
Olhado tried. It didn't work.
“Try typing 'Jane.'”
“Nothing.”
The Speaker grimaced. “Try 'Ender.'”
“Ender? The Xenocide?”
“Just try it.”
It worked. Olhado didn't get it. “Why would you have a password like that? It's like having a dirty word for your password, only the system won't accept any dirty words.”
“I have an ugly sense of humor,” the Speaker answered. “And my slave program, as you call it, has an even worse one.”
Olhado laughed. “Right. A program with a sense of humor.” The current balance in liquid funds appeared on the screen. Olhado had never seen so large a number in his life. “OK, so maybe the computer can tell a joke.”
“That's how much money I have?”
“It's got to be an error.”
“Well, I've done a lot of lightspeed travel. Some of my investments must have turned out well while I was en route.”
The numbers were real. The Speaker for the Dead was older than Olhado had ever thought anybody could possibly be. “I'll tell you what,” said Olhado, “instead of paying me a wage, why don't you just give me a percentage of the interest this gets during the time I work for you? Say, one thousandth of one percent. Then in a couple of weeks I can afford to buy Lusitania and ship the topsoil to another planet.”
“It's not that much money.”
“Speaker, the only way you could get that much money from investments is if you were a thousand years old.”
“Hmm,” said the Speaker.
And from the look on his face, Olhado realized that he had just said something funny. “Are you a thousand years old?” he asked.