OX, the only Teacher compy allowed deep inside private security levels of the Whisper Palace, performed his daily duties, as he had done for almost two centuries. Young Raymond Aguerra, renamed Peter, had been an interesting, well-behaved, model student. Prince Daniel, however, was . . . not.
With a rude noise, the young man turned away from the news feed, in which the King was receiving the first shipment of stardrive fuel delivered from the Hansa’s new skymine. On the screen, Peter spoke clearly in his well-trained voice. “These shuttles carry fresh ekti. Not purchased from Roamer cloud harvesters. Not removed from our stockpiles. This is stardrive fuel obtained by a Hansa-operated cloud harvester on Qronha 3, which has been cleared of the evil hydrogues.”
“The Ildirans cleared it,” Daniel said with a snort. “We didn’t do anything. Why is Peter taking credit?”
“He is taking advantage of the situation. He is not taking credit,” OX said. “For as long as that gas planet remains safe, we should mine its clouds. It is surprising that the Ildirans themselves have not brought their own facilities.” He knew, from his ancient experience, that the Ildirans were rigid in their behavior and followed complex, and often slow, patterns.
The Teacher compy had calculated that the amount of stardrive fuel produced by Sullivan Gold’s single facility was far from sufficient to meet the Hansa’s ekti needs, but the symbolism was vital. On the news feed, he and Prince Daniel watched the fuel shuttles open; uniformed workers stepped out, wearing clean and perfectly pressed work uniforms. They carried tanks of compressed ekti, each one mounted on antigrav clips.
“Oh, why should I care?” Daniel said. “No one ever lets me set foot outside of this Palace.”
“You are the chosen Prince.” OX’s modulated voice expressed patience, designed not to provoke or upset a volatile student like this boy. “That is sufficient reason for you to care.”
“Will I ever get to go out there? Make a public appearance? I want to take a look inside that hydrogue wreckage, but you won’t let me.” Daniel pouted.
“Chairman Wenceslas has given explicit instructions. You are to be sheltered. It is for your own safety.”
“Peter gets to do it. If I’m a real Prince, then why shouldn’t I be with him? I’m his replacement if anything bad happens.”
Considering Daniel’s intractable behavior, his resistance to even simple instructions, OX knew that nothing “bad” was likely to happen to the King anytime soon, despite Basil’s implied threats. “Perhaps you will earn a change of status, once you achieve certain milestones.”
“If the hydrogues came and wiped out this city, then I could do what I wanted. Ha! I’d probably survive this deep in the Whisper Palace.”
“Do not speak that way, Prince Daniel.”
“I’m the Prince. I can speak any way I like.”
“And I am your instructor. My job is to see that you learn the proper ways to speak. And to behave.” The compy added a sharp edge to his voice, which startled the young man into silence.
For many months now OX had diligently worked with Daniel to make him understand his role. The basic data of the Prince’s prior life explained that he—whose real name was withheld from OX—had been taken from a bad household. He’d had a stepfather, no mother, and an “obnoxious older sister,” according to Daniel’s comments. At first the Prince candidate had been overjoyed with his new circumstances, showing excessive hedonism and gluttony. Through prior models of human behavior, OX expected that such treats would eventually grow stale for him, and then the spoiled boy would become even more intractable.
The Hansa’s preliminary assessments of the young candidate had apparently been in error. Daniel was not particularly bright, diplomatic, or personable. Once Chairman Wenceslas realized the mistake he had made, OX postulated that the Hansa would simply make this young man disappear and select a replacement “Daniel.” As it was, the public was not familiar with him.
As further proof of his unsuitability, the boy was oblivious to his own precarious position.
Returning to the business at hand, OX once again reset his priorities and attempted to teach Prince Daniel. “Now we will review the story of the generation ship Abel-Wexler, the tenth to depart from Earth, in 2110 AD.”
“That’s boring.”
OX continued anyway. “Once the Ildiran rescuers delivered the ship to Ramah, their history became interesting. Ildirans remained with the passengers for years, helping the humans establish their foothold on the new colony. After making close ties with several Ildiran lens kithmen, a charismatic religious leader on Ramah became convinced that devout humans should emulate the Ildiran thism, as a conduit to God. Although he had originally been trained as a spokesman for Unison, he developed his own beliefs.”
Daniel began tapping his writing implement on the desktop, making a loud noise. Accordingly, OX increased the volume of his voice.
“Many of the strictly religious passengers of the Abel-Wexler resented the ‘Ildiran heresy,’ and a series of holy wars broke out on Ramah. Several lens kithmen were killed. The Ildiran Empire chose not to retaliate militarily, but withdrew its people from the world. Religious wars simmered between the human settlers for decades, with many attempts at recasting Raman theology into a version acceptable to each sect. When no human priest actually succeeded in linking with the Ildiran thism, however, most of their followers broke away.”
Throughout the brief lecture, Daniel displayed exaggerated restlessness. The young man seemed to be trying to provoke OX, but the Teacher compy remained much more patient than any human would have been. “Unless you finish this lesson satisfactorily, Prince Daniel, I will invoke my privilege to cancel the dessert course at this evening’s meal. Conversely, superior performance may result in an extra portion.”
“I could have you removed if you do that!”
“No, you cannot.” The compy remained firm and silent. Daniel chose not to press his position.
“All right, but why does it have to be so dull?” He slumped back.
“It is dull to you, because you refuse to apply your imagination. My goal is not to entertain you, but to instruct you. I intend to succeed, whether you enjoy it or merely endure it. But you will listen to my lessons, and I will repeat them as many times as necessary until you comprehend the concepts.”
“I hate you, OX.”
The compy remained silent for a moment. “Your emotional response to me is irrelevant. Shall we continue with your lessons?”
Sulking, Daniel didn’t answer.
After a few moments of tense silence, OX began his lecture again. He was a Teacher compy and followed his assigned tasks with full diligence.
He knew, however, that this young man would never be much of a King. Daniel simply did not have the potential or the drive that Peter had exhibited. But the Hansa had given OX explicit instructions on what he must do.