A Princess of the Aerie Read Free

all these old, dignified diplomats doing all that wild stuff—well, of
     course nobody’s going to get all excited or anything, but it’s sure going to remind them why Venus is the lightest planet—”
    “It has the second highest gravity of anywhere inhabited,” the Dean said. “Is this the quality of your research?”
    “I mean light the way kids use the word, sir. Fun. Fashionable. Exciting. New. Something you want to be associated with. Like
     rich people with style. Not like some pathetic loser gweetz with a job and bills and no future. Like that.”
    The Dean smiled as if he were about to torment a small animal. “Oh, yes, oh, yes, I should dearly love to try to sell
that
story upstairs, if I had to, which (glory to Nakasen) I won’t.” He brought his feet up onto his perch, still chuckling, bracing
     his hands on his knees. “And you did manage to keep your preposterous tale straight, much better than Dujuv. Did you consider
     how the Venereans might feel about it?”
    “Well, sir, my concern was the Hive. That’s where our loyalty is supposed to be, after all. So I probably wasn’t thinking
     about the Venereans at all.”
    “Do you see a pattern here? Because I do. And not a good one. You seem to think that the Hive is all that matters, and that
     all your superiors will, or should, feel that way as well. In fact you seem to think that consideration for the different
     feelings and ideas of the citizens of other nations is somehow a weakness or a failing in someone working for the Hive.”
    Bewildered, Jak dakked what he was being accused of, but not why it would be an accusation. What was good for the Hive, so
     far as Jak could see, was good, regardless of what it might mean for the perverts of Venus, the miserly miners of Mercury,
     or the surreal tribals of Mars.
    “Jak,” Dean Caccitepe said, “you know that I’m not going to try to appeal to your moral sense. I’m not that big a fool. But
     if you think ignorance is a mark of patriotism, we have a problem. And I think that’s how you actually feel. Why else would
     you avoid and/or flunk, constantly, a not-at-all difficult required class? Certainly it’s consistent with your cover-up story.
     I know perfectly well that you and Dujuv were merely trying to finance an end-of-year slec party. But even if I didn’t, I’d
     have known that your entire story was nonsense. Now, can you tell me why?”
    Jak shrugged, looked down, and mumbled, “Because you’re smarter than me.”
    “
No,
Jak. I
am
smarter than you—many people are—but that is not the reason your lie failed. Almost anyone could have seen through it. Now,
     why? This is important, Jak. If, in just a few years, we are going to have you out there lying on behalf of the Hive, with
     the security of a billion people dependent upon your lie’s being believed, then you had better be able to tell a good one
     (and more importantly avoid telling a bad one). Now—again—why was it that
anyone
could have seen through that lie?” The question was clearly serious. “I’m still waiting for an answer,” Caccitepe said.
    “I don’t know. I don’t have any idea,” Jak said, possibly for the first time in his life.
    “What is Principle 204?”
    “I don’t—”
    “Just recite it.”
    Jak drew a breath, blanked his mind, and let the familiar words tumble out. “ ‘Principle 204: Always make your lie the lie
     that your listeners want to tell themselves.’ All right, sir, I sort of see
that
it has to do with the case, but I don’t see
what
it has to do with the case.”
    “Hmm.” The Dean frowned. “Either that was a real question or your act is improving. Either of those is a good thing, of course.
     Hmm.” He tented his fingers under his jaw, seeming again to look for something to peck at on his desk. After some thought,
     Caccitepe said, “Well, then, here’s what I’ve decided. Mind you, if you don’t like it, you can always appeal through official