“I had no idea women were oppressed,” I said.

“What did you think we were,” she challenged.

“Autonomous,” I said, “aloof, perhaps.”

“This ship is a prison,” she said as if I had wronged her. Her words were barbed and I felt each of them personally. “We are captives by your father's command. We are not free.”

Well, there I was–stunned all over again. I admit now that father had kept us in the dark. I had never once questioned the autonomous status of the Tzhan Simach. I had never been curious how the men and women had arrived at separate arrangements. We had been taught that women lived separately because their nature required it. We were taught that the Great Lady cared for the women like the King cared for the men. Come to think of it, I never concerned myself with the disproportionate number of men to women. Men filled the fleet while all of our women lived on a single ship.

I heard the door slide open and turned to see father standing in the open entrance. “Come in,” he said. “Both of you.”

The interior was grand and furnished with colorful rugs and decorative tapestries. The receiving room had a closed in and comfortable quality that excited my senses. As father led us past several plush seating arrangements toward another door, I wondered how my simple accommodation on the Seed Ship my benefit from a single wall tapestry. Father pulled aside the curtains that covered the rear entrance and ushered us through. I thought of describing to Rigil the intricate designs I saw on the silk curtains. He would be as amazed as I to see such rich appointments. The next room was more business-like. The soft lights of the receiving room came from fixed and covered lighting in the far corners of the room. The floating lights of the second room were bright and unfiltered.

The second room could properly be described as an office. It was tight. The metallic walls were hidden behind white synthetic shelving on which I noted reading material of several different media. There were also figures and potted flowers unlike many other accommodations in the fleet. I found that the flowers added life to the office. The cool air was fragrant. The central desk was a white synthetic that matched the shelves. A metallic sliding door into another room was covered with sheer curtains like the ones through which we had just passed.

My eyes finally came to rest on the woman seated behind the desk. It was the Great Lady, Ishtara. Like her daughter, Ishtara's hair was white but instead of being braided behind her head, it was allowed to flow freely down across her shoulders. The great Lady was dressed in a simple tight-fitting gown of golden weave. It was sleeveless and her skin was fair. She clasped the long fingers of her hands before her on the desk which held a single node moved to her left. A sad smile broke upon a lovely face that displayed the slow drain of many atomic progressions. Imabelai seated herself primly in the seat by the node while father took a seat on a padded couch in the right wall. I stood before the Great Lady as father introduced me.

“Son,” he said casually, “I would like to introduce my wife, Ishtara. Ishtara, meet my heir, 5E5U.”

The word, heir, caught my attention but I held my eyes on the Great Lady as I stood before her. I had given little thought to stepping into my father's shoes. The Great Lady slowly blinked and slightly nodded in recognition of my existence. I confess I felt as though I had been left hanging in her estimation. She and her daughter leaned together as Imabelai whispered into her ear. When she straightened, she addressed my father.

“Really, Godelli, I never understood your need for those contrived names. Surely, self-naming would be more empowering.” Her voice was much like her daughter's, a pleasing mid-range. Unlike her daughter's voice, there was no edge of bitterness. Rather, her words were sweet and inoffensive. The name she called my father was not lost on me. I stored it in my thoughts for later rumination.

Her eyes were a darker blue than those of her daughter. She looked the more intently into my eyes and asked, “How do you pronounce that name?”

I answered, “Jeez if you like.”

Father spoke. “I need you to understand something, son. My wife led a rebellion against me during a time when I placed my trust in her.” I looked between the King and the Great Lady in amazement. I noted that Ishtara had lowered her face while father spoke. “I loved her but she betrayed me. She imperiled the fleet,” he continued. “So, what I failed to tell you is that I exiled my wife and her minions to this ship. However, I held her under a covenant that permitted some dignity. I placed all women under her charge.”

“I have kept the peace,” she answered in a humble quiet voice.

“Not so,” countered father with a stern voice. “You have allowed the raising of a military faction among your own, possibly for rebellious reasons.”

“No . . .” Ishtara began to say but father cut her off.

“Mind your words to me,” he said, sitting forward. “Nothing here is hidden from me. Well, this military is hereby dissolved. All uniforms and weapons are to be destroyed.”

Imabelai stood and pierced my father with such a cold glare that even I could feel it. “You don't have the right,” she railed bitterly.

Suddenly, father stood before my sister. It made my slightly molecular heart skip a beat. Such power! He was bright again but not blinding. Imabelai did not back down, she stood defiant against my father's will. Fearful, Ishtara cringed, turning her face away and closing her eyes. What frightful volumes that spoke to me.

“No,” Imabelai countered.

Father said, “Never mind. I'll do it myself.”

When father said those words, Imabelai's power was lost. She suddenly stood before us without her uniform. She knew her nakedness immediately. She reached to cover herself with her arms, a gesture half-realized. She looked around to me briefly, eyes open in shamed disbelief, a simpering noise in the back of her throat. Stripped of her dignity, she ran through the back door.

Father sat in the chair to the left of Ishtara's desk. He laid his right arm on the desk and covered her delicate clasped hands in a gentle grip.

“Now,” said he, “let us speak of Sama.”

My time aboard the Tzhan Simach with father was an awakening for me. I had lived in a sort of subconscious fear of my father, hoping in all matters for a kind word or a small portion of his attention. Everyone knew that father was the original atomic. We were all of the same mind – the king was the oldest, most knowledgeable, and most powerful of our kind. Yet, I had never witnessed such power as he displayed on the Tzhan Simach. First was the manner in which he had transported us across the empty space from one ship to another. As if that was not enough to hold my spirit in an alarmed state, father then used his power to subdue five of Imabelai's aides in the blink of an eye. My alarm was further escalated when father held a large desk in mid-air and sent it through a solid door, wholly eliminating the existence of both. Finally, father, by his very will, removed every object and vestige of their military from their ship. I had only witnessed Imabelai running naked through a door but later I learned that all uniforms and weapons had simultaneously vanished.

I learned much in that rotation. Much was accomplished. All Kee stewards were released from the Tzhan Simach. The female military was permanently banned and the covenant that father had previously made with Ishtara was revoked. Sama was reunited with her family and I was guaranteed the full support of the Great Lady in my investigation. Images from that rotation were permanently burned into my mind. I could close my eyes and see women stuck to the wall. I could see them fall as one to the floor. I could see the aide who was slammed from the desk to the wall. I could see the desk and the door that were no longer there. These images will stay with me for all time but the image that came to mind most often, the one that I could not shake, was the image of Imabelai. Her statuesque form, her fair skin, and her firm buttocks haunted me.

I was made aware of a history few of us knew. I had not known, for example, that Ishtara and her daughter had staged a coo. Their rebellion took a revolution to plan but a turn to be crushed. As their punishment, they were imprisoned on the Tzhan Simach. Later, father and Ishtara agreed to terms that provided some dignity for his estranged mate and adopted daughter. The women of the fleet, both then and from worlds to come, would live aboard the Tzhan Simach. They were placed under the autonomous authority of the Great Lady. I wondered what the fleet would have seemed like with women and men mingled freely. I wanted an accurate history. A fire blazed up in me to know more of the past. I wanted to know where the Great Lady came from and why she had become so disaffected.

Father ended his conversation with the Great Lady and stood abruptly. He took my hand and I found us alone in my father's office. I had been startled by the sudden change but more so when father fell against me. At once I could see that he was in distress. He seemed weak and barely able to hold himself upright. In one of many alarms, that rotation, I took father in my arms and supported him. Had father been molecular, I would have struggled beneath his weight but gravity affects atomics differently. Unwanted thoughts flashed through my mind. I knew father was dying but I was not ready for an end.

“Help me to my bed,” he asked of me.

I was more than willing; I would have done anything father asked. I walked him carefully into his quarters and helped him into his bed. The hovering lights lit up at our approach. I made sure that father was comfortable in the smallest details before I pulled a seat to the side of his bed. His eyes were closed while mine were wide in concern. What would the fleet do without their king? What would I do without my father? I simply could not imagine his absence. I could see the weakness in his face; he seemed thin. I was relieved when he opened his eyes to me. He reached out and took my hand. I was comforted.

“I always thought of you as a slacker,” he said with a weak smile, “but I have come to discover strengths in you your brother could never imagine.”

“Father,” I answered, “I am worried for you. Tell me what to do.”

He said quietly, “Just listen. Power comes at a price. I am over-tasked from doing things I rarely do. I will need you to arrange some time for me in a med tree but, while we are alone, I have some things to say. Will you hear me?”

I answered immediately, “Yes, father. You know I will.”

He gave my hand a squeeze I had rarely known. This was the love I craved. He released my hand and waved away the lights. The corner in which he had his large and elegant bed became dim. He took a moment, closed his eyes while I waited patiently for him to speak. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“I have given much thought to my heir,” he said. “I looked for qualities of leadership needed for the many races we are. I considered the ability to lead a military, to make hard decisions. LUC has those qualities but I have come to find out that your brother's love for the military is a love for violence and force of will. I considered making LUC my heir.”

I answered, “LUC is a world maker. I think he is capable.”

“But then,” father continued, “I gave some thought to his brother who seemed to want nothing more than to grow beans. You had no interest in issues of the fleet. You did not avail yourself of the other sciences. You avoided the military and, quite frankly, I felt that you were unfit to lead.”

“Father . . .” I began.

“Never apologize,” he answered. “I have since changed my mind.”

“Why?” I had believed every word he spoke. I was unworthy to lead. LUC definitely had more leadership qualities. My brother seemed almost as strong to me as did my father. I was woefully and deliberately uneducated in all matters except, as father had put it, growing beans.

“I have taken notice of your true nature,” father continued. “Your friends are loyal. The investigation I tasked you with has proven to me how you've pulled them together. The Kee adore you. Some of them worship you. A hero is what they see. Now, I am convinced you have the one quality a leader must absolutely have. Compassion.”

I felt embarrassed as if some secret part of me had been stripped bare. I felt annoyed because the fleet pretty much self-maintained. Everyone knew their place and did what was good for all of us. That thought was immediately tempered by the recollection of present crimes and past rebellions. Still, there was my father in a weakened state and in need of my attention. Surely, talk of leadership could wait till I brought in the care my father needed.

His pause ended without warning and abruptly derailed my thoughts. He said, “We will speak more of this later. For now, call in those long-nosed fellows – and don't you mope around about me. I just need some rest.”

With a welcome pat to my hands, father dismissed me and sent me in search of the Olipharean techs. I got them to my father in good time and as I hovered while they brought in and set up the tree, those quiet efficient beings reached a final limit to my unnecessary presence. I was dismissed yet again. I took a tree to the Seed Ship and went immediately to the observation dome. My thoughts boiled inside me and were quite uncomfortable. I could scarcely think through one matter without another worming its way in and casting the shadow of further bedlam.