Children of the Fleet (Fleet School #1)(53)

—Don’t you read history, Dabeet? MinCol said you were exceptionally bright and broadly educated.

—What does history have to do with—

—Weaseling politicians love to say, “I take full responsibility.” “The buck stops here.” But they only say that when they’ve been caught. When they’re being blamed. What they always mean is, “Some underling of mine ran amok and I’ll find him and lop off his head.” Or his career, or whatever. They’re taking charge of the punishment, if they can. But think about it: What does it look like when a disaster looms and somebody actually takes responsibility for it?

—You’re not my teacher. Don’t play Socratic games with me. Just tell me.

—If I just told you then I would be your teacher. I’d be taking responsibility for the problem you’ve known about and so far done nothing to prevent.

—So I’ll tell Urska Kaluza what I did and—

—Put the responsibility on her. That’s pretty much Plan A for dodging ultimate blame. “I told the commandant everything I knew, even though I know she’s corrupt and unreliable and just as likely to flee the station on some pretext rather than try to prevent the attack.”

—What do you want me to do?

—I don’t want you to do anything. What do you want you to do? What kind of human being do you want to be?

—A living one. With a living mother. And all the kids on the station alive and safe.

—Who’s responsible for making sure that happens?

—Greeyaz.

—No, not greeyaz.

—Me. I need to make that happen.

—You need to do all that you can do to make that happen. Is there anything you can do about your mother, that you haven’t already done?

—If I work against them, then I put her in danger all over again.

—Go back into the brain-place where you keep the storage shed of historical information that you never thought you’d need. Why do you believe there’s any scenario in which your mother doesn’t die?

—Because I did what they said!

—Not what I was asking. Are they good and decent guys who keep their word? Or are they monsters who’ll kill her just for the pleasure of showing you that they can do whatever they want and you’re completely helpless to stop them?

—I don’t know. I only met a couple of guys. I took them seriously but I don’t know what they’ll do.

—Probably neither do they, Dabeet. The bunducks you met are not the goons who’d be sent to kill your mother. Those guys might just kill her because they got sick of having to watch every move she made, so when they get the order to call off the surveillance, they may kill her just to get it out of their system. Can you do anything to control that?

—No.

—What can you control.

—Damn all. Nothing.

—Don’t be stupid, Dabeet.

—I control what I do.

—And what you can plan and organize for others to help you with.

—Making structures in the battleroom.

—Making a team that works together to accomplish a difficult task.

—I’d have to …

—You’d have to tell them about betraying everybody. You’d have to trust your team not to spread it around what a traitor you are.

—I’m not a traitor! When I agreed to do it, I didn’t know anybody at Fleet School, I only knew my mother, so I wasn’t betraying the school, I was not-betraying my mother.

—But you can’t possibly explain that to the others and then submit to their judgment.

—What if they hate me?

—You’re an obnoxious little self-obsessed twit. What makes you think they don’t already hate you?

—We talk for fifteen minutes and you think you know me?

—MinCol didn’t tell me nothing about you, and I see that he’s right. “What if they don’t like me?” Come on, Dabeet. What’s your real priority here. Keeping up the illusion of you as smartest kid? You did something dumb and potentially disastrous for everybody. Take responsibility. Warn them what’s coming, tell them that it’ll be up to the kids to organize themselves for defense of Fleet School because Urska Kaluza is corrupt and cowardly, if she turns out to be, and then watch as they appoint somebody else, somebody they like and trust, to be the leader of the kids’ resistance. What does Dabeet Ochoa do then?

—I don’t know.

—I do. Dabeet Ochoa runs off to his bunk, curls up and cries. Or he goes off to the library to do smart-guy stuff, or to plan his revenge, or—

—I’m not a baby.

—Good to hear.

—I’ll … help them as much as they let me. I’ll try to earn their trust again.

—They’ll never give it to you.

—Why tell me that? You can’t know that. Some of these guys really are my friends, you know!

—Why are they your friends? Because you were doing something, and they joined in. Why do you think they trust you? What have you done to earn it?

—I let them help. I trained them. I let them train me. We’re getting really good at it.

—And you’ve never used it in battle. No tests. No trials. Still just a game. Building with blocks. All you did was let them help you and allow them to obey your orders.