And the truth is that you have a murderer onboard. And not a 'get drunk and get into a fight' murderer, either. The person who killed Dr. Havlik picked the moment with care, brought tape to tie him up, and cleaned up afterwards. The crew and passengers aboard this ship have both a right and a need to know about information like that. More than that will know, because you can't control word of mouth, and someone on your security team will tell. The result will be rumor, exaggeration, and unnecessary fear."
The words had spilled out almost of their own accord and Corvan wanted to pull them back. He'd been too shrill, too insistent, and inadvertently confirmed whatever prejudices Fornos had. It would be a long trip in the brig.
There was a pause while the administrator blinked, smiled, and opened his mouth. His words were completely unexpected.
"I couldn't agree with you more. Truth is the foundation of good journalism and an important aspect of the democratic process. And your prediction has already come true. Rumors about Dr. Havlik's death have spread throughout the ship. Some are quite fanciful. Vampires have been mentioned, along with aliens, homicidal robots and satanic cults."
Corvan opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when he realized that Fornos had managed to preempt his ground. The man was good, very good indeed.
The administrator shook his head indulgently. "Don't hold it against Mary Ann. She means well but has a rather military turn of mind. Hut, two, three, and all that. No, throwing you in the hoosegow was the wrong thing to do, but grounded in the best of intentions."
Fornos looked momentarily serious, like a school master confronting a naughty child, explaining the purpose behind a punishment.
"But Mary Ann was right about one thing. A surface-based investigation would have delayed our departure and threatened the success of the mission. It would have been nice if she had offered the possibility of compromise, and if you had been willing to listen, but such was not the case. Though well-intentioned, you are often impulsive, a fact that your psychological profile makes extremely clear."
Corvan felt blood rush to his face. It had been a long time since someone had dressed him down and he didn't like it. Didn't like it and didn't have a word to say in response.
"So," Fornos continued, "let's see what sort of arrangement you and I can come to. One that provides shipboard personnel with the information that they need and respects the political realities at the same time."
The ensuing conversation went on for twenty or thirty minutes and ended in a clear-cut set of ground rules: Corvan could do pretty much as he pleased aboard the ship, and later when they reached Mars, but would consult with Fornos and Jopp as he did it. All reports intended for Earth would have to be cleared before they were sent.
Corvan fought the last agreement tooth and nail but was eventually forced to give in. He did manage to obtain one concession, however. All the reports sent to Earth would include a key that read "Content cleared by mission command." The more intelligent viewers would read the qualifier and know they were looking at a sanitized version of the news. The agreement was less than perfect but better than nothing.
Corvan felt the other man's attention shift elsewhere the moment that negotiations were complete. He considered asking Fornos for an interview, rejected the idea as premature, and accepted the administrator's outstretched hand.
"Thank you, Administrator Fornos. I wouldn't call our agreement perfect. . . but it's something I can live with."
Fornos chuckled. "That is the way politics are, my friend. Less than perfectâand something we have to live with. My compliments to your beautiful wife. And tell her that she Was right. Her husband is worth the trouble that he causes."
Corvan knew a goodbye when he heard one, returned the other man's wave, and headed for the hatch. He was almost there
The words had spilled out almost of their own accord and Corvan wanted to pull them back. He'd been too shrill, too insistent, and inadvertently confirmed whatever prejudices Fornos had. It would be a long trip in the brig.
There was a pause while the administrator blinked, smiled, and opened his mouth. His words were completely unexpected.
"I couldn't agree with you more. Truth is the foundation of good journalism and an important aspect of the democratic process. And your prediction has already come true. Rumors about Dr. Havlik's death have spread throughout the ship. Some are quite fanciful. Vampires have been mentioned, along with aliens, homicidal robots and satanic cults."
Corvan opened his mouth to say something, but shut it when he realized that Fornos had managed to preempt his ground. The man was good, very good indeed.
The administrator shook his head indulgently. "Don't hold it against Mary Ann. She means well but has a rather military turn of mind. Hut, two, three, and all that. No, throwing you in the hoosegow was the wrong thing to do, but grounded in the best of intentions."
Fornos looked momentarily serious, like a school master confronting a naughty child, explaining the purpose behind a punishment.
"But Mary Ann was right about one thing. A surface-based investigation would have delayed our departure and threatened the success of the mission. It would have been nice if she had offered the possibility of compromise, and if you had been willing to listen, but such was not the case. Though well-intentioned, you are often impulsive, a fact that your psychological profile makes extremely clear."
Corvan felt blood rush to his face. It had been a long time since someone had dressed him down and he didn't like it. Didn't like it and didn't have a word to say in response.
"So," Fornos continued, "let's see what sort of arrangement you and I can come to. One that provides shipboard personnel with the information that they need and respects the political realities at the same time."
The ensuing conversation went on for twenty or thirty minutes and ended in a clear-cut set of ground rules: Corvan could do pretty much as he pleased aboard the ship, and later when they reached Mars, but would consult with Fornos and Jopp as he did it. All reports intended for Earth would have to be cleared before they were sent.
Corvan fought the last agreement tooth and nail but was eventually forced to give in. He did manage to obtain one concession, however. All the reports sent to Earth would include a key that read "Content cleared by mission command." The more intelligent viewers would read the qualifier and know they were looking at a sanitized version of the news. The agreement was less than perfect but better than nothing.
Corvan felt the other man's attention shift elsewhere the moment that negotiations were complete. He considered asking Fornos for an interview, rejected the idea as premature, and accepted the administrator's outstretched hand.
"Thank you, Administrator Fornos. I wouldn't call our agreement perfect. . . but it's something I can live with."
Fornos chuckled. "That is the way politics are, my friend. Less than perfectâand something we have to live with. My compliments to your beautiful wife. And tell her that she Was right. Her husband is worth the trouble that he causes."
Corvan knew a goodbye when he heard one, returned the other man's wave, and headed for the hatch. He was almost there
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