by T S Hottle
Tishla took the tuber from Marq again and examined it. “And these buds?”
“If you skin the tuber,” said Marq, “and simply toss them in a field somewhere, the buds will grow into perfect clones of the original plant. From there, you can take seeds and modify the genes as you see fit. You have flowering plants on this world? Small creatures that will help pollinate them?”
Did they? Kai asked himself, knowing Tishla would be wondering the same thing. It’s all our immunologists can do to keep ahead of the parasites.
“Just so you know,” said Tishla, “my master is not Jod. We’re not going to believe this is just going to blossom into the lush garden of our creation myths. Not without some evidence first.”
“To follow your metaphor,” said Marq, “the giant in question is Juno. And Juno is the one giving you the gift. Freely. We would actually consider it a favor if you took this tuber for your own purposes. We only ask that you let us see the results of your work.”
“And why would you do something like that?”
“You are familiar with the concept of the free market?” When Tishla nodded, he said, “Such markets are not so free when more established entities rig the market for their own purposes. Juno is simply looking for new ways to compete.”
Kai wondered why he did not completely believe that. He could see from Tishla’s expression she wasn’t buying it either.
***
It took a day to find Marq’s ship. Kai noted with amusement that the asteroid where it lay anchored looked very much like one of the tubers.
He had debated about sending someone to look, perhaps sending Tishla herself and a team of Palace Guards, but ultimately decided to go himself. He could trust his premier not to stage a coup, but he could not trust his guards not to kidnap Tishla for themselves.
They guided their jump ship toward the asteroid and found Marq’s ship on the far side. Kai admired Tishla as she worked the controls. Even her flight suit could not hide the lines of her body. Though she was focused on the controls, a stern expression on her face as she studied the alien craft for a means of docking, a smile started to form on her lips.
“Do I make your tongue swell?” she said playfully.
To Kai’s surprise, it was swelling a little. “Sometimes, I wish I could keep you beyond your term of indenture.”
“You know what to do, Lattus.” The smile had now fully formed. “You know what I want.”
“And if I could give it to you, I would.” He leaned back. “But you and I both know the Oligarchy will never allow me to marry a servant, even when she’s become a Free Woman.” He reached over and stroked her arm. “There is no shame in being the mistress of a High Born.”
“There’s no legal standing in it, either.” Her smile had vanished. “I’m going to use the collapsible collar to dock with the ship. If that code he gave us is genuine, we’ll be inside in under five minutes. Watch the thrusters for me please.” The smile returned. “I mean, may I ask Your Excellency to watch the thrusters, Master?”
“Yes, dear.”
A wide cup-like structure blossomed on the launch’s underside as Tishla positioned it over the docking port on Marq’s craft. The thrusters fired wildly from multiple sides of the launch in a pattern only known to the guidance system.
“Two hundred drekas and closing,” said Kai as the launch drew closer. “One-fifty… One hundred drekas.”
“Slowing to ten drekas per second,” said Tishla, her tone now nearly mechanical. “Slowing to five.”
The thrusters beneath the craft now fired almost steadily as those topside made short bursts to push the two craft together. The cup on the underside touched the alien craft’s surface and sealed itself against it, enclosing the docking port.
Without asking, Tishla grabbed a shock pistol and a dagger. “Stay here.”
Kai would never get used to his concubine barking orders, but then, she had not agreed to be indentured to have a life of servitude. When Tishla broke protocol, Kai’s people knew to pay attention. So did Kai. “If the ship is empty…?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know that it’s empty beyond a bunch of alien roots in the hold. For all we know, Marq was hired by a rival.” She pressed her lips thin. “Kill you, and they can claim Essenar for themselves, for whatever bizarre purpose they would want to.”
“And you,” said Kai. “They could claim you.”
“Oh, no, Kai. They wouldn’t claim me. I’d be executed for allowing you to walk into a trap.”
They would, too. Part of the terms of indenture, at least to High Borns, was to defend one’s master with one’s own life. Failure was punishable by death.
“And if they didn’t execute me,” she continued, “I’d simply kill myself. I’m not a prize.”
“You are to me.”
She unstrapped from her seat and kissed him. “That’s different. We agreed to this arrangement. Most indentureds have no choice. It’s either servitude or a life of ignorance and poverty. Now, my Master, allow your servant to check the ship.” Tishla never could call Kai “Master” without an undercurrent of sarcasm in her voice.
“Yes, dear.”
***
Marq’s ship came to life as Tishla slid through the docking ring. Once again, Kai found himself monitoring her from afar. He seemed to do that a lot since Marq had arrived on Essenar. This time, he sent a mini-drone to follow her, allowing him to both see and communicate with her.
“Kroy, it smells in here,” she said once she cleared the alien ship’s airlock. “These Tianese smell like wet bird.”
“Why didn’t we smell Marq?” asked Kai.
“You didn’t smell him. Sire.” She turned back to the drone long enough to flash Kai a playful grin. “I had to sit across the table from him.”
“Sorry.”
“Hey, that’s what I signed on for. Be your companion, resident brain, and alien sniffer.”
The corridors of Marq’s ship were narrower than those of Kai’s people. They also had a more utilitarian look to them, conduits and control surfaces along the wall. Not a single item to indicate family affiliation. The drone picked up some writing on the wall that the translator rendered as “Property of Dasarius Interstellar.” Was Marq the property of Dasarius Interstellar or the ship? Did his race even engage in that type of servitude? Primates, as a whole, were all over the board on that topic. Most space-faring races did little beyond contracts of indenture or apprenticeships. Some, Kai knew, engaged in chattel slavery, though not many. It was too lopsided an arrangement to be of any use once a race mastered higher technology. Rumor had it the Tianese did not even have a formal caste system, let alone any system of servitude worth mentioning. Those apes, Kai mused, must live in total chaos.
Tishla stumbled and had to steady herself a moment. “I’m all right. The air in here has more nitrogen than we’re used to. I just need a moment to adjust.”
And it smells like wet bird, Kai thought. “Do you need a breather?”
“No, papa,” she said, an edge creeping into her voice. “And I didn’t forget my rain shoes, either.”
She looked down at the glove on her left hand, reading a map that Kai had displayed on the launch’s console as well. “If I’m reading this right, the hold is this way.” She walked past the drone and toward a darkened section of corridor. As she approached, lights flickered on ahead of her. “Well, nice to be welcomed.”
After a few moments, she found her way to a bulkhead that opened when she spoke the alien word panra. The bulkhead split and separated into the walls. The lights inside came on with loud clangs, indicating a primitive type of electrical circuit. Just the thought of it made Kai nervous. How did these people get around space without blowing themselves up or getting shocked?
Tishla stopped at the entrance. “I’ve found the hold.” After that, she just stood and stared.
“Tishla?”
Still she stared, saying nothing, her back to the drone and, subsequently, Kai.
> “Tish? What’s wrong?”
“If that alien isn’t lying about the roots,” she said, “there’s enough here to feed the capital and its environs. We can grow enough from the skins to feed the rest within three turns.”
If. That’s why he purchased Tishla’s indenture contract. It paid for the education that would allow her to determine whether the alien was telling the truth.
“That’s good,” said Kai. “Because if he is lying, I will cut him down myself in Capital Square.”
***
“It’s starch,” said Marq as he and Kai walked through the square. “All primate species, at least those we know about, need starch. Most need protein as well, but in famine conditions, starch will do as a temporary fix. I noticed no livestock on this world. Did you not import them?”
Around them, workers (many of them rioters only a few days before) labored to clean up the square. Never a spectacular place to begin with, it had been reduced to a scarred moonscape of shattered glass, scorched walls, and broken masonry. Patches of red appeared on the pavement in places. Kai wondered if Marq knew it was blood.
“Today is a rare day on Essenar,” said Kai. “It’s not raining. The only places it does not constantly rain on this world are the deserts, the polar caps, and out to sea. It’s too damp to grow the grains and grasses needed to feed livestock, or we would have planted them decades ago.”
“So places like the deserts and sea and ice caps, I take it, can only be populated by normal citizens with the resources to adapt there.” He looked around. “Our ancestral homeworld once had an entire continent set aside for criminals. Seems like a waste, really. If you despise someone enough to kick them out of your homeland, why not dump them on an island somewhere and let the criminal nature solve the problem on its own?”
“Welcome to the island,” said Kai. “Worlds more hospitable are reserved for, as you term them, ‘citizens,’ though our society is not so egalitarian.” He watched as a man and his daughter boarded up the window of a shop on the far side of the square. The man did not own the shop, but had been one of those who burned it. What might that man have been capable of, Kai wondered, if the weather on Essenar had permitted normal food production? With a large enough population, farming could be automated to allow cities to grow. “We need more than these wonder roots you’ve given us, Marq. We need grains that will grow here. Can you do that for us?”
Marq laughed that strange alien laugh of his. “Governor, this load of tubers was lost through an error in logistics by my employers. I learned your world had a problem and saw an opportunity to show you what Juno can do for you. But my people have a saying, one that dates back to before we left our ancestral world.”
“And what’s that?”
“‘Only the first one’s free.’ The tubers in their present form can feed you. For that, I am deeply pleased. You know how to grow more from the skins, and I will explain to you how to pollinate the flowers so you can harvest seeds. All I require in return is the data from your results of your efforts, which will be of great benefit to Juno, and passage to Laputan space so I may return to my people. If you are successful, I wish to do business with you. Grain might be a good place to start.”
In a nearby alleyway, a woman used a hard rake to push rubble out into the street for collection. Kai recognized her as the owner of the shop where the man and his daughter had boarded the window. The alleyway ran between two shops some distance from the woman’s, the owners of both killed in the riots. Kai may even have put one of them to the sword.
“As you can see,” said Kai, “business is not the main focus of my people. These people were exiled here, ostensibly to give them a chance to build a new society. But we still have our wealthy classes, warriors of rank, legal experts, clergy, and so on, who tend to hoard resources needed elsewhere. And there is no profit motive to explain it. The market does not dictate their position.”
“Heredity does,” said Marq. “I’m familiar with the concept. Tell me, though, Governor. Aren’t you one of the wealthy class?”
“Wealth has its own burdens. The difference between a good man and an evil one often lies in whether he recognizes that.”
“It’s often the hungry man who changes things. What might these people do given a chance to feed themselves and build something more than a few scattered settlements?” Marq asked, echoing Kai’s earlier thought.
Kai watched the woman gather up what she had swept in the alley and dump it in a canister that once served as a fuel tank. Her shop, like the two flanking the alley, existed only because someone of the Merchant Caste granted them a franchise to sell imported wares. They were a captive market. “I suppose they would throw off the caste system or force their way into the various castes. As of this moment, they have no place in our society. In some ways, neither do I.”
“And why is that?”
Kai looked around the square. It should have been teeming with people enjoying the fruits of Essenar. Instead, they simply moved around what little the established worlds would send them. “My people, for all their vaunted nobility, are warriors. I, however, did not so much conquer Essenar as take it off the hands of another family. It’s not really an admirable way to acquire property in our society.”
That made Marq smile is strange little smile. Which unsettled Kai.
TWO: Rogue Planets
Marq returned Essenar only to find himself arrested as soon as he stepped off the Laputan transport. Kai went to the landing field personally to apprehend him. The guards had to use native rope to bind him as Marq’s hands could easily squeeze through the metal bindings Kai’s people normally used. It gave Kai some pleasure to notice the rope immediately gave his guest a rash where it touched his skin.
“I feed your people,” said Marq, “for free, I might add, and this is the thanks I get?”
“No.” Kai punched him in the face, his own hand clad a ceremonial gauntlet from his military uniform. He noted Marq bled crimson like Kai’s people, a slightly different shade but red blood just the same. “That is the thanks you get.”
The guards crammed Marq into the back of Kai’s personal transport, surrounded on all sides by one-man rides that floated inches above the ground. Kai slipped in beside Marq and said, “Through the town square.”
The driver turned, the eye shield on his helmet doing little to hide his dismay. “Sire?”
Kai waved forward. “Go on. Have the escorts run their sirens and fire warning shots so the crowds disperse.”
The driver turned and set the transport moving.
“Your original shipment did feed this settlement,” said Kai. “The first harvest we got from the skins fed most of the other settlements. Then we tried to pollinate the plants themselves.” He reached beneath his great coat and produced something wrapped in cloth. When Kai unrolled it, something dark and mushy went splat in Marq’s lap. “This is our latest crop. We have riots, Mr. Marq.”
“Just Marq,” said the alien. “I never gave you my match-ro-nimik.”
That last word did not match the mother tongue. “Your what?”
“It’s a type of family name. Your people have family names, do you not? At least the High Borns and your indentured servants.”
“I know what a surname is. And don’t change the subject. Within one season, my people became dependent on your magic root. When the fungus that infests the soil here turned our last crop into mush, the riots started again.”
The transport and its escorts pushed into the main settlement, the riders firing heat beams into the air. Had Kai and Marq been outside, they would have heard the air sizzle and crack from the energy. As it was, they still heard the people screaming in terror through the sealed windows.
The square, the same Kai and Marq had watched people pull together and rebuild, now burned. The statue of the Sovereign lay in pieces on the ground below its pedestal. Several shops smoldered, and people swiped at each other with whatever blunt instruments they could lay their hands on. The fine d
rizzle that passed for dry weather these last two turns did little to staunch the fires or discourage the rioters from killing each other.
“I’ve lost this planet because of you,” said Kai. “Tell me why I shouldn’t have you executed.”
Marq smiled that strange little smile of his, and it occurred to Kai that he had seen that smile before. As a child, Kai had known the son of another High Born, one who always seemed to have one scheme or another, who could manipulate the other children and quite a few adults into doing his bidding. He never really lied to anyone, but he omitted quite a bit. When he did, he had a smile that resembled Marq’s.
“I believe that would greatly disappoint General Laral.”
The name made Kai’s blood run cold. “Excuse me?”
“He never told you? He’s meeting me here to look over your crops. He may have a solution to your food supply problem, one involving…”
“Grain?” said Kai. “Tell me it’s grain.”
***
“The Council gave you this world,” said Laral, “to build an army for the Realm. Did we make a mistake?”
They sat in the palace’s main dining hall. Naturally, General Laral Jorl had brought a sumptuous feast with him, along with a team of indentured chefs. The chefs, no doubt, would all have their own kitchens and teams of indentured staff below them when their terms came to an end. Though protocol demanded that Warriors show deference to the local governors (even on a backwater like Essenar), Laral took the head of the table. The smarmy general even came dressed in ceremonial armor like any other member of the Warrior Caste. They would wear that archaic metal armor in an electrical storm, so long as it put their rank and caste on display.
