by B. V. Larson
There was another possibility, of course. The senator might want him dead. He might see Droad as an embarrassment. Senator Fouty had been instrumental in giving Droad the governor’s post in Garm. It had been quite a promotion, as he had previously been an official from Ignis Glace, his frontier homeworld. Partly, he’d been given the job because he had made a name for himself as a no-nonsense politician on his rough-and-tumble planet. But also because—and Droad was under no illusions here—no one else had wanted the job. Being sent out as the surprise new Governor of Garm had likely been a death sentence. Droad reflected that it had very nearly been just that.
Here he was, in the company of three mechs. What could be easier than a malfunction that resulted in a spectacular death? It seemed unlikely that Bruno was about to dash them all into a mountain peak. But one never knew.
As Droad had told Rem-9, he felt he had to trust people and take risks at some point to get anything done. He couldn’t think of any obvious reason this might be a setup. But his new sense of paranoia, forged on Garm, kept tapping at his mind.
Droad listened to Zuna as she conversationally tried to bring him up to speed on local events. Largely, except for more mechs running around and an increased incidence of piracy in the outskirts of the Kale system, things seemed to have changed little over the years. That was comforting to Droad. He allowed himself to relax. He’d been overly concerned. Senator Fouty wasn’t out to assassinate him. Annoy him, pressure him, threaten him with favors withheld—all that yes, but not kill him. That’s what he liked about Neu Schweitz, he reflected, things were predictable and orderly here. It was quite unlike the wild frontier planet Garm had been.
As Zuna went on, for all-the-world like a talkative press-secretary, Droad began to marvel at her humanity. He’d only met a few mechs, but this one wasn’t anything like the others. He wondered if it was due to her constant proximity to humans. Most, like Rem-9, were treated like guardian robots and only switched on when their particular abilities were required. He got the feeling Zuna lived amongst humans on a fairly equal basis.
Droad didn’t know that much about mechs. People shunned them, of course. Their basic bio-material came from humans at some point, making them rather like zombies that had been given mechanical prosthetics. They weren’t robots, however. They had living minds, mixed with a lot of circuitry. The question few liked to consider was the source of their raw bio-materials. It was said donors were used. In many cases, it was said these donors were ex-prisoners.
Droad had never given the matter much thought. Mechs had always been rare and expensive. Like sausages, perhaps their origins were best left a mystery. They were extremely useful tools, nothing more. But, he thought, if there were a lot more of them around now, he would have to learn more about them. He made a mental note to pursue the matter.
As they soared up a mountainside toward the Senator’s manse, Droad smiled to himself. Perhaps Fouty had been planning on intimidating him with this mech greeting party. If so, Droad planned on impressing his host with an even greater surprise. He glanced over his shoulder at Rem-9.
The mech flicked one optic over to Droad, no doubt studying him for any hint of communication. The second optic stayed firmly locked on Zuna, who seemed oblivious and now talked about Fouty’s various pets, which it seemed she was responsible for feeding.
Rem-9 decided Droad wasn’t trying to signal him, and soon swung back his second optic to cover Zuna with both. Listening to her prattle, Droad suspected she had no idea her every movement was being scanned and evaluated for hostile intent.
Droad took the time to refamiliarize himself with the environment of Neu Schweitz as they sailed upward and spiraled around the largest of the three looming peaks. The thin air was bitingly cool up here, refreshing. The planet had a distinctive natural smell, he could detect it now that they were out of the city. It was a pleasant mix of pepper and sawdust. The whip-pines that carpeted so much of the land in a thick green forest emitted the odor, he knew. He breathed deeply. It was good to be on a real planet again. He felt light as a feather too, as if a great weight had been lifted. At approximately 86% of standard gravity, he almost felt like he was floating after having experienced nothing less than 1.5 gees for months.
“Is that it? The Senator’s manse?” asked Droad, leaning over the dash.
“You have excellent optics, governor,” said Zuna. “We’ll be there shortly.”
“ETA 125 seconds,” said Bruno, chiming in.
Droad nodded, glancing at the dashboard optic. It was still staring right at him, disconcertingly. How did the mech associate this extra eye with the two it must have out on the front of the flitter? He tried not to think about how three inputs from various angles would look inside his own mind. The thought was disturbing. Then he had another, more disturbing thought. What if Bruno had more optics? Perhaps one to the rear and one on the belly? He tried to put the thought out of his mind. Like most people, he didn’t really want to think about mechs too much. The core problem with mechs in polite society concerned their origins. The lobes of their biological brains had once been implanted in a human body. This invariably left one wondering if someday, somehow, one’s own mind might not end up in such a device. After all, it had to happen to somebody. And in fact, it had happened to three people, who were even now surrounding him.
Landing and getting out onto a rocky pad outlined in orange blinking lights was a relief. Here was proof positive that the Senator didn’t want to conveniently dispose of him. Beside Droad crunched Rem-9, his tread pressing the stony pad down to dust. Zuna moved ahead of him. He knew the mechs were both moving slowly on purpose, pacing themselves at his rate of motion, as two adults might almost shuffle so as to not upset a toddler on a neighborhood walk.
The Senator didn’t greet them at the door, but then Droad hadn’t expected him to. Instead, a young woman—a very young woman, who wore little more than what looked like a few towels connected with straps, let them inside. Droad tried not to stare at her with obvious disapproval. The Senator had his own life to live. But unfortunately, Droad was reminded of the life style of Zimmerman, the foppish ex-governor of Garm.
He gave his head a tiny shake. Senator Yannick Fouty, he reminded himself, was no fool. He wasn’t like Zimmerman, even if he sometimes sounded and behaved like him. He was a shrewd individual, whether lecherous or not.
He allowed himself to be ushered by the girl and Zuna into the visitor’s sauna. Tendrils of steam swirled around the group. On Neu Schweitz, saunas were as common as living rooms on other worlds. Being a cold, mountainous world, the colonists had developed a custom of putting saunas into every home to take the chill off and relax. Large homes, such as Senator Fouty’s, often had multiple saunas. They were as common as bathrooms, but usually larger and more socially arranged.
This sauna was sumptuous indeed. There was full bar and a half-dozen curvaceous couches. The young woman immediately set about concocting drinks from the bar. Droad blinked at her indistinct form through the steamy environment.
Droad had a momentary concern for Rem-9, who was quite unused to this human oddity called a sauna. He could not possibly be enjoying it. He turned to eye Rem-9 and snorted in amusement. His wipers were going. A tiny squeaking noise emanated from his optics as they tried futilely to keep themselves clear.
“Maybe you should wait outside, Captain,” he suggested gently. “You might be more comfortable. I don’t want you to rust.”
“Titanium doesn’t rust, Governor.”
“Of course not, I just meant—”
“We have a full range of mech-support facilities,” said Zuna, interrupting brightly. “We have light-oil baths. And an automated injection-lubrication system.”
“I will remain with the Governor,” said Rem-9 as politely as possible.
Droad considered ordering him away, but instead nodded. Rem-9 looked uncomfortable, but he would be even more so if he was out of range to perform his duty. Droad could hardly fault a being who
so diligently worked to guard his person. “All right.”
Lena, which he soon learned was the name of the girl wearing towels and straps, brought him a beverage and took one herself.
“And where is the Senator? Is he engaged at the moment?” asked Droad. He was becoming annoyed. He hated to be kept waiting.
“Right here, Droad!”
Droad craned his neck. Rem-9 stood as if under attack. His grippers opened, only about a centimeter, but Droad noticed it. He hoped the Senator did, too.
“Senator Fouty, good to see you again, sir,” said Droad, standing and extending his hand.
Fouty shook it heartily. He was a big man who unfortunately wore towels and straps in a similar arrangement to Lena. Except, in his case, they were even more revealing.
“Ah, a drink, said Fouty, gesturing toward Lena, who hurried to bring another. “What are you having, Droad? That looks frosty.”
“It’s a chocolate lace,” said Lena, handing a drink to him, “just as you told me—”
A slapping sound surprised them all. Lena whooped and pouted.
Droad’s eyebrows rode high on his forehead. Had Fouty really just popped her on the behind? Droad was glad he hadn’t brought Sarah along. He’d never have heard the end of it.
“Don’t tell all my secrets at once, dear,” said Fouty, laughing until his gelatinous stomach moved apart from the rest of him. He was a big man, with big arms, a big head and a thick neck. His stomach dwarfed the rest of his body, however. He wasn’t all flab, but he was by no means lean. His skin, which Droad could see far too much of, was hairless, a common side effect of continual extended-life treatments. He had plenty of tiny scars on that expanse of pink skin, however. He’d obviously kept the government surgeons busy editing away the growths and discolorations that came with the years.
Lena slipped away to tend to the hot stones and the dripping faucet over it. Droad hoped she wasn’t going to turn the heat up.
“I’ve just noticed, man!” said Fouty with renewed enthusiasm. “You’re wearing a coat. Didn’t you bring your towels? Or must we strip you down to your skivvies?”
Before Droad could answer, Fouty had stepped closer to examine Rem-9. “Who’s this then? Your driver? He’s a big one.”
“Meet Captain Rem-9, Senator.”
The Senator blinked and took a step back. For the first time, he seemed mildly alarmed. “He’s a combat model, is he? Rather rude of you to bring him into my house, Droad.”
“Not meant to be, Senator. But I suppose it was rather paranoid of me. You have to understand, I’ve just left Garm.”
“Ah yes. As I recall from your report, the moment you got off the ship they tried to assassinate you. Animals! Have no worries here, Droad. We are far more subtle at the Nexus. We have our snakes, but at least they are civilized.”
Droad nodded. “You are right. Would you be so good as to wait outside, Captain?”
The mech hesitated.
“You too, Zuna,” said Fouty, sensing the source of the mech’s hesitation. The two marched out together. Zuna was excitedly babbling about the quality of their light-oil baths. Droad felt a twinge of amusement. He’d never met a mech who was ‘bubbly’ before.
The Senator fluttered his thick fingers at Lena, who brought over a set of strappy towels for Droad. Droad took them with a grimace. He sighed quietly. The Senator was already cranking up the dripping faucet and the temperature of the black stones below. Steam hissed, filling the room with a thicker coat of mist.
Droad tossed back half his drink, ripped off his clothing and put on his adhesive towels. Lena watched approvingly, and Droad tried to pretend he didn’t notice. Then he made himself comfortable on the curving couches. The senator fluttered his fingers at Lena again, and she left the two of them.
This was how serious talk proceeded on Neu Schweitz. Two individuals drank frosty, intoxicating drinks while half-naked in a sauna. Droad had to wonder how many political deals had been done over the decades in this very room under just such circumstances.
Once they were alone, the Senator’s attitude became more business-like. Droad liked him better that way. Whenever there was more than one witness, the man tended to switch into glad-handing, campaign mode. After a century in politics it was only natural, Droad supposed.
“We have a lot to talk about, Lucas,” said Fouty, suddenly using his first name.
“Indeed we do.”
“I’ll start then. What the hell are you doing back here?”
“You mean why did I leave Garm and the governorship behind?”
Fouty just stared at him, not bothering to even nod encouragement.
“I have disturbing information, Senator.”
“Worse than losing half the population of your planet?”
“Possibly, yes.”
Fouty frowned at that. “All right, we will get to that in a moment. First a few details. You brought back just the commander of your mech platoon? Where are the rest?”
“They were lost in battle, sir. As my report clearly stated.”
“So you gave this one a field promotion—”
“Which I expect the Nexus to honor. I had the authority in time of war as the Colonial Governor.”
The Senator blinked at him, then nodded. “An undeclared war.”
“Millions died, Senator. There wasn’t time to mull over the matter in the Senate Chambers back here. The aliens declared the war.”
“Aliens? All indigenous life on these worlds we inhabit could be called that, you know. It’s an unnecessarily inflammatory word.”
Droad looked at him in disbelief. “Are people here under some misconception? We fought a highly advanced, technological race and barely saved the planet, sir.”
Fouty shrugged. “That’s one view. I can assure you, many here don’t share it.”
Droad was glaring now. This was exactly the sort of thing he had feared. The people at Nexus had never had much respect for Garm or her people. Granted, the natives of Garm had done little to deserve respect. But Nexus Command should not underestimate the alien threat. He had to convince them of the danger.
“What then, is the prevailing view of what happened on Garm?”
“Well, you have to understand Lucas, that we first received all this information about a year ago. Early on, when the story broke, the news was all over the net. Nightly reports spoke of your progress and there were very sketchy images and eyewitness data packets. Then, the feed stopped almost entirely. That was the point at which you had the population here riveted. Did humanity win or lose? Finally, the feed came back on, and all the talk was of the final extermination of the creatures from the Gladius with a single orbital gun. At that point, there was a collective sigh of relief. Over the months, as reports of the devastation and loss of life came in, the people moved from horrified to angry. How had such a thing been allowed to happen? How had the governmental forces been so easily routed by a random collection of monsters?”
Droad eyed him, understanding more now. “So, after that, the politicians turned around and blamed me. And my staff. I wasn’t even here to defend myself, so that made it all the easier.”
Fouty made an apologetic gesture with his big hands. “Something along those lines.”
“I went out there,” continued Droad, struggling to keep the anger out of his voice, “and somehow I caused the planet to explode into a plague of monsters. And really, they should have been easily defeated, if my head hadn’t been so obviously planted up my own arse.”
“As you say, you weren’t here to defend yourself. No one else wanted to, either. They wanted a good scapegoat. Worse still, more recently, they reported you resigned your position and headed back to the Nexus.”
Droad nodded. “Resigned being the code word for fired. Even though logically no one could have sent the message out that fast to order my retrieval.”
The Senator shrugged. “People tend to forget about the timing involved when communicating over such distances.”
“At first, of course,” said Fouty, looking uncomfortable. He took a big drink of his chocolate-lace and clunked the empty glass on a table. “But in time, I just stopped mentioning you entirely.”
Droad nodded, understanding. Politics was politics. Now he understood why no one of importance had been there to greet him at the airport. Not a single net-newsie had been alerted, but that might have been for the better. Even the Senator who had sponsored him as governor had stayed clear of the arrival. He had sent his mech servant instead. The mech who fed the cat.
“So,” said Droad slowly. “I’m a pariah here. I’m a walking taint. No one wants to be seen with me, lest I shed poison on their own careers.”
Fouty cleared his vast throat. “Let’s move on to another matter. I understand that you have a traveling dignitary with you.”
Droad blinked. “I’m not aware of any—”
“By the name of Fryx,” said the Senator.
Droad stared at him. He snorted and sloshed down the rest of his drink. It was indeed tasty, and deceptively full of relaxing chemicals. “Fryx? He’s an evil little jellyfish, not a dignitary.”
The Senator put up his hand, frowning fiercely. He looked around as if worried someone might overhear Droad’s words. “Please, for everyone’s sake, you must keep such offensive remarks inside your own head. I can’t be associated with a bigot, Droad.”
“You’re serious? Have you ever seen one of the Tulk?”
“I’ve seen net graphics. They are quite—different. I’ll grant you that. But you must try to be more sensitive. It’s exactly that kind of remark that got you assigned to Garm, you know.”
“You told me I got the post as a reward, as the highest of honors. A sign of how valuable the Nexus considered my contribution to government to be.”
“Did I? Well, it’s been a number of years now. Perhaps my memory fails me. I apologize profusely—”
