The Eleventh Gate
Page 36
Martinez would find such a plan. He might pluck it from the vast Terran history that Sloan was, only now, realizing the value of knowing. Or from somewhere else.
Sloan was feeling so old. But he could trust Martinez. Martinez had never been anything but loyal to Sloan, putting first the best interests of the Peregoy worlds. No action of Martinez’s—unlike Sophia’s—could remotely be considered treasonous.
“Sir, three things you should know,” Martinez said. “First, I have one of Rachel Landry’s granddaughters as my ally on board the Skyhawk. Second, I think you need to cede New Utah to Scott Berman’s Movement. Third, very soon everyone on New California is going to be sick with a new plague that I’m going to spread.”
EPILOGUE
* * *
POLYGLOT
Near the sparsely settled northern pole of Polyglot, in the village of Adarsh, Luis Martinez walked across the savannah. Caitlin ran toward him from a cluster of jeebee nests, stripping off her protective gear as she came. The woman with her turned to watch but stayed at the nests.
“Caitlin!”
“Oh, you! Finally you!”
Their arms went around each other. Five months since they’d last seen each other, five months of society-shaking events on six planets. Everything had changed.
Not everything. He pressed her closer. She said, “I’ve missed you so.”
“Me too. Can we go somewhere to talk?”
“The temple. It’s cooler in there.”
Heat didn’t bother Martinez, but Tara Landry did, still motionless by the jeebee nests, staring at them steadily. Tara was the reason Caitlin lived in this poor, arid, predator-ridden area of Polyglot. For Caitlin, responsible for infecting three Landry worlds with J. randi mansueti, there were worse predators on Galt than on Polyglot. Even so, this tiny village was ringed with surveillance and protection. Tara insisted on staying here—something to do with Philip Anderson. Caitlin was here to share mourning over the death of their grandmother, and to keep Tara from breaking up again.
Martinez did not intend for Caitlin to be here much longer.
The temple was empty, its coolness welcome. Unskillful drawings of various gods ornamented the walls, constructed of cheap and durable foamcast. A carved wooden statue of Shiva sat on a stone altar, flanked by dim, bacteria-generated electric lights. A heavy, pungent odor wafted from a bouquet of yellow flowers that Martinez didn’t recognize.
He kissed Caitlin again, until she pulled slightly away and looked up at him. “Tara is much better.”
“I’m glad,” he said, truthfully. A better Tara meant a freer Caitlin.
“It helps her to think she’s carrying on Philip’s work. He started the jeebee nests, you know. The jeebees keep away the lions, and the villagers sell their nectar.”
Martinez didn’t point out that a heavy guard around Adarsh kept away “lions” much better than swarms of pseudo-insects. Caitlin knew that. He respected her concern for Tara, but right now, it was Caitlin’s other sister that interested him.
“What does Annelise say about conditions on Galt?”
“It’s going well. Annelise is implementing some—not all, but some—of the reforms that Gran wanted. I finally got her to work with Ian Glazer, one of the former leaders of the protesters—I told you all that, when we last linked. Annelise could see that she had no choice, not really. A parliament was elected ten days ago, taxes are being levied, some social programs are being planned—Luis, I think you already know all this. I don’t believe that the Peregoy intel system isn’t operating at full force.”
He smiled.
She said, “We Libertarians are becoming more like a corporate state.”
“And the Peregoy worlds are becoming more Libertarian. Well, if not that, at least less controlled. New California, too, is holding parliamentary elections soon.”
“Sloan Peregoy is still upset that you won’t run for prime minister, or whatever you’re going to call it?”
“He’s an old man, and a stubborn one. He won’t accept that I’m a soldier, not a politician, even though deep down he knows that I couldn’t get elected if I tried. But Scott Berman might make a good prime minister. He’s stubborn, too, but reasonable.”
“He’ll win your election?”
“Against two Peregoy Corporation executives nobody ever heard of, who are nonetheless tainted with everything Sophia did? Yes.”
A child wandered into the temple, goggled at them, and went away, his bare feet leaving damp footprints on the foamcast floor.
Caitlin said, “What about SueLin?”
“She finally managed to convince her adoring public that she doesn’t adore them back, won’t administer anything, and wants to spend her life raising and showing birds.”
“Well, I suppose there are dumber occupations.”
“Not many. Caitlin, will you—”
“If Berman wins, are you going to act as his military advisor?”
“Yes. He and I talked about that.”
“The power behind the throne.”
She hadn’t lost the ability to annoy him. “No,” he said tersely, until he saw that she was teasing. “Sure. I’ll be Cardinal Richelieu, Flavius Aetius, and Edith Wilson all rolled into one.”
“You’re testing me. Yes, I know who every one of those advisors were.”
“I never doubted it.”
They gazed at each other; the bantering had suddenly flared into passion.
A woman came to the temple door, calling softly, “Dev?”
Caitlin said, “He was here but he left, Pari.”
Pari tossed them a knowing look and strode out in search of the child. Martinez turned back to Caitlin. He hadn’t told her that he’d been named Sloan’s heir to Peregoy Corporation. Sloan was old but durable as karthwood, and he could still change his mind. OpOrds always evolved over time. Meanwhile, Martinez would advise Scott Berman, if Berman won the hastily arranged election, striving to keep state and corporation in balance while also keeping a military eye on the Landry worlds. Peace treaties, too, could change over time.
“Enough politics,” he said, before anyone else could meander into the temple. “Caitlin, will you finally—”
“Yes,” she said.
He blinked. “You will?”
“Yes. I can’t go back to the university on Galt, or anywhere on Galt. Tara is doing as well here as she ever will. The war is over. So, yes, I’ll marry you.”
“Not the most romantic acceptance to a proposal.”
“It wasn’t the most romantic proposal I ever got.”
“How many were there?”
“None of your business.” She grinned at him, but he found it hard to smile back. There was a lot that hadn’t yet been said.
“Caitlin, it won’t be easy for you, even now. A Landry living on New California. And I—”
She interrupted him. “Sometimes I think that all human woe comes from othering.”
“From what?”
“Othering. Making other people into simplistic others to battle with. Othering.”
“I don’t think that’s a word.”
“It should be.”
She was stalling, and he wasn’t sure why. He pressed on. “It won’t be easy for you on New California, and much of the time I’ll be away on duty. What will you do?”
He pulled a little away from him, her body taut. “I won’t be living on New California. Last week I received the offer of a teaching post at Zuhause University, here on Polyglot. We’ll live here, whenever you have leave and can come. It’s only a gate away.”
He was silent for a long moment. Even without touching her, he could feel the tension in her body, her determination, her desire for him to accept this, to want her enough to agree to her having both him and her own life.
Amy had always followed him everywhere he was posted. But Caitlin wasn’t Amy, and he didn’t want her to be. Caitlin was herself, and he loved her.
“Yes,” he said. “I accept your very u
nromantic proposal.”
She raised her mouth to his, and neither of them would have heard an invasion of villagers, or lions, or anything else.
• • •
“The predators always win,” Tara said softly to herself, draining nectar from a jeebee nest into a pail. The creatures beat harmlessly against her helmet and face mask.
Hadn’t she once said that to Philip, in this very place? Yes, she had. She remembered. She repeated it now, in a soft, childish sing-song. “The predators always win.”
No. Not always.
Startled, Tara nearly dropped her pail. “Who said that?”
Was it just in her head? Sometimes it was hard to tell. Only—it had sounded so clear and loud. “Who said that?”
But no answer came.
BOOKS by NANCY KRESS
Sleepless
Beggars in Spain
Beggars and Choosers
Beggars Ride
Sleeping Dogs
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The Flowers of Aulit Prison
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Yesterday’s Kin
Tomorrow’s Kin
If Tomorrow Comes
Terran Tomorrow
Crossfire
Crossfire
Crucible
Oaths and Miracles
Oaths and Miracles
Stinger
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Crossing Over
Dark Mist Rising
A Bright and Terrible Sword
Yanked
Flash Point (YA)
Steal Across the Sky
Dogs
Nothing Human
Maximum Light
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An Alien Light
The White Pipes
The Golden Grove
The Prince of Morning Bells
Fiction Collections
Trinity and Other Stories
The Aliens of Earth
Beaker’s Dozen
Nano Comes to Clifford Falls and Other Stories
Future Perfect: Six Stories of Genetic Engineering
The Body Human: Three Stories of Future Medicine
AI Unbound: Two Stories of Artificial Intelligence
Fountain of Age: Stories
The Best of Nancy Kress