by Isaac Asimov
“Why is Taprin going to be there?”
Ariel smirked. “Looking for favors, sifting for data. Even the most rabidly anti-Spacer politician, if he or she is at all intelligent, knows that Earth can’t do without us. The trade with the Settler colonies is too important to risk losing our shipping fleets as subcontractors. Besides, there’s the implicit threat of blockade. Earth also isn’t out there with the Settlers; we are. If there’s to be any kind of control–”
“There are Terran fleets,” Coren interrupted. “We aren’t all cloistered agoraphobics.”
“Compared to the Fifty Worlds, Earth’s presence is a token. You can blockade one world, maybe two, cause enough damage to upset the balance of power, but...” She let it hang like that. Then: “In any case, exercise discretion and say nothing about baleys. That’s nothing but a sore point among all of us. If it comes up, I’ll deal with it.”
“Why did you ask me here?”
“Efficiency. Setaris is playing a game and I don’t know what it is yet. I haven’t exactly been in favor this last year. Now all of a sudden I’m being asked to embassy fetes again. You ‘II act as a wild card in the game. Accompanying me will suggest a lot to them.”
“And explain nothing.”
“Exactly. Then afterward we can talk about our–we’re here.”
Coren had not noticed the car slowing. The door slid aside and let them out in a wide arcade.
The air smelled different. Coren slowed as he neared the edge of the overhang, sensing the change before he saw anything.
Through a dimly-seen parkland with slim trees and thick grass, light came from the residence, warmly tracing the outlines of the intervening flora. The sounds of conversation, occasional laughter, and the nearly overwhelming rhythm of music drifted, muted, toward him.
He forced his hands to unclench and stepped from beneath the shelter.
A breeze brushed his face.
He took a dozen steps and looked up.
Stars salted the night sky, and for an instant he caught his breath. They seemed so close that they formed a roof as solid as the urban shell beneath which he had lived all his life. Far more beautiful, though, and he understood why people wanted them, wanted to go to them, even why they wanted to see this same view from other worlds. There was certainly nothing to fear.
Between one step and the next, leaves fluttered in the comer of his vision and his perspective changed. Abruptly all of above became an infinity into which he felt he might fall.
Coren jerked his gaze to the ground, shuddered briefly, and made himself look only at the light ahead. Ariel had stopped halfway across the grass, waiting for him. He walked stolidly toward the party, pleased that he had not reclenched his fists. Ariel smoothly took his arm, and they continued on together. He touched his face, and his fingers came away dry.
Good. He stepped from grass to flagstone. He risked one more quick glimpse skyward. The light around him occluded the view of stars and he relaxed.
He blinked at the startlingly clothed people.
The styles ranged from strips and patches of fabric that barely covered, and often intentionally failed to cover, to blousy, opaque suits that seemed large enough for two people. The dance of color, shift of cloth and skin, the moil of distinct tastes from several cultures somehow blent into a single attribute: Spacer.
Even the Terrans dressed in one or another Spacer fashion, though they still stuck out. Coren thought he knew why: Terrans dressed for personal status while Spacers dressed purely for personal taste. On a Spacer, the quality and expense of the clothing said nothing of their place in the hierarchy, which kept Terrans continually unable to rank them on sight–something Terrans did among themselves habitually.
“Coren.”
He followed his name and found Ariel looking at him. She stood with three people: two Spacers, the other Terran. He recognized the Terran.
“Coren,” Ariel said, taking his arm, “may I introduce Ambassador Sen Setaris of Aurora.”
Coren bowed slightly and Setaris returned it. She was Spacer tall and austerely attractive, her hair glowing white around a seamless face. She could be fifty, or one hundred and fifty for all that Coren could tell.
“Welcome, Mr. Lanra,” she said. “I trust you aren’t in any distress?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Good. Make yourself comfortable, this is an informal gathering. Should you wish, my house is open.”
“I appreciate that, Ambassador.”
“And this, “Ariel moved on, “is Ambassador Gale Chassik of Solaria.”
Chassik looked very different from Setaris. Heavier, dressed in the thick Solarian manner, his head was nearly smooth. He smiled broadly and the lines in his face were deep. Coren began to extend his hand, then remembered the Solarian aversion to being touched. He bowed again.
“Ambassador.”
“Pleased, Mr. Lanra. It’s good to see Ariel out of her shell again. We’ve missed her.”
Ariel smiled. “I’ve missed you, as well.” She turned to the Terran. “And this is Senator Jonis Taprin of Earth.”
“I recognize the Senator, of course,” Coren said, extending his hand. “How do you do, sir.”
Taprin was pale and middle-aged, lines in his forehead qualitatively different from those in Chassik’s. He was thin and nearly as tall as Setaris. He clasped Coren ‘s hand. “This must be an unusual occasion for you, Mr. Lanra. I understood you worked for Rega Looms.”
“That’s true, sir.”
“What would he think of you consorting with Spacers?” Taprin grinned at Chassik and Setaris, including them in the joke.
“No more than he would of you doing so, Senator,” Coren said.
The Spacers laughed softly. Coren noticed the quick resentment in Taprin ‘s eyes, gone just as quickly.
“Honestly, though,” Coren said, “I’m here at Ambassador Burgess’s invitation. I’m currently on leave from Mr. Looms’ service.”
“Isn’t that unusual?” Chassik asked. “You are his chief of security, are you not?”
“I am. But I have very capable people handling his day-to-day operations. On the road as he is, I have to look after the home office. But even I get a few days off from time to time.”
More polite laughter.
“Enjoy yourself, Mr. Lanra,” Setaris said. “If you’ll excuse Ariel and me....?”
Setaris took Ariel’s arm and the two drifted off.
“Ambassador Setaris sets a marvelous table,” Chassik said. “The buffet should not be missed.” He gestured toward a long table near the entrance to the house.
“In that case,” Coren said, “I should do the diplomatic thing and eat something.”
Taprin smiled. “Stay away from the mauve buttons with the yellow cream sauce. They sneak up on you at the most inconvenient times.”
Coren glanced back when he reached the long table filled with Spacer delicacies. Taprin and Chassik faced each other, talking intently. He searched the crowd and spotted Ariel and Setaris, near the edge of the patio, also talking intently.
He surveyed the food arrayed down the length of the long table and saw almost nothing he recognized. He located the buttons Taprin had warned him about and, perversely, took one. It possessed a faintly musty taste beneath a cinnamon-sweet tang. The sauce reminded him of buttered scallops. Nothing unfamiliar.
“Drink, sir?”
He glimpsed a tray to his left containing several tall glasses. He took one.
“Thanks.”
The servor rolled away, then, and Coren watched it, a robot shaped like a mobile table, moving deftly among the partiers. He caught a glimpse of a few more spaced throughout the gathering.
The liquid in the glass shimmered golden and he wondered where it put him in the order of importance. He sipped: tea with almond liqueur. He popped the rest of the button in his mouth and washed it down.
“I trust this isn’t going to become complicated.” Taprin stood beside him. “C
omplicated, Senator?”
“You understand me, Mr. Lanra.”
“I do. I’m sure both of us understand the risks of unmanaged implication.”
Taprin winced. “Just so we do.” He was not finished, though. He fidgeted, sipped at his drink, and finally asked, “Have you and Ariel known each other long?”
“We met last year.”
Taprin blinked, startled. “I wasn’t aware she’d been seeing anyone...”
“Should you?”
Taprin frowned.
“I’m sure, Senator, whatever else gets discussed here tonight, Ariel Burgess’s personal relationships won’t be part of it.”
Taprin nodded. “Excuse me.”
Coren watched him walk away, toward the house. So much for being nonconfrontational...
“Do you think he can defeat your Mr. Looms?”
Ambassador Chassik stood beside him, also watching Taprin retreat to the interior of Setaris’s residence.
“The election is still six weeks off,” Coren said. “Anything can happen between now and then.”
“I know. That’s always surprised me about you Terrans. Given your temperament, one would think you’d find a less volatile way to choose your leaders.”
“For example?”
Chassik shrugged. “For example, on Solaria the process is accomplished by a combination of appointment and annual assessment. A vote of confidence keeps the appointed official in office. Too low a vote...” Chassik drew a finger sharply across his own throat. He grinned quickly. “Politically speaking, of course.”
“Who does the appointing?”
“There is a college of electors. We never know who they are.”
“I see. I think we’ll keep our volatility.”
Chassik laughed.
“My question,” he continued, “is not academic, Mr. Lanra. Should your employer defeat Senator Taprin, new arrangements must be made. I would consider it a favor if you let Mr. Looms know that Solaria is open to a dialogue.”
“You do know Rega’s position on Earth-Spacer relations.”
Chassik nodded. “In spite of his public pronouncements, I’m sure he’s at base a reasonable man.”
“Is Senator Taprin a reasonable man?”
“More than others, less than some.”
“When the time comes, I’ll pass that on,” Coren said.
“Thank you, Mr. Lanra.”
“I would think, though, that you would tell him yourself. You used to know him personally, didn’t you?”
Chassik’s eyes narrowed briefly. “I won’t insult your no doubt substantiated intelligence by denying it. That was, however, a long time ago.”
“Before you were ambassador, wasn’t it?”
“I was newly arrived on Earth. He was one of the few Terrans who took any time to show me around.”
“I suppose it helped to be in business together. I found that interesting. It’s not very common these days, is it?”
“We were never ‘in business’ together, Mr. Lama. You’re mistaken.”
“Oh. I apologize–perhaps I misunderstood. You both owned shares in some of the same companies.”
Chassik shook his head. “Even then, Rega was not sanguine about mixing with Spacers. If we did have common investments, it was quite by accident.”
Coren nodded. “Ah. Forgive me. I was under the impression that he brought you in on a project.”
“What project might that have been?”
“Something to do with prostheses, I believed. I forget the name of the company.”
Chassik shrugged. “Rega showed some interest in our medical technologies along those lines, but nothing ever came of it. He found our procedures too invasive. Later on, his discomfort turned to fanaticism. We haven’t spoken since he became head of that church of his.”
“Which is why you’d like me to take your offer to him.”
“Exactly, Mr. Lama. I–oh, Ariel. I was just discussing political systems with your friend. The merits of Terran populist mandates, as opposed to good old-fashioned autocracy.”
“No meddling, Gale,” Ariel said, stopping before them.
“Never!” Chassik proclaimed with mock severity. “I’m so pleased to see you, Ariel. It’s about time Setaris got over her snit and remembered your existence.”
“Was it a snit? I thought it was a well-deserved vacation. Now I find I have to start working again.”
“If there’s anything I can do...”
“I think Sen would be displeased if you helped me get another vacation.”
“You should come to work for us, Ariel, “Chassik said. “We have a much more beneficent attitude toward sacrifice and service.”
“Mmm. The only problem with that would be the travel.”
Coren studied Ariel while she sparred with Chassik. He noticed then how different she seemed compared to the Spacers gathered here. His first thought was that she looked younger, but that was wrong. They all, for the most part, looked young, at least in that their skin was smooth, their eyes were clear, their hair thick and shimmering. But that could be purchased at any competent rejuve clinic. Earthers managed cosmetic youth up till their eighties and nineties, when the repairs failed for lack of anything dependable to repair.
No, Spacer youth was qualitatively different, something rejuve could never achieve. Instead, it was a static perfection, isolated in time, unchanging and unchanged. They looked like icons of health instead of people, archetypes of agelessness. Instead of perpetually young they were perpetually the same.
But not Ariel Burgess. For one thing, she was not young. Fine lines rayed from the comers of her eyes, and her laughlines were deep and permanent. A single chiselled dash deepened between her eyebrows when she concentrated and her skin, rather than the smooth porcelain austerity of her fellow Spacers, showed the reticulations of virgin, unrejuvenated or rehabbed derma.
She was not stuck in time.
Coren surveyed the crowd, checking his newfound perception to see how it held up. He saw exceptions, of course, and the Earthers were distinct by virtue of their evident age and the use of makeup where nature let them down. But for the most part observation confirmed expectation.
“–curious why you haven’t challenged the blockade,” Ariel was saying.
Coren’s attention snapped back to Ariel and Chassik.
Chassik looked puzzled. “What business would it be of Solaria’s to get in between a dispute between Earth and one of its unacknowledged offspring?”
“None, usually,” Ariel said. “Except that Solaria holds title to Nova Levis. I assume, since you haven’t deeded it to the colony, you still have some interest in it.”
Chassik frowned. “I was unaware of any holdings by that name. Are you sure you have your facts correct?”
“It’s possible the record is just incomplete. These things do get overlooked. Solaria owned the place outright about thirty-five years ago.”
“Really? By that name?”
“No.”
“Ah. Well, then you do have me at a disadvantage.”
Ariel cocked her eyebrows. “I’ve never known you to be at a disadvantage. I’ll have to remember this. Especially where something you once personally owned shares in is involved.”
Chassik made a long show of assembling a plate of assorted delicacies, his lips pursed thoughtfully. “You’re probing, Ariel. I don’t think you know what it is you’re looking for. You’ve heard a name, saw a bit of obsolete data, and you’re jumping to conclusions. That got you in rather a lot of difficulty last year, didn’t it?”
“In a way. Difficulties don’t come from wrong conclusions.”
“Oh, they can, though. Depends on how they’re wrong. This Nova Levis thing... rather arcane subject for the Calvin Institute liaison to concern herself with,” Chassik said.
“Illicit traffic in positronics does concern me.”
Chassik blinked, startled. “Accusations are beneath you, Ariel.”
“I’m not m
aking any, Ambassador.”
“Nova Levis has been a de facto independent colony for nearly thirty years. I believe Aurora has sponsored a few such colonies itself, and I’m sure if you looked the actual ownership of those worlds may still be a matter of doubt. Does Aurora meddle in the internal workings of these colonies?” He shrugged. “What the situation is on the ground rarely matches what you find on paper. If Solaria hasn’t signed over anything, it’s simply a clerical error.”
“Was it a clerical error,” Coren asked, “when you divested your personal holdings in Nova Levis? If I recall correctly, you did so at the same time as Rega Looms sold his shares. Oh, but I forgot, you never did business together.”
Ambassador Chassik’s reaction moved through stages, from genuine bafflement to comprehension to an abrupt resumption of a professional mask.
“Ariel,” he said drolly, “I rarely give advice, but in this case I think you need it. I admire and respect you, but you’ve shown truly questionable taste in paramours. You should be a little less reckless. “He smiled at Coren. “Please excuse me.”
Chassik sauntered away.
“What was that?” Ariel asked.
“Following your lead,” Coren said. “Blind shooting. I turned up some interesting facts concerning that research lab you mentioned, Nova Levis. Your Ambassador Chassik was a primary shareholder. I wondered if maybe the two were related–the lab and the colony.”
“Blind shooting. I’d love to see what you can do with your eyes open. “She shook her head. “You guessed wrong, though. I wasn’t shooting blind. Solaria still holds title to Nova Levis–the colony. It wasn’t called that when they owned it.”
“What was it called?”
“Cassus Thole.”
A chime cut through the air like crystal.
“Dinner, “Ariel said. “I hope the rest of the evening is as interesting as the hors d’oeuvres.”
Coren left Ambassador Setaris’s dinner gratefully. Through the excellent food and drink, the strain of trying to pay attention to everything gave him a mild headache.
