“Is this the computer that runs your ship?”
“Yes. Her name is Martha.”
Donilla grinned. “You name your machines?”
“Only those that can think for themselves.”
Donilla tried to grasp the concept of a thinking machine, but gave up with a sigh. “These things are beyond my understanding. My sister, however, would no doubt be fascinated by your Mock II, and will certainly want to hear more about it. She’s the genius in our family. She’s already discovered cures for two of our major diseases.”
“You still have disease on this world?”
Donilla blinked at the surprise in Shanelle’s voice, then came back with some of her own. “You don’t?”
“The Sha-Ka’ani never have, as far as I know,” Shanelle informed her. “But most worlds have advanced beyond disease. Those that haven’t buy meditech units, which can cure and heal just about anything.”
Donilla stared wide-eyed for a moment, but then she chuckled. “I hope you won’t mention that to Lanar. She would be absolutely appalled to know there is something that would make her job obsolete.”
“You don’t sound too sorry for her,” Shanelle observed with a grin.
Donilla shrugged. “Sibling rivalry. Do you have any yourself?”
“A brother—actually my twin.”
“Then you do understand.”
“Not really. Females don’t compete with males where I come from. It would be ludicrous to even try.”
“Well, let me tell you, sisters do, and mine always lorded it over me that I failed to get into science school, while she breezed right through it. That she’s never had to struggle at anything except personal relationships just might be her problem.”
Shanelle decided not to comment on Lanar Vand, who had struck her as being not quite emotionally stable. Instead, she broached her reason for being there.
“Are you aware of my problem? Falon Van’yer is going to show up here very shortly to claim me, which I don’t want to happen. But if he gets within my hearing, he’ll have us mated for life quicker than you can snap your fingers. All it takes is a few words from him to make it final. And frankly, I can’t imagine your people being able to stop him.”
Donilla smiled. “Yes, I have been informed that you doubt our ability to assist you. And it’s true that if we don’t shoot Mr. Van’yer on sight, which I assure you won’t be necessary, we may have some difficulty detaining him—if he is as large as you are.”
“Much larger.”
“Really?”
“I may be above average in height, but you people are below average, yet most worlds still consider Sha-Ka’ani males to be giants.”
“Then we will definitely have to use the Altering rod on Mr. Van’yer. What would you like him to forget that he knows you or merely that he wants to marry you?”
Shanelle just stared at the little woman behind the desk. “Was that your idea of a joke?”
“Have I actually managed to amaze the girl with knowledge of so many amazing wonders?”
“So you weren’t joking?”
Donilla’s expression suddenly turned bitter. “I wish sometimes it were a joke, but it’s not. I will explain, but first I have to ask you to keep what I tell you in strictest confidence.”
Shanelle wondered if she ought to tell the woman that Martha was eavesdropping. No, she was too curious to risk not getting an explanation. And besides, she could nod her agreement in all honesty. She wouldn’t repeat what she heard. Whether Martha would was another story.
Shanelle nodded. Donilla began to speak. “The Altering rod was designed by one of our most brilliant doctors for use on her mentally disturbed male patients. It was a remarkable achievement and worked exactly as she had intended—until one of her colleagues pointed out another use it could be put to. I won’t bore you with all the details, but this turned into a major conspiracy involving all the women on the planet. We were unanimously fed up with our men’s obsession with war, you see, and their unwillingness to listen to our views on the matter. And they were almost finished building that damn spaceship that would reach Armoru. We were desperate to find a means to stop their invasion, and short of blowing up the spaceship, which would only get built again, there was nothing we could do to prevent our men from going and getting killed— until the idea of using the Altering rod was presented to us in secrecy, and heartily approved.”
“What exactly does this rod do?”
“It works on the subconscious mind like hypnosis, but without the subject being the least bit aware of it. A mere touch of the Altering rod, anywhere on the body, and any suggestion becomes a reality.”
“I don’t imagine your men just volunteered for this,” Shanelle remarked dryly.
“No. The rods were mass-produced and sent to every hospital. The men, being in the army, are required to take yearly physicals. Doctors are almost all women.”
“All?”
“With each man devoted to the army, is it any wonder women dominate our professions? Non-officers will frequently take part-time jobs, but nothing that requires intensive study that would take them away from their war games. At any rate, during a three-month period five years ago, every man reported for his physical, and when it was over, he was—Altered.”
“How?”
“The same traits were removed from them all— arrogance, aggression, the need to dominate, the desire to make war. But it was also decided that the men should no longer be in complete control of the army. So certain generals were chosen to forget that they were generals, with women assuming their positions. I didn’t pick this job; I was coerced into taking it because I was closely associated with the previous general. I was his secretary. Now he’s mine.”
“And he has no idea what was done to him?”
“None.”
“But what happens if you’re invaded?” Shanelle asked. “Will your men fight?”
“Certainly. They’re still soldiers. They just no longer have the urge to start the fight.”
Shanelle sat back in amazement, heard the chair creak, and quickly sat forward again. But she was still bemused.
“It worked on all of them?”
“It was designed to work on men. Actually, the rod has no effect at all on women. But there were some instances where a few women rebelled and brought their men out of their altered state. That’s why every woman now has her own rod, to use on any man even suspected of being freed from the conditioning.”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying the conditioning isn’t permanent, that something can put your men back to their original state?”
“Exactly. A man merely has to be touched with the rod again and told the reverse of what he was told when it was first used. He will then be completely his old self, with all of his masculine instincts restored—and aware of exactly what was done to him. Our men have been altered for five years. I would imagine there are women, now in possession of a rod, who will have taken advantage of the power those rods can wield with mere suggestions, and virtually turned their men into slaves. That’s human nature. So little wonder none of us dares release her own man now, even if she would like to.”
“Widespread slaughter?”
Donilla’s smile now lacked any real humor. “Something like that.”
“I’m sorry. It sounds like you’ve backed yourself into a corner that no longer has a trapdoor for escape. And I’m not sure I want Falon’s mind tampered with that way.”
Donilla’s smile turned wry. “You don’t want him killed or tampered with. Do you have some feelings for this man despite your not wanting to belong to him permanently?”
“Nothing that a little time won’t diminish,” Shanelle insisted.
“Then perhaps you might like him changed to suit you instead.”
Shanelle’s eyes flared with the possibility. To have Falon convinced that he could love? To have him told he must never punish her, and so he wouldn’t?
“I—I’ll have to think about
it.”
“Well, don’t wait too long. My people have been alerted to the problem. If he shows up before you decide, he will simply be convinced he doesn’t want to marry you.”
“Isn’t there any other way to keep him away from me, without the use of an Altering rod?”
“I suppose we could render him unconscious and keep him in chains.”
“No.” Shanelle sighed. “Ideally, I just want him to go home and forget about me.”
“Then consider it done.”
Chapter 26
Shanelle arrived at Lanar’s rooms precisely on time, thanks to her two-man soldier escort. She’d been invited to dinner. She would have declined, except it was Donilla who had invited her, and she liked the little general. She couldn’t say the same of her sister, and could only hope Lanar would have a better disposition in a sociable atmosphere.
The rooms she had been given were adequate— if she didn’t mind being able to reach up and touch the ceilings, or have her feet hang over the end of her bed. It definitely felt strange being the tallest woman in the world, but so she was on that world. But there was one good thing about it. Falon and her brother wouldn’t want to stay long in such cramped surroundings, where their heads would touch the ceilings.
She’d asked Martha to send her down a change of clothes so she would know for certain if Martha had kept a fix on her. Martha proved she was listening by Transferring Shanelle up to the Rover to pick out her own clothes instead; and, while Shanelle was changing, got her opinion of everything that had been said to her. The gist was, Martha definitely disapproved of the Sunderians’ misuse of their Altering rod, though she would love to analyze one if Shanelle could get her hands on one. Shanelle wasn’t even going to try.
With Martha running on lecture-mode and delaying Shanelle’s return to Sunder, there hadn’t been much time for Shanelle to consider the temptation Donilla had offered her. But it didn’t take much time to figure out that altering Falon to suit her idea of the perfect man just wouldn’t work if he was going to take her home to Sha-Ka’an, where he would be reminded daily of the very things she’d like him to forget. It might work on Sunder, but she had no desire to stay there any longer than she had to, and Falon certainly wouldn’t be happy on that planet, where he would be nothing but an oddity.
Donilla was already there to greet Shanelle as she entered Lanar’s luxurious quarters at the science center. Everyone, it seemed, lived right where he or she worked. It made for a lot of long buildings and large, multi-floored work centers, and no single dwelling homes.
“I would have had you to my quarters,” Donilla began as she led Shanelle to one of three plushy cushioned couches, “but they’re—well, very austere in the military fashion.”
“And otherwise occupied by an ex-general my sister is secretly ashamed to call hers, now that he’s lost all his arrogance and bluster,” Lanar added cattily as she handed Shanelle a drink.
Shanelle didn’t know what to say after that. The one woman was blushing, the other smiling spitefully. Fortunately, Donilla recovered quickly.
“That isn’t true,” she told her sister. “I’m not ashamed of Ferrill. I merely miss—sometimes— the way he used to be.”
“You liked being swallowed up by that forceful personality he had? You used to complain that you had to ask his permission for every little thing you wanted to do, but now you miss—”
“I hardly think this is a subject our guest is interested in,” Donilla replied, her tone warning that she was starting to get angry.
Lanar paid no attention to the warning. “Why not? She comes from a society that still gives its women away in marriage. I’ll wager the man who’s coming after her is about as domineering and arrogant as Ferrill ever was.”
Shanelle almost laughed. The woman was deliberately turning the attack in her direction now, but she wasn’t going to take the bait.
“You’d lose that wager, Lanar, unless you changed the ‘about as’ to ’much more,‘ because no one can be as arrogant as a Sha-Ka’ani warrior, and they totally dominate all aspects of life on my world. Women can’t even work to support themselves or leave their home without a male escort. They have to be under a warrior’s protection, or they’re up for grabs by any man who wants them.”
It was hard to keep from grinning at the shocked look on both women’s faces. Shanelle took a sip of the greenish-blue liquid in her glass while she waited for their reaction.
“That’s utterly barbaric,” Lanar sneered.
“No wonder you’re running away,” Donilla sympathized.
Shanelle feigned a look of surprise. “Did I forget to mention that our women rarely complain about the way things are? Of course, when you see what warriors look like, you can maybe figure out why that’s so.”
Lanar made a sound of disgust. Donilla grinned. “So why run away?” she asked.
“My mother is from a different world, one that treats men and women equally, and where everyone is self-supporting. This gives her a different outlook, one she’s passed on to me. In fact, she’s made it possible for any woman who wants to work for herself, rather than be dependent on a man, to be able to leave Sha-Ka’an to join new colonies where women are desperately needed.”
“But has she made a dent in changing the dominant male culture she finds herself living in?” Lanar asked snidely.
“Not a scratch. But then it would be easier to walk on live coals than to get a warrior to change his ways—and that’s why I left. My mother puts up with the things she doesn’t like because she loves my father. I don’t have that to influence me.”
“Donilla did,” Lanar purred venomously. “But she opted for change when it was offered and now wishes she hadn’t. She’d rather be back under a man’s thumb.”
Shanelle was annoyed that she’d given Lanar an opening to attack her sister again, and this time she didn’t keep quiet about it. “What’s your problem, Lanar? Where I come form, siblings care about each other. They don’t try to draw blood with every other word they utter.”
Lanar obviously wasn’t expecting to be attacked in turn. Her reaction was the same as it had been at the space center when Shanelle had refused to accept her word. She flushed with color, looked for a moment like she could kill, mumbled something about seeing what was keeping dinner, and stiffly left the room.
“That wasn’t necessary, but thank you,” Donilla said, drawing Shanelle’s eyes back to her.
“Is she always like that?”
“With me, pretty much.”
“Do you know why?”
“Jealousy, I suppose. She has everything she could want—position, influence, and authority, even slaves to wait on her—but that’s not enough. She also wants what I have—even Ferrill. Despite her derogatory remarks about him, she’d love to lure him away from me. But he never liked Lanar, then or now.”
“I can’t say I blame him. Do, ah, you own slaves, too?”
Donilla shook her head, staring at a closed door behind Shanelle. “I’ve never wanted to have that kind of power over anyone. Besides, the military takes care of its own. Ferrill always had at least four aides jumping to do his bidding, which I inherited.”
“I supposed they had to be altered, too, and anyone else who knew him, to forget he was the general?”
The bleakness that Shanelle had noticed before entered Donilla’s expression again. “Yes. It got pretty complicated when we started taking over their jobs.”
Shanelle said gently, “It’s obvious you didn’t like doing that to your own man. If you aren’t happy with the way he is now, why don’t you release him from the altering?”
Donilla smiled sadly. “He’d kill me.”
“Maybe figuratively.” Shanelle grinned. “But then he’d probably thank you for giving him back himself. Those negative traits you women got rid of were part of your men. They may have made them difficult to get along with, but without them, all you’ve got are half men. You probably aren’t the only one unhappy with the
present situation, and who’d like to have her man whole again.”
“I couldn’t make that decision on my own. If one gets released, he’ll start releasing all the others. Besides, we’d be right back where we started, with the men rushing hell-bent into war.”
“Humans are known to make those kinds of mistakes. Usually they learn by them and then get on with their lives.”
Before Donilla could reply, Lanar returned with two scantily dressed female slaves flanking her and announced curtly that dinner had arrived. The slaves carried large trays which were offered first to Lanar, after she’d seated herself again.
When a tray was held out to Shanelle, she found four full meals were being offered, all containing a variety of different selections. Like her hostess, she picked only one square plate, having no idea what she would be eating, but only slightly curious about it, her attention having been otherwise snared by the slaves. It was hard not to notice the marks of punishment on both of them, ugly red welts that striped the backs of their thighs and calves, more prominent on one girl than the other, as if she had received hers only that day.
Shanelle was appalled enough to demand an explanation from Lanar, but a buzzer sounded first, loud enough to startle her, and she watched as Donilla set her plate down on a table, took a small cube out of a pocket on her uniform jacket, and said, “What is it?”
A female voice came out of the cube, scratchy but audible—and panicked. “They’re here, five of them, and you better get over here, general. They’re not just bigger than the female, they’re .. . SEVEN … FEET … TALL!”
Donilla glanced at Shanelle and got an I-told-you-so look before she spoke to the caller again. “Hasn’t anyone done what they’re supposed to?”
“I doubt it, general. They’re just too huge to get near—and they’re armed with swords nearly as big as I am.”
“All right, where are you?”
“In your building. Wherever they arrived, they encountered some of our men and forced them to bring them here to the one in charge. They’re already on the way to your office, and at the rate they’re getting answers without hardly trying, they could be on the way to your sister’s quarters before you can get here.”
Keeper of the Heart Page 20
