Ambassador 1_Seeing Red

by Patty Jansen

  No point denying it. I nodded, once, and felt more heat creep up my cheeks.

  A few seconds of red-eared silence passed. Nicha frowned.

  “But I thought . . . what about Eva?”

  “I’m breaking off the engagement.”

  “You are. . . ?”

  “It would never have worked. She was only interested in dinner parties and when I came back. I don’t think she would ever have been happy in Barresh.”

  Nicha blew out a breath. “You know, that must be the first sensible thing I’ve heard you say about women.”

  I stared. Nicha had always been reserved about Eva, but he had never told me this. For the last two years, he had shielded his thoughts about her, so as not to hurt me. Oh, how I loved him. How I loved them both.

  Nicha leaned back in his chair. He flicked a glance at the closed door of the bedroom—the room where my things were.

  “You know my sister is in the shower?” He yawned. “I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed. You don’t mind if I sleep here?”

  He sounded much too rehearsed. I raised my eyebrows.

  “Go for it. She’s all yours. Just don’t keep everyone awake all night.”

  That Coldi bluntness.

  But my heart leapt when I rose and opened the door.

  A thick blanket of steam hung near the ceiling of the room, making the light hazy. Thayu sat on the bed, a towel wrapped around her, baring yellow-skinned shoulders. Water dripped from her hair and steam rose even from her skin. She was working on something on her reader. A view of the president’s office in a sickly blue hue. And then a flash. Nicha’s recording of the event. She stopped the projection and then played it again, as if she hadn’t noticed me come in.

  I hesitated.

  She turned to me. “I’ve changed the frequency, and I can see the light now. Is this what you experienced before?”

  I nodded. “It will conclude the case neatly. Amoro Renkati killed the president.”

  “But then . . . if you can see the light, why didn’t Kershaw pick it up?”

  “He’s blind. He can see with the help of some technology, which doesn’t convey colour.” I remembered how he had guessed the colour of my shirt—wrong. It also dawned on me that a lot of Aghyrian technology could be beneficial to everyone, or dangerous, and that we must aim to negotiate with them, and not point fingers. Like Coldi on Earth, they had perhaps traded some of their technology for benefits needed by their community, technology which the buyers had gone on to misuse.

  But I was not in the mood for discussing the matter further. There would be plenty of time for that once we returned to Barresh.

  Thayu was going to play the recording again, her hand hovering over the button, but her fingers trembled. Then she blinked.

  I tried the feeder. Thayu?

  Her input was still blocked, and, unlike Ezhya, I couldn’t open it without setting it up through the reader.

  “Thayu?”

  “Are you still angry with me?”

  “Angry? Why would I be angry with you?”

  “Because I made your girl run out on you.”

  Oh, Thayu.

  She gave a surprised squeak when I pulled her up and drew her in my arms. From close up, her eyes glistened with moisture.

  “Come, come, Thayu. Open your feeder. Let me tell you what’s going on.” How much I love you.

  “What—”

  My lips cut her words short.

  She must have been standing under the hot shower for ages; her mouth was so hot it nearly burned me, but I didn’t care.

  A progression of vague images spread from my feeder, getting clearer while I focused on them. Her horror as she realised she had interfered between me and Eva, as she realised that she must have done something very bad in our custom, but not understanding it. Bewilderment, regret. Love.

  Love. Like a warmth seeping through me, tingling to the very tips of my fingers.

  “Thayu, I would never be angry with you, because it would never have worked out with Eva. It took me to meet you before I realised that.”

  “I thought you were contracted to her?”

  “Not anymore.”

  “You mustn’t throw away your chances, the status she was offering you.”

  “I’m not interested in that type of status.”

  She just blinked.

  “I’m serious, I’m not. She’s part of a world that isn’t mine. I was mistaken. I want you, and if . . .” I swallowed hard. “If that means I have to buy the other man out, I will do so.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes blinking. “Really?”

  “Really. Is he old and ugly?”

  “Yes. But rich.”

  I heard the warning in those words. “I will pay him out, no matter what.”

  She blinked hard, and more tears formed in her eyes. It was so unlike her that I kissed them away; the tangy taste of her on my lips.

  I felt a twinge of fear through the feeder. She asked, her voice hoarse, “For how long?”

  “If you want, forever. If you want a child, we’ll get around that problem somehow. I don’t want to lose you.”

  She raised her head and met my eyes. I lost myself in her gaze. Her voice was no more than a whisper. “I’d like that very much.”

  After that, neither of us said anything for a long time.

  I shut down the projection, still flushed with the rush of excitement.

  Those two thousand delegates of zhamata sat in stunned silence.

  No protests, no shouts, just total shocked silence. My words about Sirkonen’s troubles, his murder, Danziger’s discovery and Renkati’s plan and their machine still echoed in my ears. I’d shown them the two-hundred-year-old plans, verified the signature of Asto’s leader of that time. How Renkati had tried to play the climate change data to make Nations of Earth vote against collaboration with gamra. I had even raised the subject of how Asto could become the subject of a territory claim. That there was an urgent need to revise the gamra membership laws.

  There was not one delegate I could see from my position who hadn’t had something to yell at some stage, but now I had finished, everyone was quiet.

  A group of about thirty people sat on the floor in the middle of the hall, between the speaker’s dais and the lowest tiers of the audience. Two Barresh city guards in black stood on either side. A few more guards sat on the lowest bench. They had brought the group in after the meeting started, a collection of men and women in dirty clothing.

  Chief Delegate Akhtari rang her bell. Her face had remained emotionless during my speech. I didn’t think she was involved in any Aghyrian plan or even knew of it, but it would have been nice if she had shown outrage at my evidence. She was meant to remain impartial, and so far, she had done just that, which meant I still didn’t know how deep the Aghyrian involvement ran. Would we ever know? Would they ever make their claim? Had they deliberately set up Amoro Renkati with their technology? How organised were they?

  I repositioned the earpiece. “And in this way, Delegates, a small organisation almost succeeded in driving a wedge within the heart of gamra. Some of you may say why does that matter? We need to have a discussion about the structure of gamra anyway. They might have said we need to end the domination of Asto and curb the power of the Coldi. Some of you—many of you maybe—might have agreed.”

  Ezhya Palayi sat quietly, his hands in his lap.

  “Amoro Renkati heard these voices of dissent and, while gamra wasn’t looking, gathered a group driven by hatred. They attempted to court non-Coldi entities to form their separate network. I don’t think we have seen the end of this. We have seen the technology they’ve used and I don’t think it’s going to go away.”

  I glanced at Marin Federza, whose face was equally unreadable. Was there an organisation of Aghyrians? If so, was he involved?

  “Rather than pointing fingers at each other, gamra needs to face this challenge as a united front. I think it matters that we air grievances publicly, here
in this venue, before they become deeply ingrained. We have just seen how quickly a conflict can escalate. I have no doubt that if we did allow this split to happen, we would have major conflict within a year.”

  Now for the official part of the meeting.

  “At the start of this meeting, you saw the guards of Barresh bring in a group of people. They are what is left of Amoro Renkati, those people who still swear by an organisation with the blood of my president on its hands. Now only one question remains, and I have been chosen to ask it on behalf of zhamata.”

  A few of the people in the group on the floor looked up.

  “Gamra law gives you the opportunity to answer freely and escape a forceful investigation and detention for those of you not guilty. Out of all of you here, whose hand killed the president?”

  In the group, no one looked at one another. People sat with their shoulders slumped. I felt a twinge of disappointment. It had probably been too naïve to hope that anyone would come forward. But then there was a commotion in the group. Someone rose. A thin figure, a middle-aged man. Greying hair.

  Seymour Kershaw. His vacant eyes stared in the distance.

  “I did.”

  His voice carried in the hall.

  He said again, “I did.” He laughed. “I killed the backstabbing bastard. He was going to run off with data some of us risked our lives getting for him.”

  I had never heard him speak Coldi, and he did so with a heavy accent, loathsome almost, but it was his face that disturbed me most. An expression of pure hatred.

  Kershaw continued, “The Coldi have used, screwed and betrayed us for hundreds of years. Gamra as well as my home world. They will never share power. They must be stopped.” He pointed at Ezhya Palayi; he had something in his hand.

  I didn’t think twice. I pulled the charge gun from under my shirt and fired. Once. Twice. No, that second shot came from Thayu.

  Both blue flashes hit the standing figure. Crackled like lightning. Gave off a cloud of steam.

  People screamed and scrambled from their seats. The guards shouted, pulled weapons. Restrained the Renkati members who tried to run.

  Lights went on overhead.

  When the panic had cleared, one figure remained on the floor. Thayu sprang over the railing and knelt next to the prone figure.

  Breathing deeply, I clicked the weapon back into its bracket. The barrel was hot. I swallowed hard and for a moment felt like I would faint or throw up. “Is he. . . ?”

  Thayu rose and nodded. “Bitter old man.”

  I steadied myself against the dais, fighting my rebelling stomach. I had pulled a weapon on a fellow human, and killed.

  Thayu’s warm thoughts touched my mind. Really, you did well. That was a shot worthy of a sniper.

  But what if I’d missed?

  What if he’d killed Ezhya Palayi?

  I gulped deep breaths. The hall’s floor had become a seething mass of people, most of them security.

  Everyone had failed Kershaw. The wrong candidate for the job, he had received little training and not enough physical preparation. Without adaptation, Seymour Kershaw had gone blind, and the lack of support had made him bitter, making him easy prey for Renkati.

  The best I could do for him was to make sure I succeeded.

  A humidity-laden breeze stirred the curtain. I leaned back in my chair, reading once more over the text on the screen.

  To Sigobert Danziger, acting president, Nations of Earth,

  It is with regret that I report I have found the remains of previous Earth envoy Seymour Kershaw, which I hope you will clear to be returned to his family.

  It was still uncomfortable to think of what had happened, and something I would have to explain to Danziger, but not now.

  I send some pictures as proof of identity. I advise you against displaying them in the general assembly—the detail is gruesome and might upset some members. Before his death, Kershaw admitted to having used new technology to kill President Sirkonen, who had been about to reveal the extent of Renkati’s treachery. All known members of the organisation Amoro Renkati have been arrested. There is no further threat to Nations of Earth. Gamra wishes to apologise deeply for this upheaval, but hopes that normal negotiations will resume.

  Meanwhile, I wish to notify you of my intention to resign from my position. I have been offered a fully funded position as negotiator, but will be available to offer assistance to my replacement. . . .

  Oh, how it pleased me to write that. He’d threatened to sack me, and now I’d made the first move, a move which he probably wouldn’t have expected. Yesterday I’d made my first down payment for the apartment which had been seized by gamra as part of the disbanding of Amoro Renkati. I’d also paid the staff outstanding wages. Money never interested me much, but I had never felt so good. And there was more to come.

  I flicked to the other message.

  Ms Hayworth,

  I hope you have arrived in Athens by now. Amarru said she has been awaiting your arrival so your training as my publicity officer can be fast-tracked—

  A light flicked on behind me, and soft footsteps entered the room. A yellow-skinned hand placed a steaming cup of manazhu between the edge of the table and my reader; its tantalising smell rose to my nose.

  I reached over my shoulder, and found Thayu’s arm.

  “I thought you might like this before we go to bed.”

  The glow from the reader silvered the soft curves of her face.

  “Bed? Is it that late?”

  “It is. You do forget yourself sometimes. You work too hard.”

  She said that a lot, in a mocking-joking way, but it was true. In the past few days, I’d spent far too much time in the semi-darkness of the communication hub. I would become anaemic at this rate.

  I half-rose and pressed “send” and again “send”.

  Then I picked up my cup and followed Thayu out of the room. My new office, my staff and the problems of the universe could wait a while. The night was warm and there were better things to do.

  Thank you for reading Ambassador 1: Seeing Red. In the next book in the series The Sahara Conspiracy, an aid worker in Djibouti discovers smuggled Coldi weapons. Vice President Danziger asks Cory a “please explain”. Cory investigates, but the solution is neither easy nor tidy.

  Get Ambassador 1A: The Sahara Conspiracy here.

  About the Author

  Patty Jansen lives in Sydney, Australia, where she spends most of her time writing Science Fiction and Fantasy.

  Her story This Peaceful State of War placed first in the second quarter of the Writers of the Future contest and was published in their 27th anthology. She has also sold fiction to genre magazines such as Analog Science Fiction and Fact, Redstone SF and Aurealis.

  Patty has written over twenty novels in both Science Fiction and Fantasy, including the Icefire Trilogy and the Ambassador series.

  @pattyjansen

  Patty Jansen

  pattyjansen.com

  More By This Author

  In the Earth-Gamra space-opera universe

  * * *

  RETURN OF THE AGHYRIANS

  * * *

  Watcher’s Web

  Trader’s Honour

  Soldier’s Duty

  Heir’s Revenge

  The Return of the Aghyrians Omnibus

  * * *

  The Far Horizon (For younger readers)

  * * *

  AMBASSADOR

  Seeing Red

  The Sahara Conspiracy

  Raising Hell

  Changing Fate

  Coming Home

  * * *

  Historical Fantasy

  * * *

  FOR QUEEN AND COUNTRY

  Innocence Lost

  Willow Witch

  The Idiot King

  Fire Wizard

  The Dragon Prince

  The Necromancer’s Daughter

  For Queen and Country Omnibus (Books 1-3)

  * * *

  Hard Sci
ence Fiction

  * * *

  In the ISF-Allion universe

  Shifting Reality

  Shifting Infinity

  * * *

  Epic, Post-apocalyptic Fantasy

  * * *

  ICEFIRE TRILOGY

  Fire & Ice

  Dust & Rain

  Blood & Tears

  The Icefire Trilogy Omnibus

  * * *

  Short story collections

  Out Of Here

  New Horizons

  * * *

  Visit the author’s website at http://pattyjansen.com and register for a newsletter to keep up-to-date with new releases.