“You don’t,” Martil replied.
“Oh, I see. I’m merely the team’s decorative female facade.” Exasperated, she said, “Look, can’t you and Tae imagine a situation where I may discover something you haven’t? Something critical. I might have to make a decision fast, without consulting you. I’d have to know how to prevent the Gevaris from blowing up a big chunk of the cosmos.”
In the most solemn tone she had ever heard, Martil told her, “You are not being excluded from our partnership, as you seem to fear. This has nothing to do with your femaleness. Do not be so oversensitive in that regard. If you are ready for the ultimate responsibility you have just described, it will be entrusted to you. If you are not, it will be withheld. And I am not the one who will give it or withhold it. Neither is Tae.”
Chapter 11
WAS that all he was going to reveal? Apparently. The man could be so damned infuriating! But he’d sounded deadly serious. No teasing note in the words at all. Well, if she waited, probably enlightenment would gradually filter up from the recesses of her mind into her consciousness, answering this riddle. A lot of that had been happening to her lately. She tried to conceal the fear his statement had caused by saying lightly, “So I just have to hope, huh? That I won’t have to play hardball referee with Gevaris.”
“There is no reason to worry, my Lady,” Chayo said confidently. “My mother’s security staff already has located the four relays for the forbidden devices. Crack troops have been posted to guard each one. Any Gevari who tries to breach those defenses will be cut down without mercy.”
“Are you sure there isn’t a fifth Bender Principle weapon hidden around here somewhere? In some palace hidey-hole or nook?” As Renee asked that, Martil’s mouth quirked with sly, approving amusement. Obviously, the same possibility had occurred to him, too.
“No. There are but four,” Chayo insisted. “Fully secured.”
“Let’s keep our fingers crossed that they stay that way.”
“Rather more ammunition is available to us than primitive superstition,” Martil cut in. “We are not alone on this mission. With certain problems, we must trust to our non-anthropomorphic companions to identify potential peril before that peril becomes acute — or insoluble.” Renee’s hand stole to her Ka-Een pendant. The jewel nestled in her cleavage, exposed by the dashiki’s provocatively low-cut neckline. “Our backup team, huh? Go get ’em! Find out where the Gevaris are hiding. Squash ’em if they stir a centimeter in the direction of that weapon.” She paused, then murmured, “It always comes back around to the Ka-Eens, doesn’t it? Is mine a male or a female?”
Tae chuckled and Martil exclaimed, “Ka-Eens do not …” His contemptuous smile slid off slowly, replaced by doubt. “That is, I don’t think they are sexual entities. No, of course not! It’s absurd!”
“Is it?” Renee caressed her inhuman little partner. “You admitted that you don’t know everything there is to know about them.”
“That’s not required,” he said, sniffing. “However, feel free to anthropomorphize your Ka-Een, if it makes you more comfortable. Many humanoid species, under stress, feel compelled to fantasize. You may even look upon your Ka-Een as a pet, if you choose.” His hazel eyes twinkled mischievously. “Bear in mind, though, that it may regard you as its pet.”
“I have no objections if it does,” she said, annoyed.
There were several minutes of strained silence. Chayo finally broke it, clearing his throat noisily. “It will likely be some while yet before the premiers have gathered in the palace conference area. How may I amuse you until then? Perhaps a tour of the capital.”
“No tours,” Renee said hurriedly. “I’ve seen more than enough Niandian scenery to last me for months, even years.”
“Then I could call for professional entertainers.” Martil waved a hand, dismissing the Prince’s suggestion. “We stay here. We don’t want to be at any distance from the conference when the hour arrives. Nor do we really need the distraction of local actors or comedians. Let’s watch updates on your newscasts as preparation for the meeting.”
Shrugging, Chayo cued one of the room’s walls, and it converted itself into a giant-size TV. The screen was fragmented into a series of geometrically framed scenes. Squiggly Niandian printing and muted voice-overs accompanied the pictures. Renee sat back and tried to absorb the flow of information. Not easy. It was visual and audio hash, to a degree. The same technique some of Earth’s film producers used when they wanted to create an impression of chaos.
Neither Martil nor Tae seemed overwhelmed by the dizzying flood of images and sounds. Nor was Chayo. Renee yielded to the humbling realization that such a high-speed broadcast was normal fare for audiences at the men’s level of civilization. The best she could do was attempt to match their pace and hope that the subliminal conditioning the Arbiters had put her through would assist her.
Chayo sat beside her and occasionally pointed out certain pictures and commented on them. Now and then his arm brushed against hers or he touched her fingers briefly, withdrawing the instant he made contact. Staged, “accidental” grazes? There was a shy undercurrent in his actions. This was a Niandian version of a flirtation, made semiprivate by the room’s dimmed lighting.
A hell of a long way from a gross grope in a darkened movie theater!
The situation wasn’t surprising, given Niandian biology. Chayo wasn’t precisely afraid of her, at least not physically. Niandian males were no more capable of being raped than human males were. But on the other hand, the females Chayo had known couldn’t be raped, either. And they called all the shots during every phase of his species’ initial flirtations, courtships, and intercourse, not to mention the essential process of actual reproduction. His culture had developed its own little rituals in this game of male and female, a game that had begun millions of years ago when the Niandians’ hominid ancestress had evolved physical control of those processes.
The prince played the game very skillfully. No doubt he’d had plenty of practice. As cute as he was, and with his rank, there must have been a number of Niandian women who found him attractive.
Renee did, also, but wasn’t sure how to respond. She was flattered and intrigued, yes. But her reactions couldn’t be based on millions of years of absolute certainty in her control over her reproductive life — and on a male’s abject passivity to her because of that control. Lifelong patterns, bred in her hormones and locked into habit by social custom, refused to disappear and left her feeling awkward and edgy.
Then, while she gazed at the TV images, she seemed to step outside her body, studying the situation from a distance. A woman from Earth. A Niandian male. And Martil of the Bright Suns, who had also, quite unexpectedly, acknowledged a sudden sexual tension between himself and the Ka-Eens’ “hitchhiker,” Renamos of the Nine Worlds. There was even Tae. He’d shown no such reaction to her presence, but he was an inescapable part of this crazy equation, a prominent factor, always there, always observing — and touching her mind.
The four of them came from such very different backgrounds. Light-years apart. Separated not only by their origins but by their individual experiences before they’d met here, on this world. It was truly astonishing that they’d found anything whatsoever in common — mind-boggling, when she stopped to think about it.
And yet they had. There were lumps in the mix, admittedly. Often they were on opposite wavelengths, in angry disagreement. Not even Martil’s training in arbitrating interstellar wars could prepare him for every quirk other humanoid species could come up with to irritate him. Plus his personality and impatience tended to get in his way, at times. But somehow, they’d made it work. The four of them. The Arbiters and their Niandian ally.
That was the cosmic viewpoint Martil talked about, and Renee was using it, right now — stepping back, mentally. Grasping at the complexity of life in this universe. They were all trying to ensure that the Haukiets and the Niandians could function together, could share.
Could a N
iandian man and an Earthwoman?
Renee didn’t know. Nor was she sure how she felt, deep down, about this gentle flirtation. It was pleasurable, and damned unsettling. Every so often, her reflexes got a hard, painful jog, as if her instincts were reminding her pointedly that Chayo was an alien.
If she was having trouble accepting these friendly little attentions, how much tougher was it going to be for Chayo’s race in general to accept the Haukiets? To abandon hatreds they’d nursed for decades? How could the Arbiters convince them to agree to make peace?
The cosmic picture.
The Arbiter team to the Green Union had used those eerie, life-like holograms with the super-emotional whammy built in. In effect, they’d hit the Haukiets’ high council with a tremendous psychological trauma. If the Niandians didn’t move ahead with truce negotiations on their own, they’d be due for the same awesome treatment. One that they might resent fiercely, and with good reason. They could feel they were being coerced into a truce by Arbiter tricks. Solid, extremely persuasive trickery indeed. But an outsider’s tactic, nevertheless.
The Arbiters’ peacemaking mission no longer appeared quite as straightforward to Renee as it once had. Their work was complicated by all sorts of twists and turns. They’d have to figure it out and find ways to get around the obstacles, if they wanted to save innocent lives …
“My Lady?”
The wall screen had gone blank. How long had she been staring unseeingly at it? She hoped she hadn’t hurt Chayo’s ego; but how could she not have, ignoring him like that while she was mentally probing the riddles of the universe?
Well, sometimes plain old-fashioned sexuality simply had to take a backseat, so to speak, to more immediate, crucial matters.
“Wh-what is it?” she asked, aware she was reddening with embarrassment for her rudeness.
Matriarch Onedu’s face winked into view on the formerly vacant screen. She announced, “The assembly has convened. We await you, Arbiters. Chayo, you will escort them. The guards are ready.”
As the TV wall returned to a visual version of Muzak, Renee said, “That was quick. I figured we’d be cooling our heels here for hours yet.”
“Our matter-relay units, when properly protected, facilitate rapid gathering of a group from anywhere on our world,” Chayo said with chauvinistic pride. He didn’t seem hurt by Renee’s earlier wool-gathering. His smile was sunshine as he bowed to her, offering his hand, and went on, “May I show you, Martil, and Tae the route to the conference area?”
They walked out into the corridor, which was lined on both sides with heavily armed soldiers. Renee fought an impulse to peer up at the ceiling and see if there were any more there. Royal bodyguards led the way, brought up the rear, and marched on either side of the foursome as they proceeded along the hall. At the end of the passageway, Chayo courteously handed Renee aboard one of the Niandians’ ramp escalators. Martil and Tae stepped on behind them. Ahead, riding up the slope to the next level, soldiers stood at the alert, their weapons held at the ready.
“This is more like it,” Renee told Chayo. He bent his head to hear her; there was a constant clatter of boots at the bottom of the escalator as more troops stomped onto the ramp to begin their ride. “I’m sorry,” she said, raising her voice. “But I don’t want to see your matter-relay units, ever again. They give me indigestion. Let’s stick to this form of transportation from now on.”
The prince grinned. “I had wanted to show you the beauties of my planet, via matter-relay units, when the war ends.”
“We’ll take an egg vehicle for that tour. It’ll be slower, but then so am I.”
The escalator seemed to go on and on, a very gentle grade, bearing them steadily upward. Additional royal guards stood at attention at the far end. Bodyguards everywhere! The matriarch was taking no chances on another kidnapping. The troops must be assigned on her personal order; the orders couldn’t be coming from General Vunj. Poor Vunj! Too bad. And the old boy had been starting to show some promise, too.
Another corridor lay beyond the top of the escalator. Then there was a series of connected, traveling slide-walks. For quite a few minutes, the Arbiters followed their native guide through the maze of the palace. At last they entered a large room. The doors sighed shut, sealing them in.
Renee stared about curiously. A number of platforms hovered centimeters above the gleaming parquet floor. The strange daises floated about at a snail’s pace, their seated riders striking up conversations with riders on neighboring platforms for a minute or two, then drifting on to another contact.
The room’s walls swam with realistic holograms. Scenes of the Niandians’ home world and her colony planets. Alien terrains and seascapes and skies. It was an impressive, ever-shifting illusion.
“My Lady, will you and your companions honor my mother and sister with your presence?” Chayo escorted his guests to the room’s center and the largest of the floating platforms. The matriarch and Zia invited them aboard with gracious words and gestures. As Renee stepped up onto the thing, she prayed that her stomach would behave. It had been through a lot, recently. But the movement didn’t disturb her innards in the slightest. Chayo guided her to a seat at the matriarch’s left. Martil and Tae took chairs further to Renee’s left, and Chayo sat at the end of the curving line. That was probably Niandian pecking order. Zia, in an obvious position of power, sat to the matriarch’s right.
Scenes of distant seashores, strange yellow grasslands, and blue-black mountains light-years from Niand faded. The full circle of the surrounding wall now depicted the mother world — dark green foliage, a pale blue umbrella of sky, towering cities, and parklike regions where Niandian picnickers laughed and played and creatures resembling unicorns scampered beneath trees thick with wind-tossed fronds. Renee whispered to Martil, “Scenery to remind the premiers of their roots? So they’ll be diligent in defending Niand?”
He pursed his lips, looking smug. “You adapt marvelously. Very astute. That is why you’re an Arbiter.”
The matriarch began speaking to the assembly. “Greetings. Welcome to our glorious conference. We appreciate the severe difficulties many of you have been forced to deal with in order to attend this gathering. It has been too many years since we have come together to express our mutual concern for the welfare of our people, our children.”
Politicalese. It went on at considerable length. Renee had a jabbing moment of déjà vu. Sitting in the audience at the Metro Council hearings with Evy at her side, both of them trying not to show their boredom — and their deeply felt anger.
Words. Political gobbledegook. Dragging out the hearings unnecessarily. Cluttering up the agenda with the council members’ personal axes they wanted to grind. This one was running for reelection. That one was angling for a favor for some businessman crony. Another one was hoping his speechifying would get back to the mayor and earn him a promotion to a cushy job higher up in the city’s echelons.
And meanwhile, the citizens — the children of these titled, axe-grinding fat cats — were waiting. The little people. The ones who’d been stepped on by society or the government. The needy. The people who just wanted an even break and a chance to work. The battered women. The homeless kids. The down-and-out men with that apprehensive, whipped-dog look in their eyes. The ones the politicians preached to — and far too often forgot when it came time to think about answers.
If only I had a magic wand, she thought.
She’d wished that, hadn’t she? Thousands of light-years and not very long ago. She’d come so far, and things were remarkably the same. Maybe it didn’t change. Not that part of humanoid society, anyway.
Renee adopted a polite expression, watching the matriarch and filtering the guff out of the speech. If Martil and Tae had to listen to this sort of thing on one mission after another, how did they do it without falling into a stupor?
Introductions. Those went on almost as long as the opening address. The matriarch’s platform revolved slowly so that she was facing in t
urn each of the premier’s daises. Every one of them had to return her remarks and introduce her staff.
Her. Most of the time it was a her. Their names blurred, after a while. Galei of Xurn. Pia of Taja. Wisi of Corlane.
The ruler’s platform shifted, lining up with that containing a group of three Niandians with mauve complexions. The woman leading them said, “Kilar, Matriarch of Rian. My deputy premier Fel. My statistician, Siu.” Deputy Premier Fel looked familiar. Suddenly, Renee placed him: he was the fat man who had opportuned Zia in that big room outside the palace’s private quarters, on the day Renee had been kidnapped. Kilar went on, “We must convey our sincere apologies to you, Most High. The behavior of her Excellency our sub-matriarch, the late Esher, has brought terrible shame and grief to our colony. She was the ultimate traitor, the defier of the Great Nurturer. We are appalled that she dared to act against you, Most High. We beg your forgiveness, and we pledge there will be no recurrence. The colony of Rian is utterly purged of all Gevari influence. They have been executed, to the last treasonous woman and her minions.”
Chapter 12
THE bloodthirsty satisfaction in Premier Kilar’s announcement chilled Renee to the marrow. But something intruded, dissipating her revulsion and turning her attention elsewhere. The beginnings of a frown tightened her forehead. What was lurking down there in the shadows of her memory? She couldn’t quite get hold of the thing. Martil noticed her distraction and peered at her sidelong, his expression very intent. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
Whatever the errant memory was, it skittered out of Renee’s reach as the peaceful scenery decorating the walls was suddenly replaced by images of destruction and outrage. The war in progress — Niandians battling Green Union forces and, here and there, renegade Niandian bands. Like those collaborators and black-market Niandian traders in those holograms Lady Esher had shown Renee, days ago? Maybe not all of those images had been fiction. It seemed likely that in that respect Niand was no different from Earth. And throughout Earth’s long, warlike history, there had always been humans who were only interested in looking out for themselves. Loyalty to their nations, leaders, or ideals never cluttered their agendas. They’d willingly betrayed their countrymen, sold their own people into slavery, or did whatever else would earn them a fast buck — and the hell with who got hurt. Logically, all Lady Esher had to do was dip into the news files and puli out some prime Niandian examples of the same sort of back-stabbing treachery among her species.
The Sisterhood Page 19
