by Caro Soles
“We think so, Excellency.”
“Please. My name is Tquand. Perhaps some time you will explain to me how these things work—what it is they are all for.”
“Certainly. But I thought you were not in favor of technology?”
“Although we support our Chief, we do not all think as he does. Besides, there is always curiosity, no?” He winked and sprawled his long frame in the easy chair opposite the desk.
Then the smile faded from his face. “I am sorry for all this unpleasantness. I wanted you to know that you have my sympathy.” He paused, watching Beny, his face somber now.
“Thank you,” murmured Beny, unsure what was expected.
“I also wanted to warn you.” He stopped, glancing at the closed door. “We are alone, no?”
“Quite alone,” Beny assured him.
“The Chief’s son is an impetuous and inexperienced youth. I am very fond of him, you understand, and he has many good qualities, but he tends to be erratic, ruled by his heart, rather than his head as a good leader must be. He is just a boy. Do you understand what I am telling you?”
Beny felt a cold thrill of fear. Had he been too trusting? Had he sent his jewelled lover into a trap? “I appreciate you coming here,” he said warily. “It is good to know our worries and anxiety for one of our group is understood on more than an intellectual level.” Even as he heard the words coming out of his mouth, he cringed at their meaninglessness.
But the First Minister seemed satisfied. He rubbed his hands together. “It will soon be our Festival of Dreams, a major celebration for us. Ordinarily, I would insist that a distinguished visitor such as yourself be our honored guest, but as things are…. Of course, all may be well by then, no?”
“Let’s hope so.”
“So.” The First Minister sprang from his chair, his cheerful grin restored and reached across the desk to give Beny a friendly thump on the arm. “Just so we understand each other,” he said. “And if there is anything you need, anything I can help you with, you have only to ask.” He winked again, waved and was gone.
“Bloody damn,” muttered Beny. He glanced down at the closed drawer, more convinced than even that he would have to contact the I.P.A. But not now. His ears were hurting with tension. He needed a break. Turning away from the crowded desk and the soft, reproachful hum of the computer, he slipped out the back door. He had never been in this narrow passage before but he was sure it led up to the shuttle port area and sunshine. He had to get away for a while, to sit quietly by himself in the open air and think things through. As he followed the rough, dusty passage upwards, he was startled to see someone coming the other way. With a sinking of his heart, he recognized the Chief.
“Are you looking for a peaceful corner, too, Ambassador?” He smiled his strange, lopsided smile.
“Sometimes one has to get away,” Beny agreed warily.
The Chief pushed open a low door sunken into the thick wall. “This is my private place, hidden away back here in this unused passageway. Would you care to join me for a pipe or some ale?”
Beny bowed, trying to master the consternation he felt as he preceded the man into a long, narrow room. The walls were painted a deep green and the rough, wooden floor was bare. In the middle was a beautifully carved table covered with dust. On top was a large glass case holding pipes, bottles and three glasses. Two deep chairs were placed by the wide window which looked out high over the roof tops of the city.
“Sit down. Relax. No one is allowed to disturb me here.” He was collecting pipe and tobacco and filling two glasses with the strong frothy ale. Beny stretched out with calculated care. He thought it was much too early in the day for anything stronger than hot chocolate but he willed his limbs to relax, his face to look serene. The Chief settled down beside him and handed him one of the glasses. Beny nodded his thanks, noting the many tiny wrinkles in the Chief’s nut-brown face, so in contrast to the bright, wary, young-looking eyes.
“I must commend you on the impressive program you have lined up for us. We are all looking forward to the arrival of the Terrans, especially my son. He has always been fascinated by Terrans.”
“Is that so?” Beny carefully inspected his glass.
“Let us hope their visit will be…uneventful.” The Chief was working with the long-stemmed pipe, holding the bowl in his hands, tamping the greenish tobacco gently. “Do you think my son would make a good leader?”
“He speaks well,” said Beny cautiously.
“He will be of age soon. If he were more experienced, I might be tempted to resign. I don’t really enjoy the game any more.”
The game! Chamion’s life just a game! Beny closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds and then opened them again. “I thought he didn’t want to be Chief,” he said quietly.
“No one can turn down power, Benvolini.”
“Some can.”
“I doubt it. I’m willing to bet that new friend of his can’t. He’s a clever man, that Marselind. And he comes from a good family, too,” he added.
Beny had to smile in spite of himself. “Chief, you sound just like my parents when I brought Eulio home for the first time.”
The Chief laughed. “I guess parents are the same all over.”
“Probably.”
“It seems just yesterday that I appointed Quetzelan, the Dream Weaver, as regent in the event of my death. Now Luan is nearly of age. The boy has a natural instinct for politics. It’s in his blood and eventually he will see that. Maybe he already has.” He smoked for a while in silence.
Beny swirled the liquid around in his glass thoughtfully. He hadn’t wanted this meeting, but perhaps he could use it to his advantage. “You know, Chief, it isn’t my place to say this, but it seems to me that you and this Yonan aren’t really so far apart. You both want what’s best for your people, after all. It’s just the means you don’t agree on.”
The Chief leaned back and watched the smoke curl up to the ceiling. “I never questioned what my father was doing when he was in power for so long. He was afraid of machines. He said we Abulonians were never meant to be a nation of button pushers and weaklings. The two were synonymous with him. Hunters are looked up to for their bravery, courage and strength. He couldn’t see technology and physical prowess going together. So he turned back to the old ways. In our culture, physical prowess has always been what makes us superior to others.”
Beny turned his head sharply. His mild, sherry-brown eyes hardened. “You consider yourselves superior to others?”
The Chief looked at him, surprised. Almost at once a shutter dropped over his face, making his eyes blank. “The word I meant was ‘stronger’,” he said easily. “We have a strong army, a strong population. Most of our young men are trained as Hunters, even if they choose not to serve. Let me get you some more ale.” The Chief rose and refilled Beny’s glass as well as his own. “What do you think of this building? This whole place is a monument to my father, blending our ancient culture with modern niceties, or should I say necessities? But he did not look ahead. Now, when things break down, there is no one to fix them. We are too dependent on the androids. When they break down, what will we do? We need the Inter-Planetary Alliance.”
Beny was thinking of the high technology watch dogs, the smooth-running facilities of the shuttle port, even the air-circulation system in this building. It was a puzzle he thought it best not to comment on. He decided to stick to politics. “You realize the I.P.A. might turn you down when they find out the…ah…precarious state of affairs here?”
The Chief lifted his shoulders in an elaborate shrug. “It was a gamble, like everything else. I thought the obvious advantages of the move would appeal to the people and weaken Yonan’s support. This time I lose.”
Beny felt something snap inside. “You don’t give a damn, do you?” he cried. “Are you made of ice? Have you no heart? No soul? Cham may be dead right now and all you talk about is power! Games!” Beny slammed the glass down so hard it shattered on the floor.
Uncaring, he stood up and made for the door.
“Can you find your way back?” asked the Chief courteously.
Beny didn’t trust himself to say any more. He bowed and went out into the narrow passage. He closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall for a moment to collect himself. I’ll have to resign, he thought. I’m never going to make it in the Diplomatic Corps.
When he arrived back at his office, it was already eleven o’clock. Right on cue, the android Dhakan Biandor came in, carrying the tray of hot chocolate Beny always enjoyed at this hour. The Merculian smiled at the android absently and reached out automatically to steady him as he stumbled on the uneven floor. The smile faded from Beny’s face. The round eyes filled with shock. He had never touched his android servant before. He stared at Dhakan in disbelief. “I have done something wrong, master?” asked the android, looking at Beny intently with his shiny, copper eyes.
Beny jumped up and flung his arms around the stocky android, closing his eyes in concentration. It was true! He sensed surprise, fear, and finally…compassion?
The android hesitantly put his arms around Beny. “You miss master Eulio?” he asked. “You wish me to…comfort you?”
“Oh my god!” Beny backed away, breathing fast. “I should have known! I should have guessed before. But I’ve been so busy!” Beny continued to stare at him. “What does ‘android’ mean to you?”
“One who serves without question, master. What have I done wrong?”
“Nothing! Nothing at all! It’s not your fault, Dhakan.” Beny sat down behind his desk and put his head in his hands. Dhakan hovered over him, unsure of what he was expected to do. “Call Thar-von Del for me, please.”
It seemed incredible to Beny that he had never noticed before. Now that he knew, he remembered little details that should have alerted him: Dhakan’s very eagerness to please, the times when he seemed actually tired, the fact that he and Eulio covered their nakedness when he came in, something it didn’t occur to them to do at home in front of androids. I wish I had known about this before my little chat with the Chief, Beny thought now, rearranging the piles of paper on his desk. It might have given me the courage to say a few more things that should be said. The words of the Chief echoed in his head: ‘What do we do when the androids break down?’
Dhakan opened the door and stood aside for Thar-von to enter.
“That confirmation has finally come through from Serpianus,” Thar-von said, dropping into a chair.
“Forget Serpianus.”
Thar-von raised one silver eyebrow.
Dhakan poured the hot chocolate.
“Sit down, Dhakan,” said Beny, taking one of the tall two handled glasses.
“But master!” The coppery eyes looked almost panic-stricken.
“Just sit down. Please.”
Dhakan sat, straight-backed and stiff, one large hand on each knee.
Thar-von stretched his long legs out in front of him and looked from Beny to the android, puzzled.
“Have you ever thought much about the androids here, Von?”
“Other than admiring their lifelike qualities, no. I’ve had far too much to do. Why?”
“That’s just it. We’ve all been too busy.” Beny got up and went over to Dhakan. He took the android’s hand in his. He drew the ceremonial dagger he always wore and passed the tip across the outstretched palm. Dhakan looked up at him, pain and confusion in his eyes. He didn’t try to withdraw his hand. Thar-von stared at the ribbon of blood oozing from the cut. He got to his feet to examine it.
Dhakan said, “Are you punishing me, lord?”
Thar-von was angry. “That wasn’t necessary!”
Beny wiped the blood away and curled Dhakan’s thick fingers around his soft scarf. “Did that hurt?”
“Yes, master.”
“I’m sorry. If you were a real android, that wouldn’t have hurt. Do you understand?”
Dhakan shook his head. He looked frightened.
Beny poured a glass of sherry and handed it to him. “Drink this.”
“But master, it is not allowed.”
“I say it is.”
Dhakan took the glass and sipped the wine obediently. Beny perched on the corner of the desk, watching. “Listen, Dhakan. An android is supposed to be a machine that looks like a person, a machine that you turn off and on. You are flesh and blood, not circuits and wires. You eat and sleep, don’t you?”
“An android is just a computer that looks like a man,” said Thar-von. “Do you understand?”
“No, lord. I am an android, but I am not a machine like that.” He pointed to the console. “You never talked like this before, master.” He looked reproachfully at Beny.
“How did you find out?” asked Thar-von.
“I caught his arm when he tripped. I felt…emotions.”
“Now we know what Yonan means by slavery. They must come from breeding farms.”
“I come from Xenuam Plantation. You wish to go there?”
“Yes,” said Beny.
“No,” said Thar-von. “We have enough to deal with, Beny. We can’t afford to get mixed up in this. Send a report to the I.P.A. and leave it at that.”
“They won’t do anything, Von!”
“You, of course, are going to free the slaves single handed.”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“You’re being unrealistic.”
“It’s one of my more endearing qualities.”
“That depends on the point of view. How do you summon Dhakan?”
“I just…” Beny held up the small, silver cylinder and pushed the button on the end. Dhakan turned his head and looked at him inquiringly.
“It must be some sort of electrode implanted in the brain.” Thar-von shook his head.
“Does it hurt when I push this?” Beny asked anxiously.
“No, master. I just know you want me.”
“Would it wake you up if you were asleep?”
“Of course. It’s the summons.”
“Von, I’m resigning from the bloody damn diplomatic corps!”
“Don’t you think you’d like to wait till Eulio gets back?” asked Thar-von with a smile. “And you seem to forget, in your reforming zeal, that we’re here as cultural ambassadors only.”
“Everyone seems to forget that.” He glanced over at Dhakan who was slouched back in his chair with a wide grin on his face. “That’s very nice juice, master,” he said happily.
“Isn’t it?” agreed Beny.
“If that’s how alcohol affects him, I can see why it’s not allowed. Well, this is your show, Ben. What’s next?”
“For one thing, there go any chances of I.P.A. membership. It’s not a matter of semantics any more.”
“I wonder where they came from originally? They’re physically quite different from the other Abulonians.”
“Well, there’s one thing I can do. I’ll send Dhakan over to the company’s doctor to get the implants removed.” He called in one of the Merculian office staff, gave him his instructions and sent the happy ‘android’ off in his care. When they were alone, Beny collapsed into his high-backed chair. He felt very small against the huge leather cushions. “I think something’s going to happen at the Festival of Dreams,” he said. He told Thar-von about his unexpected visit from the First Minister and the strange warning.
“It seems a reasonable enough precaution,” Thar-von pointed out. “He is in charge of security, among other things.”
“Maybe. But the Chief didn’t even mention it. Besides, I picked up something…odd. I don’t know how to explain it. Sort of like a premonition.” He shook his head. “On the other hand, I don’t know how to read the man. He certainly seems friendly enough. I may be completely wrong. One thing I do know, I can’t put this off any longer.” He took the red communications device out of its special drawer and looked at Thar-von gravely. “It would be totally irresponsible to let any one else come here when we know things aren’t safe. It makes me feel
like a failure, calling in the I.P.A. like this, on my first mission, too.”
“Let me remind you that you did not apply for this post. You would only be a failure if you didn’t make the call.”
“I should have done it sooner.”
“‘A boat leaves no wake before the prow’,” Thar-von remarked.
Beny paused and looked at him curiously, recognizing another obscure Serpian proverb. “Hindsight gives one perfect vision,” Thar-von explained. He joined him by the desk and they took turns laying their right hands on the sensitive panel below the row of buttons. A light flashed on and a low hum came over the speaker.
Beny cleared his throat. “Ready?”
Thar-von nodded.
One after the other, they gave their name, title and identification number, followed by the complicated series of passwords that would open the top priority channel to I.P.A. Headquarters.
SEVENTEEN
Triani came to with a loud buzzing in his ears. His back was burning all along one side and his left arm felt as if it were no longer part of him. Carefully he opened his eyes. Everything was red. He blinked. Turning his head, he brought the rest of the hillside into focus. There was something wrong about the angle. A moment of concentrated thinking revealed the astonishing fact that he was upside down.
The process of righting himself was a slow one. It was also painful. Everything was bruised, but nothing appeared to be broken. His ribs felt as if they had been separated and then put back together again. His shoulder was streaked with blood and dirt where the shale had broken the skin. He sat up carefully and looked about him as he rubbed the circulation back into his arms. Eulio lay a little further down the steep hill, one arm flung out. Triani suddenly froze. He held his breath, feeling the cold sweat of terror break out on his skin. His hands tingled. A long, blood-red snake with black and yellow markings was coiled near Eulio’s motionless arm. Its flat, ugly head wove back and forth above the Merculian’s golden skin as if fascinated by the gleaming bracelets.
Triani found it difficult to be rational when confronted with even the thought of a snake. Now he found it difficult to think at all. Without being aware of what he was doing, he started inching backwards up the hill. His movements dislodged bits of earth and stone which rattled down the hillside. The snake raised itself up further and stared about malevolently.
