She patted the guitar case fondly and both males eyed it and her curiously, but neither made a comment. She directed their steps, and added with a laugh:
“Before this morning’s Orientation Session I didn’t even know privacy dampers existed, never mind what they are, or why. But now I am—somewhat—better informed.”
“It does take a while,” Cary agreed. “I’ve been here months, and there are all kinds of things I still haven’t figured out.”
“But you’ve made it out of Transient Housing,” Kati pointed out.
“Oh, yeah. Unlike Lank here who enjoys getting to know new people all the time, I couldn’t wait to leave. I hounded Caryn, the Social Worker, about available Subsistence Units. I think she gave me the first one that came up just to be rid of me. Fortunately, it’s not far from here and the other usual haunts of the newcomers.”
“Hey! I don’t think I ever even noticed this side alley!” Lank exclaimed when Kati led them into the aisle where the music shop was. “Wonder why not?”
“Me neither!” Cary gaped around him. “It’s quiet after the crowds along the main walks. Kind of nice!”
“I bought this at a small shop at the end,” Kati said, giving her guitar case a pat.
They had reached the restaurant with the privacy dampers. Kati hoped that the Margolises and Milla Gorsh had finished with whatever they had wanted privacy for, and had not decided to return.
The Monk snorted at her worry.
“They’re long gone,” he subvocalized. “They would have found this place boring. Nothing stronger than wine on the menu, and no dancing girls or boys in sight.”
”You seem to know a lot about the Vultairian Exalted,” Kati shot back, only to have him beat a retreat to the back of her mind.
The restaurant was not so different from many of the others in the Market. It was on a covered terrace, and self-serve, except that there were cute mechanical contraptions available to carry trays for those unable or unwilling to do their own fetching and carrying. But the tables were farther apart than in the other eateries, and large potted plants separating them gave an illusion of privacy. Above each table there was the network of filaments, the privacy dampers that the sign in front promised.
They chose a table for three from the ones available—the place was only about half full—and left their instruments there while they went up to the food service counter to pick up food and drink.
“Are you going to pay for alcoholic beverages for us?” Cary asked Kati with a chuckle when they got there and saw the display of beer and wine.
“Go for it,” Kati encouraged, requesting a glass of Chatna Valley Red for herself.
Chatna Valley was where Mikal’s parents’ vineyard was located; she had developed a habit of drinking the wine from there. Not just because it was where Mikal’s Lamanian family lived, but because she found it a good wine. It reminded her of the Sickle Island Red that had been the first wine she and Mikal had consumed on the Drowned Planet. Those days with Mikal had been good ones, worth remembering!
Lank and Cary chose mugs of beer, and they all ordered hearty meals of Lamanian cuisine, meals that started with large bowls of soup. When Kati paid, the woman behind the counter promised to send a waiter with the rest of their food to their table shortly, and told them to give any further request that they might have to him. So it seemed that the place was not totally self-serve, after all! Here was another bit of information to store in the Granda’s capacious memory.
*****
“So where are you from, Cary?” Kati asked in a conversational tone while the three of them were spooning up their soup.
She had requested that her node use her ESP powers to read the young man’s reactions to the questions she would ask.
“I’m afraid that neither of you would recognize the name of the place,” Cary answered carefully.
“He’s being careful not to lie,” the Granda informed Kati immediately.
“The place?” Kati repeated. “That’s an interesting choice of words.”
“I guess.” Cary looked uneasy.
He quickly turned to look at Lank and asked him if he could give the names of the two people he knew who played the flute. Lank obliged, repeating them and adding the addresses so that Cary could make a nodal note of them.
“That was a quick save on his part,” The Monk subvocalized. “You’re definitely making him uncomfortable.”
Kati spent a few moments thinking while Lank and Cary exchanged information about the musicians.
“I suppose that I could just come right out with it, and ask if he’s from Vultaire,” she suggested to The Monk.
“There’s nothing like the direct approach,” was the Granda’s response
Kati drew a deep breath.
“Something tells me,” she then said boldly, while spooning her soup, “that you’re not from the Wilder Worlds at all, but from Vultaire.”
Lank gasped. Cary’s face turned ashen, and he lay down the piece of bread he had intended to stuff into his mouth.
“You’re exacting a damn high price for this meal that you paid for,” he said in a strained voice.
“You know that I’m not,” she protested. “I did make certain that we’d be talking under a privacy damper.”
“Cary,” Lank said, his eyes shining. “If that’s true—if you are from Vultaire—well that’s where Kati and I, and two others are going; we’re going to do an investigation of Vultaire for the Federation Peace Officer Corps! You could help us with information!”
“The Federation doesn’t give a damn about the people of Vultaire,” Cary replied, his voice bitter. “The Oligarchs are free to abuse as they please as long as they lie convincingly in the Federation Senate and the Councils. One of the Founding Worlds of the Federation—they couldn’t possibly be breaking the laws that were supposed to be the base on which the Federation was built!”
“A couple of the Exalted Citizens got caught red handed, right here in the Second City,” Lank contradicted, grinning fiercely. “Thanks to Kati here.”
“They’ll talk themselves out of it,” Cary objected gloomily. “The Exalted on the Federation Space Station are experts at damage control. They’ll bully and bribe the officials into ignoring any and all of the stupid things that the Nobles might do while off the home world.”
“They won’t convince Maryse r’ma Darien,” Kati said quietly, “and she’s the Head of the Federation Peace Officer Corps Section in Charge of Preventing Human Trafficking. When we were on the Drowned Planet, Mikal used to rave about her, what a good person she was to work for, how determined she was to do all she could to end the slave trade in and around the Federation. When I met her last night I understood what he meant; she truly is dedicated to her cause.”
“Are you saying that members of one of the Four Hundred Families were caught with a slave, on Lamania?” Cary stared from Lank to Kati and back. Apparently Lank’s words had finally sunk in. “Come on, the Four Hundred are corrupt and vicious, but they’re not stupid.”
“They would have got away with it, if Kati hadn’t recognized their ‘adopted son’ as a humanoid type which she had encountered on the slave ship from which she escaped on Makros III,” Lank said, grinning. “You should have seen her facing down the Exalted Citizens Morhinghy. The boy didn’t even have a translation node, and that couple claimed that he couldn’t be implanted with one, not without seriously damaging him. But Kati disagreed, and she was right, since Kerris was implanted with one last night. I went to see how he was this morning, after the Shelonian Master Healer and Kati worked on him last night at the Healing Centre. He was in great shape, talking a blue streak, now that he could, about all the stuff that had happened to him, that had been done to him. The Vultairian damage controllers are going to have to do some fancy footwork to control the damage he’s doing, just by telling the truth.”
“And now, Lank, two others and I have agreed to go to Vultaire as Maryse r’ma Darien’s Unofficial Invest
igative Team,” Kati added. “Meanwhile she will jump through the necessary hoops to get an Official Investigation underway as well. She figures that getting that going, and to Vultaire, will take about five to six months, and she’s putting Mikal r’ma Trodden in charge of it. The idea is that when he gets there with his Team, our Team will be able to meet him and spill what we have found out.”
“And you’re telling me this—why?” Cary’s brows were up.
“Because I want information about Vultaire from you. And I want your opinion on a tentative plan for four non-Vultairians to go undercover there. It occurred to me, that a possible way for a few off-planet persons stranded there, to earn their keep, might be to entertain folks with their song-and-dance acts. What do you think, Cary? Could it be done? And would it maybe get us to places where we might not be able to go otherwise?”
Cary grinned.
“Do you realize how unusual this is?” he asked. “You’re asking an Ordinary Citizen of Vultaire for advice. Kati of Terra, that’s just not done! Don’t you realize that the Ordinary Citizens are stupid, ignorant, almost sub-human?”
Kati smiled back at him.
“Actually no, I don’t. I suspect that our Team will be depending on the Ordinary Citizens a lot, once we get there. And I bet they can tell us quite a bit about what’s going on.”
“They can. However, since none of them have nodes, they can’t make nodal records.”
“Are you serious?” Kati stared at Cary. “The Vultairian government gets supplied with nodes just the same as any other Federation planet! What are the Oligarchs doing with them?”
“Exchanging them for slaves from Gorsh,” The Monk subvocalized caustically, and she realized that he had to be right. That was where Gorsh had gotten the shipment of nodes that had been implanted into the roomful of children on the slave ship!
Cary shrugged.
“Who knows,” he said. “Maybe there’s a vault full of nodes somewhere in the cellars of the Legislative Buildings. People have forgotten that once every Vultairian was entitled to a node; that’s how long it’s been since things changed. I didn’t know about nodes until I landed on Lamania.”
“Well, that’s another thing for us to look into when we get there,” Kati said. “We’ll have to get the word out about nodes to the general population, too. But, in the meantime, what do you think of my idea of the Team busking on Vultaire? Is that sort of a thing done there?”
“Oh, certainly. It’s not common, but appreciated the more because it isn’t. Better tread carefully, though. If the Exalteds like your show, they can compel you to entertain at their festivities. And they don’t feel obligated to pay you any more than they feel like paying. A rare few are fair, and even generous; others will expect you to do your thing for nothing more than the opportunity to eat the leftovers from their feast.”
Kati and Lank looked at one another. Lank nodded slightly to indicate agreement with Kati’s plan.
“We’ll have to talk to the others, of course,” Kati said, “but, for the moment, let’s take it for granted that we’ll form a busking group when we get there.
“Next: can we strand ourselves there without attracting attention?”
“There’s a fair-sized population of off-worlders in Port City, and, yes, people do end up stranded on Vultaire,” Cary said. “But not four at once; I do think that your group is going to have to split into two, and maybe go there a week or so apart. Usually someone becomes stranded because he or she has an argument with the Trader Captain they’re working for, or they discover that the Captain who hired them on is a cheapskate who doesn’t want to pay them due wages. Crap like that. The people in the Port City, both the off-worlders and the Ordinary Citizens, usually help unfortunates like that; keep them from falling into the hands of those of the Exalted who would simply turn them into unpaid workers, or else charge them usurious rates to get in touch with friends and relatives at home.”
“Hm. Maryse r’ma Darien must have contacts that we can use, to get ourselves there aboard Trader Ships with grouches for Captains. Now, Cary, and this is going to be a bit tricky: would you have any names of persons that we could use as contacts at the Space Port on Vultaire? I’m assuming that someone helped you to get away; that person might trust us if we mention your name.”
“I’ll give you a name of a person in Port City,” Cary said, after staring at Kati thoughtfully for a moment.
“He has decided to trust you without reservations,” the Granda subvocalized even as Cary spoke. Kati heaved a sigh of relief, glad that the young man had overcome his fear.
“This person can put you in touch with the Underground. If you can convince the Underground that the Federation intends to take action against the Four Hundred Families, they will help you as much as they can.”
*****
Mikal r’ma Trodden had made certain that Kati of Terra and Lank had left the Transient Quarters, but that Rakil, the Borhquan, was there, when he stood at the Unit door, requesting admittance. Mira was the only other resident at home, and it was she who answered the door, shocked to recognize the Agent from the interviews that he had given on the VidFeeds.
“Umm,” she swallowed, not quite sure what to make of this intrusion.
She was aware, like everyone else in The Second City, that Mikal and Kati were forbidden to see one another.
“Is Rakil of Holanut Tree Family, Borhq, home?” Mikal asked, looking tense as his eyes flitted between the pregnant Wilder and the empty room behind her.
“I believe that he is,” Mira replied, standing aside to let Mikal enter. “He’s in his room; after Lank and Kati left, he muttered something about accessing the Information Networks from the console in there.”
For this her reward was a brilliant smile, and, right then, Mira understood why Mikal r’ma Trodden was considered a very attractive man. From the VidFeeds she had got the impression that the half-Borhquan, half-Lamanian Agent was rather ordinary in physique and looks, at least in comparison with the chiselled-featured aristocrat of her own world who had seduced her, and ruined her prospects within that class-bound, sexist society. Mikal was heavy-set for a Lamanian, but would have been slight among the Borhquans. His colouring was lighter than that of the man he was asking to see, closer to gold than bronze. He had the “Borhquan wedge” of hair at the back of his neck; it was, like the rest of his head hair, a riot of dark gold curls.
“I think that I’ll just disturb Rakil’s browsing,” he said, winked conspiratorially at Mira, and headed for the Common Room’s console.
“He’s my cousin, you see,” he explained conversationally, as he activated the connector button with his left thumb.
“Your cousin?” Mira stared. “He never said anything about that!”
“And I want to know why the rascal didn’t.” Mikal’s grin was half-annoyed, half calculated to charm the pregnant woman.
Seconds later Rakil stormed into the room.
“What are you doing here, Mikal?” he demanded.
“I’d like to ask you the same question, cousin,” Mikal shot back. “If you came to The Second City to join the Peace Officer Corps, why didn’t you come and see me? And what in hell are you doing, living in the Transients’ Quarters when you could be staying with me?”
Rakil burst out laughing.
“Don’t you mean, Mikal,” he countered, “what in hell am I doing living in the same Unit of the Transients’ Quarters as Kati of Terra?”
“Fine.” Mikal shrugged, still grinning in Mira’s direction. “What are you doing, sharing a Transients’ Quarter Unit with, among others, Kati of Terra?”
Rakil glanced apologetically at Mira, raising his bushy eyebrows.
Mira was quick to take the hint.
“If you boys don’t mind, I think that I’ll go and commune with the console in my room,” she said, gifting Mikal with a warm smile. She picked up a half-eaten platter of healthy snacks from the table. “Have a nice family reunion.”
Then s
he was gone.
“All right,” Mikal said testily. “Now that the pregnant lady has left us to ourselves, are you going to answer my question?”
“Sure, why not?
“When I arrived on Lamania I discovered that the VidFeeds were full of your return from having disappeared while on a sensitive mission for the SFPO Corps. Enroute, I had had some crazy notion of joining the Peace Officers and going off to look for you for the sake of our Tree Family. But that, obviously, was not necessary, since some interesting woman had hauled you off that slave ship and dragged you across Makros III to activate a rescue beacon.
“However, the VidFeeds also told me that because this remarkable woman was a Wilder, and the two of you had begun a love affair while on Makros III, you would have to lead separate lives for a half-a-year. Social Service regulations.
“It struck me that it was necessary that some male of our Tree Family should be acting as her protector while you weren’t allowed to. So I wangled myself into the Transient Housing Unit to which she had been assigned. It was really easy, you know; I just poured on the Borhquan charm over the female Residence Social Worker, and there I was, in the first empty room that came up.”
“Good heavens!” Mikal groaned. “I hope that you failed to tell Kati that you had decided to play the role of her gallant, Borhquan Tree-Family protector! I suppose so, since she’s talking to you, and is even taking you along on this Vultairian caper that Maryse dreamed up! But don’t expect to do much protecting, cousin! She’ll likely be the one to protect you!”
Rakil shrugged.
“I’m used to dealing with formidable women,” he said. “I did grow up in the bosom of the Tree-Family, and had to negotiate my way around all the Grandmothers and Great Aunts! Kati is remarkable; I do agree on that. I was here when she stood up to that Vultairian couple and refused to let them take Kerris away.”
Mikal’s face twisted.
“I wish that I could have been here,” he said, sounding forlorn. “It would have been beautiful to see. I’m sure she was magnificent.”
On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted Page 9
