The Valkyries of Andromeda

by Lindsay Peet

CHAPTER FOUR

  Had to keep the ball moving, I was famished and in a canteen, yet somehow the two facts seemed unrelated, judging from the table before me. “Where’s breakfast?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm.

  “In order to keep the meeting focused, I decided that we would have only juice and coffee,” explained Zeno. It’s not like I needed more reasons to hate him, but he kept supplying them, gratuitously. If he represented the Planetary Union, I foresaw defections, or secessions, or whatever they’d call it when you have a handful of delegates scattered throughout a large meeting hall. Grimly I slogged on. “In His Excellency’s absence I’ve been empowered to take some limited actions.” My belly wondered if that included ordering breakfast. Probably, my brain answered. But how could you pay? asked my pocket . My mouth decided to move on. “I’d like to keep this dialogue moving ahead. Your Honor, I understand that Chugtallis is reluctant to join the Planetary Union. The Inspector General and I have been touring Caliuga, and have found it, on the whole, to be prospering. It seems to us that further prosperity will be aided by a confederation of colonies, a uniting of purpose for common ends, such as transportation and communication. Will you explain your reluctance to me, please?”

  “Just don’t see the need. We’re doin’ fine here, buildin’ up our town, buildin’ roads and radio towers, and we feel safe. ‘Snot like some aborigines are after us, nor like there’re bands of roving brigands, ya know. Fact is, there was no crime between colonies ‘til just before the P. U. showed up to solve it. Just didn’t seem right, somehow.” She laid calloused hands flat on the table.

  Zeno leaned forward, bristling at this. “What are you implying?”

  The hands rose, open and guileless. “Implyin’ nothin’. Just tryin’ to make clear that, whatever comes up, we’ve got enough brains, drive, and ingenuity to handle it on our own. Don’t need your rules, your police, your technology. We’re growin’ up just fine, here, and we’ll thank you to keep to your side of the mountains. Of course, you’re welcome to visit, spend your money, take in sights and such.”

  Zeno settled back, sighed theatrically, and shook his head. “The fault must be ours. How else could you not see the advantages in security, safety, and harmony for you and your people?”

  “Those are overrated. We’re fans of serendipity, gambling, and’ve found the friction from conflict can give light and heat to our community,” she replied.

  “No coincidence it is that Gurjoo and oocaine flower here,” spake Lordano. I couldn’t think of him in any other way.

  “What’s this about oocaine?” I asked. “Is this a variant of zoocaine? Because what I felt last night was like zoocaine, but different.”

  “Zoocaine returns to animals. Oocaine returns to potentials, before animal, before human, before world. Shards and sparks of Spirit, before Big Bang.” Rekaburb beamed at Lordano’s words, a sort of facial echo of the sentiments.

  “I intend to take samples of the substances in question back to Solip City for analysis,” interjected Zeno.

  “You have a spectrometer?” I asked, puzzled.

  “No,” he said, abashed but trying to put the best face on it. “We have someone better.”

  “Better? How?” I pressed.

  “We have the Daftaly. Her sense of taste is such that she’ll distinguish with her tongue the subtleties a spectrometer would miss.”

  Ah, the Daftaly, connoisseur of carnality and excruciating torments. “And you know this how? I mean, lacking a spectrometer, how can you tell she’s right?”

  “We just know, all right, Mr. Daskal?”

  “I see. The same way Mayor Rekaburb knew who the Inspector General was.”

  That got me a tight smile of agreement.

  “So last night the Inspector General had some oocaine and then disappeared into the Gurjoo’s crowd. And now he’sleeping it off. I’m eager to find out what he’ll say,” I broke the silence.

  Both Wanliet and Lordano could utter words that convinced you there was something special happening, something more profound than you’d get in talking to, say, Zeno or me, for the rest of your life. And sometimes that was borne out, but even then you weren’t positive, even after you spent lots of time pondering. The immediate result was to stop that conversation immediately, which is what happened here, just thinking about them. This time Chamber of Commerce fellow broke the spell. “I know you all had an opportunity to see Chugtallis yesterday, but I’d like to offer you a personally guided tour of our bustling burg,” he looked expectantly at Zeno and me.

  Honestly, I was concerned about Wanliet, and felt I couldn’t go traipsing about a strange town without knowing he was safe, and not too likely to cause trouble. “I’m sorry, we’d be happy to go, but I have important items to go over with the Inspector General. I’m sure you understand.”

  “I understand, all right” said her honor. “I understand that you don’t judge it’d be right to go off when you’ve got no idea where your Inspector General is. Well, our first stop was going to be stopping off to pick him up. He’s been with the Gurjoo’s people all night.”

  Rekaburb nodded sagely. “That’s right, he spent the night in the loving company of the Gurjoo’s devotees, and awaits us now.”

  Well, play me for a fool. Could have been worse, it’s true – instead of nervous awkward smiles I might have ended up jailed or something, being caught out so – still, a man doesn’t like being the butt of a prank like that. “I’d thought as much; I was just awaiting confirmation of His Excellency’s plan to learn more about the Gurjoo’s movement, and now you’ve supplied it. Thank you,” I ‘recovered.’

  Then I changed gears. “In that case, I see no reason to delay any longer. But let me clarify something – does food await us where the Inspector General is, because the rally last night left me starving, and this juice wasn’t what I needed this morning.”

  “Food there is!” Rekaburb spoke up, smiling. Would the fellow never stop that inane joy? It just might put me off my food, quite an accomplishment at that point. And now he was starting to talk like Lordano, or trying to; the thought of a religious movement where everybody spoke like Lordano made my head spin. Worse than put me off my food, the thought of hordes of disciples placidly gibbering away like Lordano had the potential to drive me completely bonkers. “Okay, let’s get a move on then,” I grunted, and we toddled off to where Wanliet and food were. I think the food was the more important at the time. No, I’m sure of it. As imminent execution can focus a man’s mind, so can ravening hunger, except then it’s focused only on food. Aromas set the glands flooding, images tantalize like mirages, the sounds of the street harmonize into the music of frypans and griddles. Yes, I’ve known hunger, serious hunger, hunger and I spent much of my childhood as bosom companions, but now just hearing his tread around the corner sets me on edge.

  Hunger is one of the few things that can take my mind off sex. In fact the list of things that take my mind off sex begins with hunger, and after that comes, um, I dunno, can’t think I’m too hungry.