Gid was reaching for his suit when a flashing light told them their hosts had arrived. Carad sauntered in, his feet making no sound on the tile floor. Quahna followed and headed straight for the fruit juice. “Ronüviel, you read my mind! Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” He downed half a glass in one breath.
Carad, in no hurry this morning, slowly poured glasses for himself and Tinyan. “Are you ready to spend time in our archives?” he asked.
Braan sighed. “It is much too beautiful a day. Yes, as soon as you are finished, we shall leave.” He looked over through the glass to see that Tinyan had slipped in unannounced, clothed in a brown caftan girdled in white. She had not yet put on her make-up, or piled up her hair, and she looked no older than Roe.
She reached for a cup of juice and toasted the inner window. “Good morning, all. I hope you slept with as much comfort as those vented rooms could provide. Are you going to the archives already, Gid?”
Braan finally looked away from her to the three men, who were checking each other’s safety locks.
“We are off,” Moran answered for Gid, opening the door. Lyte waited a moment, shrugged and then followed. Rolling his eyes expressively, Gid pulled the door shut.
“Can he be trusted?” Tinyan asked after a suitable pause.
Roe glanced up. “Moran? Completely. Lyte—I think so. I hope so.”
“We will find out soon, will we not?” Braan added easily. “I suppose he thinks we are crazy, looking for traitors. Let us pray he is right.” He stood and reached for his suit.
oOo
The research room was unbearably hot. Ronüviel slowly sat up from her console, wishing for the hundredth time that there was some way to wipe the sweat from her brow. She glanced at Braan—he appeared cool and comfortable in his suit, going through the rote processing as if unencumbered by gloves. Tinyan and Carad had brought them the major programs and then turned the consoles on manual, giving their guests access to everything in the library.
She stared down at the bewildering mass of names and corporations. Most she knew as off-world conglomerates. For the first time this trip, Roe was afraid. There were so many names, and most were meaningless. A few, strangely enough, were Ciedärlien, and that could not be coincidence. Roe stirred uneasily at the thought of Corymb dealing with the fierce desert dwellers. When she looked up again she found Braan staring off into space, focusing on nothing. He might as well live in that suit, it is his second skin, she thought angrily. Then he looked at her.
“We are in trouble. A great deal of trouble. The synod ran out of time and did not start debate on the question of increased off-world ownership, but it passed committee with no problems,” he softly said. “I think we have discovered this just in time.”
“What?”
“Most of these names are meaningless, but a few I recognize as bogus off-world companies I ran into while trading in the Axis. They have never attempted to buy here, so there is no record preventing them from entering local trade and ownership.”
“Is not the Land and Securities Exchange supposed to keep an eye out for those types?”
“Yes.” They stared at one another. “Corymb is the chairman of that exchange,” Braan added.
Roe suddenly felt very cold. A fool, power-hungry; Corymb was both—but this could be interpreted as treason.
oOo
In another part of the library Lyte punched up precious metals deed information and muttered his frustration. So simple to write them all off as paranoid. But what if—just suppose—he had not seen that scope in the watch room; he’d think they were all crazy. Ships had been out of position, however, and remembering his talk shipboard with Moran, he knew Moran was thinking of scopes too. His friend had also mentioned the bitter looks Braan had received from Corymb. For the first time, it occurred to Lyte that the poison might not have been meant for Moran. Great—now I have two people to protect.... He punched the keys faster.
oOo
VESPERS
They finished the day by crossing the river and touring a trinium mine. Gid laughed for five minutes at the look on Lyte’s face when Braan dumped into his hands enough pellets of trinium to buy the entire Seven Systems. Lyte was good-natured about his bad habits; he sighed, smiling, and said, “Now I can die happy.”
As usual, all found the ore extraction fascinating. When asked why no one was searched at the entrance, Roe chuckled and told Lyte that an intricate scan system determined how much precious metal each person wore when they entered. Any deviation when they left alerted security. She looked surprised and gratified by the look of approval on his face.
The Atares had been hopeful that they could return the warriors to Tinyan’s home without incident. As they passed a small parish near Tinyan’s home, however, they met in the departing crowds several sinishur, the most horribly deformed of all Toli. The crowd, of course, was oblivious to their condition, and Gid knew one of them and exchanged swift pleasantries; but Moran was politely silent, and Lyte had on his tratore face, using every ounce of self-control to keep from bolting screaming into the street. To see an ugly alien was one thing; for all he knew he might be appallingly ugly to it. But to acknowledge the Nualans as human and then see this Toli.... To be uncertain of its sex; its bones, its skin subtly, painfully malformed beyond comfortable movement. It was the stuff of which nightmares were made. After saying good-bye Gid quickly steered them back down a side street. No one said anything during the entire walk to the house.
Then, at the bottom of the long staircase, Gid spoke. “Fortunately, those who survive natural miscarriages and have wits are without exception sterile. We actually have none so badly deformed under forty terrayear.”
“Were they male or female?” Lyte finally asked, his voice thick.
“The sinishur I spoke to was a man. The other, I do not know. I am not sure it has a sex.” In silence they ascended the stairs to finish their last night in Tolis.
AMURA, THE MENDÜLARION
FOURHUNDRED TWENTYNINEDAY, PRIME
This time the music woke her. Teloa stirred, hovering on the edge of sleep, resisting the call of the bells. But no, the great bass bell was also tolling—once, twice, thrice. Opening her eyes, she watched the mountain peak beyond her outer doors slowly come to life, a healthy flush of pink caressing its face. Welcome, Kee, star of Nuala, she thought as the haunting melody drew to a close.
As she expected, a faint rap at the inner door echoed through the chamber.
“Come in.” Stretching carefully, she rolled over and reached for the light temple robe she had worn for several days.
“Good morning! Are you starting to adapt to our schedule?” Elana asked, bringing in a tray of food.
Teloa smiled. She had been so tired, she had scarcely noticed that she had reversed her schedule. “What do the bells mean?” she asked suddenly. “I know they ring at starrise and starset, but they ring during the day and night as well.”
“Indeed they do—eight times during a normal day and night, and when deaths of important people occur,” Elana began, setting the tray down on a small table. “I ordered some pants and a long-sleeved shirt for you from stores—you cannot walk around in the robe of a priestess! And also a poncho; the days are getting colder.”
Slipping the robe in question over her head, Teloa slowly moved over behind the elegantly carved divider to the sanitation area. “The bells?”
“I have not forgotten.” Elana seated herself at the table and started removing the food from the tray. “What have you been reading about us so far?”
“Mostly recent material,” Teloa answered, pausing longingly by the hot tub. She could not admit to the woman that she feared to read the older writings—feared to find out the origins of the colony. Reading current information on their culture and politics was more reassuring.
“If you want to bathe first, please go ahead. But I will eat, if you do not mind. I have lab work today.”
“You are so kind to bring me my meals and keep m
e company, how can I let you eat alone?” Teloa asked, moving to sit opposite the healer. Elana chuckled and offered her the round pill she had to take before every meal.
“I must keep an eye on all my patients, and I must eat firstmeal. Why not together? Plus, I admit, I am always curious about those who take up a planet of mutants on their offer of sanctuary.” Teloa blushed and lowered her glance. Elana pretended not to notice. “Oh, I have lived off-planet for a time—I know what they say about us.” She began to cut up the bread loaf.
“The bells?” Teloa prompted, quickly downing the pill with some saffra.
“The bells are how we keep time, as I am sure you have guessed. Here in Amura we ring the ancient canonical hours. Matins is midnight, lauds between matins and starrise. Starrise is prime, mid-morning tierce, and sext high noon. The largest bass bell rings the hour, and matins is our first hour.” Elana paused to smear a sweet spread on her still-warm bread slice. “So what you just heard rung was third bell. The sixth bell is rung at mid-afternoon, and is none. Vespers, or starset, is seventh bell, and compline is between vespers and matins—my bedtime!” They both smiled. “Now, in smaller towns, lauds is rung at moonset—the firstmoon, Agape—and compline at moonrise. Which confuses off-worlders.”
“Oh-oh,” Teloa said aloud, remembering the patterns of Capricorn V’s two moons. “Then that means—“
“I see you know your moon phases,” Elana started, anticipating her comment. “It means sometimes lauds is rung before matins or even in the middle of the day!” She chuckled at the thought. “Most of our people are very aware of the moon cycles, especially in agricultural areas. So we have no trouble. But Amura changed a few thousand years ago, to minimize the confusion of our visitors. This is the capital of the system, and we have many embassies here, although most of them are empty during festival. The nights are too quiet for the personnel!”
“Was this a religious settlement?” Teloa asked, pleased to get so many answers without digging through the library system.
“No. It was never truly a settlement.” Elana looked thoughtful, and a bit distant. “There were six thousand scientists and support personnel.... They were to set up self-supporting stations that would be the basis of the new colony. This is a large planet of great variety—a lifetime is not long enough to study it. Many of the finest scientific minds of the fledgling Axis joined the expedition. What the Axis neglected to mention before the three ships launched was the anomaly in the atmosphere....” Elana’s voice grew softer. “Because the nitrogen-oxygen mix was acceptable, the Axis colonization headquarters decided to let the scientific expedition define and name the unknown readings. It was not until after the ships left that they realized the metal of the probe was deteriorating rapidly.”
“You don’t have to tell me this,” Teloa said gently.
The healer looked surprised. “It is ancient history, Teloa—almost five thousandyear ago. It is always difficult for me to realize how careless they were, how foolish.” She sighed. “But there was great political pressure then for colonization. The media had no patience with scientists who said ‘Yes, it looks like a paradise, but we need to run more tests.’ So the ships went ... The Atare, The Dielaan, and The Seedar. And they landed ... and they could not leave.”
Teloa studied the woman as she spoke, listening to the formal cadence of her Axis speech; much more formal than Capricorn V’s Axis speech. Gods, what if the Axis did not require everyone to learn a common tongue?
Elana finally focused on her again. “To shorten the story, there were several New Order Catholic priests and priestesses among the scientists and support group. They had a bell to announce their religious services, and they kept the monastic hours. Before it was over, we all were believers.” She smiled faintly at Teloa. “Forgive me, that was too long a storytelling for one not a mythmaker.”
“I am interested, and I should learn something about Nuala. I may be here a long time until I can earn passage elsewhere.” She paused, nibbling on some cheese. “Elana, I didn’t mean to be rude—about why I came here—“
Elana reached across the table and touched her hand. “No, Teloa—“
“Tay is fine for variety,” the woman interrupted, offering the intimate form as an apology.
Elana smiled at that. “Tay, then. My comment was really a statement of fact. I am interested in people; that is why I am a healer as well as a geneticist. And you need not worry about your past here—if you wish it to remain private, no Nualan will question you about it. But sanctuary is part of our creed. We are mavericks, in a sense. Most planets in the Axis Republic belong to smaller confederacies, with various forms of government—most more centralized than ours. Our local synods, and the high families as judges, run just about everything here. The Atare is chief judge, and the temple a balance between synod and royalty.”
“I noticed you have both elected and hereditary representatives,” Teloa offered. “Something called a parliamentary system?” She began to spread soft fruit on her bread slice.
“Related, but not quite; our Atare—king—and his sister, the Ragäree, are the supreme judges, and have actual power. There is also a certain amount of power invested with the high priest and priestess, although not nearly as much as the Dragoche of the desert has; the Dragoche has absolute spiritual and temporal power over his people, the Ciedärlien.”
“Who began the offer of sanctuary?” Tay asked softly, staring out the glass doors. Politics had never really interested her; it always meant struggle, and she had struggled enough in her life.
“The scientific expedition,” Elana answered. “We have had it from the first. People forget how suppressed the Axis had been then; the fighting, the expansionist propaganda, the censorship. Colonies were allowed to set up their own governments, as long as they held no standing armies and did not practice slavery. I personally believe the legend that says Habbukk, the captain of the ship Atare, knew the expedition was being abandoned and demanded the sanctuary clause. As a way of ... justifying who and what they were? I do not know; no one is sure. Things have not changed a great deal. Expansion and trade wars continue, censorship rises once again in the greater Axis—“
“But we were attacked first,” Teloa said tightly. “By the Malvevenians.”
Elana was silent. “The Caprican System fell to the Malvevenians, did it not? That makes the truth all the more difficult.”
“What truth?” Teloa turned away from the windows.
“The truth conveniently glossed over in most history 3AVs. The Malvevenians are merely continuing an import-export embargo that blew out of proportion. They are a refined and finished civilization, Teloa, with high technology, heavy industry, and shrinking markets. They desperately needed new trade outlets. At this very moment they trade peacefully with neutral planets, who either are merely cleaning up an excellent product source or are aware of the reasons the war began and oppose them. No, the Malvevenians tried to establish trade agreements with the Axis Republic.
“Tremendous industry lobbies, trying to avoid competition, squeezed the council to the point that they refused trade talks. The Malvevenians responded by going to individual planets to conduct separate treaties with major population centers, which is legal under planet rights. Several industry tankers, afraid for their jobs and trade routes, fired on the Malvevenian sample ships. At that time the Malvevenians had had more experience with pirates and smugglers—they were better armed. They blew the industry haulers into little pieces. Business went screaming to the Axis, and war began.”
Teloa was silent a long time. She methodically ripped apart the rest of the bread as she stared out the glass doors. Why not? After what she had seen in the past three years, it was all too easy to believe. “The Fewhas?” she finally asked.
“Even more tragic. The Fewha empire, like the Malvevenian, was crumbling—not for economic reasons but because it had become big and unwieldy, and under its totalitarian regime the people suffered and starved. The government needed
to unite them behind a cause. It chose paranoia. Its propaganda convinced its people the Axis Republic had no love for humanoids, especially outside ones, and planned to expand its boundaries and crush the Fewha’s own search for good seed planets. Fearing eventual extinction, they attacked us first.”
“Where did you find all this?”
“Most of it is in old press tapes and commentaries written when the wars started.”
Another silence. Tay stood and walked slowly to the tub. She adjusted the hot water to a comfortable temperature and then slipped off her robe. “Why did you tell me this?” she asked finally.
“I had not intended to ... the conversation simply turned that way.” Elana gestured vaguely. “I am never sure which is easier, to learn of it in hints and whispers, finally seeking out the library archives, or being told in one massive tale. I am sorry if I have distressed you.”
“And it is said Nualans cannot lie,” Tay murmured, slipping into the tub.
“Oh, they can. I can think of one man who is a very good liar. But he lived off-world for a long time. I think his ambition has warped him. Most of us find the truth safer. If you always tell the truth, you do not need to remember what you tell people. The story never changes.” She sighed. “I must return to work. You seem much better since Ronüviel healed you—I must find you some added entertainment.”
Tay smiled faintly, her thoughts with the lovely young woman whose hands sped warmth to trembling limbs. Did it matter anymore how the war—a thousand-year war—had begun? “Come back,” Tay said abruptly to Elana’s retreating form. “When you can.”
The scientist brightened. “Of course.”
THE NOVA
FOURHUNDRED TWENTYNINEDAY, PRIME
Kee had not yet risen in the sky when The Nova sped softly out of the harbor, bearing in her hull the ransom of empires. Braan sat alone on deck, except for the crew. Soon they could remove their suits; just in time for the dawn breeze. He was staring at Tolis, salmon pink and violet in the first light of day. Shipmaster Oh’nel always liked to get an early start. Braan’s eyes narrowed. Was another ship bound south? He studied the black speck at the harbor’s mouth. Perhaps he had missed a buoy. The speck neither increased nor decreased in size. A stardancer, the only thing smaller than a moonraker that could maintain the same pace. Pirates?
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