Planetary Parlay

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Planetary Parlay Page 14

by Cameron Cooper


  We all faced forward once more, and I said to Travert. “Let’s see the wreck.”

  Travert nodded and started down the road once more.

  We followed silently. We’d been strung out in a casual column before. Now everyone was moving up level with me and spreading sideways, so we covered the width of the road and into the verges on each side.

  As we drew closer to the squad I saw them do the same. They were deliberately blocking the road. Each of them carried one of their long weapons, too. And the suits came with snakehead lariats built into them.

  My heart picked up speed.

  As we approached the barricade, the wind freshened and swung around so that it was coming from my left shoulder—from the sea. I glanced at the squall clouds. They were almost on us.

  Five of the squad were spread out across the road, four more behind them to reinforce the line. Their squad leader stood before them. All of them wore their helmets with the long snouts and fierce displays of teeth. It was smart to wear the helmets, for the interiors of their armor were climate controlled to combat the cold of space. They would also have cooling systems in them, because it was really easy to overheat when you exerted yourself wearing a fully-enclosed and sealed suit.

  Travert raised his hand as we reached calling distance, lifted his voice and spoke rapidly. So did his translator, because who the hell knew what dialects the soldiers spoke?

  The suits had to have their own translators built in, I realized. The military couldn’t have androids trailing after them in the heat of battle.

  The squad leader said something back, which started a long two-way discussion between him and Travert, while we stood behind them, trying to look innocent and unconcerned.

  The wind picked up steadily, slapping my hair around and tugging at my shirt and pants legs. Overhead, the thick grey clouds boiled and rolled across the sky, while off to the west, pale blue sky still showed. The wind should have freaked me out, but I was too busy assessing the squad in front of me, analyzing their postures, picking out potential targets. Who were the dangerous ones, who could be left. Those in the rear would be the ones with the best aim—get them first. Only, no weapons but close-contact blades, which meant pushing through the front line first.

  My mind churned with all the possibilities, while at the same time, I tried to figure out if there was a way out of this that wouldn’t spill blood. I really hoped that Travert was right and this was a drill, or practice for a bored squad and after some hefty cross-examination, they’d let us move on.

  As much as I disagreed with Jai, as much as we’d argued or ignored each other in the last few months, I still didn’t want to be the cause of this mission failing. I didn’t want to make Jai’s job harder.

  Travert finally shrugged once more and turned back to us. “The commander says we can go no further, we must turn around and go back to the palace.”

  I frowned. “But we’re to tour the wreck. The Florina said we could.” Again, invoking her title for the leverage it would give me.

  The squad leader gave a visible reaction to that. He stiffened and his shoulders squared. I watched the muzzle of his weapon, but that stayed down. He was…I don’t know. Offended? Insulted? He had not liked my use of Isuma Florina’s name.

  He spoke quickly.

  Travert answered shortly and looked at me. “They say no, you cannot pass. You must go back.”

  Flat refusal.

  “Isn’t the Secretary of the Assembly the supreme leader of the military?” I asked. “If she says we may pass, don’t they have to let us through?” I kept my tone light and enquiring.

  Another short, chopped-off exchange.

  Travert actually looked apologetic. “They say—”

  “Yeah, got it,” I told him.

  At that precise moment, the storm clouds overhead covered up the sun and we were plunged into a gloaming that made my heart sink. The wind began to whistle, and the heat dropped so dramatically I shivered.

  I waved everyone in around me. When they had gathered, I said, “Let’s not provoke an interstellar diplomatic crisis today. Okay?”

  Nods. Grim expressions.

  Dalton said in the same soft volume, “We’ve got our answer. Although this doesn’t make any sense whatsoever.”

  “Let’s figure it out when we’re back in the suite.”

  Again, a round of nods.

  I turned back to Travert. “Please tell the squad leader that we understand, and will return to the palace, but we are very disappointed we cannot visit the site of one of their military events.”

  Travert looked relieved. He conveyed my message, then turned back to us. “It is a wise choice you make,” he told me.

  “We actually have a choice?” Dalton asked, his tone sour. He had to lift his voice to be heard over the wind.

  We headed back down the road, with the wind blasting at our right flanks and screaming in our ears. Within a dozen meters, the sky opened up and rain fell, and it wasn’t the pleasant, warm shower Marlee had optimistically suggested. The heavy drops stung as they struck us, and they were cold.

  —19—

  I’d managed to duck the midday meal but wasn’t so lucky when it came to dinner. By the time we reached the suite, dripping water everywhere, all I wanted to do was take a very hot shower, warm up and sleep for a week.

  We weren’t the only ones dripping. The squall did only last about fifteen minutes, but it dumped a small sea of water on the island in that time. That was how I figured out why the roof of the palace was built the way it was. The half bamboo runnels shed water in a steady stream, while the arched curve of the roof kept it solid beneath the weight of water hitting it. We walked along the open sided corridor as water dripped steadily like a moist curtain beside us.

  Kamil eased me into the shower, but when I emerged dry and warm, and pointed to the robe, not my clothes, she instead held up the other evening gown—which was the extent of my evening wear.

  I shook my head. “Nope.” I slid into the robe by myself, as Dalton squelched past me and into the bathroom, with Diomedes right behind him.

  Kamil shook the dress. Babbled at me.

  I went to the suite door, opened it and called for Slate. He trod up the corridor to my room. “Yes, Danny?”

  Kamil came over to the door, still babbling, still waving the dress.

  “You must present yourself for dinner now. It is expected of you,” Slate said in Kamil’s voice.

  “I’m not one of the diplomats,” I said patiently. “I can stay away if I want.”

  “It is Jai Van Veen who says you must go. His Juro told me so.”

  I looked at Kamil, vexed. “You’re sneaky.”

  She lowered the dress and smiled.

  “Thanks, Slate,” I told him. I shut the door, gave myself up to Kamil’s ministrations and brooded all the while.

  Dalton and I presented ourselves for dinner as requested, and I realized that everyone in the Carinad party was there. The Assembly hall had been rearranged for dining as it had the previous evening, only there were more Terrans on hand tonight. The six new faces were those who had been in the front row of armchairs behind the table.

  I thought Keskemeti would be thoroughly sick of me by now, so I was surprised to find myself seated next to him once more, and Marlee Colton opposite me. She grinned at my raised brow. “I don’t speak diplomat,” she told me. “The conversation’s always more interesting around you.” Possibly she felt that way because she was a former Imperial basemind.

  I glanced at the empty chair beside her.

  “Yeah, let’s see what happens,” Colton said, her grin growing.

  Eliot Byrne did not sit on my left, as he had last night. Instead, Ven rested his hands on the chair back and looked at me. “May I?”

  “I would be pleased if you did.”

  He smiled at that and sat down. “Thank you. It would be good to share your company through this meal.”

  “You might not feel that way in a mo
ment,” I said in an undertone, as Rayhel Melissa slipped around a small group of Terrans still to sit down and gripped the back of the chair next to Marlee.

  He smiled all around the table, even at Ven, and I couldn’t see any falseness in the expression. “Here we are again.” And he actually sat down. Apparently, even having to sit across the table from Ven was not enough to put him off his agenda. Whatever was motivating him to seek me out, it was powerful.

  “Here we are,” I said, putting as much sincerity and warmth into my voice as he had.

  Marlee’s lips pressed together, and her cheeks grew suspiciously hollow.

  Mischief tempted me and I gave in without too much of a battle and said to Rayhel, “Rayhel, may I introduce you to Aveniru…” I hesitated, reaching for a second name, then remembered where we had first found him. “Aveniru Proya. Ven, this is Rayhel Melissa, Secretary of the Terran Assembly.”

  Ven stiffened for a moment and I heard his breath catch. Then he straightened his back and nodded to Rayhel. “It is good to meet you, Rayhel Melissa.” He spoke pure Carinad Common, forcing Rayhel’s translator to provide the Terran version.

  Rayhel barely hesitated, but he did hesitate. Then he nodded back. “The Carinad worlds must be very interesting places, with such a mixture of…people.”

  “Oh, you have no idea,” Marlee Colton said softly.

  He glanced at her, startled.

  Marlee was wearing a sleeveless gown tonight, too, and I saw Rayhel’s glance drop to the tattoos on her arms. They were animated, right now, the glowing blue moving along their lines in sinuous waves.

  “Those are very…pretty,” Rayhel said. “Most unusual.”

  “They’re practical, besides,” Colton answered. “Right now, they’re telling me the air in here is not at optimal oxygen levels. They also warm me of radiation zones, ultraviolet and some of the other nasty stuff out there.”

  The first course was placed in front of us. It was not the simple salad of last night, but a cold dish featuring, as far as I could tell, pickled vegetables and a soft cheese. After surviving the last meal without ill effects, I felt much more confident about picking up my fork and eating. And I was starving after today’s long walk.

  “You spend much of your time in space, then?” Rayhel asked Marlee Colton, continuing the conversation.

  “I live in space,” she replied.

  Which was technically true, although living inside Wynchester often felt like being planetside…until you looked up at what should be sky and saw the other side of the cylinder overhead.

  “Ah…yes, I understand that the majority of Carinads do live in artificial structures,” Rayhel said, his tone polite. He carefully separated out the soft cheese from the vegetables and stabbed at one of the orange-colored vegetables. “Do you find the markings on your arms give you an advantage that offsets their…uniqueness?”

  “They’ve saved my life more than once,” Colton replied. “Bodies are expensive.”

  Keskemeti snorted.

  Rayhel’s gaze cut to him. “You express doubt, Dr. Keskemeti?”

  Keskemeti shook his head. “I apologize. I have a habit of reacting oddly when Xaviens speak of life as if they were real people.”

  Alarm crashed through me.

  Colton lowered her fork, glaring at Keskemeti. Ven drew in his breath again, and this time, he held it.

  Rayhel’s fork didn’t move. He looked from one to the other of us, his eyes narrowing. “Who are Xaviens?” he asked, with an interested tone that didn’t match the look in his eyes.

  I kicked Keskemeti’s shin with the back of my heel. More than once. He winced and glanced at me. I glared back.

  Rayhel put his fork back on his plate. “Have I asked an indelicate question?”

  “It is indelicate only to me,” Keskemeti said, his tone still apologetic. “Pay no mind. I spoke out of turn.”

  Rayhel considered him. “I would not want anyone to feel uncomfortable because of something I said. Please, explain to me the error I have made so I may avoid it in the future.”

  Keskemeti glanced at me with a helpless expression.

  “What Dr. Keskemeti is trying to avoid mentioning aloud,” Marlee Colton said, with a let’s-cut-the-crap tone, “is that Xavien is the name we digital humans use.”

  Rayhel grew still. I could see he’d leapt ahead to the implications, everything that Colton had not said, and his mind was racing. “Digital,” he said softly, staring at her. No, examining her. “You are an android…”

  Colton managed to look disgusted and amused at the same time. “Hell, no.”

  “Then your…mind is mechanical?”

  Colton looked even more offended. “I am a former computer, Deputy Director. I am now as human as you.”

  Rayhel stared at her. Through her. “Bodies are expensive…” he repeated softly.

  I leaned toward Keskemeti. “Well done, idiot,” I murmured.

  He shot me a look that was a boiling mixture of irritation, guilt, and righteousness.

  Rayhel turned back to his plate, but he simply stared at it. “I have not heard this term, Xaviens, before. It is not in your dictionaries. My translator had to speak it as you do.”

  “It is a very new term,” I told him, struggling for an airy, unconcerned tone.

  “The reason you’ve never heard it is because we don’t like using it,” Marlee Colton said, her tone growing strident. “It’s only people like Dr. Keskemeti who insist upon separating us from born humans.”

  Rayhel nodded slowly. Thoughtfully. “And how many of the Carinads in your party are made, not born?” His tone was enquiring.

  Keskemeti took in a breath.

  I reached over and knocked his plate into his lap, then pretended to lunge for it and brushed the water glass off the edge of the table, too.

  The sodden crack of the plate on the floor, and the trickle of water and smash of what appeared to be simple glass brought the room to a complete halt. Everyone looked up and around, while Keskemeti pushed back his chair and looked down at his ruined clothing and the cold vegetables clinging to him, dismayed.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I said loudly. “How clumsy of me! And, oh, look, half of it hit me, too!” I got to my feet and shook off a slice of tomato. I was dripping water for the second time today.

  I gripped Keskemeti by the arm and hauled him to his feet, as Drigu belatedly surged around us, plucking away food, and brushing off water beads. More of them got on their knees to clean up the mess on the floor.

  I looked around the table, at the two rows of people staring at us with puzzled or amused expressions. “I’m so sorry to disturb the meal. But we must go and change. Please…continue eating. We will return shortly.”

  “Is there anything we can do to help, Danny Andela?” Isuma asked in a light voice.

  “Your Drigu are very efficient,” I assured her. “We will manage, thank you. Slate, please come with me.”

  “Yes, Danny,” Slate said, and stirred from his position by the wall.

  I pulled Keskemeti along with me, heading for the front doors. Kamil and Mercia managed to get in front of us and pushed the doors open. As soon as the doors closed behind us, I shook Keskemeti and let him go. “I think it would be best if, for the rest of our time on Terra, you pretended to be deaf, blind and mute.” I shoved past him, heading for the stairs.

  “You think The Melissa wouldn’t have found out everything about the Xaviens, once it was out there?” Keskemeti said, behind me.

  I whirled at the top of the stairs and gripped the railing hard. “You are endangering our mission here, Keskemeti, and it is my job to make sure the mission is secure, no matter what it takes. Do you understand?”

  His hands balled into fists. “He’ll figure out the other one is Lyth. I wasn’t going to tell him anything he wouldn’t learn by sunrise.”

  “Maybe. But that is my call to make, and I’m not in the mood to just hand over stuff like that to the Terrans. They don’t think like we
do.”

  Keskemeti didn’t back down. “Why not appear to be cooperative?” he said, his tone reasonable. “Especially about information they’re going to learn, anyway.”

  I squeezed the railing. “Do not make me have to deal with you as a security risk, Keskemeti.”

  He swallowed.

  I turned to Kamil. “Would it be possible to get two servings of the meal brought to our suite?”

  Slate translated, and Kamil nodded and hurried away.

  “If you want to eat, Keskemeti, you’d better come with me,” I told him and headed downstairs, the wet hem of my gown tripping me up.

  At least Keskemeti couldn’t get into trouble while he was in the suite. And it got me out of having to sit at that dinner table. While I ate my meal, I would weigh the benefits of locking Keskemeti in his room for the night.

  Then I remembered there were no locks on our doors, for the Drigu needed access at all hours of the day and night.

  Stars, how I wanted to go home!

  —20—

  My mood was foul by the time I reached the suite. I stalked to my room and changed into trousers and shirt and spacer boots and felt a bit better.

  Keskemeti took longer to emerge from his room, wearing simple pants and a shirt, too. By the time he appeared, Kamil had returned with three other Drigu, all carrying covered plates and cups and pitchers, utensils, pots of spices and herbs and even folded napkins.

  I had already wrestled two of the crates into a stack that made a temporary dining table that was nearly the correct height and put four armchairs around it. Then I looked at Slate. “Can you sit?”

  “I?” he asked, actually sounding startled.

  “You.”

  He did the little twist of his shoulders that said he was stressed, then said, “I regret, I cannot.” He paused. “What functions as hips, for me, does not allow me to bend to the degree that sitting requires.”

  I examined his hip area. His torso shell actually came down below where his hips would have been, and that would stop him from sitting. “You can perch,” I decided, and pulled over another crate, put it on its end near the temporary table and patted it. “Make it look like you’re relaxing.”

 

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