by J. L. Hilton
“You steal our water, destroy our food supply and resources, imprison and enslave us, but we are the criminals? If I’ve done anything criminal, it’s because these Tikati bastards leave me no alternative. If my only choice is to be a criminal or to be silent, I will not be silent.”
“Envoy Duin, can you refrain from using the term bastard?” asked the colonel.
“Can the Tikati refrain from being one? No, it’s too late for that.” Duin might be an envoy, but he wasn’t going to be diplomatic. Not to any Tikati.
“Do not rebuke the Glin, Colonel Villanueva,” said the Tikati. “I am used to their uncivilized ways, and their unceasing desire to live in complete anarchy.”
“What I desire,” said Duin, his voice rising as he rose from his chair, “is peace and quiet. I want it so much I’d die for it. But I won’t purchase it at the price of chains and slavery.”
The Tikati would not look at him, but addressed J’ni. “See how the Glin yells for quiet? See how he threatens for peace?”
She did not raise her head to acknowledge the Tikati, nor make any reply. Duin could see she was adding links to relevant net files and their past blog posts about the devastation and abuses perpetuated upon Glin. Duin sat down.
The Tikati liaison turned to Blaze. “I appreciate your willingness to meet with me, Colonel Villanueva, and I respect Earth’s insistence on maintaining neutrality at the current time. It demonstrates your race’s wisdom and civility. I relish the opportunity to explain what is happening on Glin. I imagine you’ve heard that we keep Glin in chains like pets, and eat their children, and lay waste to their planet, burning all in our path. But, I ask you, Colonel Villanueva, how would Tikat profit from that?”
“You wouldn’t ask that if you had any familiarity with human history,” the colonel replied.
“You are correct that we know very little about humans. Only what your scientists shared with us, quite some time ago. And a few recent developments, brought to our attention by concerned Earth businessmen.”
“Businessmen?” The colonel looked surprised. “What sort of businessmen?”
“I do not have that information,” said the Tikati.
While the Tikati’s mask-like visage remained as smooth as its voice, Duin noticed there were several muscles twitching in Blaze’s face.
“Businessmen do not represent Earth’s interests, Liaison Kitik,” said the colonel sternly. “They represent their own. I suggest that in the future, if you want to deal with Earth, you deal with the United Nations.”
The agreeable nod of the Tikati’s head was a big fat lie.
And that’s when J’ni spoke, her voice soft but acrid, like a razit fruit. “If the ‘unceasing desire’ of the Glin is to live in complete anarchy, why does Tikat persist in an equally unceasing desire to prevent them from doing so?”
How Duin loved her. She peered at the Tikati with a look that might be described as impartial, but Duin knew her too well. She was fighting the flood of emotions she could not reveal as he could. Well, he could reveal most, but not all—not the one that made him want to reach out and touch her at that moment. For her own safety, that emotion must remain hidden here, like the nagyx that was tucked beneath her clothing. He did not want to risk the Tikati identifying it as a Glin object and trying to hurt J’ni.
“When we arrived on Glin,” said the Tikati liaison, “there were no cities, no agriculture, no leaders. Their few industries were under-developed, their technologies primitive. Now they have dry land where there were once only swamps.”
“Wah! We don’t want dry land, we’re Glin!”
“We brought them leadership, industry, responsibilities, currency.”
“I had a job,” said Duin. “My job was to do what I pleased. My only duty was to be accountable for my actions. My wealth was in the number of things I could afford to ignore.”
The Tikati went on as if Duin had not interrupted. “There were millions of Glin living in poverty. We have brought them a system of education…”
“Indoctrination,” Duin declared.
“… a more efficient food management system, and better housing. They no longer travel the waterways like nomads, living out in the open. We have given them several technological advantages, and they have the freedom to pursue a more civilized life.”
“Freedom?” Duin jumped up again and smacked his hand on the table. “Freedom is not in Tikat-managed farms, it is not in Tikat-built housing structures, or Tikat-run schools. That’s not freedom; it’s dependency. Those are rations of slavery. I don’t want this so-called civilization.”
“Yes, that’s obvious,” the Tikati said. It still would not look at him.
“And I’m proud of it. My barbarity shields me from this so-called civilization where all of our rights are wrongs, where Glin must beg for the water that belongs to us all, where we cannot gather hidal and hunt wallump, where everything we love and need is taken away or destroyed. I will be barbarous and wild, in act and in deed, against any civilization imposed by despots, rather than tamely accept it.”
The Tikati turned to the colonel. “Perhaps you could send your witness to Glin.” Here it gestured to J’ni. “So that she might attest to the improvements we’ve made there?”
“Improvements?” Duin spat the word. He drew a breath, but before he could speak, J’ni addressed the Tikati.
“Liaison Kitik, you implied earlier that your goal was profit—that was the word you used—not charity,” she said.
“The two are not mutually exclusive, Witness O’Riordan. We went to Glin seeking resources to help our world. For generations, we’ve suffered starvation, ecologic collapse, disease…”
“Your misery is not currency with which you can purchase the right to oppress my people,” said Duin.
The Tikati still would not address Duin. It spoke to Blaze. “We hope to enlighten the Glin. They are quick to violence, slow to understand. They have no sense of duty or loyalty to anything or anyone but themselves. They prefer laziness to industry, and will choose duplicity over honesty whenever it suits them.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m Gurrpawub the water demon. Does your suffering give you the right to cause others to suffer? Does your need give you the right to render us needy?”
“Have you ever gone hungry, Colonel Villanueva?” Kitik spoke with long-suffering sadness. “Or held the very last seed of a fruit tree in your hand and known that you could never plant it, because it wouldn’t grow in dead soil? Have you watched great monuments crumble, or great innovations fall into disuse, because you lacked the resources to maintain them?”
“Have you ever relocated a village of Glin?” Duin asked. “Have you ever stolen their water, burned their huts to the ground, or torn families apart? Have you ever rounded them up and imprisoned them, without a trial, without recourse to justice, because their only crime was being in your way, or—even worse—daring to resist you?”
Kitik turned its flickering yellow eyes on Duin. “How many Tikati have you killed, murderer?”
“Not enough.”
“Envoy Duin.” Blaze gave him a warning look.
Duin ignored the colonel and glared at Kitik. “The last Tikati that looked in my eyes is still digesting in the bellies of the karak’tukt who feasted on the shit of the drizni that ate its corpse.”
“Envoy Duin, you cannot be a party to this discussion if you are going to make death threats,” said the colonel.
“That thing is a death threat to my entire race, and yours. You think you will win its friendship? To befriend a fiend is to become a fiend.” Duin reached as far as he could across the table, his hand sparking with bioelectricity. Guards rushed forward to restrain him.
“This meeting is over for you, Envoy Duin,” Blaze declared.
“The meeting is over, but nothing is finished!” Duin let himself be dragged from the room. “Where’s my village? What happened to my wife and my children? Tell me that, Tikati!”
Chapter Fifteen
J’ni twisted in her sleep, knocking several pillows to the floor. She dreamed that glowing eyes were watching her, making her skin burn. There was no water, no way to stop the burning. No one to help her.
“Duin?” She reached for him as she woke up. But he wasn’t there.
The dim glow of the Asternet wall lit their compartment. Someone sat in a chair beside the table. The thin, immobile silhouette had to be Belloc’s.
“Bad dreams?” he asked.
A bolt of lightning flashed, illuminating his pale face and large, dark eyes. She heard rain.
“What are you watching?” She sat up and rubbed her hands over her face.
“Storms. I thought it might calm you. Would you prefer a river?” He touched the tabletop and replaced the rain with rushing water.
“That just makes me have to pee.”
Belloc touched the table again and the river was replaced by a lugubrious Euro-clank fusion remix of Beethoven’s Für Elise. It didn’t sound much different than the storm vid, which is why he liked it.
“Where’s Duin?” she asked.
“With Elder Blaze.”
“Still? He hasn’t slept in three days.”
“He said he fell asleep in the colonel’s office, yesterday.”
J’ni got up, tied on a dress and pulled on her boots. She wouldn’t wear the bava again until the Tikati liaison was gone. Just in case. Everything was “just in case.” Every path in her life was strewn with eggshells that couldn’t be swept into a compost chute as easily as the dozens Belloc put there every week. Raw eggs were one of his favorite Earth foods.
He handed her a cup of tea. The cup was glass recyclable. None of her Nana’s cups survived the bombing. The loop of one porcelain handle, recovered after the investigation, hung from a cord around her neck, below the nagyx.
“Thank you.” The tea, whatever it was, was very good. Lightly sweet, citrus and cinnamon, maybe, and a flavor she couldn’t quite place. “What is it?”
“Tikati repellent,” Belloc said.
She smiled. His humor was precious not only because of his usual seriousness, but because there was so little humor in anything at all any more.
He opened another window on the wall. “Your blog is number three.”
“Yep.” Her blog was in the INC 5 and one of the highest-trafficked sites on the Stellarnet. There were several news bloggers in Asteria Colony now, from conglomerates like Liberty News Corp, GE-Disney, MS-WSJ, and TW-AOL-Sony, as well as smaller companies, non-profits and special interest groups. And there were countless indie bloggers, some of whom were on Asteria before she arrived and were enjoying a small degree of fame by association. But none of them were living with a Glin. Duin’s co-authorship, and the titillating fact that they were “married”—though they had both tried to explain, many times, the real meaning of the nagyx—gave her blog a huge advantage.
“What will happen when it reaches number one?” Belloc never blogged, but even he got fan mail and the occasional smutty fan vid. His initial appearance in the colony, and subsequent silence, had intrigued thousands of her followers.
“It won’t,” she said. “Sex, celebs and sports always outrank everything else.” If she wanted to go all the way to the top, she would have to take Hax’s advice and run a live feed of their bed. Not that she and Duin had been doing anything worth watching the past few days. There were much more pressing matters.
When she was ready to leave, Belloc reached for his hood. He had taken to wearing a Zentai suit, which covered him from head to foot, including his face and hands. Human Zentai wore the suits to keep from being ID-ed by netcams, and as a general socio-political statement. To that end, they also went without bracers or any technology. So, to complete the disguise, Belloc wouldn’t be able to wear his gloves from Hax. But he would carry them in his new, human-made, recycled-fiber messenger bag. Kitik might have heard that there was a second Glin on Asteria, but no point in making Belloc an easy target. Just in case.
She left the compartment first, while Belloc went out through the garden, sneaking past a glitchy netcam, and then trailing her through the hallways and thoroughfares. When she reached the military zone, he sat down to wait.
Lucky for Belloc, he honed his awesome sitting-and-waiting-for-me skills in Meglin, she thought. In all seriousness though, his presence was appreciated. He was the eye of the storm that churned around her.
J’ni reached Blaze’s office and went in without knocking. Under the current circumstances, she had a free pass to come and go any time.
“I am trying to help you,” Blaze said to Duin as she entered. The colonel put his booted feet up on his desk. “But you can’t keep ranting at him.”
“Why not?” Duin was pacing.
“You ever heard of public relations?”
Duin ignored Blaze’s question. “Where is the Tikati?” He scanned the wall, which displayed several netcams throughout the colony.
“Still walking around,” said Blaze. “What are you worried about? He’s been searched a hundred times.”
“Its treachery is well hidden.”
“He’s being watched, everything in the military zone is off-limits, and he has an escort.”
“You never gave me an escort,” Duin said.
“Consider it a compliment. ’Lo, Genny. Want some grapes?” The colonel pointed to a large bowl on his desk.
“’Lo, Blaze. Thanks.” She took a handful.
Duin turned, surprised to see her. “I thought you were going to sleep.”
“I did, Duin. I slept for six hours.”
“Great Rain, have I been here that long?”
“Yes!” Blaze bellowed at him.
“Anything new?” she asked.
“We had to increase the size of Kitik’s escort,” said the colonel.
“Because the colonists keep trying to riot, wherever it goes,” Duin said with glee.
“They’re protesting, not rioting,” said Blaze. “So far.”
“They threw refuse,” Duin told J’ni. “It was glorious.”
The thought of the Tikati roaming the station unsettled J’ni. “Has he—it—” she glanced at Duin, “—figured out how to use the Asternet?”
Duin refused to use gender-specific pronouns when referring to the Tikati. She considered asking him if it was a psychological tactic, or whether Tikati lacked male/female gender, but wasn’t sure she wanted to find out his real reasons.
“I’ve never seen him use our technology,” said Blaze. “He doesn’t ever touch anything, he walks. Up and down. Through the thoroughfares.”
“It’s plotting,” Duin said.
“Plotting what?” asked the colonel.
“Whatever you can imagine,” said Duin.
“I can imagine a lot,” said Blaze. “Can you be a cat’s ass-hair more specific?”
“Perhaps,” said Duin, but did not elaborate.
J’ni offered Duin some fruit, which he waved away without taking his eyes off the wall. “You should get some sleep,” she told him.
“I’m not tired. Are you tired, Blaze?”
“I’m so full of coffee and experimental stimulants, my eyes are about to pop out of my head. But I don’t know what you’re high on.”
“Righteous fury.”
“I could go to Glin,” J’ni suggested. “Kitik invited me. Maybe we can learn something new.”
That turned Duin’s attention from the wall. “J’ni, I’d sooner drop you into a lake full of starving driznit.”
“I know, nagloim, but I want the story, and I want to get him—it—away from Asteria. INC would pay for the transport, and an escort—either military or private contractor. I might be able to convince Kitik to leave Asteria sooner rather than later.”
“Their liaison’s not going anywhere until he finishes meeting with the reps from the UN Security Council, ESCC, United States, China, India, European Union…”
“You know, J’ni, all those people who refused to talk to me,”
said Duin.
“They’d talk to you, now,” said Blaze, “if you would stop scaring the crap out of them.”
“I want to scare them. They should be scared out of their torpid complacency. I’m not telling them anything I haven’t already blogged.”
Blaze rolled his eyes and dragged a hand over his face. “Genny, can you please school your pugnacious patriot—?”
“Look, right there.” Duin tapped the wall.
“What?” Blaze got up and stood beside Duin, both of them examining the spot Duin indicated.
“The Tikati… It stopped and…”
“What?” asked Blaze.
“It looked at that open panel, where the repair crew is working.”
“Oh, fuck me with a feather duster.” Blaze grabbed Duin by the arm. “Genny, get him out of here and make him eat something, and then make him go to sleep.”
“But it’s—”
“Shut your hole!” Blaze pushed Duin to the door. “I’ll bet Dr. Geber has something we can inject into you. Don’t make me ask him.”
“Colonel,” Duin protested, trying to hang back. “Blaze!”
Blaze shoved him into the hallway, sent J’ni out after him and clanged the door shut.
Duin strode down the hall. “I’ll have to watch the Tikati from our compartment. No, better yet, from Belloc’s hut.” Duin spread his arms. “He has more wall space.”
***
The tippa that Duin and Belloc built in the garden bore a vague resemblance to the woven huts of Meglin. But instead of branches and vines, it was made with wires, fiber optic threads, plastic tubing and recycled cloth. It was less like a hut, J’ni thought, and more of a large, glowing, cyber lean-to, propped up in one corner. And the block walls in that corner were alive with Asternet access, thanks to Hax.
“Is there something we can feed him to make him fall asleep?” she asked Belloc, only half-joking. She spoke to him in Glinnish, so that she could stay in practice. They sat together beside the fish pond while Duin paced Belloc’s floor and muttered to himself. “Or maybe you could knock him unconscious?”