“Your card, Crawford,” Hermes said.
I dug it out and handed it over, blushing furiously. I felt exactly like the country bumpkin I was. The receptionist fed my card into some sort of machine. She extracted the card and handed it back.
“Thank you, Sir. Welcome to the Bartimarm Piety Hotel. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you,” I managed.
The ‘Bartimarm Piety Hotel’? It didn’t look particularly religious. Perhaps it was on the site of an old monastery or it had been originally built as a hostel for pilgrims or something.
“You look perplexed,” Hermes said as we walked the hall.
“It’s the name of this hotel. The receptionist said a word that I would associate with deeply religious people.”
He raised an enquiring eyebrow. “What’s surprising about that? Capellans are deeply religious people.”
“What, all of them?”
“I haven’t met all of them so I couldn’t comment. This is a theocracy, remember.”
“Dear explained it but it didn’t mean much to me.”
“Nor to me, personally, but Capellans believe all their laws come from the gods. You’ll find that the natives often give their products, buildings or services names with religious connotations. It’s their way of showing that they’re serving the gods.”
“But they have a President, don’t they?”
“Yes, but he’s only the head of the secular state. He is the secular face in front of religious law.”
“You mean like in Iran?”
“I have no idea what or where Iran is so I can’t make a comparison.” He stopped and turned to face me. “From the little I know of your world, you have many different and contradictory visions of one or more gods. Consequently, many intelligent beings have decided that, as the competing visions can’t all be right, probably none of them are and religion is something that is of no importance. Here, the opposite is true. There is one vision and that vision has held firm for thousands of years. As a result religious belief is deeply ingrained in everyone’s consciousness. Oh, they don’t go to public worship or pray seventeen times a day or shave their heads; they don’t need to. Capellans believe that every conscious action has a religious foundation.” He grinned wryly. “That doesn’t mean they behave better than beings from any other part of the galaxy but it colours their thinking. Other than obvious things like the name of this hotel, you probably won’t even notice so I would forget all about it, if I were you. Just think of it as a quaint local custom.”
I laughed. “Hardly an apt description for the most important civilisation in this part of the galaxy but I take your point. Things will not be as I expect and I should just accept them and get on with it. I think you’ve given me that advice before.”
“I have. It’s worth repeating from time to time.”
At the end of the hall was another escalator. We rode it and the next one. About half way down a hall that was the brother to the one on the ground floor except that the windows were much smaller and heavily tinted, Hermes stopped at a door.
“Your suite. You’ll need your card.”
I presented my card to the small panel and we stepped into the largest most luxurious room I had ever seen. The russet and gold carpet had a pile so deep you felt someone ought to take a lawnmower to it. The walls were panelled alternately with wood and wallpaper with a rich, complex pattern. A generous collection of pictures had been hung on the wooden panels. They had to be reproductions as I recognised several famous paintings and some standard ‘chocolate box top’ Athena prints. The ceiling was a mosaic of wood panels of varying hues. A huge crystal chandelier hung from the centre. On one side was a dining table with six chairs and a matching sideboard. On the other a massive and luxurious L-shaped settee and three equally luxurious easy chairs. There was also a bookcase and a fully-stocked bar.
A being rose from one of the easy chairs and approached.
“Sir Crawford MacAdam of Earth, on behalf of the Lottery Committee may I welcome you to Bartimarm.”
“Thank you,” I said faintly. What was with this ‘Sir’ business? Had I been knighted or something? “I’m very pleased to be here.”
“I am Sir Goes-with-God Inner-Piety.” That’s what the translator said. “While you are here I will be your guide and mentor.”
“Thank you,” I said again, studying him covertly. He was a typical Geretimalian; dark burnt umber complexion and thick woolly black hair elaborately coiffed. At first glance he could have passed as human but closer study revealed his nose was too long, his black eyes set too far apart, his mouth oddly shaped, his neck too long, his shoulders too square, his arms and legs oddly proportioned and his hands wrongly jointed. He was wearing a pair of loose trousers and overshirt of a shimmering blue material. Gold jewellery adorned his neck and wrists. On his feet he wore soft shoes, also blue, with turned-up toes. He reeked of good breeding. He bore my scrutiny with a slightly condescending smile.
“Forgive me,” I said. “You are only the second alien I’ve met. Hermes said that sentient beings tended to be humanoid and I am amazed at the similarity between us.”
He sketched an ironic half-bow. “No apology is necessary. I have the advantage for I seen your impression. You will forgive me for saying but I am equally impressed that a being from so far out on the arms is so true to the humanoid model.”
I raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Oh? I would have thought it would be the other way round. I’d have thought that the higher radiation levels nearer the centre would have resulted in a faster mutation rate.”
For an instant he looked startled then his urbane smile returned. “That is a logical assumption but, while we are nearer the Galactic centre than Earth, the distance is hardly significant.”
Hermes made a noise behind us. “Excuse me. If you’ve no further need of me, I’ve an errand to run.”
Inner-Piety made a dismissive gesture. “Certainly.”
I accompanied Hermes to the door.
“Cats,” he murmured.
“Thanks,” I murmured back then continued more loudly. “Thank you, Hermes. My first interstellar flight was most interesting.”
I stuck out my hand. He hesitated a moment then grinned and shook it. “You are very welcome.”
Inner-Piety’s smile was suitably professional when I turned back.
“I will show you round then explain your itinerary,” he said.
The bedroom was in proportion to the public room. It was dominated by a huge four-poster bed with pale gold sheets that looked like satin and a green and gold duvet. The pile on the carpet was, if anything, even thicker than that of the living room. The walls had the alternating panels of wood and wallpaper; the wallpaper being predominantly green rather than russet. Another miscellaneous collection of paintings adorned the walls. There was a vast wardrobe which amused me as it seemed a bit over the top for someone who would only be staying a short time. The bathroom was up to the same level of luxury and it even had a bath. There was a second bedroom, smaller than the first but only relatively and a small kitchen.
“Has this suite been specially decorated for me?” I asked.
“Yes. Does it meet your approval? A great deal of time and effort has been spent to ensure its authenticity.”
“I have to say it’s the most luxurious suite I’ve ever seen.” In truth I thought it a bit over the top, something that some nouveau riche sports star might aspire to but in slightly better taste, but there was a tone in his voice that suggested I’d better not disapprove. “I am flattered that you should go to so much trouble for me.”
“Not at all. You are the Lottery Winner after all.”
“Indeed. One in 57 septillion, I believe.”
“Something like that.”
“Is there an ibic?”
“An ibic? Why would you want an ibic?”
“The kitchen is very impressive but I have no idea how to operate it. On Hermes’ ship, I asked his ibic.”
“Oh, is that all? Ha, ha. You don’t need an ibic. Just ask for what you want.”
“And how do I do that?”
He looked at me as if he thought I was playing a joke on him. I smiled winsomely.
“You use the communicator, of course.”
“A communicator being…?”
“A communicator is… a communicator. That.” He pointed at a device attached to the wall. There were a number of similar devices scattered throughout the suite.
“And how do I operate it?”
His expression said he didn’t believe anyone could honestly be as ignorant as this. I hunted through my pockets and found an old shop receipt which I held out to him.
“What does it say?”
He glanced at it without taking it.
“How should I know?”
“Then perhaps you should learn as it’s my native language. The only one I know.” He looked at me in condescending disbelief. “Difficult as it might be for you to understand, not everybody in the galaxy understands your squiggles.”
“But Capellan is the universal language.”
“Not on Earth.”
With great condescension he demonstrated the communicator. It was like a phone but much more sophisticated. I didn’t follow a word of his abbreviated explanation and it was clear he didn’t care whether I did or not.
I would have liked a cup of coffee but that would have meant asking him to explain the cooker-thing and I suspected his explanation would have been just as useful as his explanation about the phone had been. I was rapidly coming to dislike Mr Inner-Piety and his supercilious attitude.
“Right, now we’ve got over that, I will explain some ground rules then your itinerary. I will be your sole contact during your stay. If you need anything or there is a problem, you will contact me.” His tone said that I’d better not even contemplate contacting him unless I was dying. “You will speak to no-one unless I have specifically authorised it. And I don’t just mean the media, I mean anyone who is not hotel staff or a member of the Lottery organisation. Should you be contacted by someone other than those you will refer them to me.
“You will not leave the hotel unless you are accompanied by myself or an authorised Lottery agent. In fact I would prefer it if you didn’t leave your suite. You will be escorted to and from all your official engagements.”
His tone was, quite frankly, rude and that, as much as the fact that I appeared to be a virtual prisoner, was making me thoroughly pissed off. What right did he have to speak to me like this? I was the frigging Lottery Winner, after all. And what was the point of these petty restrictions? How about my days off… or didn’t I have any of these either?
“A question if I may,” I said, interrupting his flow. The smile he painted on his face was as false as joke shop moustache. “Just to be clear. I’m not to step outside this suite unless I have an escort? And I’m not to speak to anyone unless you say it’s okay?”
“That is correct. I’m glad you understand.”
“No, I don’t understand.”
He was taken aback.
“What is it you don’t understand? You appear to have understood my words.”
“Oh, I understood your words. I don’t understand why you said them.”
He was nonplussed. “You don’t need to understand why I said them. I am an official of the Commission and it is my job to ensure you fulfil your obligations as the Lottery Winner.”
I gritted my teeth and tried again. “I accept that. I’m perfectly willing to fulfil all my obligations. What I can’t understand is why I need to be kept locked in this room.”
“You are not being locked in this room. You are free to move about the hotel though I would suggest you don’t and, naturally, you must constrain your conversations to hotel employees only.”
“Yes, but…” I started then stopped. It was clear we were not communicating. I decided to bide my time and see what else he had to say. I sighed.
“If you’re quite finished,” he said acerbically, “I will continue. In a while I’ll order lunch. After lunch we’ll acquire suitable clothing. Tonight you will dine with the Lottery Board. Then tomorrow…”
“Stop a moment. Suitable clothing. Suitable for what?”
He looked nonplussed again. It was not an expression that suited him. “Suitable for every occasion. You will be seen in public many times. The media will be present. Your apparel must reflect the highest standards and maintain the image of the Commission. You will be meeting the Board of Commissioners and the President of the Capellan Theocracy for a start. Then there is the Presentation Ceremony. The eyes of the galaxy will be on you, you know. It’s extremely important that you’re properly dressed.”
“I understand and accept that. Will I be allowed to choose what I wear?”
“Well, of course not. You come from the outer fringes of the galaxy. How would you know what civilised beings wear on important occasions?”
“Yes, yes, I understand that. It’s the same on earth. There are occasions where you wear formal clothes. A uniform of some kind. I take it that’s what you mean?”
“Uniform? How uncouth. No, you will be dressed by some of the top designers in Bartimarm.”
“I see. So I’ll be shown a selection of outfits from these top designers and...”
“Of course not. Your clothing has been already selected.”
That was the last straw. If it had just been the clothes, I’d probably have let it go with a protest but coming on top of the restrictions on my movements and contacts, I saw red.
“That is entirely unacceptable. I’ll be guided by you and others about what constitutes suitable clothing for public events but I will have final say. For the presentation, I’ll wear my own suit and for private wear, I’ll choose for myself.”
“Out of the question,” he spluttered.
“Look, I don’t care if the current fad is for lime green spots on purple gingham. Lime green and purple are not my colours and I hate gingham. I’m certainly not going to go around looking like a reject from a circus factory.”
“But… but... the Presentation. All the public engagements. You must wear the right clothes. It’s vital you give the right impression. Everyone will be watching.”
There was something about his tone that aroused my suspicion. Of course I must wear the right clothes. No-one wants to turn up at a dinner party dressed in jeans but why was he being so insistent that I wore what he said? And why couldn’t I speak to anyone or go anywhere? There didn’t seem to be any reason for it unless…
“Tell you what,” I said thoughtfully. “I’m just a hick from a backwoods planet. I think it would make a bigger impression if I appeared to be just that. Think of the impact that would make. So I’m going to wear my best suit just as if I was meeting someone important on my world.”
“You can’t do that,” he wailed. Any moment I expected him to start wringing his hands.
“Why not?”
He suddenly stiffened and drew himself up. A light came into his eyes that I didn’t like at all. He thrust his face close to mine. “Listen, you pathetic, jumped-up, ignorant savage, you will do exactly what I say and you will do it exactly when I say it and you will do it with a smile on your ugly brutish face. If you don’t... if you so much as put a toe out of line… I will make you wish you had never left the pig-filth hovel you call home. Do I make myself clear?”
I looked at him without saying a word then picked up the phone and pressed what I hoped was the right button.
“Reception. How may I help you?”
“Are you a sentient being?”
“But of course, Sir,” the voice tried not to sound insulted.
“Good. Could you ask hotel security to come to my suite? It’s an emergency.”
There was a pause then another voice said, “Is there a problem, sir?”
“Are you a sentient being?”
“Yes, sir. Pious God-is-all, Head of Security.”
“Good.
There’s a being in my suite who I would like escorted off the premises.”
“Has he offered any violence?”
“No, but if he doesn’t leave, I will.”
“You will? I don’t understand.”
“The being is being thoroughly obnoxious. For his own safety, I suggest you send someone up to make sure he leaves safely.”
“Well... That’s a bit unorthodox, sir. We can’t really get involved unless there’s a genuine security issue.”
“Do you know who I am?”
There was a slight pause. “Yes, sir. You’re the Lottery Winner.”
“Quite right. I come from a savage little planet on the fringes of the galaxy. We’re not very civilised and prone to outbursts of violence. I feel such an outburst starting. Does that help?”
“Yes, sir. I will attend to it immediately.”
I turned to face Goes-with-God Inner-Piety. His face had gone pale and he was backing into a corner. I put on my most insincere smile.
“You see how it is? There’s something you should know. Nobody, and I mean nobody, threatens me like that and gets away with it. Now I don’t know what scam you’re working but I won’t be party to it. I’m the Lottery Winner; one in 57 septillion I’ve been told. I may be an ignorant savage in your eyes but I’m not an unintelligent ignorant savage. And this intelligent ignorant savage knows enough to know that a man who is one in 57 septillion is not treated like he was a mass murderer. He knows he is not threatened by a minor minion in an organisation as large and respectable as the Lottery Commission… not unless the said minor minion has some reason for it. Some personal reason. Say, for example, the minor minion was playing a little independent game of his own; one that his masters might not be too happy about if they were to find out. Do I make myself clear?”
From the look on his face I knew I’d hit the nail on the head. He was saved from responding by the opening of the door. Into the suite strode a Capellan, whom I took to be the Head of Security, followed by a mature woman and two men who were clearly security guards.
“Did you consider knocking first?” I said before they could speak. “Or is this a public right of way?”
I Won A Spaceship Page 7