His questioning of the central computer in Cluria had set off all kinds of alarms. That implied that there was something worth becoming alarmed about.
Loo-Macklin could keep his silence still, of course, and wait to see what happened. What Chaheel intended should happen is that representatives of the Si should question the man under a truth machine. Between that and the lehl they would learn what twenty years of secrecy concealed. If it was merely business, why then, that was fine.
If it was something else and Loo-Macklin somehow plotted against the Nuel, then he would achieve his martyrdom earlier than he planned.
Loo-Macklin, or Loo-Macklin's subordinates, had tried to have Chaheel Riens killed, or at least to prevent him from leaving the UTW. To Chaheel that was confirmation enough that something nasty was going on.
He slumped into the warm mudbed, quite pleased with himself and only just realizing how tired he was. Right or wrong, at least he was going to have an answer. And perhaps the war department would gain its much-desired new deepspace transmission beam.
He fell into a deep sleep, which was not as undisturbed as he might have wished.
Chapter 14
The reaction to his information was not exactly what he'd expected. If he didn't know that the reply came from a personal representative of the Council of Eight he might have suspected that the individual was somehow in Loo-Macklin's service.
They were resting in a comfortable room, which the university repository on Jurunquag had provided for its distinguished psychologist guest. Outside it was dark and wet, a lovely day. Inside, the bright sunshine of disbelief seemed to be burning Chaheel's eyes.
"The Council simply doesn't believe that there is anything sinister behind these revelations and suspicions of yours, Chaheel Riens." The representative seemed bored and anxious to get away from the dour, moody scientist she'd been ordered to report on. She was a handsome female with eyes alive with iridescent green flecks and the flashes of purple light from her flesh were more frequent than most.
Though not mating season, Chaheel found her attractive. He would have been more than just professionally interested in her save for two preventatives: his hormone level would allow nothing beyond visual admiration and she was obviously uninterested in him.
Her attitude was making her rapidly less desirable anyway, even though she was only reporting the opinions of others.
"But don't they see the connection?"
"They see no connection," the representative replied coolly. "Lewmaklin the human remains a vital element in the overall Plan to subvert and control the sphere of worlds dominated by humankind. Perhaps, I was told, the most crucial element. No indication has he given us, truly, that there is any reason for us to doubt his sincerity.
"What you have given us," she went on, forestalling Chaheel's incipient protest, "is a tale founded on personal suspicions, an unhealthy position for a scientist to put himself in. It is known that you personally dislike and mistrust the man."
Chaheel's lids snapped half together. "Are you saying to me that I have been the subject of observation?"
"The Si are a prominent family because they have spent ten thousand years exemplifying the meaning of caution. Yes, you have been watched, Chaheel Riens."
"And exactly what have my watchers decided?"
"That you are no less brilliant than ever, but that you have allowed your obsession with this particular human to cloud your judgments where he is involved. Your obsession has made you valuable because it has compelled you to work hard. Now, however, it has affected your professionalism."
"Truly think they this?"
"Truly. Can you deny it?"
"I am obsessed by nothing and no one. Certainly not a mere human. This Lewmaklin is, as you say, vital to the future plans of the Families. He is an interesting specimen. I would hardly call my interest an obsession, and while I truly suspect the human's motives, because I cannot puzzle out his motivations, I do not hold personal dislike for him."
"That is not the opinion of others." She seemed to soften slightly. "I am not privy to the details of the case, of course.
"We digress. The facts are these, as I am aware of them. Twenty years ago one of this human's exploration vessels contacts an alien race of new type. Two years ago the commander of your support vessel intercepts and descrambles a communication between an alien and this Lewmaklin. The communication takes place on an unused frequency and via a beam also of new type.
"One: we have no proof the aliens of twenty years ago and those the human talked with two years ago are the same. Two: as long as the lehl functions, and periodic checks indicate it is healthy and intact, we have no reason to suspect Lewmaklin's intentions. We have only your word that his minions attempted to harm or restrain you."
"If the Council doubts my word . . ." he began furiously.
"Not your word, truly," she said calmingly, "but your motivation. Much as you doubt this Lewmaklin's motivations. It is not enough, psychologist. Do you not see that?"
"Of sight speaking," Chaheel said tiredly, "doesn't anyone see that if Lewmaklin is running a lucrative and secret trade with these Tremovan—for I am convinced they are the golden-scaled aliens of the intercepted communication—that there would be some evidence of ship movement in the region of space marked by the communications beam? And that the human's business empire would show evidence of such trade in the form of large shipments of rare ores or new technology, or something? There is no hint that twenty years of secret commerce with a new race has been taking place!"
"Such trade could be small, difficult to detect signs of, and still quite valuable," she argued. "Some trade in rare gems, for example, or in the tiny components of advanced intelligence machines. You would have to destroy expensive and bulky equipment to discover the latter."
"In twenty years even gems or componentry would make itself known to the marketplace," Chaheel shot back.
"Perhaps," the representative suggested with infuriating indifference, "he is stockpiling them for saturation release at some still future time."
"For twenty years? You do not understand this human. No one does. Not even I, who have studied him for years. That is not the manner in which he operates. He does not waste anything, least of all time. Certainly not twenty years."
"Certain economists would regard such a stockpiling not as a waste of time but as a shrewd business move," she told him confidently.
"Is it important enough to try and intercept me to prevent me from telling you all this?"
"Again, we have only your insistence that the humans were attempting to do so. You say that you observed a group of suspicious-looking humans waiting to assault you prior to your departure from Evenwaith. You say that because of this the captain of the starship on which you were traveling resisted your departure.
"Those humans, even if they were the type you believe, could have been waiting for someone else. They might have been Clurian police watching for a fleeing Evenwaith criminal. As to your starship captain's reaction, it is only logical that he would be upset to have a booked passenger removed in midspace from his vessel. Particularly if that passenger was a member of an alien and sensitive race."
"Rationalization!" Chaheel was surprised at the violence of his outburst. He was beginning to despair. "None of you sees what this human is up to. None of you want to see. He has made blind cave crawlers of you all!"
"Rationalization," replied the government representative, unperturbed by the psychologist's outburst, "is an excellent defining of your own theories. You have built implication of betrayal out of your own personal suspicions and deductions. Proof you have naught of. I begin to believe," she added grimly, "that you are indeed obsessed with this human. Unhealthy are you, psychologist."
All the resistance, the will to argue, went out of him.
"You don't know of him, what he's capable of. No one does."
"Even admitting truth to all that you have declaimed," she said placatingly, "what would that leave u
s with? You admit you've no idea what he 'supposedly' works with these Tremovan."
"No," said Chaheel exhaustedly, "I do not."
"He provided you with a position close to his base of operations," she went on, "openly and without concern for what you might discover. You had access to sensitive information. Are those the actions of one with much to hide?"
"He had no reason to suspect that I suspected his intentions," Chaheel replied. "I expressed such misgivings once and he thoroughly disarmed me of them. Besides, by offering me a position near him, he could have his people keep an eye on me."
"You say he disarmed your suspicions. Now you say they returned."
"We must find out what business he has with these Tremovan! Twenty years, representative. Twenty years of secrecy."
She rose on her cilia and prepared to depart. "Truly, Chaheel Riens, I would expect less hysteria from one of your learning and experience. Think a moment. Who has given us more reason to doubt his intentions? Lewmaklin . . . or yourself? You have worked long and hard for the Families, Chaheel Riens. Too long and too hard, perhaps. Too much time spent away from home, too much time living among bipeds. Time perhaps to be concerned about yourself and not aliens whose loyalty has been proven many times over."
She left him, scuttling out through the diaphragm entryway.
Chaheel rested there, surrounded by all the comforts of a family world yet coldly terrified.
It was clear now, oh yes, quite truly clear. They didn't want to think that Lewmaklin might be up to something. Didn't want to believe the possibility that their valuable ally might be somewhat less loyal than he appeared to be.
As for myself, I am not obsessed. My decisions are reached on the basis of calm examination of the evidence. Admittedly much is based on personal experience, but that is what a psychologist must draw upon when hard facts are lacking. We interpret the subjective as well as the objective. If they insist on ignoring my findings. . . .
Lewmaklin, Lewmaklin. The name haunted . . . no, no, it did not haunt him! Was the representative right? Should he forget all about Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin, forget about secret intentions and deceptions?
He could not do that, any more than he could wipe his mind clean of all thoughts. Lewmaklin had wormed his way so deeply into Nuel society that he now had as many friends among the families as among his own kind.
Very well then, he thought, making a sudden decision. If the Council is not interested in my opinions then perhaps the Board of Operators on Terra may be. For it was evident that the human government was as ignorant of Lewmaklin's association with these Tremovan as were the Nuel. And if men and Tremovan were locked together in some ploy, then possibly the death of one suspicious psychologist might alert one or two among the Si to probing a little deeper into the records he would carefully leave behind. He prepared himself for a return to the eighty-three worlds of the UTW. . . .
Loo-Macklin walked into the massive bedroom and studied the figure napping on the bed. The circular canopy was an imaginarium, a specially coated metallic cloth sensitive to the thoughts of anyone resting beneath it. It was activated by dreams as well as by conscious imaginings.
At the moment it was filled with stars, unreal constellations, the clusters too close to one another for astronomical veracity. He watched them for awhile, then moved close to the bed and whispered to the supple woman recumbent upon it.
"Tambu. Tambu, wake up."
The woman stirred sleepily, rolled over, and stretched. Her tone was languorous. "Ah, lord and master of the big mouth. What is on your mind?"
He turned away from her. "I am about to embark on important work."
She made a face. She believed that in knowing him she had softened him somewhat. That in coming to understand him a little she had made him more human. Not that they'd grown close. The true Him remained always hidden from her and she could not pry it open. But for her, at least, the marriage consummated in jest on Terra had become real. He might be distant, but he was kind.
She was about to learn how little she knew him.
"You woke me up to tell me that?"
"That and one other thing, Tambu. We are separating."
Her inviting smile vanished. She seemed to age a dozen years in the space of a moment. The last star cluster flickered out overhead, leaving the marvelous canopy again only a sheet of silvery metal cloth, cold and empty. Cold and empty as the man hovering near her.
She sat up, propping herself with her hands and swinging her long legs over the side of the bed. "That's not funny, Kees."
"It's not meant to amuse you."
"You're lying to me. Testing me for some reason. You're always testing people, Kees."
"Not you, Tambu. Not this time, anyway."
"Then what the hell are you talking about?"
"We are separating. To go our different ways, proceed individually with our lives."
She shook her head slowly. "I don't . . . what have I done?"
"You've done nothing . . . overtly. This is necessary." His expression was grim. "You're gaining control over me, Tambu. Long ago I vowed I would never, ever permit that. Would never let another being gain the slightest control over my life."
"I've left you alone," she argued. "I never questioned where you went or what you did, even when you were gone months at a time. I've followed your lead in everything because I saw instantly how important it was to you. How have I exerted the slightest control over you? I don't understand."
He continued looking away from her, though whether to spare himself or her she could not tell. "Tambu, I believe I may be falling in love with you."
"Damn." She sat there silently, beneath the unfocused canopy. A desire had come true, a feeble wish neared fulfillment. This grand, unknowable, empty man had warmed to her at last. Because of that it seemed she might lose him.
"Is that so terrible that you can't cope with it? Can't you survive with love as well as without it, Kees?"
He made a curt, angry gesture with one hand, slicing the air. "Love is the most powerful kind of control. I will not permit it anymore than I would any other form of control."
"Kees, it's not weak to love another."
Now he turned to stare down at her, anguish mixing with determination in those penetrating blue eyes. "It is for me. Why do you think I've avoided children? Because that much love, that much control would ruin me forever."
Her fingers moved aimlessly, entwining, relaxing. "I know that tone of voice. There's nothing I can say to change your mind, is there?"
"No. I'm . . . sorry. This is my fault. I ought not to have done this to you."
Her smile was crooked. "Done this to me? You flatter yourself. I did this to me. I accepted you, not the other way around. You were a challenge, Kees. I thought I saw something else, something more in you where others see only ruthlessness and ugliness. I guess I was wrong. Or else I failed. Either way, it seems that I'm destined to lose."
"I'll see that you're amply provided for for the rest of your life." This was making him more uncomfortable than he'd believed possible. End it now, he told himself.
She laughed at him. To his very considerable surprise, he discovered that it hurt.
"The marriage seemed advisable at the time," he went on. "Certain important outside elements found it mollifying. And I was curious myself, never having tried it before. I did not expect . . . did not expect myself to be so threatened. It frightens me."
"Kees, Kees." She sighed tiredly. "Do you think that makes you unique?"
"That is part of the trouble, Tambu. I am unique." He stated it flatly, without pride. "I will not risk all that I have done."
"Of course you won't. Since I can't change your mind, I will abide by your wishes, Kees. Because you see, regardless of how you feel about me, I've come to love you."
He started to comment, decided not to, and strode from the room. He did not look back.
Two weeks later the word arrived that Tambu Tabuhan Loo-Macklin had died on Terra, in her
new crag house, of a carefully measured overdose of narcophene. Loo-Macklin accepted the information quietly and said nothing further about it to anyone, including Basright, though that sensitive old man noticed a slight slumping of his master's shoulders from that day on.
He's no normal man, the aged assistant thought. He's not Nuel either. He's made himself something else, something that partakes of both races and yet of something more than that. He's a prisoner, a prisoner of himself, and I don't know what he's done it for, or what it is.
But he had a feeling he was soon to find out.
On Twelfth Day Eighth Month Loo-Macklin entertained a visitor. The man who was wheeled into the audience chamber overlooking the ocean was wasted away beyond reach of medication, withered beyond hope of transplant redemption. He breathed only with the assistance of a respirator, which forced air into his exhausted lungs. His eyes were glazed and dry.
He dismissed his two nurses and was left alone with Loo-Macklin. They chatted for a while, interrupted only by the rasping, hacking bouts which shook a once vital body.
Then the ancient visitor bid Loo-Macklin come near with a wave of one crooked, weak finger. Loo-Macklin politely bent over the bed, admiring the tenacity of purpose which had brought this man across the gulf between the worlds simply so that his curiosity might be satisfied.
"A long time have I watched you, Kees vaan Loo-Macklin. One last thing would I ask you."
"If I'm able to answer I will, Counselor Momblent."
"Come closer." Loo-Macklin bent over the thin body and listened intently. He nodded, considered a moment, then whispered a reply.
"Louder. My hearing is not what it used to be, along with the rest of me."
So Loo-Macklin spoke more clearly into the counselor's ear. Momblent strained to make sense of the words. Then a smile spread across his parchment face and he began to cackle delightedly. The cackle became a cough and the nurses had to be summoned in haste.
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