Dushau tdt-1

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  The Lehiroh noted the changes, ordered the Holot to write them down, then opened the side of Jindigar’s bed frame and began manually adjusting settings. As the numbers for the others came onscreen, the Holot dictated them while writing them on the portable screenboard hanging at the foot of each bed. The Lehiroh made the adjustments. By the time he finished, Seum was stirring. Arlai dictated another change, and the whole thing was repeated twice more.

  At last Jindigar opened his eyes, peering about him Wearily. The windows had turned to reflective black as the lights came on. He raised his head on hunched shoulders, glimpsed the other two of his team, then collapsed back onto the bed with a gusty sigh. Then he saw Krinata. “You came!”

  Gratitude flooded from his eyes to hers, and she was warmed. Arlai called, “Jindigar, how do you feel?”

  Recognizing the voice, he twisted his head to catch sight of the screen. Krinata tilted the unit so he could see, and Arlai appeared behind the numerals. Computer and Immortal grinned at each other. Then Jindigar said, “I feel terrible. Are you doing this?”

  “All my fault. Want something for the headache?”

  “Sure. But nothing will blunt the other ache.”

  Then the other two Dushau were greeting Arlai, getting the whole story of Finemar’s embarrassment which could have been fatal to them, and dragging themselves to their feet to dress. The two attendants helped the others while Krinata fetched Jindigar’s tunic and shoes.

  Jindigar introduced Arlai to the piol, and petted it as he struggled into his clothing, and wound his turban. Then he placed the piol on top of his head, signed them all out of the infirmary and led the way back toward Krinata’s office, which was several stories underground.

  She halted them at the ground floor. “It’s well past working hours, and I just don’t want to go back there today.”

  Jindigar checked his leptolizer for the time. His was a simple, polished steel model, hardly longer than a finger, the old-fashioned, unadorned model that could do everything the cumbersome heraldry-decorated one could do, and weighed less than a third as much. The one the Emperor had given him hung at his belt with Fedeewarn’s.

  ”I didn’t realize it was so late. I’m sorry. You go on home, and we’ll check in at the embassy.”

  “The Dushau embassy is closed for the day.”

  “That’s peculiar,” said one of the Dushau.

  Realizing he owed introductions, Jindigar said, “Krinata, this is Dinai, Protector of Kamminth, and Seum, Formulator of Kamminth. Krinata Zavaronne, our debriefing officer. I’ve worked with her often, and found her most competent. Perhaps we even owe her our lives. But now I must get to a screen and talk privately to Arlai.”

  She noticed Jindigar’s teeth weren’t nearly as blue as they ought to be. “You all aren’t well enough to be running around hunting a hotel. Come on home with me. I’ve a guest room, and one of you can have the sitting room.” Seum was leaning against the wall as if he couldn’t stand upright, and Dinai was panting. Jindigar stood straight, but he was too stiff—resisting weakness. “I’ll order in some food, and you can reach Arlai privately. Use your leptolizer in my system, and even a Proctor’s trace would take all night.”

  “Proctor’s trace,” repeated Seum, a kind of creeping horror penetrating his dullness. “Jindigar…”

  “Hold fast, zunre. Krinata, we accept your kind offer.”

  They went down to the tube level and Krinata used her leptolizer to call a larger car than she’d used to get to work that morning. Even so, the three Dushau filled it. Must remember to use a Number Five with them! she thought, and clicked her leptolizer into the receptacle. Relaxing, she pivoted the seat to look at her wilted guests.

  Jindigar examined the comunit, then tried his leptolizer in its slot. “No. Only the new design will fit this. Krinata?”

  “I have the old-fashioned machine at home. I’ll just take off the adapter for you. Only a few minutes.”

  The indigo faces before her set into field-hardened endurance. It must have seemed like centuries to them, but was really only minutes. The lift put them a few steps from her apartment door. When her leptolizer beam touched the door, it evoked her moronic apartment Sentient who began her routine greeting and announcement of supper being served.

  “Wait a moment, Fiella,” she said. “Company.” She apologized to the Dushau. “Fiella isn’t in Arlai’s class, but she’s totally reliable.” Then she dropped her leptolizer into its home slot and asked, “Fiella, how would you like a friend to visit you for the evening?”

  Fiella put her simulacrum, an overweight grandmotherly human, on the sitting-room screen and made flustered sounds. Krinata warned Fiella, then pulled her leptolizer and the adapter out and motioned Jindigar to insert his and evoke Arlai. “They’ll get along well enough, I think. Fiella is always polite, and Arlai seems… cosmopolitan.”

  “That he is,” avered Jindigar.

  Seum and Dinai had stretched out flat on the rose carpet and were doing exercises as if they hurt all over, which she was sure they did after the convulsions. The piol sat watching them, head cocked to one side.

  The screen came alive with a full-length view of Fiella standing on a pink field, just the color of the sitting-room carpet, as Arlai walked on screen. The two greeted each other as if they were incarnates, and turned to face their audience. “How may we…” began Arlai, and then seemed to notice Seum and Dinai. “Are you trying to knock yourselves out?” he asked sharply.

  They stopped doing leg lifts, and Seum answered, rolling on his side. “From what we’ve learned, Arlai, we’d better get back into shape again quickly. Is there any faster way?”

  “You might eat something and get some sleep first!” Arlai answered with the anger of the overprotective.

  When Jindigar said, “Agreed,” Fiella glanced at Arlai with genuine respect. “Arlai, send us—and Krinata—a good meal, then we’ll confer over these latest developments. Meanwhile, get us an update on Finemar’s condition.”

  “Done!” answered Arlai, earning another marveling look from Fiella. “Survey Base Infirmary has been shut down, all in-patients transferred to Groundschool Hospital. They’re talking about deprogramming Finemar. I’ve been recommending mercy; none of this was his fault.”

  Dinai sat up, hugging his knees to pull his toes out of the piol’s grip. “What do you mean? Whose fault was it?”

  “Someone with a very high-priority leptolizer amended his programs and inserted blinds so he wouldn’t notice his oversights. It was a flesh agency, not a Sentient. My only clue is that when Fedeewarn died, a Lehiroh male of very high birth was trying to question her.”

  “Question her,” said Seum, awestruck at the audacity or stupidity. “Arlai, who was it?” He raked the room with a glance, as if searching for the threat. “That man is three times a murderer.”

  “I realize that. I’ve been trying to reach our embassy, but their Sentient doesn’t answer.”

  Jindigar swept the piol up, fondled it, and asked, “Arlai, do you remember the Interregnum—Casey’s Planet? That’s our situation, I think. My mind is clearing, but I’m still not sure….”

  The Interregnum had ended with the birth of the Allegiancy. Krinata had never heard of Casey’s Planet.

  Arlai said thoughtfully, “They’re coming tomorrow to give me the new programming—”

  Jindigar lunged forward on his seat. “Countermand!” he said. “Don’t let anyone—repeat anyone—tamper with your programming. Tell them I’ve restricted your servicing to Dushaun Station only. Let them deal with me.”

  “Acknowledged,” answered Arlai crisply.

  “These matters,” said Fiella in a kindly tone, “are way beyond my comprehension, but I do know your supper has arrived. May I serve you? You all must be famished.”

  Jindigar nodded. “Please, Fiella; you’re marvelous. Arlai, keep trying to get through to the ambassador. Use all expediency, on my authority, but don’t let your requests be traceable to me by any lo
cal agency. Wipe all groundside records, and keep yours under seal. Understood?”

  “Use graytime procedures. Understood.” He executed an obeisance to Jindigar, made a courteous bow to Fiella and took his leave of her as if she were a lady of the high court. She clasped her fluttering hands before her ample bosom and sighed.

  As they all rose, Jindigar took Krinata aside. “Now think very hard. Do you really want to harbor us? It could be very dangerous for you; if not to your life, then to your career.”

  “I don’t see why. This is all some ghastly mistake, Jindigar, and as soon as the Emperor—”

  “Krinata, it’s the Emperor who’s behind it. Not the hand that wakened Fedeewarn, but the one who ordered it done while he detained us. Think! Where is the Dushau delegation? What is going on here?”

  She shook her head, bewildered. “I don’t know.”

  “Only two things are evident. You’re going to see the end of a galactic civilization. And the Dushau are going to be blamed for all the ills attendant on that disintegration.”

  “Now, I really think you’re exaggerating—no, you’re just plain wrong. The Dushau are known as the staunchest supporters of the Allegiancy. You’ve done more for our growth and continuance than any other single species.”

  “That’s not wholly true. We take a passive stance in your affairs, for it’s up to Ephemerals to choose how Ephemerals will be governed. But once you’ve chosen, we will support your choice, and your right to rechoose. Yet we’re often blamed when things go wrong. I’m not episodic; my memory is functioning properly now, so believe me. If you befriend us, you’re endangering yourself. Say the word, and we’ll leave right now. Arlai can eradicate all trace of our presence, and you’ll only have to account for why you pulled us out of the infirmary. Finemar’s collapse is good enough reason for that. You’ll be clear.”

  She looked at the door, then at the blank screen where Arlai had treated Fiella with such courtesy. How could she turn out three tottering Dushau? What if they collapsed, as Arlai seemed to feel they might? It would be her fault. Then she stopped kidding herself. She wasn’t going to turn them out, because they were good people, and such were hard enough to find in any world. “Look, I don’t believe it’s like that. There may be some rotten people in high places, but the Allegiancy will come through on your side. You’re not going anywhere tonight. Now get in there and eat your supper before I evoke Arlai and get him down on you!”

  He stepped back. “Yes, Zavaronne. If that is what you wish. We’re grateful—and obligated.” He made obeisance to her, just a shade less than if she’d been Empress. There wasn’t a hint of mockery in it, either.

  Embarrassed, she rushed about, putting the piol out on the balcony with a dish of water and some scraps of food, then hustling Jindigar in to wash up while the aroma of rich, Dushau fare wafted through the apartment.

  Once they were all seated about her small table, and Fiella had sent her serving scurry around to present each of them with choices of entree and beverage, Krinata heaved a sigh. There wasn’t anything sinister going oh. It was just one of those things that were bound to happen when a government got as big and unwieldy as the Allegiancy.

  They were hardly finished eating when Arlai came onto the dining-room screen and announced, “Jindigar, I’ve got Ambassador Trinarvil. She wants to speak with you—privately.”

  THREE

  Proctor’s Arrest

  They adjourned to the sitting room where the screen was larger, taking their drinks with them. Seum lingered to thank Fiella. A scurry set out dishes of fruit as Jindigar brought Ambassador Trinarvil onto the screen, leaving a window in one corner with a headshot of Arlai’s simulacrum.

  Trinarvil was a small Dushau woman with anxious features and a high voice which nevertheless carried authority. Her plush indigo skin was darker than Jindigar’s, almost as dark as Lelwatha had been, denoting truly advanced age. Yet she made full formal obeisance to Jindigar.

  He waved that aside. “It’s almost time to forget that silly title forever.”

  She grinned, showing healthy blue teeth. “Before we discuss sensitive material, we must secure this line.”

  “Indeed. Arlai, can you subordinate to Kitholpen?”

  “Assuredly.” Arlai’s image was replaced by another Dushau, paler indigo, with a higher bridge to his nose than Krinata had ever seen on a Dushau.

  “Your pardon,” requested the new Sentient, whom Krinata assumed ran the Dushau embassy. The screen broke up, hissed alarmingly, then settled into a reddish image of Trinarvil.

  “Secure,” announced Jindigar.

  “Secure,” agreed Trinarvil. “Now—”

  “Where were you this afternoon?” asked Jindigar.

  “Consultation with home. For months, there have been rumors. Yesterday, word came of the first anti-Dushau riot. You haven’t heard?”

  Seum and Dinai were obviously shocked, but Jindigar said calmly, “So soon. Shocking how quickly Ephemerals turn.”

  The conversation was in the modern Dushauni Krinata had studied, but she often lost the sense. She concentrated, intending to look up later what she missed now.

  “It’s only in the outlying districts so far, but it seems imperial agitators are behind it, as usual. Blaming the food shortages at space bases on us, accusing us of emptying the throne and then manipulating the government to our own profit. All vague enough to stimulate imagination, evading challenges for proof. The pattern, though, is clear.”

  “The next step may be already at hand,” said Jindigar sadly. “Open indictment by the Imperial Court.”

  “Rantan laid the groundwork for that yesterday,” the ambassador agreed, “addressing Parliament, obliquely hinting that Oliat teams could be withholding information on planets with agricultural or mining potential. He implied that since most of us expect to live through the next galactic civilization, we might hold back information that would buy us high places in that government. With our lifespan, he said, we’ve no reason to abhor the starvation of Ephemerals that collapse of the Allegiancy would bring. In fact, the end of the Empire would be to our advantage since it would hasten the New Age which we could engineer any way we chose, since we know where the richest planets are hidden.”

  “The man’s insane,” judged Seum.

  “Probably,” allowed Dinai. “But his logic will appeal.”

  ‘Today,” said Jindigar, “he was probing for concrete evidence. He asked about Raichmat. And I believe he sent someone to question Fedeewarn while he kept us busy. I saw dismay on his face when Kamminth and Lelwatha collapsed. He didn’t intend that. Advisors or no, he didn’t believe the nature of the Oliat.”

  “Arlai told me your story. He lifted recordings of the entire grisly episode, even the questioning in the imperial private chambers. They don’t make them like Arlai anymore.”

  Jindigar agreed while Trinarvil looked down at the table before her, working some invisible controls. “Someone’s trying to crack our screening,” she announced. “Briefly, Jindigar, I’ve been in conference with home and our best Historians and Sentients. We discussed hundreds of rumors, half-facts, and planetary trends. The consensus was clear. The Allegiancy is tumbling over the brink of disintegration, and trying to blame us. We’re sending out retrieval missions to the Oliat teams in the field, and we’re withdrawing all our embassies and consulates, breaking off diplomatic relations, before they openly indict us. Onerir is being evacuated tomorrow morning. Meet us at Overlook Station as the terminator crosses it—”

  “No,” said Jindigar.

  Into Trinarvil’s puzzled silence, Seum said, “We can’t leave Kamminth, Lelwatha and Fedeewarn—”

  “Bring—” started Trinarvil.

  Jindigar cut her off. “Under the circumstances, I’m sure Rantan has already denied permission to remove the bodies from Onerir. Your only chance of pulling out without being stopped is to go swiftly, without announcing intent—”

  “We’re not leaving anyone behind,” declar
ed Trinarvil.

  Jindigar silently consulted Seum and Dinai, then said, “Kamminth’s Oliat contracted to survey three worlds. We found one colonial, and haven’t debriefed on it yet. For Kamminth’s sake, we must debrief. You’ve served Oliat—”

  “Yes, I understand. But the danger—”

  “We’re still in the field,” said Dinai. “Hazard is part of that life.”

  “There’s one other point,” added Jindigar. “I’m under direct imperial edict to submit a complete and detailed report of the Raichmat Surveys. I’m sworn to the Allegiancy Emperor, as he is to me. I’m not so naive as to believe myself safe from him. But for the Oliat, and for Dushaun, I must carry out imperial commands before I leave.”

  Trinarvil frowned gravely out of the screen, meeting Jindigar’s eyes in a silent contest that lasted longer than any Krinata had ever witnessed. Finally, Trinarvil said, “You’ve always been such a stubborn kid.”

  “And you always told me my attitude would get me into a final trouble one day. Perhaps this is the day, and your prophecy will be vindicated.”

  “Would that I were wrong.” She turned to the other two Dushau. “You’re with him?”

  The two looked to Jindigar as if he were their Outreach

  still. He asked, “It could be otherwise? You knew Lelwatha and Kamminth. You knew Kamminth’s.”

  “Arlai,” said Trinarvil, “do you agree to this?”

  “Without reservation,” said Arlai’s voice.

  After deliberating, Trinarvil said, “Another prophecy then. One day, I’ll serve in Jindigar’s Oliat.”

  Jindigar grinned. “It’s a deal! I’ll see you there!”

  The red haze shrank until Trinarvil’s figure was sharply outlined. She made another formal obeisance and faded.

  The silence was so deep Krinata could hear the ice melting in their forgotten drinks. She understood the ambassador was leaving Onerir and Jindigar was staying, but the reasons had escaped her. Nearly an hour later, still in total silence Dinai and Seum rose and went into the guest room she’d given them.