“All right, take me to Margo,” said Krinata, “and show me what makes it such a great planet to live on.”
The scientific data already flowed across her screens, streams of numbers, equations, parameters and analyses, life-typings and ranges. But how many prospective colonists could take those numbers and create the awesome three-dimensional image that formed in the green haze before Krinata’s chair.
A sneer cliff of red marble rose to a magenta and silver sky. A frothy white waterfall crashed downward, spuming outward on both sides. Enormous winged creatures, blue and turquoise, floated in the updrafts beside the cliff, diving and calling musically to one another, occasionally snapping up some water creature that had been swept over the fall and was tumbling downward through the air.
It was thrilling, breathtaking, beautiful enough to make her cry with yearning to go there. Suddenly r the rare magic happened. Once in ten debriefings, her imagination transported her into a waking dream, fully fleshed out and dimensionally real, as if her brain centers were directly stimulated. She became one of the Oliat officers walking the surface of the new planet, breathing its scents, testing its air on her skin, knowing it intimately with both mind and body. The fine line between intellectual imagination and living dream could not be crossed purposively. When it came, she had to relax and let it happen.
Sleep-deprived, emotionally exhausted, she needed to dream. This precious experience had never happened with Jindigar before, and somewhere within was the shrill panic that she’d never have this chance again. She grabbed for it avidly, and found it easy to float away to Margo.
The scene panned around and she saw the foothills rippling away into a plain covered with blue and mint green forest, dotted with lakes. They moved through the air until she could see the edge of the forest, and then an infinite rolling plain with tall waving grasses, grazing herds, streams and lakes. A long-tailed, streamlined silver bird dove into one of the mirror-bright lakes and came up with a big, fat wriggling creature. The bird perched on a boulder and feasted undisturbed. Part of her could become that bird.
Krinata asked aloud, “What eats the fisher-bird?”
Her skeptical curiosity, trained to parallel that of prospective settlers, was her most valuable contribution. Simple holographs could show what the exploring or developing teams wanted customers to see. She had to use the creativity of the Oliat to present the world as it really was.
As they watched, a sinuous pouncing creature stalked the feasting bird. Figures for its height and weight, its poisonous claws, and the size of its ripping teeth—as well as the fact that it would gladly attack mammals—flowed unseen across Krinata’s screen. It was Clorinda’s job to synthesize that data with the Oliat’s created visions.
The pouncer attacked. The fisher abandoned its kill and flew at the pouncer. The fight raged back and forth across the meadow, Krinata living each side simultaneously. The fisher won, finally gutting and pecking at the pouncer’s entrails. She cut off the pain/triumph and focused on the animal species population statistics on her screen.
“What would happen to this land with both these species exterminated?”
The grasses withered, the streams and lakes expanded, eroding the soil. She felt an inward searing desolation.
“Could we build a city here?”
A city sprang up—as the Oliat knew it must look if built here. Shiny buildings repelled the oppressive summer heat, vehicles swarmed through the air and on the ground, surface transports roared in with produce and provisions for the thriving metropolis. A canal was dug to channel the abundant water of the lowland, and ships nosed up and down that waterway, visiting other outlying towns. It could be one of the more pleasant and prosperous places to live.
“Show me how this city fits onto the world map. Let’s see what this world would look like fully developed.”
Years flew before her eyes as the Oliat extrapolated how habitation would spread and shift the planet ecology. She felt the ideal site for the spaceport, and how building it there would turn a swamp into a desert within a century. She saw how they’d have to fight the sand to keep the ships moving, how slender a thread the economy of that planet would hang from as agricultural export was their only means of buying the technology of the galaxy.
But it was no worse than anyplace else.
“Show me the life a typical settler can expect ten years from Opening.” An instant before it appeared on her screen, an image of a hillside farm etched through her mind and she was there. A prefab house flanked by standard outbuildings stood in the center, shaded by the remains of a grove of trees. The blue and mint leaves were falling; they had a peculiar but lovely odor. In the distance, she could hear the buzz of a reaper harvesting a field of noddies—grass with heavy seed pods. Fruit trees stood about the house. A small kitchen garden thrived behind the barn. There were already three silos for the harvest. Tamed native animals romped with some human or Lehiroh children while a couple of men and a woman labored over an outdoor grill to prepare a supper for the fieldhands. Peace soaked her nerves.
The area seen from above revealed a community of farms which pooled their resources to buy and run harvest and planting equipment. A good life; Krinata revelled in the deep personal satisfaction, the peace and joy never found on an urbanized, industrialized planet.
Oliat perceptions extended, she walked toward the farmhouse. A part of her mind complained she was sinking too deeply into the dream state, and searched out a question: What dangers lurked here in the wilderness?
Suddenly, the sky was swept with darkness. Purple, black and yellow clouds boiled up from the horizon. A funnel cloud dipped down and ripped a channel across the harvested field, gathering dirt and chaff—and several human bodies—as it roared toward her. A huge reaper was lifted from the nearby field and dragged along the ground to slam into the barn, scattering timber and glass everywhere. She ran.
A roof beam landed amid the children, smashing one of them, spattering Lehiroh blood on the others who were swept away in the wind to be deposited grotesquely on the porch, battered but still alive.
“No!” yelled Krinata.
But dream had turned to nightmare. The roaring, battering monster corkscrewed toward her, sucked her up and tried to tear her limb from limb, and then dashed her indigo body into hard, infinite pain.
She woke to see in the holoimage before her, a stalwart Dushau female she knew immediately as Taaryesh, Kamminth’s Outreach, sprawled brokenly against a tree.
“No!” she shouted again, ripping the contacts from her skin, trying to get to Jindigar. “Tully!”
Jindigar groaned, arched backward in a spasm, then curled on his side, moaning in long, shuddering sobs. He was wailing in a keen voice by the time Krinata got to him. The other two Dushau were clutching each other helplessly,
Damn my imagination! Just let him be all right, and I’ll never let it loose again!
The doors burst open and the Holot guards converged on the Dushau.
FOUR
Mistake
“What’s going on!” demanded a deep male voice.
It wasn’t the Cassrian guard leader. It was Arlai, superimposed over the data on Krinata’s screen. She spared him only a glance, struggling to haul Jindigar’s shaking body back from the edge of the recliner.
As the Holot guards formed up around the Dushau, Krinata ignored them and called to Arlai, “We were extrapolating Margo’s planet. A tornado ripped through a farm, killing…”
Arlai interrupted. “They’ve relived Taaryesh’s death, projecting it into your extrapolation?”
“Yes,” said Krinata, shuddering at the memory of the twisted Dushau female’s body. “That must be it.”
“Jindigar is in Taaryesh’s Office, so he’s experienced her death and her loss. Hold him still, Krinata.”
Thus warned, she was braced when Arlai used the telemband still around Jindigar’s arm to inject something which caused Jindigar to convulse once more. If she hadn’t been holding him, he’d have f
allen off the recliner.
His breathing normalized, and his eyes opened to fix on hers. His bewilderment gradually cleared, and he whispered, “Krinata. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.”
She pressed him back onto the recliner. “It was my fault.” The other two Dushau were recovering, a horrible tension graven into their indigo forms, faces buried in then” hands. She stood, one knee resting on Jindigar’s recliner, and twisted to ask Arlai, “Are they all right now?”
The Dushau Sentient nodded, but the Cassrian broke in. “I have my orders. This debriefing is declared finished. Wipe that Sentient out of your terminal, Lady Zavaronne.”
She drew breath, offended to her bone marrow. She was on her professional turf, and she was not going to yield this time. But Arlai discreetly withdrew, murmuring apologies for intruding on an ultimate privacy. She stood straight and confronted the Cassrian. “I say when a session is completed.” She had no intention of asking these three for more, but she wanted the intruders out of her domain.
“You have enough to complete a prospectus, omitting the final ugly incident of course. These Dushau have just committed an act of sabotage, falsifying imperial records, just as we were warned to expect. We have our orders to carry out, now. Lady Zavaronne, stand aside.” The guards moved as if to yank her away from Jindigar, so she yielded slightly, trying to think. The Cassrian turned to Jindigar, made an ironic obeisance, and said, “Prince Jindigar, by order of the Emperor, you are to accompany us.”
“I haven’t finished the Raichmat report the Emperor wanted,” countered Jindigar, raising himself but suppressing a groan. He rolled to his feet, putting one hand on Krinata’s shoulder. “Perhaps I might be allowed another day? And with time, I could complete this debriefing properly.”
Krinata fully expected the Cassrian to bow and say he’d relay these wishes to the Emperor. Instead, he motioned to his Holot. They pointed their leptolizers at the Dushau. The wands were emitting the gray haze and high-pitched whine that warned of active weapons’ functions. “My orders are explicit. You will come with us.”
Jindigar scanned his zunre, then spoke for them. “Let us discuss this with the Emperor.” He dressed unhurriedly and led the way out of the office without looking back.
Krinata stood in the middle of the floor and stared at the closed door, all thought paralyzed. None of this should be happening. It couldn’t be. Just couldn’t.
After a while, the sound of Imp scratching at the door and whimpering brought her out of it. She picked up the piol and sat in her own guest chair, absently soothing him. When she told herself it wasn’t what it seemed, some part of her knew she was kidding herself. Yet she couldn’t believe it.
Her console was alight with requests from her staff. It was almost quitting time. She dragged herself to her desk and issued the wrap-up order. If they weren’t as badly thrown as she was, they’d have the prospectus ready for publication by noon tomorrow. It would be a short one, but at least the scientific specs would be complete.
As she was sitting there, still unable to flog her brain into operation, the busy flow across her screen flicked aside, the imperial seal came into three-dimensional focus, and the Allegiancy anthem blared from the speakers.
The scene cleared to Rantan Lord Zinzik seated behind an enormous glittering desk. He seemed taller. Possibly his chair was higher than normal. He was in full regalia, complete with imperial green cloak and crown.
As a sonorous Lehiroh voice presented Rantan, her inner tension dissolved. He’s going to stop this nonsense!
“Loyal subjects of the Allegiancy,” read Rantan in a stilted accent. “We come before you to make a most fateful announcement. Grim though it be, the results should bring good cheer, for this means the end of our troubles.
“This morning, at dawn over the Empire’s Capital, the Dushaun embassy withdrew from Onerir. At the same time, the outlying consulates of Dushaun on Onerir and elsewhere in the Allegiancy have been emptied. This means Dushaun has chosen to sever all ties with the Allegiancy.
“Although the Dushau have not confessed, their reason is no mystery to your Emperor. Our recent, vigorous investigation of the Dushau conspiracy has finally shown them that they cannot get away with it any more. No longer will we be tied to the decrees of Dushau exploration teams saying ‘This planet is habitable. This one not,’ thus controlling the speed and direction of the Allegiancy’s growth. No longer will they strangle our prosperity, creating food shortages on some planets, economic ruin on others.
“Now that we are free of this conspiracy, all of these ills will be easily corrected.
“Our investigation continues into the Dushau Historians’ “liberate misrepresentation of the downfall of the Corporate
League, the Allegiancy’s inept predecessor. Their sedition will not be tolerated. There is no similarity between our current transient difficulties and the ending of the League, for we, unlike them, know that the Dushau are causing this, and we are putting a stop to it. Our laws have long ago prevented the Dushau from the heartless use of the only other species with a lifespan comparable to theirs—their natural allies, the Sentients—as tools to gain power and wreak destruction. We are promulgating a new law which will prevent them from using our own citizenry against us.
“From this day forward, falsifying or disseminating data supporting the Dushau is hereby made an offense against the Crown, punishable by death.
“Meanwhile, our main thrust will be to open as many new planets as possible in the next year. All Dushau remaining among us will be rounded up and transported to their home planet which will be set under the strictest quarantine. Every individual who has been deeply involved in the affairs of any Dushau will be investigated and brought to trial where there is any suspicion of conspiracy with the Immortals.
“If you’re tempted to side with them, consider! Since we’ve ended their secret manipulation of the Allegiancy, your Dushau ‘friend’ doesn’t mind destroying your Empire, for he will be around to engineer the next civilization, and carve out a position of influence for him and his species. Meanwhile, you and your children and grandchildren will suffer deprivations beyond your comprehension. And their grandchildren will bow under the yoke of Dushau domination.
“Anyone who cannot see these simple facts, be warned. Imperial justice will prevail, and health will return to the Allegiancy. Neither the Dushau nor anyone else will be allowed to overthrow this Crown. We have declared it.”
The image of the Emperor dissolved and was overlaid by the imperial seal. The final, stirring strains of the anthem rose to a crescendo.
There were tears in Krinata’s eyes, but not, this time, from a heart bursting with pride and patriotism. She had suddenly realized she’d never see Jindigar again. And he had been swept away somewhere, half out of his mind with disorientation and grief He had struggled so hard to serve the Emperor, and all he’d gotten for it was the most stupid accusation of conspiracy she’d ever heard of.
She put her face in her hands and let the unreasonable sobs come. How can an Emperor make such a mistake? They won’t let him get away with it. They won’t. But she knew that any backpeddling the Kings forced Zinzik to do would, for the sake of gracefulness, keep the Dushau bottled up on their home world. An Emperor could stop an action, but not admit to a mistake of that magnitude. Without the Dushau, her life’s ambitions would never be realized. And without Jindigar… She refused to finish that thought. She’d buried people closer to her than Jindigar. She would survive and go on. At least he’s not dead.
Imp climbed into her lap and licked at the tears until she got hold of herself. Tears never solved anything, but they dissolved a lot of barriers. She hadn’t wanted to face it, but now she knew. Their new Emperor was not fit to command a single Sentient let alone an Empire. If that knowledge was what he termed treason, then so be it.
He’s fabricated this Dushau conspiracy to buy time. She knew how desperately the Empire needed time to mend its trade basis from the series of statisti
cal anomalies: massive crop failures; natural disasters closing down mining plants; major companies in interstellar trade going bankrupt, leaving contracted deliveries unfilled; three plagues; two widely distributed food additives that interfered with the reproductive cycles of a half dozen species; the ecological collapse of a chlorine-breathing species’ home world which even two Oliat teams couldn’t stop—ail striking during the last three decades. But she couldn’t condone gaining time by blaming any species, let alone the one the Allegiancy owed the most to.
She’d never met a dishonest Dushau; certainly not an Oliat officer. Zinzik was planning to send thousands of colonists to their deaths on unlivable worlds, or to destroy the ecologies if worlds in order to mine their resources.
She couldn’t imagine a power-mad Dushau. They’d even refused a seat in the College of Kings that set the rotation of the throne among the species. She knew no Oliat would falsify their findings, and she was unwilling to believe the Historians did. She could almost see from the Immortal point-of-view, and there was no motive to meddle in Ephemeral affairs. Why should I care who’s king among mayflies?
She didn’t know the cause of the ills of the Allegiancy. It couldn’t be very serious, but even if it was, Zinzik’s tactics were bound to be ineffective and ignored by all sensible people, who were busy solving the real problems.
Still shaking from nervous reaction, she went into the office’s bathroom to wash, and discovered chaos. In the dressing room, drawers had been emptied onto the floor, clothing pulled down and turned inside out, seams ripped open. Shoes were scattered about. In the bathroom, her medicine cabinet had been emptied into a heap in the bathtub. The toilet tank had been taken apart, but at least they’d turned off the water first. The sink drain-trap had been opened and crud spattered on the carpet.
Searched! She found one clean towel in the closet, and damp-wiped her face. But she felt personally violated—ravaged by a beast. Not an immortal one, though.
Indignation warred with common sense and her upbringing. She wanted to storm Imperial Guard Headquarters, demanding careers be terminated for this outrage. She wanted to throw her rank around as she never had before. But she held back as the Emperor’s words finally sank in. Anyone deeply associated with the Dushau—that meant anyone working for Survey– was suspect of a capital offense against the Crown.
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