Balance of Power

by Stableford, Brian

  It was not the role I would have chosen, but I saw no choice. It had been thrust upon me. There seemed to be no other way to come to terms with the Ore’l. They had to be allowed to think about the situation in their own terms—it would be futile and stupid to try and force them into an alien world view. And if I could have myself declared ilah’y’su by the orthodox...then surely there was some chance for the establishment of friendly relations between Ak’lehr and the colony. The word of Y’su would be helping instead of hindering.

  While I stood there waiting and watching, I realized that it was the only way. While Bernhard Verheyden’s voice had been the voice of a god there could be very little hope. That voice had to be replaced by one that would give the Ore’l an attitude that would permit them to approach the matter of contact with the colony constructively and productively.

  I looked at Ul’el, and realized that he was pleased. The full significance of what he’d said when I was in his room finally struck me. This was precisely what he wanted. I was his lever to get rid of the Verheyden children. I realized then that he had set me up for this. He had prepared the way for me in advance.

  I couldn’t help feeling a little frustrated at the way I’d been caught up in the political maneuvering within the college, but everything seemed to be working out. I was relaxing within myself when the next question caught me totally off-balance.

  “Where is the ship that brought you here?” asked Ik’ri.

  It wasn’t just me who was surprised. I could tell by the way he started that this was a new line to Ul’el as well.

  I had always avoided the question before, though Jan knew and had presumably passed on the information to his brothers and sister.

  There was no reasonable alternative to the truth, so I told it: “The crew of the ship was frightened by its experiences in the forest. They abandoned the three of us and set sail back to the colony.”

  “They did not go back to the colony,” said Ik’ri.

  I felt a lump in my throat as I tried to speak. Of course they hadn’t gone back to the colony. Mariel had done everything in her power to make sure that they couldn’t go back.

  It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  “Sailing north,” said Ik’ri. “They have attacked two coastal villages, killing many people. They have guns—the fishermen have none. The humans came ashore to steal food. The fishermen would have given it to them for the asking, but they did not ask. They fired their guns instead.”

  Ul’el didn’t like this kind of surprise. I could see that he was angry. He didn’t know whether to be angry at Ik’ri, for not having told him this, or at me. Ik’ri was impassive. I wished I knew how angry he was, inside...and whether he intended to blame me.

  Silently, I cursed Ogburn many, many times.

  “They’re frightened men,” I said. “They’re short of supplies...but there’s another reason why they’re reluctant to go home. They abandoned us—left us for dead. They were reluctant to commit murder, but that’s what they were doing, in the final analysis.” I took a deep breath. “What you must do is this. The ship will land again—they can’t have stolen much from the villages, and ultimately they’ll have to make a more definite move. You must watch for her, and send soldiers to the coastal towns. When next she comes to shore, set an ambush. They have very few guns, and they must be very short of ammunition by now. With superior forces and firepower your people will be able to destroy them. That is what you must do.”

  There was another silence. Ik’ri’s eyes never left my face. I kept my expression rigid.

  If there was one thing that could make the situation worse and wreck any hope of a sensible outcome to the whole thing it was Ogburn and his merry men attempting to shoot up the empire. If only they’d tried to go home...if only Mariel hadn’t gone to such lengths to stop them going home....

  They had to be destroyed. And I had to sanction their destruction. There was no other way I could hold my position of newly won influence. If I allowed myself to be associated in their minds with Ogburn and his murderous crew then I was finished as a diplomatic force here. If I could have put a stop to the epidemic with an airy wave of the hand it might have been different—I’d have been in a position of real power. But what I was offering was so much less than that—just a chance of stopping next year’s epidemic. A miracle, maybe...but one that had to be taken on trust. They had to trust me for more than half a year while I couldn’t show them a single thing in terms of results. If they decided not to trust me....

  This latest news wasn’t going to do a lot for the image of humans in Ak’lehr. If the population was already incensed because it was believed we were spreading plague, the news that a human pirate ship was massacring people up and down the coast was really going to stir them up. If Ul’el had waited just one more day he might have found a plan that offered him a much, much easier way of getting rid of the church’s human advisors. I knew—and so did he—that Ik’ri had held back this information deliberately.

  “And the colony?” asked Ur’shere. “When its masters discover that we have destroyed their people and taken their ship? What will they think of us?”

  “Nieland is one of the colony’s masters,” I told him. “He was one of those left to die. The colony’s masters will know that what you did was right. But if you were to return the ship...and perhaps capture one or two of the crewmen alive...it would all help to smooth things over.”

  I think the last idiomatic phrase defeated them, but they caught the meaning anyhow.

  Ik’ri nodded. “Ilah’y’su will sail tomorrow,” he said, with an air of finality. I had to take the rest on trust. They were offering no commitments.

  But there was one more question I had to ask.

  “What about Piet?” I said.

  “We will take care of Piet,” said Ul’el, quietly.

  I turned to walk out of the courtyard, ducking under a low branch of one of the ornamental trees. I didn’t feel like a man who’d brought off a diplomatic coup. I felt like a man who’d just betrayed two groups of his fellow men. It wasn’t much of a consolation being fairly sure that Nathan would be proud of me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  There seemed to be a lot to do with what was left of the day. I ate with Nieland, and compared notes about our respective interviews with the magisters. They hadn’t mentioned the little matter of the New Hope and her coastal raids—they’d been more concerned with sounding him out on the subject of the colony. They had, however, issued an invitation to him to stay in Ak’lehr as long as he cared to. I told him about Ogburn’s piratical activities and what I’d advised. He didn’t seem in the least bothered by it. He seemed to figure that Ogburn and the crew deserved anything they got. His only concern was for the future of his ship. I assured him that the Ore’l would recover it for him if they got the chance. I tried to impress upon him once again the importance of his role in Ak’lehr, but only succeeded in irritating him. He knew the score now.

  After the meal I went back to the labs to begin preparing material for the trip home. I needed samples of blood serum, of dead parasites, and of live animals to provide me with a source of fresh parasites back in the colony. I talked at some length to Jan and Al’ha about arrangements for maintaining the animals on the long voyage. Jan seemed to have accepted the situation as it was. He hadn’t seen Piet since I’d talked to the magisters.

  Christian helped me to make preparations for the voyage, and so did Mariel when she finally woke up. With one thing and another we were busy just about all evening. I got back to my own room to pack up my personal belongings well after dark.

  I wasn’t really surprised to find someone waiting for me. I had, in fact, half expected Piet to be there. The only surprise was that it wasn’t Piet but Anna.

  “Hello,” I said, levelly. I think I spoke rather more loudly than was necessary. She made a gesture that suggested I keep my voice down.

  “Wh
y?” I said, in a stage whisper. “Who’s listening?”

  “Piet has been arrested,” she said.

  “Arrested?”

  “He was summoned by Ik’ri. He was with the magisters for a long time. When he came out, he was under guard. Now Charles and Jan have been summoned. Christian and I will presumably be next.”

  Her voice was low, and she was putting some effort into keeping it level. She didn’t speak in the tone of someone imparting information—more as one who demands an explanation.

  “I think Piet may have been given an expulsion order,” I said, deciding that there was no point in beating about the bush. “I don’t know—it’s nothing to do with me—but I suspect he’s to be sent home. To the colony, that is.”

  “This is your doing,” she said.

  “Not the way you mean,” I told her. “Though if it were my decision, I think I’d do the same. Our coming here merely provided the excuse...not even that, simply a convenient opportunity. The Ore’l don’t need Piet any more. They haven’t needed him for years. And he isn’t even useful. Not as useful as Jan, or Charles, or Christian. All they needed was a new way to look at the situation...a way that let them off the hook as far as squaring what they wanted to do with what they thought they ought to do. Not just Ul’el, but the others too.”

  “Are we all to be sent to Lambda on Ilah’y’su?” she asked bitterly.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “Nieland has been invited to stay. Jan, at least, will return with the ship. I think Christian will return too—probably as the one who implements the plan I’ll be able to set in motion from Lambda. Someone will have to spread the virus to fight the disease. It needn’t be me. In many ways, it would be best for one of your family to do it. But it has to be Christian. He’ll accept a new definition of his mission here. Piet never would.”

  “Christian is not of the family,” she said, acidly. The bile must really have risen into her throat to make her say it. The venom in her voice directed toward her youngest brother—or half-brother—was as fierce as anything Piet could have mustered.

  “I think he feels the same way,” I retorted sharply. “Who gave him that scar around his eye?”

  She didn’t answer. There didn’t seem to be all that many possibilities. I wouldn’t have needed three guesses.

  “What about Jan and Charles?” I asked. “They’ll accept the situation, won’t they?”

  She wanted to deny it—I could see her struggling to produce the denial. But it wouldn’t come. She knew only too well that when they came from their conference with the magisters they wouldn’t be under guard. They wouldn’t have to be. They weren’t going to like me for what had happened, but for better or worse they had already taken sides against Piet.

  “Jan was a fool,” she said. “He should never have brought you here. And Charles....”

  “Maybe it was Y’su’s will,” I said, with the irony setting my voice like steel. I wasn’t in the mood to be gentle.

  I watched the anger flare up in her face, and then watched it fade away. I was puzzled by the way it faded.

  “Is it really such a bad thing?” I said, quietly now. “Did you really want it to go on forever? How can your father’s resentment of the colony mean anything to you? Even if he drummed it into you from the moment you were born...he might have infected you with it but he could never have made it mean anything to you. The colony is where your own people are. Human beings. You can’t shut yourself away from the colony forever—it exists. It’s there. You don’t have to live there, to be a part of it, but you can’t exclude it from your scheme of being. What kind of life do you think this is...you and your four brothers a little enclave in an alien society? If that’s the way you want it, all right—but at least look at the alternatives. At least be prepared to make contact with other human beings. You are human, you know.”

  The anger rose again within her as I spoke. It came to the boil and died back, but remained—seething and simmering beneath the surface. I could understand it. I was the destroyer, who’d come from outside and turned her world upside down, opening it up to all kinds of possibilities that she’d never considered save in the idlest of dreams. Maybe it would be for the best—maybe she could see that it might be—but for the moment she was estranged, frightened, full of anger....

  When she stood up I thought she was going to hit me. But as she clenched her fist the impulse was countered by something else. She stood, almost trembling with effort as her feelings conflicted. Out of the conflict came tears—bitter tears that flowed unsteadily.

  The feeling of having betrayed them all that had seized me briefly when I walked from the courtyard returned again now, and with it—inevitably—came a measure of remorse.

  I stepped forward and put my arms around her, awkwardly. My motives were sincere and my intentions quite honorable.

  Once I was holding her it was as if I could feel the emotional turmoil in her body. Her first movement was to thrust me away, but that died quickly, and her arms slipped round beneath mine. Her hands, rigid as gripping claws, clutched at my shoulders and the pressure seemed to be intended to squeeze and hurt, except that....

  I realized that the turmoil was more complex than I had thought. There were more feelings than anger and fear and hate. In emotional excess any feeling is likely to burst through, because all the controls and inhibitions are off. Not since she was a child had Anna seen a man, save for her brothers....

  Inevitably, I responded. And that was when the door opened, and Piet walked in.

  He hadn’t bothered to knock. He didn’t look to be in the mood for observing the proprieties of etiquette. He looked coldly angry. That is, he looked coldly angry for all of the two seconds before the sight of what we were doing burned an impression upon his brain. Then his face turned crimson.

  Anna spun away from me, with an expression on her face that registered a degree of guilt I hadn’t known human faces could express. The shock seemed to have upset her as much as it upset Piet.

  I wished briefly that Mariel was there to read their faces. In all likelihood there would never be such a moment again. Piet registered horror, fury and—or so it seemed to me—outraged jealousy. Sexual jealousy.

  Anyhow, whether that was so or not, he completely lost his mind. Presumably murder had not been in his plans when he entered the room, though it might have been lurking somewhere within his imagination. But there was no doubting as he came at me like a tiger that murder was what he intended now.

  He cannoned into me and hurled me over backward. There was a table behind me, on which approximately half the contents of the medical kit I’d brought back from the lab were scattered. I’d just dumped them when I came in to find Anna waiting for me. Now the table went over with a crash and everything on it was thrown to the floor. I went over with a terrible crash, taking the fall on my shoulders. Had my head hit the floor direct I’d have been knocked unconscious, but as it was I just felt a lance of pain shoot through me, and then had to struggle as Piet landed on top of me, his fingers reaching for my throat. I managed to turn him aside and wrenched myself free. My first thought was to get away, and so I leapt back over the table and gripped the legs that jutted into the air, intending to use it as a shield.

  It was a mistake on two counts. For one thing the table was so heavy I could barely drag it along the floor, let alone lift it to fend off the maddened Piet. For another, Piet was on the floor amid the scattered contents of the medical kit. Scalpels aren’t designed for killing people, but they can be pretty vicious weapons. When he came to his feet he had one in his hand, and there could be no possible doubt as to where he intended to stick it.

  I let go of the table and backed away, looking for something I could use to defend myself. All that my groping hand found was the bag in which most of my spare clothes were stashed. I picked it up and held it before me, ready to try and take the cut of the scalpel in its soft bulk.

  Piet came forward and I backtracked warily. Neither of us was
moving fast. My one intention was to drag the fight out—to stop him cutting me up until he had at least the chance to calm down. Fury such as his can die down as fast as it arises.

  He lunged, and I raised the bag to catch the tiny blade.

  But I was too slow.

  Suddenly, there was someone else between us, and when Piet’s arm lashed out with all the force he could muster it wasn’t my small bundle that absorbed the thrust but Anna’s body.

  The blade went into her neck at the side and must have sheared straight through the carotid artery. Her arms were outraised, fingers splayed, in a gesture of prohibition that seemed almost a caricature.

  He had not even seen her.

  Blood flooded out of the cut, spilling over the shoulder of her dress and the back of Piet’s hands. He let go of the scalpel as if stung, and she crumpled to the floor.

  For half a second it was an open question whether he’d resume his murderous attack on me or give way to the grief that was trying to displace his fury. But he was a defeated man, and he’d been defeated long before he’d come into the room. He crumpled to his knees, and bent over the prostrate body. Her eyes were open, and she blinked Once. But she couldn’t say anything, or even change the expression of devastated shock on her face.

  She died, still spilling blood all over the floor.

  Someone screamed. Not Anna, who had never made a sound, but Mariel, who’d come in to find out what all the noise was about.

  Then Nieland arrived. Soon after that there was a crowd. I don’t know how death attracts so many people so quickly, but it always seems to.