‘Indeed,’ replied the stately Councillor he’d addressed. ‘She is a great asset to our people, greatly honoured. The experience she’s gained through dealing with you will help her immensely, I’m sure. We all need experiences to look back on.’ Her absence was not explained.
Before beginning business, the Kodiaknies served light refreshment. This consisted of a mild, alcoholic beverage that tasted like a flower wine and fried chunks of the mainstay of their diet, a kind of cheesy curd that was equally delicious whether cooked as sweet or savoury, accompanied by a crisp, bitter salad.
Cylya Grant, in her capacity as medical officer, had long been intrigued by the foodstuffs. Now she saw the opportunity to ask questions. ‘We have something like this,’ she said to a female Councillor sitting beside her as she waved a piece of the curd on a prong. ‘We call it tofu, it’s made from beans. How do you make this?’
The Councillor glanced at her superior at the head of the table. He said, ‘We call it kha.’ The word was almost spat. ‘Food of the mothers.’ The translator had clearly had a problem with this.
Clearly, Cylya wasn’t sure it had grasped the right nuance. ‘It’s made from a grain then, or a seed?’
‘You noticed the smooth building further down the path?’ the Head Councillor asked.
‘Smooth?’ Cylya said. The councillor frowned.
‘No, flat, ground sight. That is the re-process plant. It’s where all the kha is refined. Feeding our people is perhaps our largest industry.’
Cylya shook her head quizzically, glanced at Taskell. Perhaps the translators hadn’t been programmed too well by the survey team.
‘Maybe you should think about exporting the kha too,’ Scallion said.
The Head Councillor shook his head, made a guttural sound. ‘Oh no, impossible. We were given the kha by the Ground Spirits. It would be blasphemy to treat it like that. Anyway, we could never produce enough. It takes all our capabilities just to supply ourselves.’
‘How fascinating,’ Cylya said.
Orgida, who’d made sure she sat next to Taskell, pulled a face at him and disinterestedly nibbled on a piece of the kha.
Taskell repressed a surge of irritation and made no response. This did not repel her advances.
Leaning over confidentially, Orgida whispered in his ear, ‘Probably make it from children, or criminals or...’ she giggled, ‘even visiting aliens!’
Taskell, who’d been a vegetarian for years, grimaced and said, ‘You’re disgusting, Giddy. Be quiet.’
After the food was finished, the platters removed and the wine pots replenished, the discussion moved sedately towards business. The Kodiaknies could either operate on a strict barter system with Freezone, or else open an account in the zone bank HQ. on Africa Plate, enabling them to canter into the arena of interstellar marketing. Taskell was surprised when the Kodiaknies chose the latter. Freezone would undertake to help build a serviceable port outside the city, and also offer advice and contacts concerning the construction of any new plants the Kodiaknies felt would be needed once their new profile in the trade-space took form. Scallion shook the Head Councillor’s hand. ‘Welcome to the partnership,’ he said, grinning.
‘Welcome to civilisation, he means,’ Orgida whispered in Taskell’s ear.
‘And you’re civilised?’ Taskell hissed back. His annoyance was clear.
Orgida shrugged and moodily drank her wine.
Taskell was aware the entire crew harboured a certain antipathy towards the Kodiaknies, even if they were not consciously aware of feeling that way. He could not understand it. Was it because they hadn’t been given the red carpet treatment they preferred? The Kodiaknies had never been impolite or hostile, but it had been made gently clear they did not want the aliens actually staying in the city. Taskell respected their desire for privacy, and their circumspection in dealing with an unknown race. Worlds whose inhabitants were more gregarious were the places where traders were most likely to get swindled.
The morning after the meal, Taskell decided to take a stroll down to Ogoch and request an interview with Argolk. After all, once the lander left Kodiak he would never see her again. The usual procedure was for him to enter the courtyard and ring a bell attached to the wall. Someone generally answered it in seconds. Today, possibly because he was earlier than usual, it took several rings to get a response. Eventually a young Kodiakny boy opened the hatch in the door. His bland face registered neither surprise nor annoyance at Taskell’s unscheduled visit. The boy wrestled his head into a translator and Taskell made his request. The Kodiakny ducked away, closing the hatch behind him.
Taskell stood for a few moments, expecting it would take a while for them to fetch the girl. She may be working, he mused, or else studying her papers. He smiled to himself, visualising her glossy head bent over a desk, her gamine face frowning in concentration.
Minutes passed. Taskell sat down on one of the stone benches and watched the sun creep higher in the sky. Irritation set in. He paced a little. Then rang the bell again. It was opened promptly.
‘I asked to see the Council representative, Argolk,’ Taskell told the elderly female looking through the hatch. She wore a cockeyed translator. ‘It was some time ago. Perhaps I should call back later?’
‘A moment please!’ The hatch slammed shut before Taskell could say more.
In a short while, the door itself opened and one of the Councillors walked into the courtyard, smiling. ‘So sorry you have been kept waiting,’ he said. ‘What may I do for you?’
‘I was hoping to see Argolk, actually,’ Taskell said.
‘Ah, unfortunately the young lady has now accepted her promotion,’ the Councillor said. ‘Perhaps you can deal with the Council directly now, for the remaining time you are here?’
Taskell wondered whether the translator had picked up correctly the hint of rebuttal. ‘I hope you are satisfied with the arrangements,’ he said.
The Councillor spread his hands. ‘All was arranged to satisfaction last evening, I think. We of Ogoch look forward to doing business with your people. Now, if there is something else you wished to discuss, I must stress there is work I have to attend to...’
‘Oh, it was nothing really. Just something Argolk and I were discussing. Is there no chance of seeing her at all now?’
The Councillor looked over his shoulder, so swiftly Taskell was not really sure whether he’d seen it. ‘Mr. Taskell, it would be best if you did not ask for Argolk again. It would be embarrassing for her. It’s not your fault, because you can’t be expected to know our customs, but Argolk is really beyond trivial interaction. You see, her time came unexpectedly sudden. Now, she has been elected to the Mother Providers at the lake site. She is no longer here.’
‘I had no idea she was in training for such an honour. What exactly are the Mother Providers?’
The Councillor drew himself erect. ‘I regret that, as an Outsider you cannot be privy to our Religious Mysteries. I don’t mean to sound rude, but if you were more familiar to us, it might be different.’
‘A religious position, then?’ Taskell was thinking, crestfallen, of nuns; shorn heads and celibate lifestyles.
‘Of a kind. We look upon all aspects of our life as part of our religion. The girl Argolk is involved with a Higher Mystery of Life. I’m sure she is grateful for the experience of having met you and your people before her new phase began. I’m sure she will think of it warmly for as long as she can. I’m sorry your friendship with her was cut short in this way. I know she enjoyed speaking with you.’
‘And I with her.’
The Councillor signified acknowledgement. ‘Yes. It may, or may not, be a comfort, but you will not be alone in feeling wistful at Argolk’s absence. Still, the young man concerned must come to terms with what he knew to be inevitable and you have your stars to comfort you.’ The Councillor gestured to the sky. ‘Perhaps, if things had been different, you could have copulated with Argolk before you left. Would that have pleased you?’
‘If that is where your curiosity lies, it would be no trouble to send another girl to the courtyard...’
Taskell raised his hands in an uncontrollable gesture of defence. He took a step back. ‘No, thank you, but... that is not quite what I had in mind.’ It had been, utterly, of course, but he’d never dreamed such a fantasy could have been realised. Certainly not in such a passionless way. He felt the glow begin to fall from his mental picture of Argolk. Perhaps it was best this way.
Expressing his thanks to the Councillor for his time, Taskell returned to the lander. He considered what he’d been told. Argolk’s next phase? She’d think about him for as long as she could? Odd. Must be the translator fouling up again, he told himself, to banish any more sinister implications.
Shortly after sunset, an unannounced visitor arrived at the lander. Everyone was beginning to pack up. One of the company mother ships would be in orbit in a day and half Kodiak time and the lander would then take off and rejoin her. Taskell was helping to check service the outer hull; a routine, the lander had suffered no damage during the visit.
Scallion came round the side of the craft, wiping his hands on a rag. ‘There’s a Kodiakny lad to see you, Task,’ he said. ‘Had no translator so he was croaking away like a mad thing till we got him wired up!’ The Captain laughed.
Taskell followed him to the hatchway. He saw the Kodiakny, not a person he was familiar with, young and handsome, also extremely nervous to go from his body language. There was a few moments’ delay as Taskell hunted for a translator of his own. ‘How can I help you?’ he asked. The longer the boy was in human company, the more demented he looked. The translator had considerable trouble coping with his vocal farts.
‘It wasn’t what she wanted. She had no choice,’ the boy garbled.
All the lander crew had gathered now to watched the proceedings, translators wired in.
‘What are you talking about, slow down,’ Taskell said calmly.
‘Argolk. They took her. It was wrong. We could have petitioned. A marriage could have repealed the injunction but they took her before we had chance. Mother Providers never marry. They can’t. They only mate.’
‘I don’t understand why you’re telling me this.’ Taskell had a tight edge to his voice. He was acutely conscious of Orgida standing behind him, and sensed she was fighting an intense urge to put her hand on his shoulder.
The boy pointed at the sky. ‘You have up there. All of it. Take her with you. Get her back before it is too late. She won’t disobey the calling herself. She respects it too much. But I know she doesn’t want it. Not really. She’s too good for that. It was a mistake. She was a third child. Her parents had no way of knowing she’d turn out so bright. Please help her. There’s no-one else.’
A profound silence fell over the landing party. All eyes turned to Taskell, then to Scallion, who naturally stepped forward to display his command.
‘Are you asking us to perform some kind of rescue?’ His voice held a laugh, but then it generally did.
The boy spread his hands, pleading. ‘Help her.’ It was such a poignant appeal, not one of the party felt unmoved by it.
Scallion began to speak, cleared his throat, began again. ‘Now look, boy. I’m sorry if you or the girl is in trouble, but we’re only envoys, only doing a job. We can’t get involved in local affairs, understand? We couldn’t operate if we did. Could we, Taskell?’ This last was spoken very firmly.
‘No, we couldn’t,’ Taskell confirmed, painfully.
‘You have the stars,’ said the Kodiakny boy, but from his posture it was clear he knew he’d get no help here. He began to take off the translator.
‘Where is she?’ Taskell asked.
The boy met his eyes, perhaps seeking a message Taskell was not even sure was there. ‘The lake. The mother cone.’ He threw the translator on the ground and headed back towards Ogoch.
‘No way, Taskell,’ Scallion said and stomped into the lander, ‘And that goes for all of you, so no wet eyes understand? It’s none of our business. We got the job. We’re leaving. End of story. Got it?’
‘Yes, sir!’ said Cylya Grant, fiercely.
Scallion poked his head out again. ‘Don’t give me that ‘Captain’s a Monster’ tone, Grant. You know I’m right. We could be up to our necks in shit, diplomatic and otherwise.’ He went inside.
At dawn, even before the sun, Triomides XI, had backlit the womanly curve of the East Ogoch hills, Orgida Frame floated one of the lander’s two sleds silently out some way so as not to arouse any of the others. She had no particular plan in mind, certainly nothing heroic, but her natural curiosity, coupled with a niggling desire to please Taskell, urged her to partake in a little clandestine investigation concerning the Kodiakny, Argolk. She had her own suspicions, and was somewhat impatient that Taskell hadn’t come to the same conclusions she had. But he was a man, and perhaps lacked the gut feelings she was experiencing. Talking of guts, she knew Scallion would have hers if he found out what she was doing; the visiting party was under strict instructions not to nose around.
The sled surged forward, lifting towards the clouds and the dawn. Arrowing up towards thinner air, Orgida activated the atmosphere bubble of the sled. It eased over her, silencing the morning. A faint whine could be perceived as the air control supervised the micro-atmosphere within the bubble. From a high altitude, Orgida surveyed the pale, sparsely forested hills below. There was very little sign of habitation. The Kodiaknies had told the visitors the next city was two weeks’ march away; communications was another undeveloped aspect of Kodiakny life. It seemed each community was autonomous. There was no central government and very little interaction, not even for trade. A strange, isolated race. She wondered why they had agreed to the trade deal. Were they so impressed with off-world trinkets?
That boy appearing last night like that had really spooked her. It seemed obvious to Orgida what was going on. Argolk was a Mother Provider; that meant she provided something, and something vital. She would not marry, only mate... Oh, come on! Orgida thought angrily. She swung her sled around to the east a little. There seemed little chance she’d be observed from the ground. Nobody was around. She took out her camera and snapped a few dozen pictures. Might as well do something.
The sled followed the undulations of the hills heading north east. After a few miles, Orgida registered the metallic glitter that presaged water. Perhaps this was where the Kodiakny farms would be. She activated the sled’s viewer and cranked up the magnification. Sure enough, a spoked sprawl of low buildings radiated out from the lake ahead. Almost on the shore was a miniature version of Ogoch itself; a pale cone of a building. Orgida could see a spiral ramp winding round it. There didn’t appear to be any sign of agriculture, but for a small group of sheep-like creatures grazing placidly beyond the compound. Perhaps other animals were kept inside the buildings.
Orgida shot a few more frames, skimming over the water. She took care to photograph the thick pipe issuing from the cone building’s base that was, even at this early hour, exuding a peculiar foamy effluent into the lake. Nice. It took the edge off Kodiakny purity. Pollution was a vice humanity had wisely discarded centuries ago. Hoping for some kind of aural clarification, Orgida lowered the sled and opened up the bubble. In an instant, she was scrambling for the reseal button, her stomach retching. Gods, what a stench! With streaming eyes, she accelerated the sled skywards. What was that? Manure? Orgida was forced to wipe her nose on her sleeve, lacking either rag or tissue. The smell had been like a concentration of the sweet smell of Kodiak itself, nauseatingly strong. She decided it was time to head back to the lander.
Orgida asked Taskell to meet her in the rec cabin, and here showed him the photographs, which he leafed through with feigned disinterest. ‘This was a waste of time,’ he said. ‘You know we can’t do an
ything.’
‘Aren’t you curious, though?’ Orgida asked him. She was crestfallen he didn’t seem to appreciate her conciliatory gesture.
‘Some part of me says I’d rather not know,’ he replied, throwing the pictures down on a table. ‘It all sounds rather sinister.’
‘Not sounds,’ Orgida said firmly. ‘Is sinister! Task, think about it...’
At that point, Cylya Grant marched into the rec. cabin, clutching a sheaf of computer printouts. ‘Aha, sinister!’ she said with delight. ‘What is?’
Taskell wordlessly handed her Orgida’s photographs.
‘The Kodiakny place at the lake,’ Orgida supplied, sullenly. ‘The so-called farm.’
Cylya flicked through the pictures. ‘Interesting, though not as interesting as this.’ She patted the printout with pride. ‘Although they are certainly part of the same story, I’d say. I took the liberty of analysing some of the Kodiakny kha we ate last night. Brought a bit back with me in my pocket.’
Orgida correctly predicted the cause of Cylya’s gleeful expression. ‘Uh oh, something tells me I’m going to feel nauseous very shortly.’
‘Don’t tell me, it’s made from processed baby,’ Taskell said sourly.
Cylya laughed. ‘You should not joke, my friend, although that description is rather an exaggeration.’
‘What do you mean?’ Orgida asked, trying to wrest Cylya’s printout away from her.
‘Well, the stuff was organic in content, as I suspected,’ she said. ‘A complex foodstuff; protein, carbohydrate and a high concentration of minerals and vitamins. Highly palatable too.’
‘And?’ Taskell enquired.
‘Well, after my computer finished the analysis, it told me that, in view of certain substances that were present, the kha is very similar to what you’d end up with should you mince and process a, well I hate to this, but a pre- parturient form of life.’
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