by Karen Lord
I frowned, scared now. The First Assistant Biotechnician was new to her post. Unless she was going on maternity leave or had been sacked, there was no way I was taking her place—not that I wanted to. There’s only so much deskwork I can stand before I’m desperate to be out driving through the homesteadings. And there was definitely no way I could be making Chief. What other twists were possible on my career path?
I realized Gilroy was watching me and smirking at the panic I hadn’t bothered to hide.
“Right, thanks. Close the door behind you,” I said, dismissing him brusquely.
I shut my eyes and spun my chair around once, maybe trying to lighten my anxiety, maybe trying some weird little made-up luck ritual. Then I broke the seal and pulled out my orders.
“They want me to do what?”
As if on cue, my monitor chimed and flashed. I glanced irritably at the message box; then my eyes widened, and I tapped the channel open. “Delarua here.”
“Second Assistant Delarua, I believe you must have opened your correspondence by now?”
My boss tries to get away with stuff by being cute. She’s short and stocky, with big round cheeks and deep dimples. She fools no one. The more she dimples, the more you know you’ve been screwed over.
“Chief, I can’t believe you didn’t discuss this with me first. Whatever happened to the Human Relations and Vocational Guidance Department? Everyone there die of the plague? Fell into a coma? Got amnesia?” Even as I spoke my frustration, I reined myself in a little. As dangerous as the dimples were, it was worse if you said something to make them disappear suddenly. My boss didn’t permit subordinates to take liberties.
“Sorry, dear. This came in from over my head.” She shrugged. “It’s only a year’s assignment. Why not see it as an opportunity to broaden your curriculum vitae?”
“I’m a biotechnician! The longer I stay away from my field, the more my CV suffers—you know that!” My eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Someone above you messed with the personnel structure of your department, and you’re still smiling?” I felt suddenly ill, my stomach going into free fall. “You wanted to get rid of me? Why didn’t you say—”
“Delarua, relax! I have no problem with you or your work. And yes, I’m not shattered, but it’s because of who your replacement is.”
Then she spoke the name Dr. Freyda Mar, a name that will mean nothing to you or, let’s be honest, to most Cygnians, but for those who know the up-to-date research in the biotech field, it was almost as if Albert Einstein had decided to take a year off from research and teach secondary-level general science.
“Her? What would she want with my crappy little job? Sorry, Chief, but even you must admit that the least glamorous work of the department falls under my remit. I mean, hydroponics, and health inspections, and sewage, and driving hundreds of klicks and sometimes sleeping in barns if you’re lucky and in the car if you’re not. I mean yes, I like it, but everyone knows I’m strange.”
“Well, maybe she’s strange too. She wants to write a book about the practical applications of her research. More power to her, I say. I’ve always thought academics should get a little slurry on their boots from time to time.”
I took a deep breath. If Freyda Mar was coming to fill my place for a year, there was no way I was getting out of this. “Fine. I see I’ve got two months before I go. When’s Dr. Mar coming?”
“In a month’s time. You’ll have the joy of showing her the ropes.”
The idea of me—me—showing Dr. Freyda Mar how to do my job for a whole month so thrilled me to the depths of my techie soul that I completely forgot I was supposed to be angry about leaving for an entire year to go … where? On a wild goose chase as part anthropologist, part diplomat?
The latter half of the week rolled around, and I was on my way to Dllenahkh’s office at the usual time to discuss the inspection schedule. I did have a moment’s pause at his door, wondering how he would react to the news of my assignment, but it was only a moment. Dllenahkh’s secretary was of the Gilroy stamp: young, gawky, and more than a little curious at my hesitation.
“Councillor Dllenahkh is expecting you,” he prompted kindly.
“Thank you, Joral,” I muttered, and went through.
I tried to explain to Dllenahkh what I thought was going to happen—my assignment, my replacement, and so forth. I kept my tone neutral; I don’t believe in behaving either disgruntled or gleeful about work-related matters, especially around people outside my department. He leaned forward, set his elbows on the desk, and contemplated his fingers in silence for a while. During that while, I finally realized he was not in the least surprised.
“Oh. Oh, no. Oh—” I began to swear. One of the advantages of having languages as a hobby is that it can take you quite a while to run out of swear words. I hadn’t even exhausted my list from the dead languages I know when I paused for breath and Dllenahkh spoke up, still apparently addressing his fingers.
“Could it be that you are vexed with me, Second Assistant Delarua?”
“Could it be that you are laughing at me, Councillor Dllenahkh? Are you the reason for this complication in my life? Please, explain this madness!”
His brows drew together briefly, erasing that faint suggestion of suppressed amusement that had so irritated me, and he finally looked me in the eye. “I fear that you have not been fully briefed as yet. No doubt your superior has informed you of all that she knows and a more detailed mission dossier is forthcoming. I assure you, this is not madness.”
He got up and walked to the archaic map board that showed Tlaxce Province and the regions bordering it. He faced it, placed his hands behind his back, and unexpectedly exhaled a large sigh.
“Before I begin, I have not properly thanked you for your recommendation that we seek the assistance of the Ministry of Family Planning and Maintenance. As a result, some of the custody cases are being reviewed, and counseling is being provided for the parents and families involved. While it is unlikely that all cases will be resolved amicably, the situation is less fraught than previously. Furthermore, any future attempts at cross-cultural partnering will be channeled through the ministry’s programs for that purpose.”
“Not bad,” I said, pleased and mollified. “They’ve been establishing and maintaining unions for generations now. They’re quite good at what they do—not perfect, but far better than nothing.”
He glanced back at me briefly, then raised a hand to indicate the provinces. “Tlaxce, which is the largest province, is also one of the most genetically homogeneous provinces due to the presence of the capital and the main spaceport. We have been advised that if we are seeking Cygnians with a high percentage of taSadiri genetic heritage, we should go to the outlying regions of the neighboring provinces.”
“Still clinging to your concept of purity?” I said quietly.
Dllenahkh turned and looked at me in a way that I fancied meant, When you lose your home and all but a remnant of your people, feel free to return and lecture me on the ethics of purity.
I lowered my eyes. “So the mission is to find Cygnian groups that are more taSadiri than the average,” I paraphrased meekly.
“Your facility for the languages of Cygnus Beta is what led me to recommend you as Civil Service liaison. That and your insightfulness.”
First the stick and then the carrot. He had become quite talented at manipulating Cygnians with a little flattery, I thought sourly. “And what role will you play?”
“I have been authorized to assess both the settlements and the people we encounter in order to determine whether it would be more efficient for us to join those settlements, or to encourage potential wives to remove to our settlement here in Tlaxce.” Although Dllenahkh would never stoop to smugness, there was an unwarranted certitude in his tone that suggested he had already decided what the obvious choice would be.
He took a last look at the map and returned to sit behind his desk.
“The First Assistant to the Chief Biotechnicia
n is a year younger than you and is likely to serve for at least another five years in her post. The Chief Biotechnician will not retire for at least another twelve years. All higher positions in the department require greater managerial experience and less technical skill. I estimated there was a low probability that your career would be harmed, and … I have noticed that you derive a certain amount of enjoyment from our field trips. I hope I did not misinterpret the case.” There was the merest hint, the tiniest suggestion of humility and concern in his gaze.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry I swore like that. It was a bit of a shock. I’m sure it will all work out.”
He nodded. “Excellent. Then let us begin our rounds, and I will tell you about the other personnel on the mission team.”
What he did not tell me, what would have been more useful, was the name of the higher-up who had managed to deepen the dimples in my boss’s cheeks with the bribe of Freyda Mar! Because let me tell you, I want to kiss that person. We were already starstruck and willing to welcome the most eccentric, knee-sock-wearing, port-drinking, absentminded professor type that ever came out of Tlaxce University. But Freyda Mar dressed normally, drank water, remembered everything, and … okay, she was a little eccentric, but in a way that everyone could appreciate.
She bore a striking resemblance to a tall, middle-aged Wicked Witch of the West except not, you know, being actually green. A few days before our first field trip, I looked at her long, wavy black hair, and all I said was, “Are you sure?” She took one look at my own close-cropped do and said, “You know, you’ve got a point.” Whereupon I step out to get us some coffee for the mid-morning break, and when I get back, the scissors are out of the drawer and on the desk and the wastepaper basket is bristling with a meter-length’s worth of hair. I’m telling you, my mouth fell open, but she just laughed at me and took the mugs from my hand before I dropped them.
In spite of all that, she seemed a little bit nervous about working with Sadiri, so I gave her a quick, casual primer while she worriedly tapped notes into her handheld. “Trust me, they’ll love you. They don’t do small talk and they have a constant need for mind fodder, so feel free to discuss your work in detail. Let them do the heavy lifting; they’ve got the high-grav build for it, and they’re happy to show off their physical strength. Don’t try to shake hands with them. Don’t touch anyone’s head, especially not their hair. That’s a big no-no.”
“Custom? Or something else?” she asked, stopping in midinput.
“That’s canny of you,” I said approvingly. “I don’t know for certain, but I think it might have something to do with the telepathy.”
She nodded, looking thoughtful and a lot more relaxed. “Years ago I spent some time doing research at a university in the Punartam System. I met a Sadiri mindship pilot there. He always wore gloves, always kept his head covered. I thought it was cultural at first, but maybe there’s more to it than that.”
Freyda had just proved herself to be a typical techie. Ask her to remember the arbitrary rules of some foreign etiquette and she fretted. Give her a possible scientific explanation for a social behavior and she was fine.
Road trips, now, are a real test of character, and I had no idea how she would handle the long and sometimes boring drives. I soon discovered that you could get her to sing from any musical or opera, very loudly, as the car rolled along, and sometimes I’d join in, though with less volume and skill. Poor Dllenahkh, who was accustomed to far quieter rides, would look at us sideways with an expression of mild terror. But even Dllenahkh warmed to her when she switched into technical mode. He listened to her very, very closely, their heights almost matching, constantly nodding and nodding as she rattled off some aspect of her latest theory. At one point, I could swear I saw him looking at her almost dreamily, as if he had ceased to listen to the content of her words and was thinking about something else.
I was getting ready to tease him about having a romantic crush to rival my professional crush, but then he caught me by surprise the following week. I had been expecting Kavelan to replace him as the homesteading liaison, Kavelan being a young but sober-headed subordinate in the office whom I had encountered several times over the past year or so. Instead, a completely new face turned up. It was difficult to guess how old he was, but I estimated from his aura of maturity that he was closer to Dllenahkh’s age than the average Sadiri male of the homesteadings.
Dllenahkh did the introductions. “This is my replacement, Dr. Lanuri. He will be joining us for inspections henceforth.”
Dr. Lanuri inclined his head, and Freyda and I gave little bows in turn. He had creases on his face that looked suspiciously like laugh lines, but if they were, they had not been used for a very long time. He still bore the slightly vacant expression of deep depression that had characterized Dllenahkh and many of the other Sadiri in the earlier days of settlement.
I wish I could say I was given the opportunity to get to know him better, but after a quick briefing on the inspection schedule, Dllenahkh led us out to not one groundcar but two.
He said, “Given that our vehicles must occasionally serve as temporary shelters, I considered it unwise to approach the passenger limit too closely. Therefore, each team will go in its own groundcar. The nav systems have been linked. I wish you a safe and pleasant journey, Dr. Lanuri, Dr. Mar.”
And then he positively dashed toward a car with what for a Sadiri smacked of unnatural and unseemly haste. I followed, bemused by the teasing lilt to his formal and unnecessary farewell to Dr. Lanuri (the first leg of our rounds was only a two-hour journey, after all) and wondering if I had imagined seeing an exasperated glint in Dr. Lanuri’s eye—rather like the one I usually get when my mother starts hinting that a second son-in-law and more grandchildren would be nice.
“You know,” I said to him once we had started off, “I’m thinking the Ministry of Family Planning would be more subtle than you were just now. Perhaps you should leave the matchmaking to them.”
Dllenahkh pretended to look aggrieved, but his demeanor reeked of too much satisfaction for it to be convincing. “I do not understand what you mean by that statement. It is more convenient for Dr. Mar and Dr. Lanuri to go together in one vehicle so they can begin the ‘team-building’ process which is so important to Cygnians.”
“Mm-hm,” I replied with deep sarcasm.
Dr. Mar, like any urbanite, was sufficiently cultured to tune her natural enthusiasm to a volume and frequency that would be appreciated by her new colleague, which is to say they seemed to have a fair rapport at the end of the first two hours. Still, I was fairly impressed the following week when we got out at one destination a little ahead of the others and we distinctly heard singing, loud, full-on opera singing, coming from the second groundcar. Of course, by the time the car stopped and the doors opened, there was only mild professional chatter between the two.
I looked at Dllenahkh in shock. He merely raised his eyebrows in a way that was as good as an I told you so.
“How did you pull this off?” I demanded when the others were out of earshot.
“Pull what off?” he asked coolly, his tone mildly mocking the colloquialism.
“How did you know they’d click? That requires a level of intuition that seems to me unlikely to reside in the methodical Sadiri mind.”
“I extrapolated from what I knew of Dr. Lanuri’s late wife. She was very similar in both manner and appearance to Dr. Mar. Lanuri has found it … difficult since his wife’s death. I had hoped that he might find solace in Dr. Mar’s company and, let me admit it, perhaps even consider the possibility of marrying again.”
On another day that might have meant more teasing about being a matchmaker, but today I was in a grumpy mood.
“So even Sadiri men find women interchangeable,” I scoffed under my breath.
“That is not what I said,” he murmured, looking at me oddly.
I waved my hand, trying to brush away the words. “Forgive me. I was thinking of something else, something ir
relevant. So the second spouse is often very close in temperament and appearance to the first spouse.”
“Yes. The first bond is, in a way, never completely broken and constantly seeks the absent partner. Marrying someone similar assuages some of the shock and helps with the grieving process.”
“Some people think widowed Sadiri pine away and die,” I remarked, referring to a common trope in Cygnian literature and drama.
“That would be inappropriate,” Dllenahkh said, infusing the word with a measure of distaste that was new. “There are degrees of depth of bond. All Sadiri experience a bond with each other, and there are rituals that deepen the connection, the marriage ceremony being but one. However, one can be telepathically connected to one with whom it is difficult to live peaceably. The ability to know another’s mind does not preclude the likelihood of misunderstanding it.”
“Good point,” I said. Unsaid but also understood was that no Sadiri would take the selfish luxury of choosing death as a way to escape emotional pain. All were bereaved, and now life was the priority.
The following week’s inspections were routine. Dr. Lanuri looked slightly less depressed, and Freyda was cheerful and professional as always. It wasn’t much to go on. I caught Dllenahkh frowning to himself.
“They’ve only just met,” I told him. “Did you really expect love at first sight?”
“Hmm,” he replied. “Has Dr. Mar given any indication …?” He was unable to finish the sentence, but I realized what he was asking.
I was aghast—only slightly aghast, really, but I played it up because there are so few times when Dllenahkh is anything but the consummate Sadiri savant. “I can’t believe you asked me that. That’s rude even by Cygnian standards.”
He frowned some more and dropped the subject.
But I did find out. Not by asking—I’m not that inquisitive—but by alcohol, and not even my alcohol, so it really wasn’t my fault. The last day of our inspections together, Freyda showed me a bottle of some fortified Cygnian vintage hidden in her knapsack. We got a groundcar to ourselves and put nav and autopilot in control.