“I accept this assignment that you have recommended me for,” Rack said. “But before we go to Corlatis, I must tell you that something has been troubling me.”
So, he finally decides to tell me why he was so anxious. Better I learn the reason now than later, Torghh thought. “Please tell me what you have been thinking about before we leave for Corlatis. I want you to be at your peak mental focus once we get there.”
“Although Tashto helped me save you, I remain concerned that his life could still be at risk even with the steps we have taken to aid him in escaping Garan Prime. We know so little of the Blynthians that their motives and their true nature remain obscure to us. What if the Blynthians believed that selling Tashto back to his old masters on Garan Prime would be of greater benefit than trying to harbor him? Or if he were to become involved in some intrigue on the Blynthian home world and have his refugee status revoked by the Blynthian government? There are so many potential dangers for him, and so little we can do now.”
“And because there is little we can do now, we must put Tashto out of our minds for the time being and trust that he can take care of himself. The Guild and all the other planetary powers have little sway over the Blynthians. Tashto must be prepared to face a world where he has few natural allies and only the barest minimum of tolerance and goodwill from the Blynthians. He knows the risks, and has accepted them. As have you in accepting this assignment with me.”
“Certainly,” Rack agreed. Torghh could not detect any sense of emotional conflict in Rack’s voice; it was a perfect monotone. Not unusual, since Guild robots typically conveyed emotions subtly through their actions and behavioral patterns rather than the vocal tones so common in organic beings. Torghh could still not help but wonder if Rack concealed some lingering hesitancy, some angst deep within his cybernetic mind from his experience with Emm. He hoped he had made the right decision in entrusting this great responsibility to his colleague.
In the Forlani quarters, Ayan'we did not feel like the same person she was when she embarked several months ago for the trip to Varess. Then, she was full of confidence and felt she had no need to worry about her own values or to doubt the success of the peace conference. In the intervening weeks, she had recognized how thin a thread the fate of billions of beings hung from. Moreover, she had come to see how rapidly her own set of assurances could be thrown into disarray, not only by the manipulations of others, but by the limitations of her own naiveté. Only now was she beginning to let herself feel the full desolation of what might have happened to Quatilla and Torghh. The wasted lives of Fianni and Erica Duquesne stood before her like messy disasters that she would have done anything to save. She sensed subtle invasions of pure hatred scurrying through her mind like prowling carnivores in the night, finally understanding that they were directed at Anthony Wilson and the other nameless humans and Phiddians who had tried so hard to deceive or injure her and her mother. She often thought of the exiled Garanian Tashto who had sprung up to aid them, ripping himself away from all that he had been brought up with, and who seemed doomed henceforth to a life of drifting between the stars, as if he were a forlorn planetoid or a piece of space debris. And all the time there was the experience of Isshel, renewing itself again and again in her imagination and provoking a thousand “what if?”s. Could she ever have accepted a future in his household with those other wives and their children and then – good heavens! – with children of her own all around her, to care for and to become the proxies for her own far-flung dreams? Her mind swirled like a cyclone in the wilderness, throwing pieces of lives and places into a spaceborne confusion.
Entara noticed her daughter's state of confusion. “What’s on your mind, firstborn?”
“I was wondering whether those Phiddians who kidnapped Quatilla will receive a suitable punishment. Have you had any word?”
“In fact, I’ve just finished recording a message asking their leadership to reduce their penalty.”
“Mother, are you out… Why?”
“The Phiddian high justice proposed completely desexing those prisoners. Wouldn’t you agree that seems like a rather barbarous punishment, especially for Phiddians?”
“Ugh! Still, they probably deserve it.”
“I suppose so. But it would not produce any kind of restitution.”
“So what did you recommend?”
“First, that they be confined in perpetuity to the home planet of Phiddia so they couldn’t provoke any more mischief off-planet.”
“What else?”
“That they be permanently supervised by our houses there and that they be required to turn over to a responsible house matron a regular sum of credits to be directed to our mahäme to compensate for the trouble they have caused.”
Ayan’we rubbed her left earlobe thoughtfully. “Hmm, that’s not at all dumb. They’ll have to continue strengthening us instead of weakening us. Punishment by opposites. What if the Phiddians don’t go along with it?”
“I hinted that we might have to close our houses there.”
“Hooo! That will hit them where it hurts. Entara of the Nine has once again proven her wisdom. You’ll deserve a lot of kudos for that when you get home.”
“Thank you.” Entara paused and looked her daughter in the eyes. “Just what do you mean ‘you’? Aren’t you planning to go back with the rest of us?”
“Not right away. This thing with Isshel still has me shaken up. Before I get back to normalcy, I need to touch base with some things that are important to me. I want to go back to Domremy and visit the monument again. And I want to go spend some time with Amanda on Earth. I’m sure I can hitch on as a flight officer on some ship headed in that direction.”
“No need. I already wanted to see the monument myself and to talk in person with some of our Dissenter friends. To be honest, I just wanted to walk a bit on the prairie, too, remembering old times. The Song Pai have bought this ship for the Forlani people and hired a training crew, mostly Blastöo. You can log some training with them. Maybe even qualify for an interstellar navigation license. We’ll drop you off at Tau Ceti so you can take a shorter leg to Earth. But now, let's get ready to attend the goodbye ceremonies.”
“Yes, I especially have to thank KC and Ramatoulaye. I wish I could have had time to get to know that one better. Ramatoulaye showed me that many of the negative stereotypes of Phiddians are untrue.”
“Their ways are certainly strange and their politics can be tricky, but I think we can develop more understanding and find things in common.”
Many of their off world friends had already gathered in the Great Hall when the Forlani arrived. Not everyone, though, because both the Blynthians and the Song Pai had sped off earlier to bring the treaty details to their councils. The Blynthian tubes stood empty and silent – no more weird zipping noises or cloudy undulations behind the glass. Everyone understood the Song Pai absence, too, since their only collective manifestations seemed to be of a military nature and they were considerate enough not to want to spoil the festive, peaceful atmosphere of the departure party. Each of the remaining delegations had something planned. The Coriolans indulged their love of gambling with a comical lottery that gave out jokes and jests to the other species. The Kael soared around the ceiling in an aerial ballet that allowed them to spread their wings at last and show the others a bit of the magic of leading an airborne life. The Thil performed a famous comedy of theirs called “The Child that Gave Birth to Her Mother,” which was so strange that no one knew if they were laughing at the proper time; however, the Thil seemed quite satisfied with the reception, so they must have done something right. The Talinians brought out long reedy instruments and performed a suite of happy music, with an obbligato by old Tionar himself. No one knew what to expect from the stumpy little Rokol, but it turned out they had an intricate geometric “march” with surprising changes of rhythm that was meant to represent the serendipity of the Varess proceedings. The Phiddians, more restrained in their eroticism than usual, had litera
lly covered their bodies with every jewel they could beg, borrow, or buy at the station to make a Gem Parade that stunned everyone present with its magnificence.
When it came time for the Forlani to make their contribution, it was naturally in the form of song, with the entire Security Cluster acting as a chorus to first perform “The Ripening of Red Berries,” a peace song recalling the end of the Time of Troubles and the beginning of the matriarchies. Next Leli, still confined to a hover couch, was ushered forward to give a solo of “Turn My Steps Toward Stafford,” one of Entara's best-known and most optimistic melodies. Isshel acted as the master of ceremonies for the Forlani, since males never sing under any circumstances. He delighted the whole audience by saying that Entara had accepted his invitation to sing, but all were shocked to hear that instead of a love song or a playful harmony, she would offer a dirge, “Sun Through the Swollen Clouds,” in sympathy for those who had suffered or died during the weeks on Varess. As the pure, minor key notes floated through the hall, Ayan'we thought of the Phiddians and their Powl pawns, Erica and the vanished humans, of Tashto journeying farther and farther into the cosmos, of the unknown creature whose blood had been shed in the rescue of Quatilla, and especially of the wasted existence of Fianni.
At the conclusion of the music, as if her thoughts materialized, she saw Ramatoulaye walking toward her with another Phiddian, the consort of Fianni she had met back at the Love Court. The consort held out a dazzling polished stone with highlights of gold and green and urged Ayan'we to take it.
“Blazhin, wouldn't that be inappropriate? No one deserves riches or tribute for what happened to your friend, least of all me. I couldn't possibly...”
Ramatoulaye bent toward her and whispered discreetly, “I'm afraid it would be a kind of insult if you did not. Please take it.”
“Yes, please accept,” added the consort. “The gem has been collected, worn, and displayed. For us, it represents a continuation of the spirit of Fianni and shows that you have no hard feelings. Gems are almost eternal and incorruptible, as memories should be.”
“In that case, I am pleased to accept. I want you to know that I have no bitterness toward Fianni and wish that things could have been otherwise.”
“Yes, that was obvious in your mother's lovely song.” Blazhin's eyes lowered. “What happened to my loved one was atrocious. The destruction of pleasure is against all civilizations. My partner could not have acted otherwise, deranged by this hideous disfigurement of the body and mind. For Fianni, death was a release.”
“Yes,” nodded Ayan'we. “I understood that in the last moments.”
“Now you have made me happy,” exclaimed the consort with a beaming expression. “This is the first success of the funeral.”
“You see, Ayan'we, our friend here has just bestowed the first gem of many, many more that will be distributed during Fianni's obsequies,” Ramatoulaye explained. “All the gems must be shared out, and Fianni had a huge and famous hoard amassed during a career of giving and attending fabulous exchange parties.”
“Exchange parties?” Ayan'we mused. “Are they anything like what the humans called potlatch, an old custom almost forgotten.”
“I believe so,” responded Blazhin. “I have read of such things. My partner was respected throughout our worlds for generous giving and receiving of both gems and affection, so it is only fitting that I perpetuate these feelings by making a remarkable bestowal.”
“Won't you hold onto anything yourself as a keepsake ?”
“That would be a rude and disrespectful gesture, preempting the growing magnificence of Fianni's fame. Besides, each Phiddian who receives a Fianni gem will hasten to offer me something equally spectacular in return. I assure you, it will be difficult to manage all the precious jewels I will receive and then to re-bestow them. It will probably keep me busy for the rest of my life. But now I must make some arrangements and I will leave you to say goodbye to each other.”
When Blazhin had walked off, Ramatoulaye gave Ayan'we a wide smile of approval. “Congratulations, Cluster Leader, you handled that in a remarkably smooth and compassionate way. Not all aliens can grasp the significance of our 'potlatch' exchanges. So many assume they are just superficial demonstrations of wealth and grandeur. I could tell you immediately tuned in to the emotional importance of that gift.”
“Thank you.” Ayan'we paused, raising her eyebrows in puzzlement. “I just wish I had something to give you as a going away present. I didn't even think about it with all that's been happening.”
“Don't be concerned. I have nothing personal for you either. That wouldn't be proper exchange, at least for Phiddians. You have already given me much to think about and to discuss with my relatives.”
“Yes. That's right. With no war, there will be no convoy duty for you and you can meet with your loved ones again.”
“I have already signaled them when to expect me. It is a great relief to me that you won't have to decide who to sacrifice in a hex interceptor operation. Doesn't that clear your spirit?”
“It should, if I were really thinking properly. But, Ramatoulaye, I have other personal concerns that have left me emotionally dizzy. I feel more confused than when I was a hapless schoolgirl. I confess to you that I almost mated while on this mission. Do you know what that means to us?”
“Yes, yes,” drawled the Phiddian. “I have read about that in databanks. So you, like me, must struggle with sexual confusion, frustrations, and the deferral of pleasure. You are young, but I've had to fight that demon for fifty years. You will face challenges, oh, how many challenges! Yet, you are also strong. I'm sure you will overcome all the difficulties the universe throws at you. I will remember you in my devotions and ask all my relatives to do likewise. Together, our spirits will have a mighty power.”
“Thank you, my friend. How about a hug before we depart?” They threw their arms around each other and squeezed so hard and so long that Ramatoulaye suddenly exclaimed, “My goodness, I can feel you have two heartbeats! Wait till I tell my parents about that!
“And I will sing about our friendship when I am back at the mahäme with my sisters and my near-sisters. Take good care of yourself, Ramatoulaye. I will try to stay in touch, but I am headed for Domremy, which does not have very active communications, and then Earth, which has even less. You will hear from me, though, I promise.”
Ayan'we was walking away when she heard a different voice. “Cluster Leader Ayan’we, may I have a moment of your time?” She heard the call over her shoulder, coming from a translator, along with a burbled string of expressions that hinted to her that Tionar wanted to talk. The newt approached slowly on his hind legs, a procedure that required special skill for his watery race. It gave him a stately air that was accentuated by his unusual height, fully seven feet, not counting his temporarily idle tail. “I have been speaking with your mother, the Delegate, and I hear you are planning to travel to Tau Ceti Anchorage on the way to Earth.”
“Yes, friend Tionar. I want to spend some time with Amanda Pedersen, a human female who is the daughter of Klein. We became close during Klein’s funeral ceremonies on Domremy several years ago. I still have not been able to arrange passage from Tau Ceti to Earth, but I suppose I can hitch a ride from the anchorage.”
“It so happens I also wish to visit Earth to inspect the colonies our people are setting up in the deltas they have been granted in exchange for their post-plague rebuilding work. I was hoping that I could accompany you Forlani as far as Tau Ceti. From there, it would be my honor to provide passage for you to Earth along with a party of us Talinians. We already have arrangements on a Blynthian shuttle that is bringing down supplies.”
“I would enjoy your company very much. Unfortunately, I am not authorized to make an offer myself. That is my mother’s bailiwick. Should I ask her?”
“I already have and she has agreed. I wouldn’t dream of embarking without also asking you. I am getting to be an old mud newt now and I don’t want to impose. This will be my
last interstellar trip. After my return to Talini, my goal is to return to my fief of Tionar and relax with relatives, descendants and neighbors, swap old stories, and play games of skill as long as I draw breath.”
“Then we will be especially privileged to be your last fellow travelers. There are many things I want to ask you. Your advice can give me such a boost, not just in my career, but in my emotional life, as well.”
“An old fossil like me advising a dynamic young being full of energy and potential! I find that amusing. Of course, if there is anything useful I can share with you, I will be glad to do it And by the way, since I will be the only one of my race on your new ship, please be completely informal and just call me Kee’ad. There will no longer be a possibility of confusion with the four other Kee’ads in our delegation. Obviously a very common name. That’s why we have to use place names like Tionar in their place.”
“Very well, from now on we’ll be what Amanda called buddies.”
The crew of eighteen Blastöo hired by the Song Pai before they left Varess had been working at a breakneck pace on the former human spacecraft that had served as the Forlani quarters during the conference. Nevertheless, they were behind schedule in bringing the outdated ship up to their exacting standards. The Song Pai had left them a Kholod laborer who helped by finding a few of his kind to help with heavy work. They would have also hired some Powls, but were afraid of offending the Forlani, who had such a harrowing experience the last time the tick-like technicians had been admitted into their domain.
The Blastöo leader who was to serve as Ship’s Master once they were under way arranged a conversation to that he could report to Entara on their progress. The delegate and her cluster leader met him on the bridge of the vessel, which they had seldom visited before. Even so, the changes made by the workers were unmistakable. Control consoles had been completely redesigned for both the Blastöo and the Forlani they were preparing to train in celestial navigation and operation. Blastöo could use all six of their limbs on controls once they were ensconced in the oddly shaped seats that had extra space for the stubby hind parts that they often used as a built-in stool. The other positions, designed for quasi-marsupials with only two fully-digited limbs, were far less compact. There was no race in the Zone more ideally adapted to piloting space vehicles than the Blastöo. With characteristics of both reptiles and amphibians, as well as some genetic material otherwise mainly found in insects, they could stay on uninterrupted watch without longer than any competitors. Their complex eyes had a field of vision only exceeded by the Song Pai and their sensitivity to magnetism actually made many of the usual gauges and indicators quite superfluous to them. They required little water and only simple protein cakes for the lengthiest voyages.
Spy Station Page 27