by Chris Bunch
He glanced around the banquet room. Marr and Senn had turned the drafty Bhor hall into a wonder of festooned flowers and subtle lights.
The other guests were as dazzled and replete as Sowazi.
For two hours, Marr and Senn had commanded convoy after convoy of deliciousness through the room. Whether the dish was meant for a human or an ET, each was greeted and devoured with great enthusiasm.
Beings had their elbows—or equivalent parts—on the tables now. Chatting warmly away with Sten's colleagues as if they were all long-lost friends.
As a capper, Marr and Senn had printed up souvenir menus for each member of the Zaginow delegation.
"We always do it," Marr said. "Beings like to show the folks at home what a good time they had. It's wonderful advertising for us, as well."
"Not 'advertising,' dear," Senn said. "Not in this case, at any rate. Remember, we're revolutionaries now. The military term is 'propaganda'."
"Same thing," Marr sniffed.
"True. But 'propaganda' is much more romantic."
Sten had to admit that the souvenir menus fit the bill perfectly as propaganda.
On the back was a picture of himself, flanked by the master caterers, Marr and Senn. On the front, Senn got his theme:
"A FEAST FOR ALL BEINGS."
This was the menu for the humans:
SOUP
Hungarian Tomato Vodka Miso Saki Shrimp
SALAD
Cambodian Raw Fish Tomato Cucumber Raita
APPETIZERS
Basque Mountain Oysters
Russian Blinis and Caviar
Armenian Stuffed Mushrooms
ENTREES
Jamaican Jerk Chicken
Moroccan Roast Lamb
Broiled Salmon Steaks
Mesquite Broiled Vegetable Kabob
SIDE DISHES
Lebanese Rice Pilaf
Rosemary Potatoes
Cuban Black Beans & Rice
DESSERT
New York Style Cheesecake Swedish Pancakes With Lingonberries
The items listed on the menus for the ETs were equally impressive.
Sten saw Marr peering from a doorway. He spotted Sten and waved. It was time.
Sten turned to Sowazi. "I think we're being called for coffee and brandy," he said.
She laughed, deep and pleasurable. "Cigars, too?"
"Cigars, too," Sten promised.
"Lead on, Sr. Sten."
As he rose to do her bidding, Sten made a furtive thumbs-up motion to Marr. Everything was going according to plan.
"Here's our position," Moshi-Kamal said. He was the second member of the troika that ruled the Zaginows. "We're willing to come on board. But we need some assurances."
"I can't give you any," Sten said. "Remember, I started the conversation by saying the odds are decidedly against us. If you join us… it may be an act of suicide."
"But your own behavior does not bear that statement out, Sr. Sten." This was from Truiz, the ET member of the troika. "You fight well. Logically. Certainly not like a suicidal being. You also have had many successes."
"They look good," Sten said, "but they're not near enough. The Emperor has had a lot of bad days. He can afford to. If I have one… it's over."
"Why are you being so candid?" Sowazi wondered. "I would think you'd be pointing up the positive. The fleets you command. The victories. The growing number of allies."
She waved at the cozy paneled den Marr and Senn had converted an old weapons room into for this conversation. "You sit here at ease, dining luxuriously, thumbing your nose at the Emperor and his hellhounds. Why aren't you boasting of these things to win us to your side?"
"I could," Sten agreed. "But the trouble is… Once I'd won you over, I wouldn't be able to count on you. When something terrible happened—and I promise you it will—you'd see that I'd lied. And desert me.
"There can be no mistake about this," Sten said. "This is a fight to the finish. The Emperor will never give us quarter. We lose—we die."
"I can understand this," Truiz said. The little tendrils wriggling beneath her eyes were red with frustration. "But the picture you paint is so bleak. Give us some hope."
Sten leaned forward. "Right now, I have the Emperor's forces strung across the map. What I don't have pinned down… I have chasing its own tail. But I can only keep this going for a little longer.
"I need two things right now. Reserves. And an opening. Without the first, it will be difficult to support the other."
"Do you think you will get this opening?" Moshi-Kamal asked.
Sten paused, as if giving serious thought. Then he nodded. "Without a doubt," he lied. "No matter how we read the progs, they keep on coming up with the same thing. The thrust of the fight is with us. Sooner or later, we're going to have a breakthrough."
"Then we want to be there," Sowazi said. "This… this… being has become unbearable."
"He is forcing us to become one of his dominions," Moshi-Kamal said. "Putting us under his heel. The beings of the Zaginows have long memories. We all come from working people. The class the bosses put in dark holes full of sharp machinery."
"This is true," Truiz said. "All of our ancestors fled from some despot or other. We can't condemn ourselves to the lives they escaped."
"Did you know," Sowazi hissed, "that he is even putting himself up as a god? He has these… these… beings bounding about proclaiming him a holy thing. They want to put temples up to him in our cities. It's… filthy!"
It wasn't necessary for Sten to comment. Instead, he looked from one to the other.
"Then you'll join us… even without assurances?"
"Even without assurances," Moshi-Kamal said. "We will join you."
"And we might also be able to solve your first problem," Sowazi said.
"How so?"
"Why, the reserve forces," Truiz said. "We assume you have more beings at your disposal than ships and weapons?"
"You assumed right," Sten said.
"I'm sure you are aware that we have thousands of factories—forced on us by the Eternal Emperor—designed and tooled to build those things."
"I knew that," Sten said. "But I also know they've been shut down for some time. I figured most of the machinery had either rusted or been sold for scrap."
"Only a few," Moshi-Kamal said. "Mostly, they are in excellent condition. It's one of the benefits and curses of the Zaginows. We can't stand to see good machinery go to ruin."
"People didn't have any work to go to," Sowazi explained. "But they kept the factories up just the same."
"Are you trying to say that you've got a turnkey operation?" Sten asked. "That all you have to do is give the word and you can start building ships and weapons again?"
The little tendrils below Truiz's eyes wriggled with pleasure. "We can be up and running in one E-week," she said. "Then bring on your troops."
Now all Sten needed was the opening.
The pale, slender Grb'chev towered over Cind. The splash of red across the smooth skull throbbed with curiosity. "Your request is most unusual," he said. "Few humans have ever come to this place."
Cind looked about the small building whose mirrored walls reflected the sprawling gardens surrounding it. "I can't imagine why," she said, "it's such a lovely place."
The Grb'chev touched a switch and the door slid open. He escorted her inside. "Sr. Kyes had a love for beauty," he said. "Especially understated beauty."
Cind's smile was humble. "I've learned about that side of Sr. Kyes in my studies," she said, "He was quite a complex being. Even for a Grb'chev."
"Even for a Grb'chev," her escort agreed. "But this leads me back to my first remark. In our culture, Sr. Kyes is a hero. His intelligence, inventiveness, and business acumen have already taken on mythlike characteristics.
"We've converted his old headquarters into a museum. A shrine, for some." Cind and her escort were pacing through the museum's cheery foyer. "But I would think only someone of our culture would appr
eciate Sr. Kyes."
"Then I apologize for my species," Cind said. "After all, no one would argue that the Grb'chev are easily among the most intelligent beings in the Empire."
"This is true," her escort said. There was no modesty necessary.
"And Sr. Kyes was arguably the most intelligent Grb'chev in this age," Cind said.
"Some say, of all time," the escort said.
"Then, how could any reasonable being—especially a student such as myself—not want to see firsthand how Sr. Kyes lived and worked?"
"You are a very bright young woman," her escort said. Another switch brought another door open. They stepped into the library. Across the way, a figure worked at a monitor. A human.
"This is a most fortunate day for you and your research," her escort said as he spied the figure. "As I said before, only a few humans share your interest in Sr. Kyes. One of them has a position on the museum's staff. And to my surprise, your visit happily coincides with his shift day." Her escort tapped the figure on a shoulder.
The man turned. An expectant smile on his face.
"Ms. Cind, allow me to introduce you to one of our senior researchers… Sr. Lagguth."
Lagguth rose, and put out a hand. They shook. "Pleased to meet you," he said. "It is a pleasure I almost missed. This is my normal rest day. But one of my colleagues called in ill."
"A happy coincidence," the escort said.
"Yes. A happy coincidence," Cind echoed, looking her quarry up and down.
It was no coincidence at all. And for Lagguth, it certainly wasn't going to be happy.
Lagguth had suffered through countless nights of torment, envisioning the hard-faced beings who would come to get him. They were always large. Always dressed in black. Sometimes they came with drawn guns. Sometimes with bloody fangs. But they always said the same thing: "You know too much, Lagguth. And for this, you must die."
The woman confronting him now was that nightmare, but in a disarmingly soft package. She had no visible weapon. And small, bright teeth instead of fangs.
"You know too much, Lagguth," Cind said. "And if you don't help me… they'll kill you for it."
"I was just a functionary," Lagguth groaned.
"I wouldn't call being the head of the privy council's AM2 bureau a mere functionary," Cind scoffed.
"I had no power. No authority. I followed orders. That's all. I did nothing to harm anyone!"
"Your very presence meant you conspired with the Emperor's assassins," Cind said. "As for authority… Thousands of beings whose loved ones died of cold or starvation from lack of fuel might want to have a word with you for the authority you did exercise."
There was nothing Lagguth could say. He bowed his head.
"So. Speak to me, Lagguth. Or I'll drop the word. And either the Emperor's goons will get you, or the mob. I almost feel sorry for you, you poor excuse for a life-form."
"You'll speak up for me?" Lagguth begged. "You'll tell Sr. Sten I cooperated?'
Cind let her voice soften. "Yes. I'll speak up for you." Then—cracking the whip: "Now. Tell me, Lagguth! Tell me everything!"
Lagguth talked. He told her about the strange program he'd set up for Sr. Kyes. Its ostensible purpose was to search for where the Emperor hid his AM2. This was what Kyes told his fellow members of the privy council, at least.
"But I got the idea he really wasn't all that interested in AM2. His search was much deeper than that. Highly personal."
"In what way?" Cind asked.
"Well, we did gather together everything that was known about AM2. From composition, to the few known courses AM2 shipments followed before they so mysteriously stopped. We fed it into this marvel of a computer he'd developed."
He pointed to a small terminal in one corner of the library. "That's linked to it," he said. "It's still functional. But, sadly, it can only be one of a kind. I doubt any being in several lifetimes would ever be able to decipher the program he created to run it."
Cind prodded him away from reveries of Kyes's genius. "Go on. I don't have much time."
"Yes. As I said, we fed in all that data on AM2. But we also fed in everything that was known about the Emperor. We had help on this from Sr. Poyndex."
Cind's eyes widened. "Poyndex. He was in on this?"
"Absolutely," Lagguth said. "He got something on Kyes. I don't know what. But, Kyes turned that knowledge back on him. Pulled him into our circle. It was he who made Poyndex a member of the privy council. So, obviously some kind of a bargain was made."
"Obviously," Cind said. The detail of the deal was interesting, but she doubted it was of any use. "Okay. So you fed all kinds of raw data into the computer. Then what? What did Kyes learn?"
"I'm not sure," Lagguth said. "But I do know he learned something. He suddenly became very excited. He was a being, you realize, who rarely showed any kind of emotion. Anyway, he became excited. Ordered the program shut down. And then he left. In a great hurry."
"Where did he go?" Cind wanted to know.
"Again, I'm ignorant. Except that I know he left Prime. For some far place. And when he returned… his brain… had died."
Cind knew what this meant. The Grb'chev were the only known example of a higher species created by symbiosis. Their bodies—large, handsome things—originated in an exceedingly dimwitted race. Their "brains" were actually the result of a sort of virus that settled into the brute's plentiful sinus passages. And prospered into tremendous intellect.
The curse of the Grb'chev is that the "brain" had a near-absolute lifespan of 126 years. Kyes was one of the few examples on record of a Grb'chev brain that had lived a few years longer. The tragedy was the body lived happily and moronically on for at least another one hundred years.
Cind had seen many examples of this living death shambling through the streets of the Grb'chev's home world. Constant and horrifying reminders of what each member of this species faced.
Cind pointed to the terminal. "Have you tried to learn what Kyes was doing, during those final days?"
Lagguth hesitated. Then he sadly shook his head. "I'm not a very brave person," he said. He croaked laughter. "In case you haven't guessed. I've been frightened every day of my life someone—like you… or worse—would find me. And I'd be killed, or brain burned for the little I know.
"And so… although I desperately wanted to learn what Kyes was up to… I never could bring myself to actually do something about it."
A sound came from behind a door, just to the side of the computer terminal. Cind's hand snaked down to the place where she had hidden her weapon.
"Don't be alarmed," Lagguth said. "He just wants to be fed."
Cind's brow furrowed. "Who wants to be fed?"
"Sr. Kyes, of course," Lagguth said. "Would you like to meet him?"
"He's here?" Cind was astounded.
"Why not? It's a good enough home for what's left of him as any. Actually, it's a damn fine home. They've put him out to pasture, so to speak. Like one would a fine racing beast. He gets everything he could possibly want. Although, to be frank, he's too stupid to really know what he wants. Sometimes… we have to help him with his treats."
Lagguth rose. "I really should go feed him. It's cruel to make him wait."
Cind followed him into the room.
It was a bright and cheery place, filled with toys and decorated in the bright primary colors of childhood. Kyes was perched in a vastly oversized chair, giggling at the large vid monitor. It was showing a kid livie: small things scurrying about, smacking one another.
Kyes saw Lagguth. "Hungry," he said.
"Don't worry. I've got your yummies for you," Lagguth said.
Cind shuddered as she watched Lagguth spoon-feed a being who had once ruled an empire.
Food dribbled from Kyes's mouth. He pointed at Cind. "Who, pretty?"
"A friend come to see you, Sr. Kyes," Lagguth said.
Cind came out of her shock and moved to Kyes's side. She took the food from Lagguth. Kyes looked up at her. Eye
s wide.
Not a clue of intelligence in them. He opened his mouth. Cind fed him. He smacked his lips loudly as he ate. Belched. Then giggled.
"Make funny," he said.
"Very funny," Cind said. "Good boy."
Kyes patted her. "Happy," he said. "Like happy."
"Aren't you always happy?" Cind asked.
Kyes's head bobbed up and down. "Happy… Always."
Cind braced herself. Only cruelty could follow. "What if the Emperor comes?" she said. "What if he comes to take you away."
The innocent thing that had once been Kyes reeled back in horror. "No. Not him. Not take away. Please. Not go other place!"
Cind leaped on it: "What other place?"
"Other place," Kyes moaned. "Bad place. Emperor there. Not happy me."
"Let him be," Lagguth pleaded. "He can't tell you more. Can't you see how frightened he is?"
Kyes had curled into a ball. Sobbing. The huge chair made him seem small and helpless.
Cind did not relent. "What did you find?" she gritted. "What did you find in this bad place?"
"Emperor. I say."
"What else?"
Kyes shrieked at some dim memory. A genetic haunting. "Forever," he cried. "Find forever."
"You see what I mean?" Lagguth said. "It's only nonsense you'll get. He says that all the time when he's frightened. 'Forever.' Over and over again, 'forever.' "
Kyes nodded. "Not happy, forever. Not happy."
Cind patted him. Soothing. Then turned to Lagguth. "Now, I want to see the computer," she said.
As they left the room, Kyes was beginning to recover. He squirmed upright in his seat, dried his eyes, and started tentatively giggling at the little things on the livie screen.
The moonlet was a silent wilderness of destruction. Cind moved through bomb-blasted craters and twisted, melted hulks whose designed functions were barely recognizable.
The sensors on the small device in her hand were winking frantically, as they took in data. Cind scrambled over the surface of the moonlet, pausing here and there to scan wreckage with the device. The facts were fed to the mainframe aboard her orbiting ship. The conclusions were quickly beamed back. Chirping in her helmet com.