Of course she could not tell this alien any of that. It was none of his concern, after all.
“There are still some preserves where the natural landscape has been maintained,” she continued, hoping he hadn’t detected any hesitation in her reply. “But the population pressure was just too great to not develop as much of the land masses as possible.”
“Yes, I have read of that,” Lirzhan said. “And seen vids and stills, but it does not seem quite real to me, that a world could be so paved over.”
Maybe she was just feeling on edge, but she thought she noted a tinge of condemnation in his voice. “We did what we had to do. It is what it is.”
“Of course,” he said immediately, and this time she could definitely hear the apology in his tone. “We must all walk our own paths. Speaking of which” — he lifted her tablet and eyed the coordinates and topo map displayed on it — “we must veer to the north a few degrees. That way.”
He pointed with his free hand, and Alexa felt a prickle of unease work its way down her spine. So far they’d been following a more or less undemanding route through the trees, generally using the “path of least resistance” method as long as it kept them basically on track. But the direction Lirzhan had just indicated had a steep incline, and the trees seemed to crowd more thickly there, as if there were more competition for sunlight in that part of the wood.
Yes, she’d always made sure that she worked out on a regular basis, as the best defense against traveling from planet to planet and dealing with differences in gravity and climate was to be in shape. However, there was a world of difference between exercising under carefully controlled conditions in a gym and spending what looked like the next several hours climbing up a steep hill. In dress boots. And a pencil skirt. However, she’d always aced her physicals. This would be difficult, but she’d never been one to avoid a challenge.
She wouldn’t allow herself to sigh. At least she was alive — thanks to the Zhore who stood next to her now. And perhaps the rougher terrain and thicker cover would help to hide them. She’d seen no signs of pursuit yet, but that didn’t mean they shouldn’t remain wary.
Tone unruffled, she said, “No problem.”
He could tell the climb was a strain for her, but he did not offer her a hand as they struggled their way over the increasingly rocky terrain which lay before them. He sensed that she did not want his help, that she needed to do this for herself, and so, barring an actual fall or a stumble that would result in physical injury, he allowed her to carry on without any assistance.
Not that he was doing all that much better himself. He could continue for some time, but soon they would need to take a break, as they had not eaten or drunk anything since leaving the capsule. Too keyed up from their narrow escape to be thinking of practicalities, perhaps. He wondered at the lack of pursuit. Had the trees hidden them from unfriendly eyes overhead? He had to hope so, as there was little they could do to protect themselves except keep moving.
The data on this world showed that it had a day of some twenty-one hours, shorter than Zhoraan, but close enough to standard that he thought he could judge the time of day more or less accurately. The sun was now a little past its zenith, and they had been walking for nearly four hours. At least they seemed to have left the predators behind in the thick woods; out here he had spied nothing more than a few avian creatures circling high overhead, but they had not come any closer. He was glad of that. One such confrontation was quite enough. Of course, he had no idea what might happen once the sun went down.
“We should stop there, under that tree,” he said, pointing toward a massive specimen with jagged blue-green leaves. He was glad of its presence, for the vegetation had become sparser as they climbed, and the sun had begun to beat down with little mercy. His robes protected him, but he could tell the heat was taking its toll on Alexa; her cheeks were flushed, and her hair had begun to stick to her forehead and neck.
She nodded, offering no protest as they covered the last few meters between themselves and the tree. Once they arrived at their destination, she gave the space before her a cursory examination before lowering herself to the ground and leaning back against the tree’s trunk.
He pulled a bag of water from the emergency kit and handed it to her. They had enough to last another day or so, but they needed to find another source, a river or stream or lake. Odd that they had not yet crossed any bodies of water yet, but he hoped that was just bad luck.
Alexa took the water and drank, but he noted she was careful about how much she swallowed, allowing herself three or four measured sips before sealing the opening once more and giving the bag to him.
“How far have we come?” she asked, and then ran a hand over her damp forehead and looked down at her moist palm with some distaste.
“Approximately twelve kilometers.” He lifted the water container to his lips and allowed himself a healthy swallow. It almost seemed as if he could taste some ghost of her essence on the thin plastic, but that, he told himself, was mere fancy.
“That’s all?”
“It was mostly uphill.”
She gave a little shrug and then looked away from him, her gaze moving over the rocky hillside around them. The tree where they had taken their rest stood on the crown of the bluff, and so the next leg appeared to be mostly downhill.
Lirzhan also wished they had covered more ground, but they had no control over the terrain, or the route they must take. It was unfortunate that the capsule had not landed closer to the science station. One would have thought it might have locked on the automated facility’s beacon. Since he did not know how precisely the capsule was programmed — it might have been set up to take the safest trajectory to a planet’s surface, rather than to the closest beacon — he decided it was useless to speculate on what might have been. He did hope that the rest of the day would be easier, so they might make up some lost time. At this rate, they would be hard-pressed to get to the science station before their food began to run out.
Tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow, he told himself, and pulled out a small packet of the specially dried food that seemed to inhabit emergency kits the galaxy over. He tossed it to Alexa, who caught it neatly and pulled the tab on the wrapper. Inside was a small hard bar of some brownish substance. She broke it in half and held out one piece to him.
“What is in it?” he asked, hoping it was something he could actually consume. Gaian and Zhore diets didn’t always match up.
She squinted down at the wrapper, apparently reading the contents. “Processed protein — ”
“Protein from what?” The words came out more sharply than he had intended.
Her brows drew together. “Probably some kind of animal protein. It provides the most bang for the buck, and a lot of people on Gaia have developed soy allergies, so they try to avoid using soy-based products in the kits.”
His stomach clenched. “I cannot eat animal protein.”
She stared up at him expectantly, although something in her expression told him she already knew what he was about to say.
“My people do not consume animals, or products made from animals.”
“So the Zhore are vegetarians?”
“Yes.” He wished he did not have to reveal even that much, but she would have found out sooner or later. Not that he was ashamed of his people’s dietary rules, of course not. It was only that she had seemed so eager to learn more of his race, to discover things that had been kept secret for decades. No Zhore had ever sat down at table with the Gaians — or the Eridanis, for that matter. Those in the diplomatic service might attend social functions, but they would not eat the alien food, nor drink anything save water.
She shrugged. “So are a lot of Gaians. Check the other labels. I’m sure there’s something in there you can eat.”
Her nonchalance reassured him. So his diet was not considered all that odd on Gaia? This was something he had not known. “Are you…vegetarian?” he asked, feeling his way around the unfamiliar word.
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“No. That is, I’m not big on red meat — too expensive to have when I was growing up, and when I finally did try it, I didn’t like it much.” A frown pulled at her well-arched brows, and she shook her head, as if attempting to dismiss some unpleasant memory. “Anyway, I don’t go out of my way to avoid animal protein, but I’ve had plenty of meals I’ve enjoyed that didn’t have meat, either.”
He nodded, glad to know she at least didn’t have the appetites of a Stacian, and would not require him to hunt down the local fauna and roast it on a spit for her. She had mentioned nothing about using the animal he had killed for food, and he guessed the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, sheltered and civilized as she was.
With one hand he scrabbled inside the kit, found another bar, and drew it out. An examination of the tiny print in Galactic Standard on the label confirmed it had been made from a combination of beans and grains, and had nothing in it that would offend his stomach.
Relieved, he set down the kit and opened the package, taking care not to tear it so he could wrap the thin foil around the half of the bar he planned to save for later. As he did so, he glanced up at the sky again, marking the position of the sun.
“What is it?” Alexa asked, and Lirzhan could hear the fear sharpening her tone. “Do you see something?”
“Nothing, save the sun,” he told her, hoping she could sense some of the reassurance he was attempting to convey to her. “There were some avians earlier, but we must be larger than their normal prey. No, I was only attempting to determine how much more daylight we have.”
She was silent for a moment, squinting up at the sky and the faint clouds that streaked across it. “Not very much.”
“I agree. I think we only have four hours at best. Less, really, as we should locate a suitable spot to rest before the sun is fully down.”
“True.” He thought he saw her shiver, but she only broke off another bite of her protein bar and chewed it before saying, “Then I suppose we shouldn’t stay here too long,” and pushing herself to her feet.
“We can afford a few more minutes’ rest — ”
“I’m good,” she broke in. “Maybe a little more of that water first?”
So he handed her the pouch and watched as she allowed herself the same measured sips that she had drunk before. Then she gave it back to him and waited as he secured it in the kit, while at the same time finishing off the last few bits of his bean-and-grain bar. The taste was unfamiliar, bland and slightly sweet, but he could tell it would give him the energy he needed.
And then, since he could sense that arguing for more rest time was useless, he stowed the half-empty water container in the bag containing their emergency supplies, and struck out northward again. With any luck, they would find some sort of hospitable spot to camp for the night.
Then again, their luck so far had been questionable at best.
Three
As they began to walk again, at first Alexa was cheered by the fact that their route seemed to be following a downhill course. Her over-stressed leg muscles had already begun to ache, and she didn’t want to think about the sore spot being rubbed into the back of one heel. Funny, if asked before this, she would have said her boots were very comfortable, and something she could have worn for hours with no problem. However, she probably would have been thinking about wearing them all day while in the comfort of the Gaian consulate on Eridani, or at worst while wandering through one of Teliir’s fashionable entertainment districts. Not quite the same thing as hiking over miles of rough terrain, with nary a path in sight.
Lirzhan walked on tirelessly, apparently immune to the damp heat and the rocky ground underfoot. As the afternoon sun beat down on her, she’d thought about removing her jacket, but all she wore underneath was a thin camisole of stretch fabric, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be flashing that much flesh in front of the Zhore, alien or no. Oh, she knew there had never been even a whisper of a rumor that the Zhore had any interest in Gaians. Even so, the thought of exposing herself around Lirzhan made her uncomfortable. Besides, the sun was beginning to set off to their left, disappearing behind a range of mountains so rugged that it was obvious Mandala was a young world, in geological terms. In another hour or so, she’d be damn glad of the jacket that she currently was cursing as too warm.
Neither of them had said much since their hasty not-quite meal in the shade of that alien tree. Probably better that way; they needed to conserve their energy, and if they didn’t speak, then there was no chance of letting slip revelations better left unsaid. What had possessed her to make that comment about red meat being too expensive for her to eat growing up? Oh, it was true enough — only the rich could afford the luxury these days, and such a thing certainly wouldn’t be wasted on a foster child — but there was no need for her to blather on about it to the Zhore ambassador.
Back at the university on Gaia, a group of hard-partying students had started referring to her as “the Ice Queen,” an epithet that unfortunately followed her into the diplomatic corps, but she’d ignored them, just as she ignored everything that wasn’t a direct threat or a barrier to advancement. So what had happened to that frosty wall she’d built around herself? She shouldn’t have spoken so freely to Lirzhan.
Actually, being known as “the Ice Queen” had made it easier for her in one way. No one approached her or attempted any sort of advances. No one, that was, except Trin Elsen, an Eridani who’d either never heard of her nickname or didn’t care what her reputation might be. He’d done a fairly good job of melting her icy exterior…at least when they were alone.
Annoyed with herself, Alexa tried to focus on her surroundings. If it weren’t for being dropped here with inadequate gear and uncertain company, she might have been tempted to say Mandala was beautiful. She hadn’t had much experience with open spaces on Gaia, and of course any posting at an embassy would keep her at the heart of a city, but there was something oddly attractive about these wild, open spaces, about the stark beauty of the gray rocks thrusting upward and the strangely delicate trees that dotted the landscape. The air, too, tasted clean, untouched by technology. Up until now she hadn’t seen much of the allure in settling on empty, uninhabited planets, with none of the comforts of civilization. It was clear, though, that civilization had its own drawbacks.
Speaking of which…
Just who the hell had shot down their shuttle? As with all diplomatic flights, the details of her trip had been classified. No one outside the embassy’s immediate support staff knew when she was leaving, or which ship was transporting her. Obviously some strings had been pulled in certain channels, or Lirzhan would not have traveled with her, but he was also a diplomat, someone with high clearances. It wasn’t as if anyone outside their respective embassies would have known of their itinerary. She hadn’t even told Trin exactly where she was going, or when she planned to leave Eridani. All she’d told him was that she was being transferred, and that was that. No time for tears.
Well, not much, anyway.
She hadn’t bothered to keep the relationship a secret, because it would have been discovered anyway. Luckily, Trin worked in a non-sensitive area — he was a professor of sociology at the local university — and Gaians and Eridanis had been consorting almost as long as the two races had known one another. Perhaps her liaison with Trin had raised a few eyebrows among the more conservative members of the embassy’s staff, but since she was as transparent as possible about the whole thing, no one had commented, or attempted to advise her to break if off.
Unless, of course, her transfer to the Targus system had been an oblique way of telling her that she should be maintaining all her focus on her duties.
She frowned then, and narrowly missed stumbling over a rock just large enough to be troublesome. Amazing how Lirzhan appeared to glide over the rough landscape, his heavy robes never catching on anything, the dirt somehow seeming to slide right off the thick dark fabric’s surface. Nice trick, that.
“Ambassador,” she sai
d.
He paused, the hood turning as he regarded her over his black-clad shoulder. “Surely there is no need for such formalities when it is only the two of us here.”
Fine. Feeling a little strange, she said, “Okay…Lirzhan.”
“Are you all right? Do you need to rest a bit?”
So solicitous. Frankly, she wasn’t used to anyone being all that concerned about her welfare. She shook her head. “No, I’m fine. It’s not as if we’re climbing or anything. It’s just….”
“Just what?”
His voice…it sounded so very human. No trace of an accent at all, unlike the Eridanis and Stacians she’d known. His tones were smooth and rounded as those of a vid-caster, his command of Gaian idiom quite masterful. Then again, he was a diplomat. He must have studied such things in order to work effectively with humans.
Taking a breath, she replied, “I was thinking about the crash…how we ended up here. Yes, both our embassies knew of our flight, but it’s certainly not information that was widely disseminated.”
“Yes.” The briefest of pauses, and he added, “And drawing a ship from subspace…I had not thought such a thing was possible.”
“It isn’t,” she said flatly. “That is, I’ve never heard of it happening before this.”
“But your scientists are always working on such projects, are they not?”
Was she imagining things, or was that a note of accusation in the velvety timbre of his voice? “I wouldn’t know. That’s not my field.” And she sounded stiff even to herself. But what did he expect, that she would start blabbing about rumors of the technology she’d heard was coming out of the Consortium’s skunkworks?
The Mandala Maneuver Page 3