Quiet Invasion

by Sarah Zettel

  “Tr’es.”

  T’sha turned her head, her muzzle still open to speak. Br’sei glided through the doorway.

  “D’tak needs some help in the surveying chamber,” he said, brushing a forehand against Tr’es’s wing. “There’s an unpredicted mutation in the preparers we seeded in Highland 98. We need to find out where it came from.”

  “Yes, Engineer Br’sei.” Tr’es swelled instantly with relief. She flew away without giving T’sha a second glance.

  Br’sei faced T’sha, saying nothing, waiting for her. It was a remarkably discomforting tactic.

  “Excellent timing, Engineer,” remarked T’sha at last.

  “Forgive me, Ambassador T’sha.” Br’sei sank a little with a humility T’sha was certain he did not feel. “But if you’re going to make trouble for someone, it really should be for someone who can handle that trouble.”

  “I am making trouble?” T’sha pulled her muzzle back. “I thought I was doing my job.”

  “That is what everyone here thinks.” Br’sei’s wings fluttered, bobbing him dangerously close to some of the carefully aligned microcosms. “Unfortunately, everyone has conflicting ideas as to what that job is.”

  “I see.” T’sha dropped until she was level with him. “And what do you think your job is?”

  “I was brought here to establish a life base on this world, one that could form the foundation for a canopy, for our lives,” said Br’sei without flinching or hesitation. “I’ve done that.”

  T’sha moved in closer. She wanted to breathe him, taste him thoroughly. She wanted there to be no chance of misunderstanding even one word. “There is more in you,” she said.

  “Yes.”

  Closer. Make him aware of you. Let him be unable to escape the touch and taste of you. “Is it some promise to D’seun that keeps you from telling me?”

  “In truth, no, it’s…” He inflated suddenly. “Ambassador T’sha, have you seen the New People yet?”

  The question caught T’sha off guard and she backed away. “In truth, I haven’t. I have been busy going over reports and trying to understand—”

  “What Ambassador D’seun has been doing with his team.” Br’sei finished her words and pointed his muzzle toward the doorway. “The New People’s home is near. Will you come with me to see it?”

  Eagerness and caution both tugged at T’sha. “Can we do so in safety?”

  “If we keep our distance, we can, but we will need a dirigible.” Br’sei spoke a few command words into his headset. “It will meet us at the mooring point.” He glided out the door. T’sha rattled her wings to the empty air and followed.

  They reached the fat white dirigible without encountering D’seun. T’sha felt a bit like a child breaking curfew. It occurred to her to wonder if Br’sei had made sure D’seun was away before he came to her. Br’sei was cautious enough to think of such a thing.

  The dirigible opened its doors and waited for them to fly aboard.

  T’sha settled herself on one pair of perches while Br’sei spoke in the dirigible’s command language. The dirigible gave its confirmation, closed its doors, and began to rise.

  They flew straight up into the shifting clouds, far up past the temperate zones to where the air was cold and thin and the gases themselves began to freeze into liquids. T’sha stroked one of the dirigible’s tendons in sympathy. It had been bred for harsh conditions, but this could not be comfortable.

  Br’sei said nothing during the flight. T’sha let the silence float between them. He was making decisions, that much was obvious. She needed to give him room. He was not some overawed child who needed to be alternately coaxed along and reminded of his responsibilities. Br’sei had been declared adult before T’sha had even been born. Whole cities owed their lives to his work, and if he was successful here, the whole world would too. D’seun would take the credit for it, as ambassador. But T’sha at least would know who had grown the life, who had really spread it.

  And I will make sure that others do too, she vowed silently. You have my promise.

  “There,” said Br’sei suddenly.

  T’sha let go of her perches and floated up beside him. Through the dirigible’s eyes she saw a sphere of silver with its wings and tail spread wide to catch the winds. Thick tendons connected an elaborate exoskeleton to dull-gray skin.

  “It’s a city!” T’sha clacked her teeth delightedly. “Clearly, that is a city. Why did no one say!”

  “It’s not alive.”

  T’sha turned one eye toward him. “What?”

  “It’s not alive,” he repeated slowly and forcefully, allowing each word to sink into her skin. “None of their cities are. They’re metal.”

  T’sha pulled in on herself, almost unwilling to understand. “Ca’aed has metallic extensions, Engineer. That doesn’t mean—”

  “I don’t mean metallic extensions, Ambassador.” Br’sei swelled and spread his wings. His hands all grabbed a perch to keep him from bumping into the ceiling. “I mean metal. The shell, the tendons, the bones. That was built, not grown. It is not alive. None of their cities are.”

  “That’s…” T’sha stopped, searching for words.

  “Morbid? Disgusting? Frightening?” suggested Br’sei, clenching and unclenching his posthands in his agitation. “I have thought all of these things.”

  T’sha struggled. To live encased in metal, to not even try to emerge. How must that be? “I would not be able to tolerate it,” she said slowly. “I would go insane. But I have a friend, Technician Pe’sen, who would be fascinated by this.”

  Br’sei clacked his teeth once, sharply. “Technicians always are a bit morbid, aren’t they? To give yourself over to the science of the never-living, I suppose you must be.” He whistled. “I have thought we might need one or two technicians on this team before we are done.” He gazed at the distant silver sphere again, clenching his hands around his perches. “But, I ask myself, as a good engineer must, because their environment would make me insane, does it follow that they must be insane? There are many creatures in the canopy who eat what would poison a person.”

  T’sha remained silent, feeling the pattern of his words with care. Where did these questions come from? Were they wholly his own, or had someone said something to him to lift the questions up? Someone who might be Ambassador D’seun?

  “Have you found an answer to this question yet?” asked T’sha carefully.

  “No.” He faced the graceful, lifeless sphere that held all there was of the New People on this world. “I have seen what there is to see of them, and of us, and my thoughts have swung back and forth until I’m no longer sure what wind blows them.” He deflated. “I was hoping that your thoughts would be steadier than mine.”

  “Engineer Br’sei.” T’sha glided to his perch and settled there, her wings touching his, her crest brushing his back. “What has D’seun told your team?”

  Br’sei did not look fully at her, but neither did he deflate. He just spread his crest, as if seeking his balance in a difficult wind. “That you are greedy and dangerous. That you are rich and young and do not see beyond your own ambitions. That we must not say what we know of the New People because too many in the High Law Meet would be frightened and advocate finding another world so as not to be too near this potential insanity. That the People are dying and if we do not succeed with this world, we are all of us dead.” Br’sei cocked his head. “He was most convincing too.”

  “Yes,” murmured T’sha even as anger swelled her body. “I imagine he was. Even Tr’es believed him.” Stop, stop. Now is not the time. Swallow it, save it, breathe it out later. Lose control and you’ll kill what you’re growing with Br’sei.

  Her patience though was raw and withered. Her worries, her suspicions swam around inside her body, threatening her internal vision. She could not trust her subtlety now. She was too rocked by what Br’sei had said. She needed to ask her questions right now. There was no alternative.

  “Engineer Br’se
i.” She let go of the perch and swelled herself out as far as her skin allowed. “Was there life in the New Person when Tr’es took it apart?”

  “No,” he said, simply and immediately.

  “Was there life in the New Person when you took it apart?” She spread wings and crest to their fullest extent, towering, dominating with her size as she could not with her years. “Or was it D’seun’s doing?”

  “You have promised me nothing that could make me answer that question,” said Br’sei coldly. She opened her mouth, but he thrust his muzzle forward. “And before you try, you should review how deeply I and mine are promised to D’seun. He brought us here. He ensured futures for us and our children and all our families—not just free futures, either, but glorious ones. The least of us will head our own households with our pick of spouses. I cannot set all that aside for nothing.” The touch of his words was as weak as the words themselves were strong. He was pleading with her, she realized, almost sick with what he could not say, could not do.

  One bone at a time, T’sha made herself subside. “I see you are torn. I understand it I will find what I can do to make this as easy as possible for you.”

  “He is not insane, Ambassador,” murmured Br’sei, as if he were trying out an uncertain idea.

  T’sha stiffened against the engineer’s words. “If he killed a New Person for their raw materials, he is.”

  “I don’t know that’s what he did,” said Br’sei, more to the city beyond them than to T’sha herself. “It could be nothing but my fear talking.”

  “Maybe, Engineer.” T’sha was not eager to allow that possibility, but she had to. She had nothing tangible to wrap her hands around. She had nothing but holes—holes in the records, holes in Br’sei’s knowledge. Holes were not proof. Holes were suspicion only. “But you must allow that Ambassador D’seun is flying high and that the air around him is very, very thin.”

  Br’sei clacked his teeth bitterly. “Is that not how we all fly right now?”

  T’sha dipped her muzzle. “You are right, Engineer. I wish you weren’t.”

  “So do I, Ambassador,” said Br’sei, deflating until he was only the size of a child. “Life of my mother, so do I.”

  Helen stood as Grace Meyer entered her office. “Thanks for coming, Grace.” She pulled a cup of steaming black coffee from the wall dispenser and handed it across to the chemist.

  “Thanks.” Grace inhaled the aroma appreciatively. Helen had called for fresh coffee specifically for this interview. Grace looked tired, but alert as ever. Grace Meyer pushed herself harder than anyone on Venera, with the possible exception of Helen herself.

  But then again, Grace felt she had more to prove, and more to gain, than anyone.

  So, how far would that take her?

  “Has Isaac Walters pronounced an opinion on your absorbers yet?” asked Helen, drawing a cup for herself.

  “We’re designing some new experiments,” said Grace non-committally as she sat in one of the guest chairs and crossed her legs. “I’m in contact with him.” Walters was down at the Discovery with the rest of the U.N. team.

  “Now,” Grace said as Helen sat back down behind her desk, “any particular reason why I’m the one being summoned to court?”

  Helen sighed. “It’s not just you, Grace. The yewners have us all on the carpet They’ve called for an audit, so the books have to be opened.” She did not say why, but it was hard. She wanted to yell, was it you? Did you put us in this position? Did you tell the yewners that our salvation is a fraud?

  Grace’s face softened a little. “I suppose that’s only to be expected. After all, the eyes of the world are upon us,” she intoned. “How’s that going, by the way?” she asked in a more normal voice.

  Helen shrugged and sat behind her desk, setting her coffee cup down in front of her. “As U.N. publicity, it seems to be a big success. I’ve been getting congratulatory bursts from our Mr. Waicek telling me what a marvelous job we’re doing keeping his people fed and watered.” She curled her hands loosely around her cup, feeling the warmth seep into her palms. “I think the C.A.C. folks do not want us to get above ourselves. Because we’re a chartered colony, they have a right to look at our books. If they wanted to make real trouble, an easy route would be to say we’re not using all our new resources efficiently and that we need to be regulated.” Helen sipped her coffee and returned it to the circle of her hands. “So this means we get an audit, and this means that the people with the biggest budget increases are going to get special attention.” Helen smiled wanly. “This means you.”

  “This means me.” Grace studied Helen for a minute. Searching her face for what? Helen could not guess. Helen returned the woman’s gaze, although it did not take much looking to see Grace’s native stubbornness settling in. Helen braced herself for a fight.

  In the next moment, however, Grace’s expression eased, almost as if she’d learned what she wanted to know. “Okay, Helen. I’ll play. What do you need?”

  “I need to go over your expenses with you.” Helen lit up her desk screen. “If you can jack into your records and follow along, help me fill in the blank spots. I’d appreciate it.”

  Grace took another swallow of coffee and set her cup down on the edge of Helen’s desk. “Well, I won’t enjoy it, but let’s do it.” She worked the secondary command board to open her private logs. “Where do you want to start?”

  The next hour felt almost like a ritual. Helen laid out the expense reports for the time immediately up to the Discovery on her desk screen and went down the line, questioning each point of income and each corresponding point of outflow. Grace answered solemnly, pausing to check her private records when her memory faltered. Helen made notes. They both drank their coffee, refilling the cups whenever they emptied.

  “Last thing,” said Helen finally. The look on Grace’s face was one of disbelief. “Really.” Grace granted and made a “come on” gesture. Helen gave her a sour half-smile. “Just the new supporter. Biotech 24.”

  “Oh, them.” Grace ruffled her strawberry-blond bangs. “They’re venture capitalists of the old school. Very twentieth. Bet on the underdog kind of thing. I made a pitch that alien RNA might prove to be highly useful, and they dug into their pockets. Not as far as I would have liked, though.” She smiled thoughtfully at her coffee. “Although, I haven’t been back since the Discovery. We’ve been too busy.”

  “Haven’t exactly needed to, have you?” Helen looked at her spreadsheets. “People have been waving money in your face.”

  “It’s a nice change,” admitted Grace. “For all of us.”

  “And you’ve been keeping your people busy spending it.” Helen touched a key and a new set of records appeared on her desk screen. “They’ve been logging in a lot of scarab time as well.”

  “Oh, yes. I’ve got Kevin Cusmanos yammering at me for being too hard on his babies and his pilots.” She saw Helen’s look and raised her free hand. “Okay, I admit it I’ve been pushing. But I’ve got no idea how long the largesse is going to last. I finally have the chance to make my case and be taken seriously. I wanted to move on it.”

  Helen nodded. She understood that feeling all too well. “I’ve just got to keep on top of what’s good for Venera, Grace. Our whole colony’s on the line here.”

  Grace shook her head. “You’ve been listening to Bennet too long, Helen. C.A.C.’s not going to take it away from us for a set of proto-proteins and a hole in the ground. The yewners have got better things to do.”

  “Let’s hope so,” said Helen fervently. She blanked her desk. “It all looks good, Grace. Thanks for your patience.”

  “Not a problem.” Grace stood up and pitched the remains of her coffee and the cup into the appropriate chutes. “I take it I’m dismissed.”

  “Until the next press call.” Helen gave her a small smile, and Grace returned it. Helen touched a key to open the door for her.

  Grace walked out but paused in the threshold and turned around. “By the way, Hel
en, it wasn’t me.”

  Helen frowned. “It wasn’t you, what?”

  “Who’s been talking to the yewners.” Grace’s smile was sly, like someone who knew they’d made a stellar move in a difficult game. “If I were you, I’d bring the subject up with Michael Lum.”

  Then she did leave. The door shut, and Helen sat there, paralyzed.

  Michael? Michael talked to the U.N. without talking to her? Ridiculous. Michael wouldn’t even think…

  No, Michael would think. It was the one thing Michael could be absolutely counted on to do. It was one of the reasons she and Ben had picked him for the board when the slot opened up.

  But without talking to her?

  Listen to me, will you. Sitting in my throne room wondering who’s just stabbed me in the back. A little wind-up Caesar. Helen’s head sank slowly to her hands. Has it really come to that?

  She’d seen it coming, the money crisis that lay at the root of every question she’d had to ask during the whole long, aching day. More than a year ago, she’d seen the trends and had known a storm was brewing. She’d told no one on Venera.

  That was probably a mistake. But she hadn’t wanted anyone to worry. She hadn’t wanted to disturb anyone’s work.

  To be honest, she hadn’t wanted anyone to leave.

  Instead, during her yearly stump trip to Mother Earth, she’d made a side visit to U.N. City and went to see Yan Su.

  They’d been in a windchime park. The salty ocean breeze blew through the miniature trees and rang bells representing every republic, from mellow brass Tibetan bells to weirdly tuned Monterey pipes. They sat on one of the autoform benches, ignoring the security cameras that trained themselves automatically on Su as a member of The Government.

  The sun was pleasantly hot on the back of Helen’s neck as she told Su what was happening—the shrinking pure-research budgets, never huge to begin with, the waning enthusiasm for corporate charity, the inability of the hundreds of tiny republics to support major research grants for their people.

  “I hate to say this.” She’d smiled tiredly at her friend. “But if nothing changes, we’re going to be asking for a government handout next year.”