by C. Gockel
“Wait,” one of the Luddeccean men said. He leaned close to Stella and whispered, “Ms. Tudor, you’ve allowed weere priests to attend these dinners.”
“With the archbishop,” she said. “Not this—” She waved her hand dismissively in Volka’s general direction. Volka wondered what she’d do if she saw her arm in Sixty’s. Imagining the uproar, she tried to pull away from Sixty, but his grip became firmer. He looked down at her and one of his nostrils flared.
“Ma’am,” said the secretary. “Please reconsider.”
Murmurs arose in the room.
“I will not,” said Stella.
The murmurs rose in volume and then another voice cut through them all. “Let them in. Let them all in.”
Volka’s ears folded, her eyes dropped to the floor, and if Sixty hadn’t been holding her arm, she might have fallen. It was Alaric.
Alaric’s voice rang through the sudden silence. “We need the Galacticans as much as they need us, and Ms. Volka is a member of their embassy.”
There were angry murmurs around the room. But Alaric spoke again. “And she’s more than that. She is a hero of System 33 just as my crew was. She risked her life for Luddecceans and the Republic and fought against our common enemy both on the ground and in the sky.”
Murmurs arose again, as many that were confused as angry.
“What is he doing?” Volka moaned half to herself.
“Exactly what you would do,” Sixty replied, gazing over the ambassador’s shoulder.
“Getting into trouble with everyone?” Volka whispered, joking because her heart felt like it had grown wings and was fluttering. “Is that what you think of me?”
Sixty looked down at her, his expression very somber. “It’s why I—”
“The Galacticans choose their staff well. Ms. Volka deserves a seat at a table.” Alaric’s words were almost a whisper, but somehow at the first syllable the room fell silent again. Volka closed her eyes. Oh, Alaric…why couldn’t you have been so brave and foolish years ago?
Whispers rose again around the room, like rain on a roof, erratic, swept by wind, and rising in volume as the storm deepened. The familiar speculations about her being “The Captain’s weere” swirled with, “Is that true?” and “It’s Darmadi. The man wouldn’t lie.”
“Come on, Volka,” Sixty whispered. She opened her eyes, half expecting that they would be leaving. Instead Sixty led her through the dining room to a circular table with just enough seats for their party. Volka sat down in a daze. Sitting in a high-ranking Luddeccean family’s dining room as a guest was the most unimaginable thing that had ever happened to her. She saw the house’s regular staff at the edges of the room watching her curiously. Maybe Starcrest and Sixty were right, maybe bringing her was a good idea. She sat through the speeches before the dinner in a daze, carefully not looking to where Alaric sat with his wife. She may not have the prince, but she did feel like a princess in a fairy tale.
And then the soup came out, and she remembered fairy tales weren’t real.
6T9’s ethernet pinged as the soup was placed in front of him by a human caterer.
Answering, his ethernet was filled with the thoughts of the embassy’s communications officer. “6T9 unit, are you receiving?” The words were followed by a series of complex 3D shapes that floated in 6T9’s vision over the real world images of crystal, silver, and porcelain on the table.
“Receiving,” 6T9 replied silently, sending the complex characters back to the officer, verifying his reception.
“Embassy staff, local ethernet established,” the communication officer relayed.
“Think that they are afraid to use jammers on their own house? Do they think the jammer bands are carcinogenic?” someone asked silently.
The ambassador’s thoughts interrupted any response. “We will use the ether for emergency communication only.” The ethernet fell silent, but it was still there, still accessible, pleasantly humming in 6T9’s skull.
Around the Galacticans, silverware began to clink as Luddecceans began to eat.
The ethernet sparked with the ambassador’s voice. “We can eat now.” In the real world he smiled ruefully, perhaps at how quickly he had broken his own rule. “Do what I say, not as I do—if they see our table being too quiet they’ll get suspicious.”
Everyone picked up their spoons, and the ambassador silently prompted, “Make conversation.”
A woman close to Sixty, the embassy’s chief security officer, cleared her throat and spoke aloud to the information officer. “It seemed like there might be rain tonight. I thought that rain was largely confined to the rainy season at this latitude?”
No one at the table laughed aloud, but the ether exploded with sparks of laughter, and a silent ether comment of, “We’re going to talk about the weather now?”
“It’s safe enough,” the ambassador replied in the ether. “I think our 6T9 unit can confirm.”
“The weather is always safe to discuss,” 6T9 agreed aloud, trying to follow the ambassador’s directions, just as a responsible carbon-based life-form might.
“I don’t know how long I can keep talking about the weather, though,” said the security officer over the ether. And there was more silent laughter.
“Querying more data on local weather conditions,” said the information officer aloud.
The ether exploded with sparks of humor. “Don’t say querying so they can hear you!” the security officer’s thoughts admonished over the ether.
“The soup is good,” said a consular officer aloud, and then whispered, “Is that safe to say, Sixty—Mr. Niano?”
“Yes,” said 6T9. His synth skin heated, and over the ether he said, “There is another person here with more recent experience with Luddeccean culture. You could ask her. Aloud.”
“She seems as lost as us,” said the security officer.
6T9 glanced quickly at Volka. She had picked up her spoon, and her eyes were on the soup, but she hadn’t touched it yet. Her expression was pained.
“Yes, the soup is very good,” said another member of the embassy.
Volka put her spoon down, and 6T9’s Q-comm sparked. The soup had cream in it, but she could handle cream, and in fact enjoyed it. There were no legumes or excessively fibrous ingredients that upset her stomach. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“The human waiter spit in my soup; I smell it.”
Static flared under 6T9’s skin. Around them silverware dropped. Volka said hastily, “Don’t worry, it’s just my soup, not yours.”
More static flared beneath 6T9’s skin.
“No one pick up your utensils,” the ambassador said silently over the ether.
Volka’s brow furrowed, and she sniffed. “Also, mine smells…funny…like something else.”
Remembering all the pranks the independent traders had tried playing on him, 6T9 dipped a finger into her soup and tasted it. His head tic returned. “It’s mildly poisoned.” It wouldn’t kill Volka; it would just cause her violent digestive distress, probably before the evening was over.
“It can’t be affecting you, though?” said the ambassador.
“No, of course not,” Sixty said, skin crawling with static. He wanted…he wanted…
“You seem to be having trouble with your…ah…muscles,” the security officer whispered.
His head tic had returned again. 6T9 smacked his hand onto his neck.
Over the ether, the ambassador said, “An interstellar incident that is not our doing.”
Behind him, 6T9 heard a woman’s fast footsteps, followed by a man’s.
“Alaric,” Volka whispered. “They’ve left…I knew this was a terrible idea.”
Lifting a hand in the real world to summon a waiter, the ambassador spoke over the ether. “This will be leverage. Splendid.” There was the faintest of smiles on his lips, and sparks of amusement over the ether from the other members of the party.
Volka’s head bowed. She was completely locked out of their silent conve
rsation. 6T9 put his hand behind his neck, expecting his head to tic again. He wanted to snarl at his fellow Galacticans. When he looked at the waiters, he wanted to…His head tic resumed. He wanted…He wanted…
“Sixty?” Volka said, putting a hand on his wrist.
“I cannot think what I want,” he hissed and grit his teeth.
“Here comes the waiter,” said the security officer.
“Splendid. Splendid,” said the ambassador over the ether, and 6T9’s head resumed its violent tic, but this time it was the ambassador he was staring at.
17
The Dark Beckons
Planet Luddeccea
The rain pattered against the car. On the way to the dinner, Alexis had fought sleep. Now she was too angry to sleep. Too humiliated. Too hurt.
She’d failed. Her mother said when you were the center of scandal you should go on as though nothing was wrong. Alexis hadn’t even made it through her soup before bolting from the table. She swallowed, and her nails bit her palm. But then, for all her father’s failings, he’d never publicly acknowledged his whores at a formal event.
She said nothing to Alaric. Watching the windshield wipers swish, she only silently willed him to apologize. He didn’t. She felt like she should cry, but she couldn’t. Her eyes were dry. He’d grown up poor, estranged from the wealthy members of the Darmadi clan. His marriage to her had brought his ostracized father and his brothers and sister back into respectable society, provided them all opportunities beyond even what the Darmadi clan could have provided, and yet, he did this to her.
They turned from the highway onto the green and leafy main street of Silas’s neighborhood and Alexis broke. “How could you? In front of all those people? Have you no respect for me at all?”
Alaric’s hands tightened on the wheel. “If you’re speaking about standing up for the weere, that had nothing to do with my respect for you. I did what was right.”
The rain on the car went from a gentle patter to a rapid drum. Alexis tried to count down from ten to calm herself, but the rhythmless beat threw her off. The car came to a stop at an intersection, and Alexis unfastened her seatbelt. Flinging the door open, she jumped out. The rain was a warm summer downpour, not like the cold showers of the rainy season. The night was dark, and between the darkness and the warm rain, she wanted to keep walking, to disappear into the night and have all her shame washed away.
She heard Alaric’s footsteps behind her and for an instant she wanted to bolt. Her face crumpled. He’d chase her, and certainly catch her, and then what? She’d probably be committed to one of those hospitals for women who’d had episodes of mental instability. That was appealing. She could be “mentally unstable” quite a while to stay away from him. Her stomach constricted. But that would mean leaving her boys, and as much as she despised their father, she loved her sons. What would they do without her? What would happen to Markus? When Alaric deployed again, would he be handed off to someone who would give up on him?
She detested fighting, but she had to fight for her boys.
Spinning, Alexis snarled. “You didn’t stand up for that weere because it was right.”
Halting a few strides away, Alaric tilted his head. “Yes, I did. We need the Galacticans. We have a common enemy we cannot defeat alone.”
Alexis’s heart rate sped up. She’d thought many ill things of Alaric, but never that he was such a blatant, stupid liar. “You stood up for her because she is your whore.”
Alaric’s head jerked back as though she’d slapped him. Alexis felt a cold shiver on her spine.
“Who told you that?” he whispered.
“Everyone knows, Alaric,” Alexis hissed.
“Well, everyone is wrong, Alexis,” he shot back.
“Liar!” Alexis snarled. “I’ve known about your patronage to her since before our wedding!”
“What?” Alaric asked, for the first time sounding startled.
“You publicly humiliated me for that…for that…” Beginning to pace, she waved a hand. “Her eyes! Her ears, she’s practically a dog, Alaric. How could you?”
Somewhere in the dark night a branch cracked and fell.
In a voice colder than she’d ever heard from anyone, Alaric said, “Well, she doesn’t loathe me, and that is nice.”
Drawing up short, she gaped at him. He stood still as a statue and met her gaze. There was no shame in his eyes. He didn’t fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, and his tone had cut like ice.
She hadn’t realized how much she’d wanted him to deny everything until that moment… Loathe. It wasn’t inaccurate, but she’d thought she’d hidden it. Her lip curled in anger or because she was finally going to cry, she wasn't sure. “I always treated you with respect.”
Alaric wiped his face. The car’s engine and windshield wipers were still on, and their swishes were in sharp contrast to the uneven rain. Alexis’s dress was soaked, and her shoes were ruined. Alaric’s dress greens couldn’t be in any better shape, nor his shoes. Still he didn’t move. Alexis wrapped her arms around herself, beginning to finally feel chilled.
A car drove by, slowing down for a moment before heading down the road. Alaric followed it with his eyes. Turning back to Alexis, he said, “I have never been Volka’s patron. I was involved with her before our engagement, but I have not been with her since then. So, I guess, Alexis, both of us have honored our wedding vows in deed if not in spirit.”
He was lying again. Heat immediately returned to Alexis’s skin. “She was aboard your ship!”
“And she slept in a separate cabin,” Alaric said. In the dim light, Alexis made out a wry smile on his face.
Her lips curled. “She pulled you out of the rubble on Libertas!”
Alaric shrugged, and this time Alexis was sure she saw a wry smile. “She doesn’t seem to want me dead.”
Alexis stared at him, mouth agape. What was he implying…? And he was lying. He had to be. One did not just make a public spectacle for a weere unless there was something more there. Her mind went back to his words of being faithful in deed if not in spirit. Her body felt as though it had turned to lead and so heavy, she might sink into the Earth. “Do you love her?”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. The wry smile was gone. “Let’s get back in the car.”
Wrapping her arms around herself, Alexis swallowed. The night and the freedom of a life without him still beckoned. Was she going to fight for her sons? The windshield wipers continued to swish. Behind her, a light in the nearest house went on, and she heard the click of a door. There’d be another witness to her shame in a minute.
Arms wrapped tight around herself, Alexis got into the car. Alaric closed the door for her, but neither of them said anything all the way home.
When Alexis arrived at the top of the stairs before the boys’ rooms, Markus started to cry. It was a perfect reason to not face Alaric. She turned on the light in Markus’s room, lifted him from his bed, put him to her breast, and paused. On the Origins of War was peeking from the cushion of her chair, as usual, but there was something new there, an envelope. Clutching Markus to her, she kneeled down, ignoring the sting that provoked. On the chair was a large envelope, upon which was a note from Silas. Your authorization to go to beautiful New Fargo has arrived. Signed for it while you were out. Uncle Silas.
The rain pounded against the window, beckoning her out into the night.
18
Escape
Planet Luddeccea
6T9 lay on his back inside Sundancer, naked from the waist up and his feet bare. Heat radiated from the ship into the soles of his feet and through his back, gently charging him. As he charged, he sifted through data delivered by the ‘bots at the World Sphere. It wasn’t the alien porn, but although 6T9 would never admit it, it was just as interesting.
Images of the xeno-archeological site were accompanied by narration by JackHAMR. “Android General 1, we must reiterate that all these observations are preliminary. However, evidence points to a highly egalitari
an, communal society. Groups of non-related adults lived in shared spaces with children who appear to be related to one or more of the adults. Below living spaces were clutches of the egg-like structures. Males have been found in the clutches feeding offspring not their own. Work does not seem to have been segregated along gender lines. This might not be surprising, as aside from reproductive organs, there is very little sexual dimorphism. This is in stark contrast to humans, for whom every organ system has notable differences.
Sadly, we haven’t been able to find any evidence of autonomous robots.
In the real world, 6T9 sighed. It would have been interesting to have an alien cousin. His Q-comm sparked…the data was preliminary.
“Hissssssssss…” In the real world, there was a tickle of air in 6T9’s left ear, but he didn’t disconnect.
The download continued, Search for a “picture book” continues.
“Grrrrrr…”
The species seems to have subsisted on a completely vegetarian diet—
“Ow!” 6T9 said, sitting up and clutching his earlobe. Carl was on the floor blinking up at him innocently.
“Did you have to bite me?”
Carl began gesturing with his topmost paw pairs, the motions making his body undulate like a snake. The ether was still jammed, but 6T9’s Q-comm sparked, recognizing Interstellar Sign Language in the paw movements. Still, just to irritate the little weasel, he said, “Learning the Mambo, Carl? You’re doing it wrong.”
Springing to his feet, he punctuated the comment by dancing a few bars.
Carl smacked his paws against his face, and 6T9 cackled. “I did understand you. The ambassador needs me.” He smoothed a hand down his duct-tape pauldron. “Let me get dressed and tell you what Jack has told me about the aliens.”
Nodding enthusiastically, Carl signed, “Yes, please.”