There was nobody he could collide with. There were no open spaces like this on Umeh. The only areas that had not been completely built over were the ice deserts, and even now the huge expense of urbanizing them seemed inevitable if the population was to be housed.
A shape overhead made Ual start. But it wasn’t a vessel. It was a flying creature of some kind, in fact a whole group of them moving slowly across the sky with steadily flapping wings. They had no purpose for the wess’har. They simply existed here with them. He had never seen wild creatures on Umeh. Nobody had, not in living memory.
Umeh could have this one day. It wouldn’t be authentic, but it would be a new reality. He inhaled the air. Isenj could tolerate a wider range of atmospheres than humans, but good clean air free of the by-products of crowded living tasted sweet whatever its composition.
“Why did they build F’nar here? There are pleasant grasslands and forests right across the planet.”
Eddie shrugged. “They chose the barren places where few native species lived.”
“They take that much care?”
“I know. It’s hard for humans to understand too. We’d have hogged the best seats right away.” The breeze whipped his hair. “I’ve tried to understand why they’re like this. On Earth, the species and individuals that grabbed most survived. Where the wess’har came from, the species that cooperated best were the ones who made it. I want to go to Eqbas Vorhi. I have to see it for myself.”
Isenj were competitive too. Competition had limits.
Ual opened his mouth and took in as much of the clean air as he could gulp down. He spent the rest of the afternoon weaving an irregular path back and forth across the plain of F’nar, stunned by the space and the endless vista of tiny, fast-growing winter plants and bright pearl cliff faces.
He was right. He knew now that he was, and that whatever price he paid would be worth it.
17
The detail of Earth geopolitics probably means little to you, but I want to assure you that the FEU does not speak or act on behalf of the whole planet. We too are appalled at the events in your system. We have now forced the FEU to turn back its warship Hereward and we hope you will take that as a token of our genuine wish to stay out of your affairs. The United Nations, an international peacekeeping organization that represents all Earth states, has imposed a permanent and global ban on travel and exploration beyond our own solar system. We hope this measure will convince you that there is no need for you to intervene here to guarantee your own security.
UN Secretary General MARIE-CLAUDE GARCES, in a message to Curas Ti
The scent of jask hit Nevyan before she entered the Exchange of Surplus Things. Esganikan and Shan were locked in disagreement. She didn’t need to see either of them to know that.
“They are below,” said Serrimissani.
Nevyan hurried down the passage that stretched under the Exchange to the subterranean hangars where F’nar’s fighter craft were housed. The terrestrial gene bank had been placed there for safekeeping. She followed the scent that Shan had tagged mango and found her and Esganikan standing by the row of dull gray composite cabinets that held as comprehensive a selection of the Earth’s plant and animal species as anyone could assemble. Many no longer existed on their own planet. And Shan’s posture as she stood in front of the cabinets said clearly that she would not surrender their contents.
Shapakti, two of his crew, four F’nar citizens on maintenance duties and Aitassi stood at a sensible distance from the matriarchs. A definite space had cleared around the two even though their pheromonally charged debate would have no impact on the hierarchy of F’nar.
To a human, it might have looked like a discussion. Shan was leaning against one cabinet, arms folded, and Esganikan was speaking quietly to her in wess’u, the linguistically neutral territory they had settled upon. But their scent said very clearly that they were jostling for dominance.
“I think it’s a very risky move,” said Shan.
“Nobody can own this resource.”
“I don’t claim to own it, but its safety is my personal responsibility.”
“It should return to Earth. The species should all be restored.”
“And what if we fuck up again? The whole gene bank is gone.”
“We will ensure that no gethes…” Esganikan got to grips with the new phrase: her red plume bobbed. “… fucks up again.”
Nevyan stepped across the moat of space around the two females.
“We’re discussing what should happen to the gene bank,” said Shan, but she didn’t take her eyes off Esganikan. “I’m concerned about committing all of it to Earth.”
A powerful defensive scent made Nevyan glance towards Esganikan for an opinion and Shan simply turned to look at her. Shan was her friend. And Shan should have been standing where Nevyan was now: the human had outscented Chayyas when she first came to the city, and so the senior matriarchy of F’nar was hers by right. She had chosen to hand that to Mestin. Mestin had ceded to Nevyan.
And Nevyan never thought she might have to test her jask against Shan Frankland.
She met Shan’s eyes and the message was clear: are you on my side or what? She could almost hear her saying it. It was the or what that always had such finality about it.
“I agree with Shan Chail,” said Nevyan. She did: but even if she didn’t, she trusted Shan’s judgment over a stranger’s. She smelled her own determination well up and add to the pheromonal mix. “Before any of this material returns to Earth there must be a duplicate bank, maintained out of the reach of gethes.”
“I’d go along with that,” said Shan.
“Can you do this?” asked Nevyan.
Esganikan’s scent was diminishing. She took a step back from Shan, who unfolded her arms. “Yes. It can be done. We need access to examine the specimens.”
“I’ll show Shapakti around later,” said Shan, and made no attempt to step away from the cabinet. She smiled, but there was no movement in the muscles around her eyes. Esganikan and her party stood blinking for a few moments and then left.
Nevyan waited.
“Thanks,” said Shan. “I think we out-mangoed her.”
“I have never known two isan’ve need to confront another together to achieve consensus.” Nevyan had to ask. “You’re quite capable of asserting your dominance over her on your own, so why did you not do so?”
“I didn’t want your job then, and I don’t want hers now. There’s a time and a place for throwing your weight around and this isn’t it.”
“How do you control your scent?”
“I just can. I suggest we see her together when there’s critical business to be done, or she’ll just walk all over you. And me, if I’m not as hard as I think I am.”
It wasn’t an insult. It was a statement of fact and a prudent precaution. “I know I can rely on you to support me, Shan.”
Shan stepped away from the cabinet and stood looking at it, arms folded again and her lips pressed together as if she resented it for dragging her so far from home. She opened it with a touch on a recessed panel. Cold air rolled out from the cabinet in a breath of fog, and inside it layer upon layer of thin shelves held a snapshot of a planet Nevyan had never seen.
“Will you travel back with the gene bank?” asked Nevyan.
“I can’t. This is home now.” Shan betrayed neither regret nor satisfaction. “My mission was to retrieve the unpatented strains of food crops. Perault never said anything about my returning with them, and I don’t reckon she gave a monkey’s toss if I came back or not. Once the samples ship out, my obligation ceases.”
Shan took a small object out of her jacket, not her own communications device but one like those that had been confiscated from Rayat and Neville. She tossed it a little way in the air and caught it again in one hand. “Guess what?”
“I cannot follow this conversation.”
“Okay, I’ve been going through Rayat’s handheld to get names. But I came across correspondence
with Eugenie Perault, the minister who gave me my Suppressed Briefing.”
Shan began walking towards the exit and beckoned Nevyan to follow.
“And?”
“It’s routine. It’s just the combination of people that sets my bells ringing. There’s no reason for her to talk to a pharmacologist, so she was talking to him as a spy. Now, ministers normally have whole departments of minions who do that for them, so if she was having personal conversations with him, I’m pretty sure they were along the same lines of the one she had with me, because she usually didn’t talk to lowly EnHaz coppers either.”
“He was not a factor in your Suppressed Briefing?”
“No. But I’m bloody sure now that he knew what he was looking for out here. I just want to know why he was tasked to find c’naatat and if Perault was the one who sent him.”
“I would think that was obvious.”
“Not if you know Perault. She was a devout Christian, and her sister was an eco-terrorist. One of those I helped when I really shouldn’t have. I didn’t know who she was at the time. Call me naive.”
“You sound as if you regret what you did.”
“Not at all. I’d do it all over again. I’d just go in harder next time, that’s all.” Shan stared at the handheld as she walked, apparently willing information to extract itself from the device. “And it doesn’t even matter if she sent him with a different set of orders to me, but I need to know anyway. I hate loose ends. It’s one of those obsessions that makes me a copper.”
“Will he tell you?”
“I get the feeling he wants me to try to thrash it out of him to show he can get the better of me.”
“And are you determined to show him he can’t?”
“When you put it like that, it does sound puerile.”
They came out into the main hall of the Exchange and some wess’har paused to sniff the air, reacting to the wild cocktail of scents that still clung to them.
“You let them live because you want to know these things? Is that all?”
“I let them live because Esganikan told me not to shoot them. But yes, I want to know.” If Shan was annoyed by her criticism she didn’t let it show. There was no trace of any scent or expression. “I don’t like relying on gut instinct, but sometimes it’s the best there is and it’s saved me on more than one occasion. And something’s telling me that I can’t close this unless I know what Perault was up to. It might be irrelevant, but I know there’s a missing piece and it just might be significant.”
“What now?”
“I’m going to get Lindsay and Rayat moved to Mar’an’cas.”
“Why?”
“They’re sitting on their arses in Fersanye’s house doing nothing and eating, and they ought to be earning their keep. They can get their hands dirty with the colonists.” Shan tapped at the handheld, distracted. “And perhaps being stuck with a bunch of god-botherers on a cold wet rock for a while will shake Rayat down. Or get him to drop his guard to someone.”
“But Lindsay Neville was never part of his operation, was she?”
Shan shook her head.
“Do you wish to kill her?”
“Sometimes.”
“Perhaps you have learned to dispense with pointless revenge.”
“I doubt it,” said Shan.
Ual wondered if the defense forces of the Northern Assembly might try to shoot down the ship before he had the chance to make his case. And if they didn’t, then the Maritime Fringe might save them the trouble. It all depended on how keen they were to call down the wrath of Eqbas Vorhi.
Esganikan Gai, who stood at the helm of a warship that had somehow detached itself from the larger vessel, seemed unperturbed. “Your forces have nothing that can penetrate this hull.”
“Said an Eqbas spokesman,” Eddie muttered, but very quietly. He held a short sleeveless garment up against his chest. “Is charcoal my color?”
“What is that?”
“A ballistic vest to stop projectiles putting a hole through me. I know it works because it’s Shan’s and she said it stopped an isenj round before.” He fastened the vest down each side and flapped his arms as if testing it for comfort. “It’s too tight. Funny, she always seemed to be built like an Amazon.”
“I have yet to meet her,” said Ual. He wondered if he would ever get the chance now: he could imagine the reception he might get in Jejeno. “I didn’t believe Giyadas when she said she had survived.”
The distance between Wess’ej and Umeh was hours rather than days, a bus ride as Eddie called it. Esganikan’s liquid fragment of warship began decelerating on its approach to Umeh space. The interior of the ship was all fluid light and shifting displays that took up all the bulkhead space, and the Eqbas personnel were kneeling or sitting in small niches, looking more as if they were meditating than standing by for possible attack.
Esganikan glanced at an unintelligible formation of gold lights set in an amber cloud and passed her hand over it. “When we encounter your defense systems, we will exercise caution.”
“I thought you said they didn’t have anything big enough to take you out,” said Eddie.
“I meant that we will avoid putting the Umeh armed forces in a position where we have to retaliate and destroy them.”
“Ah. I can see why that wouldn’t get things off to a good start.”
It was a wise precaution. The long-range surveillance net on both Umeh and Tasir Var would react to an alien vessel. They were very old systems, created before isenj realized that wess’har would make no attempt to attack them on their own territory—except Asht, of course. Ual had given up thinking of the planet as Asht. He accepted that it was now and always would be Bezer’ej. If others could take that view, the isenj would be on their way to breaking their dependence on a past that couldn’t be recreated, and they might look forward to a very different but easier future.
The image of Umeh was an ochre disk on the bulkhead. Ual had now seen his homeworld from space twice, but he compared it with the swirled blue and white surfaces of Wess’ej and Bezer’ej, and even Earth. They all looked so much more inviting.
“Your ground command is warning us,” said Esganikan. “Is there an appropriate response?”
“Let me speak to them,” said Ual.
It was not a Northern Assembly station but a Maritime Fringe one that had detected the Eqbas ship. Surface Defense at Buyg wanted the ship to turn back.
“I am Minister Par Paral Ual and I wish to land with a delegation from Eqbas Vorhi,” he said. Delegation was an Eddie word, very weasel, and nowhere near as alarming as warship. “We require entry to Umeh airspace.”
“You’re a traitor on board an alien ship.”
“The reality is a little more complicated than that. Are you aware what might happen if Umeh was to carry out an unprovoked hostile act against an Eqbas vessel? Or if the Maritime Fringe did, and was the cause of hostilities that affected its neighbors?”
There was a pause. Ralassi, close at Ual’s side, was making little snap-snap-snap noises with his teeth. “They won’t fire on a vessel with ussissi on board. We would stop crewing vessels for isenj if that happened.”
“Power of the union, lads,” said Eddie. His voice vibrated uncharacteristically. “That’s the spirit.”
The Eqbas helmsman didn’t look up. He said something in eqbas’u that Ual couldn’t follow and Esganikan turned her head to give what seemed to be an order. The bridge crew moved instantly to different positions.
“Let’s not start firing,” said Ual. “This can be worked out peacefully—”
“We are landing,” said Esganikan. “We know now what your target acquisition technology is like and this ship has not been targeted. Aitassi and Ralassi will talk to your ground stations and identify a landing site for us.”
“If I have any authority to land at all, it will be in Northern Assembly territory, in Ebj.” If I have any authority… “If anything happens to me, the person you should concentrate your
persuasive skills upon is Minister Par Shomen Eit. His responsibility is supplies, which is infrastructure and environment.”
“I intend to speak to your whole Assembly.”
She alarmed him. “I wish you would discuss these ideas with me a little more in advance of executing them.”
Esganikan stared back. “It makes no difference.”
Eddie moved slowly forward to stare at the bulkhead display, arms pressed in to his sides as if afraid the ballistic vest would abandon him. Then he took his bee cam out of a pocket and let it hover by his head. He said nothing.
“Is this a dangerous situation for you, Eddie?”
The journalist shrugged. “I’ve been in worse. And I wasn’t sitting behind an Eqbas cannon at the time.” He glanced at Esganikan. “Do you have cannon, by the way?”
She seemed almost indulgent. She actually patted Eddie’s arm, and he flinched. “If you mean heavy long-range weapons, yes. If you feel vulnerable, you may stay in the ship when we land.”
“You must be joking,” said Eddie. “This is my bloody story. I’m having it.”
Esganikan might not have understood his colloquial language but she appeared to detect something else, and patted his arm again. Ual realized Eddie was afraid. His face was paler than usual and he was breathing more rapidly, licking his lips. Ual wondered if he enjoyed the tension or if he simply lived with it as soldiers did.
Either way, the human was right. There was plenty to fear.
And Ual was completely alone. All isenj prized a little solitude, a luxury in a crowded world, but this wasn’t quite the solitude Ual had in mind.
“I’ll be right behind you,” said Eddie.
Shan woke with a start and realized she was not drifting somewhere between Bezer’ej and Umeh. She was in her own bed, alive, well fed, and warm. The relief was wonderful.
“You stop breathing frequently,” Aras whispered.
“Sorry. Does it bother you?”
“Not as long as I can still feel your heartbeat.”
“Yeah, that’s how I look at it.” She buried her head in the hollow of his shoulder and tried to doze again. “You still here?” Wess’har slept in irregular short bursts: Aras would get up and wander off several times during the night, something she had grown used to. “Keeping an eye on me?”