The Galaxy Game (35 page)

The delegation from Zhinu A, which consisted of both governmental and commercial representatives, was known to be holding private negotiations with observers from other Zhinuvian planets and colonies. The Patrona predicted that within the year, the galaxy would see either a new Zhinuvian conglomerate to rival the cartels, or a multi-planetary authority with Zhinu A at the head, or both.

The Union of Pilots did not have much to say, preferring to rely on Dllenahkh and Lanuri for representation. However, the invitation to the pilots of New Sadira to join the Union raised some eyebrows – and some hackles. Primed by the sting of the perceived insult, the accredited delegate for New Sadira spoke heatedly about ‘the incident on Terra’, demanding explanations for the Union pilots’ failure to honour the embargo. The documentation permitting Dr Daniyel and her colleagues to travel to Terra to conduct small-scale research was produced again and argued over vigorously. When the question was eventually turned back to New Sadira, they dismissed their presence on Terra as ‘a small team of pilots and scientists, exploring the feasibility of stabling mindships on Terra given recent problems maintaining mindship population in the hostile marine environment of New Sadira’. After that and a range of other excuses of varying credibility from the Zhinuvian observers, the meeting went rapidly downhill with no resolution to what was now being called ‘The Terran Problem’.

Finally, New Sadira withdrew in protest and departed with their non-union pilots. The Meeting was brought to a formal though unsatisfactory conclusion, and transit staff began the chore of ferrying the delegates home.

Serendipity emerged at last from the fog of intense focus, checked her messages and regretfully declined an invitation from Rafi to share a meal with him and his uncle. There was still so much to do and she was needed at the port to assist with those travelling by mindship or taking a hop to a larger transport via orbital shuttle. She’d make it up to him later.

*

Dllenahkh could see that Rafi was very proud of his new apartment in the Haneki domain. He was also proud of his flight suit, the decorative traceries on his forearms, the functional tracery behind his ear and his new name. He explained about the kin contracts and begged Dllenahkh to make Grace understand it was not a rejection of his home and heritage.

‘It will actually make it easier for me to come to Cygnus Beta. As far as Central Government is concerned, I’m no longer their problem. I’m Ntshune, and there are plenty of people stronger than me to keep me in line.’

Dllenahkh acknowledged this fact and promised soberly to convey the message to Grace. ‘And your work here satisfies you?’

‘Absolutely! I know I fell into it, but I couldn’t have chosen anything better if I tried.’

‘Good, very good. Perhaps I could pay my respects to your employer, the Patrona?’

Rafi eyed Dllenahkh warily. There was something a little too bland, a little too innocent in his responses to Rafi’s news. ‘Haven’t you negotiated together before or something?’

‘Well, yes, but I am talking about meeting her as Rafi’s uncle, not the Governor of Sadira-on-Cygnus. I am sure you can appreciate the difference.’

‘Very well,’ Rafi replied, still wary. ‘Let me take you to her workroom.’

‘No need,’ said Dllenahkh blithely. ‘I know where it is. Send word ahead that I am on my way and meet me outside the workroom in a half-hour.’

Rafi stared sternly at Dllenahkh. Dllenahkh looked back, immoveable.

‘I will not lie to my wife when she asks me how you are,’ he said.

Rafi sighed and sent the message.

*

The first half of the meeting with the Patrona was spent discussing the recently concluded Meeting, commenting on the progress made with the Transit Project and admiring the architecture and design of the Haneki domain. From that final topic, Dllenahkh stretched and took a stepping stone to what he really wanted to say.

‘I could not help but admire the accoutrements my nephew is now wearing, especially the particularly fine filigree vambraces. The last time I saw such work, it was on the favoured husband of an Ntshune matriarch.’

‘Such patterns have become very popular recently now that Wallrunning is seen as more than a game. I thought, with his background, it was appropriate.’

Dllenahkh absorbed the deflection and the slightly teasing tone and tried again. ‘Rafi mentioned kin contracts. I have only a little knowledge of the practice. Have you been involved in any . . . serious contracts?’

The Patrona laughed at the hint in his voice and gave an answer as oblique as the question. ‘I have had three spousal contracts. Lovely individuals, but they couldn’t keep up.’

Dllenahkh smiled at the Patrona’s dry humour and slipped in an edged statement amid the lightheartedness. ‘Do you think Rafi can keep up?’

The Patrona gave him a sober look, a look between equals. ‘He has potential but he is still young.’

‘He is,’ Dllenahkh agreed diplomatically.

‘And how many more years will you have with your Cygnian wife, Dllenahkh?’ It was more than edge; the Patrona had mastered the art of the verbal stiletto.

Dllenahkh bowed his head very slightly and raised a hand in surrender. ‘Esteemed Patrona, I would always have peace between your domain and my homestead.’

‘That is also my wish,’ she replied with sweet sincerity.

‘In that case, may I know your name?’

She looked a little surprised, as if she had expected him to ask something else. ‘My name is Ixiaral. It comes from the word “believe” in one of our many dead languages . . . that is to say, one who has the power to make others believe. Several of the daughters of the Haneki dynasty, including my own, bear that name or some variation of it. When my own Mother retires, and if I am found worthy, I will be the new Matriarch of the dynasty, and the few who are still permitted to call me Ixiaral will do so no more.’

‘How sad,’ Dllenahkh murmured. ‘There should always be someone who will call you by your name.’

‘To be called Mother is not such a bad replacement. The important thing is that both are said with love.’ She smiled. ‘I have heard Rafi call you by your name, but he also calls you uncle. I can see why.’

Disarmed, Dllenahkh bowed again. ‘I know we are allies, Esteemed Patrona, but I believe we will also be friends.’

‘We are,’ she said, rising from her dais to help him to his feet. She held his arms in a comrade’s clasp for a moment. ‘Call me Ixiaral while you still can.’

*

Rafi sat outside the Patrona’s office and nervously flexed his fingers. At last Dllenahkh emerged. Rafi searched his face and he appeared genuinely relaxed and calm. He sighed and let some of his own tension flow away. He knew better than to ask for details of a conversation from which he had been dismissed. Instead he approached his uncle and reached into the pouch at his waist.

‘I have something for you.’ He held out the small rock from Sadira.

Dllenahkh frowned in curiosity but extended an open palm. Rafi placed it carefully in his hand and explained. ‘I was part of the test run to Sadira.’

Dllenahkh’s expression did not change. His eyelids fluttered briefly, not blinking away tears but perhaps trying to dispel a moment of dizziness. He curved his hand a little more to hold the rock securely and examined it.

‘A pilot who was with me gave it to me,’ Rafi clarified, not wanting to appear blasé about carrying away what would be a highly precious stone to any Sadiri. ‘It’s safe – it came from the reclaimed area.’

Dllenahkh stopped examining the stone and raised his eyes to Rafi. ‘Reclaimed area?’

Rafi froze with his mouth open as his breath caught in panic.
Don’t tell
, Teruyai had said. Was it meant to be a secret? He thought the pilots would tell every single Sadiri they met. A calmer inner voice said it was more likely that they were waiting to see whether the Ainya scientists were capable of expanding their efforts to something more significant than a hundred-metre circle of decontaminated rubble.

‘Is the transit to Sadira restricted?’

‘I don’t understand—’

‘Can anyone go?’ Dllenahkh rephrased, his voice still patient but with a growing edge.

Rafi blinked nervously. ‘I’ll ask.’

*

Rafi spoke to the Patrona, who spoke to Revered Bezhtan. What the academic thought of the request was never said, though her frightened face spoke volumes, but she agreed quickly enough and insisted on accompanying Dllenahkh through the transit and into Sadira. They descended from the Wall with the now-traditional silence that was expected of a Sadira transit, and Dllenahkh, not at all fazed by the journey, began a slow walk around the dome, unknowingly mirroring what most new Sadiri visitors did – test the gravity with a stamp, scan the landscape for any sign of familiarity.

‘So, how did this happen?’ he asked. His voice was too level. He pre-emptively kept his hands away from each other, knowing their tendency to unconsciously react to stress even when the rest of his body forgot what to do. He paid attention to her words, in spite of realising within minutes that she was answering him as if he had asked
why
not
how
.

‘The conclusion of an old grudge, I’m afraid. The weapon was sent by our ancestors long before the Galactic War. There were legends about it, but no one believed it could have survived and remained on target for millennia. When the disaster happened and the Academes proved it with their research, we took responsibility.’

She paused and spoke more directly. ‘As for how
we
got here, that was the other part of our research. There was a one-way transit from Sadira to Ain, used to banish criminals. We still say “dumping down the well” to refer to getting rid of trash or someone undesirable. We found a way not only to reopen old transits but also to restore two-way function. A lot of Ainya were stranded when Ain was cut off, but a few of us knew there was another option. We worked with Academe contacts in Ntshune to establish a biodome on Sadira around the transit site, and then we reopened the transit to Ain.’

Dllenahkh nodded, listening patiently. ‘And how did you manage to secure Ain?’

‘A trick of perception which confuses navigation, nothing more. That’s why the transits still work. We expected full retaliation but there was another fear.’ She paused and breathed heavily. ‘Two of my colleagues were kidnapped and killed. They were tortured to give up information on how to make a weapon that could sterilise the biosphere. No one has that information, so of course they died. They weren’t the only ones. Our planetary authority decided it was better to withdraw from the galaxy completely.’

‘I can see the wisdom in that,’ he replied noncommittally.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, disconcerted by his extreme self-control, then said hesitantly, ‘Let me show you something.’

She brought him to a fenced area in the biodome. He looked at the uncovered ground and saw a modest monument, a granite block laid flat and low like a giant’s tombstone. The words were in Galactic Standard, Ainya script and contemporary Sadiri type. It was the motto of the planet Ain, a motto for those seeking new lives, repurposed for a world being pulled back from the brink of death.

THERE WAS AN END. HERE IS A BEGINNING.

    Dllenahkh tried to calm his initial reaction, which was pure rage. He could sense that Revered Bezhtan meant well, he believed that the stone and the inscription had been chosen with all kindness and sincerity and care, but to see the motto of Ain stamped on the dead soil of Sadira looked like conquest rather than apology.

Solicitous but unperceptive, Bezhtan waited for him to collect himself, no doubt assuming grief was the cause of his sudden tension.

‘The restoration of Sadira is the first and foremost project Ain approved when it was discovered that the transit not only worked but worked more swiftly than other methods of transportation,’ she explained softly. ‘We shall continue this work quietly, but of course we welcome the input of the Interplanetary Science Council—’

‘How long will it take?’

Her mouth stayed open, stopped before she could utter another of the platitudes on her list. ‘Hundreds of years rather than thousands but . . . not in your lifetime or mine.’

‘Ah.’ It was an acknowledgement, an exhalation. It sounded like sorrow and letting go. Dllenahkh took the stone Rafi had given him and examined it for a brief moment, then laid it carefully on the ground below the monument. ‘I should go,’ he said, with both wistfulness and warning.
I should go, before I do something I will regret, see something that will haunt me further, speak the wrong words at the wrong time
.

‘As you wish,’ she said, her voice betraying that she was almost in tears.

She had not asked for forgiveness. She had merely asked him to bear witness that restitution had begun. He pushed his fury down and away from his lips and tongue and said, ‘We will discuss this in the next Council meeting. Assistance with this new beginning would be beneficial to all involved.’

She nodded. He turned away and walked back to the transit point. Thus concluded the first informal yet significant rapprochement between Sadiri and Ainya.

*

Months later, when he had finished meditating on the feelings stirred up by his brief return to Sadira, he took the occasion of a long walk on the beach to confide in Delarua, telling her everything the Ainya academic had revealed.

‘She kept some information from me, I believe,’ he concluded. ‘There is only one thing that could make a biohazard weapon so swift and so potent, and it is the same thing that would allow a mere navigational trick to confuse modern ships. I think you can guess . . .’

It took her only a few minutes. ‘Time,’ she said. ‘Time is what turns a technique for gradual bioforming into an explosive, extreme and irreversible change or a long detour into a sudden, inexplicable jump. You’re saying the Ainya have learned to manipulate time?’

Before he answered, he looked around at the sky, the sea and the land’s horizon to reassure himself of their emptiness. Cygnians had become very accustomed to constant surveillance of one kind or another, but when Sadira-on-Cygnus was granted control of its own airspace, he began to study how to seek out private, unwatched areas. Until Tirtha-level telepathy was achieved throughout the settlement, such spaces would always be needed.