At The Edge Of Space (Hanan Rebellion) (60 page)

The questions were overwhelming. He struggled to think in her language and abandoned the effort. “I am iduve,” he said. “Ask your kind. I don’t know enough words.” He paused at the entrance of the lift and set his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up. It was a fine face, an impossibly delicate body. A creature of air and light, he thought in his own language, and rejected it as an expression more appropriate to Chaikhe than to one of his order. As an iduve this little creature would scarcely have survived the
dhis,
where the strength to take meant the right to eat and a
nas
of small stature or nameless birth needed extraordinary wit and will to live. He had survived despite the active persecution of the
dhisaisei
and of Mejakh, and he had done so by a determination out of proportion to his origins. He prized such a trait wherever he found it.

“Are you going to help us?” she asked him.

He took her into the lift and started it moving downward.

“You are mine, you, your friend. You must obey and I must take care for you. You stand straight, have no fear for amaut or human. I take care for you.” The door opened and let them out on the level of what had been the
dhis,
sealed and dark until now.

There was Margaret, whom he had not seen in two days. He did not smile at her, being put off by her instant attachment to the child, for she exclaimed aloud and opened her arms to the child, petting her and making much of her with all the protective tenderness of a
dhisais
toward young.

In some measure Tejef was relieved, for he had not been sure how Margaret would react. In another way he was troubled, for her accepting the child made her inappropriate as a mate and made final a parting he still was not sure he wanted. Margaret was the most handsome of the human females, with a glorious mane of fire-colored hair that made her at once the most alien and the most attractive. He had taken her many times in
katasukke,
but she troubled him by her insistence on touching him when they were not alone, and in her display of feelings when they were. She had wept when he admitted at last at great disadvantage that he did not understand the emotions of her kind in this regard, and did not know what she expected of him. He had been compelled to dismiss her from the
khara-dhis
after that, troubled by the heat and violence she evoked in him, by the emotions she expected of him. She certainly could not hold her own if he forgot himself and treated her as
nas.
He would surely kill her, and when he came to himself he would regret it bitterly, for her irritating concern was well-meant, and he had a deep regard for her, almost as if she were indeed one of his own kind. That was the closest he dared come to what she wanted of him.

“Margaret,” he said with great dignity, “she is Arle.”

“The poor child.” She had her arms about the bedraggled girl and petted her solicitously. “How did she come here?”

“Ask her. I want to know. She is a child, yes? No?”

“Yes.”

He looked upon the pair of them, women that had been his first mate and this immature being of her own species, and was deeply disturbed. He knew it was very wrong to have brought this pale creature to the
dhis
instead of assigning her among the kamethi, but now that it was done it was good to know that the
dhis
held at least one life, and that Margaret, whom he must put away, had the child he could not give her. It was an honorable solution for Margaret. It was hard to give her up. Desire still stirred in him when he looked at her, nor could she understand why he suddenly rejected her. Hurt pleaded with him out of her eyes.

“She is yours,” he told her. “I give her. You will transfer your belongings here. She is your responsibility—yes?”

“All right,” she said.

He turned away abruptly, not to be troubled more by the
harachia
of them. He knew that the door opened and closed, that the
dhis,
where no male and no nas kame or amaut might ever go, had been possessed by humans at his own bidding. He was ashamed of what he had done, but it was done now, and a strange furtive elation overrode the sense of shame. He had acquired a certain small
vaikka,
not alone in the disadvantaging of Chimele, but in the acquisition of the
arastiethe
she had decided to take from him. The
dhis
that had remained dark and desolate now held light, life, and
takei
—females; his little ship had a comfort for him now it had lacked before those lights went on and that door sealed.

The sensible part of him insisted that he had plumbed the depths of disgrace in letting this happen; but those who decreed the traditions of honor could not understand the loneliness of an
arrhei-nasuli
and the sweetness there was in knowing he had worth in the sight of his kamethi. It lightened his spirit, and he told himself knowingly a great lie: that he had
arastiethe
and a
takkhenois
adequate to all events. He clutched to himself what he knew was a greater lie: that he might yet outwit
Ashanome
and live. Like a gust of wind he stepped from the lift, grinned cheerfully at some of his startled kamethi and went on to the
paredre.
There were plans to make, resources to inventory.

“My lord.” Halph, assistant to the surgeon, came waddling after, operating gown and all. He bobbed his head many times in nervous respect.

“Report, Halph.”

“The
chiabres
is indeed present, lord Tejef. The honorable surgeon Dlechish will attempt to remove it if you wish, but removing it intact is beyond his knowledge.”

“No,” he said, for the human prisoner would be irreparably damaged by amaut probing at the
chiabres
if he allowed it. The human was a danger, but properly used, he could be of advantage. Kameth though he was, Chimele had most likely intended him as a spy or an assassin: against an
arrhei-nasuli
the neutrality of kamethi did not apply, and Chimele was not one to ignore an opportunity; the intricacy of the attempt against him that had failed delighted him. “You have not exposed it, have you?”

“No, no, my lord. We would not presume.”

“Of course. You are always very conscientious to consult me. Go back to Dlechish and tell him to leave the
chiabres
alone, and to take special care of the human. Remember that he can understand all that you say. If it can be done safely in his weakened condition, hold him under sedation.”

“Yes, sir.”

The little amaut went away, and Tejef spied another of the
okkitani-as,
a young female whom her kind honored as extraordinarily attractive. This was not apparent to iduve eyes, but he trusted her for especial discretion and intelligence.

“Toshi, collect your belongings. You are going to perform an errand for me in Weissmouth.”

“The kamethi have now been sent to Priamos,” said Ashakh. “They will know nothing until they wake onworld. The shuttle crew will deliver them to local authorities for safekeeping.”

“I did somewhat regret sending them.” Chimele arose, activating as she did so the immense wall-screen that ran ten meters down the wall behind her desk. It lit up with the blue and green of Priamos, a sphere in the far view, with the pallor of its out-sized moon—the world’s redeeming beauty—to its left. She sighed seeing it, loving as she did the stark contrasts of the depths of space, lightless beauties unseen until a ship’s questing beam illumined them, the dazzling splendors of stars, the uncompromising patterns of dark-light upon stone or machinery. Yet she had a curiosity, a
m’melakhia,
to set foot on this dusty place of unappealing grasslands and deserts, to know what lives
m’metanei
lived or why they chose such a place.

“What manner of people are they?” she asked of Ashakh. “You have seen them close at hand. Would we truly be destroying something unique?”

Ashakh shrugged. “Impossible to estimate what they were. That is a question for Khasif. I am of the order of Navigators.”

“You have eyes, Ashakh.”

“Then—inexpertly—I should say that it is what one might expect of a civilization in dying: victims and victimizers, pointless destruction, a sort of mass urge to
serach.
They know they have no future. They have no real idea what we are; and they fear the amaut out of all proportion, not knowing how to deal with them.’

“Tejef’s
serach
will be great beyond his merits if he causes us to destroy this little world.”

“It has already been great beyond his merits,” said Ashakh. “
Chaganokh
ruined this small civilization by guiding Tejef among them. It is ironic. If these humans had only known to let them escort Tejef in and depart unopposed, they would not have lost fleets to
Chaganokh,
the amaut would not have been attracted, and they might have had a fleet left to maintain their territories against the amaut if the invasion occurred. Likely then it would have been impossible for us to have traced Tejef before the time expired, and they would not now be in danger from us.”

“If the humans are wise, they will learn from this disaster; they will not fight us again, but let us pass where we will. Still, knowing what I do of Daniel, I wonder if they are that rational.”

“They have a certain
elethia,
” said Ashakh quietly.

“
Au,
then you have been studying them after all. What have you observed?”

“They are rather like kallia,” said Ashakh, “and have no viable
nasul
-bond; consequently they find difficulty settling differences of opinion—rather more than kallia. Humans actually seem to consider divergence of opinion a positive value, but attach negative value to the taking of life. The combination poses interesting ethical problems. They also have a capacity to appreciate
arrhei-akita,
which amaut and kallia do not; and yet they have deep tendency toward permanent bond to person and place—hopelessly at odds with freedom such as we understand the word. Like world-born kallia, they ideally mate-bond for life; they also spend much of their energy in providing for the weaker members of their society, which activity has a very positive value in their culture. Surprisingly, it does not seem to have debilitated them; it seems to provide a
nasul
-substitute, binding them together. Their protective reaction toward weaker beings seems instinctive, extending even to lower life forms; but I am not sure what kind of feeling the
harachia
of weakness evokes in them. I tend to think this behavior was basic to the civilization, and that what we see now is the work of humans in whom this response has broken down. Their other behavior consequently lacks human rationality.”

“In my own experience,” Chimele said ruefully, “behavior with this protective reaction also seems highly irrational.”

The door opened and there was Rakhi. A little behind him stood Chaikhe, the green robes of a
katasathe
proclaiming her condition to all about her; and when she saw Chimele she folded her hands and bowed her head very low, trembling visibly.

“Chaikhe,” said Chimele; and Ashakh, who was of Chaikhe’s
sra,
quickly moved between them; Rakhi did the same, facing Ashakh. This was proper: a protection for Chaikhe, a respect for Chimele.

“I am ashamed,” said Chaikhe, “to be so when you need me most, I am ashamed.”

This was ritual and truth at the same time, for it was proper for a
katasathe
to show shame before an
orithain-tak,
and Chimele had made clear to her a more than casual irritation. (“You are a person of
kutikkase,
” Chimele remembered saying to her: it had bitterly embarrassed the gentle Chaikhe, who prided herself on her
chanokhia,
but it was truly an unfortunate time for the
nas-katasakke
to go off on an emotional bent.)

“Later might have been more appropriate,” said Chimele. “But come, Chaikhe. I did not call you here to harm you.”

And while Chaikhe still maintained that posture of submission, Chimele came to her and took her by the hands. Then only did Chaikhe straighten and venture to look her in the eyes.

“We are
sra,
” said Chimele to her and to the others, “and we have always been close.” With a gesture she offered them to sit and herself assumed a plain chair among them. They looked confused; she did not find that surprising.

“Mejakh has been given a ship,” she said softly. “You know that she wanted it so. She had honor once. I debated it much, considering the present situation, but it seemed right to do. She is
e-takkhe
and henceforth
arrhei-nasul.
”

“Hail Mejakh,” said Ashakh in a low voice, “for she truly meant to kill you, Chimele, and her
takkhenois
was almost strong enough to try it.”

“I perceive your disapproval.”

“I am
takkhe.
I agree to your decisions in this matter. At least there is no probability that she will seek union with either
Tashavodh
or Tejef.”