Without a Front (16 page)

CHAPTER 27
The producer's challenge

 

In the producer delegate meeting
the next day, it took less than twenty ticks before Tal and Delegate Opah were once again arguing the issue of sustainability. To Tal this was no issue at all, but she could not convince the producers, especially Opah, no matter how reasoned her argument. And on this late summer day, the heat coming through the large windows pushed already-tenuous tempers to the fraying point.

“You cannot do that; it would destroy our profitability!” Opah's face was flushed and her voice was louder than necessary. “There must be limitations to the output of the matter printers. Why can't you see that?”

“What I see is a bigger picture.” Tal was so irritated that it took conscious effort to keep her front intact. “You look at this from a circumscribed perspective; I'm looking from a broader viewpoint. You're all too focused on your caste's interests—you're not seeing the flock for the birds.”

“Oh, I think we're seeing the flock quite well!” Opah was almost shouting now. “What we're seeing is that you're willing to sacrifice our caste to the interest of the others. The merchants will certainly benefit if the producers have no pricing leverage!”

“You could not be more wrong!” Tal's own voice rose. “Why do you think I've spent a cycle meeting with every single caste? So I can decide which ones to throw away?”

“It would certainly be the effective way of doing it!”

The other delegates watched in nervous silence. Their emotional state finally got through to Tal, who forced herself to relax in her chair. “Then I open the floor to you,” she said calmly. “Tell us how you would resolve this issue.”

“I don't have a solution; that's the problem!” Opah slapped her palm on the table. “If I did, we wouldn't be arguing over this. I just know that what you're proposing will be the death of us. And you can't seem to see that, because you sit here in your magical dome with your privileged lifestyle and you have no idea what we working Alseans face in our daily lives. If you ever worked a holding, you wouldn't be trying to shove this ridiculous policy down our throats. You'd see for yourself why we need protection.”

Her magical dome?

Tal was seething now. Opah always pushed her, but this was too much. She was just about to say something she would regret when she remembered Ekatya's advice.
Stop thinking like a Lancer.
Think outside your normal methods.

The idea came out of nowhere. It was too outrageous to consider—which was exactly why it might work.

In a voice that nearly purred, Tal said, “Delegate Opah, your disrespect has crossed the line.”

The room electrified as every delegate sat up straight. Opah stared, her anger rapidly dissipating into apprehension.

“I make you a formal challenge,” Tal continued. “You say I know nothing about your daily life, and I know for a fact that you have not the slightest conception of mine. So we will trade. I'll work with you on your holding for a nineday, and you'll accompany me in my workday for the same period of time. Do you accept?”

Everyone held their breath.

“No,” Opah said.

The collective expulsion of air was audible, but the delegates tensed up when Opah spoke again.

“A nineday won't teach you anything about the life of a producer. You'd need to work with us for a cycle. But since it would be impossible for you to leave your position for that long, I propose a moon. That will see us through the harvest, and you'll at least get a glimpse of what it means to work for every cintek that we earn.”

Tal considered it. She knew Opah expected her to back down; after all, a moon was a long time. But it had been almost ten moons since her vacation, and every one of them had been nonstop work punctuated by crises. The idea of getting out of Blacksun, even if it was just to work on a holding nearby, was very appealing.

Plus, Aldirk and Micah would both have coronary seizures.

The last thought made her smile, and she saw Opah's brows draw together.

“I accept.”

Opah's mouth dropped open. “You do?”

“I do. When shall I arrive at your holding?”

“Ah…” Her emotional front, never a challenge to Tal in the best of times, slipped entirely. Opah was shocked and dismayed; she had bluffed and lost. “Well, I…I will need time to notify my family, and make a room ready for you—”

“And for my Guards,” Tal added.

“Your Guards? How many?” The dismay grew.

Tal pretended to think. “Since your holding is so close to Blacksun, I shouldn't need more than twenty.” That was double the number she actually planned to take, but she was enjoying herself.

“Twenty? I haven't room for twenty guests!”

“Twenty-one; surely you haven't forgotten me?”

“You did not mention twenty Guards when you proposed this!”

“Then you withdraw from the challenge?”

The question galvanized Opah; in a moment her emotions coalesced into a solid determination.

“No, I do not. I will find housing for your twenty Guards. You may plan your arrival for the first day of next moon.” Her smile was not friendly. “You might also wish to bring your personal masseuse, Lancer Tal. On a holding, we work for our livings.”

“I would expect nothing less. And you may wish to borrow my personal masseuse when your turn arrives. That magical dome existence you expect will also involve a training mission, and there will be no accommodation made for one who finds her legs unused to walking twenty lengths or her back unused to sleeping on the ground afterward.”

“You cannot frighten me with such stories. I walk several lengths every day on my holding, and I've slept under the stars many a night. I suspect you don't lead nearly as active an existence as you portray.”

“Then it will be my very great pleasure to show you the truth.”

The air sizzled between them, and for the first time in many moons, Tal had something to look forward to. No matter what happened, it was going to be entertaining. At best, she would win over the producers. At worst, she would be exactly where she was right now, having lost nothing—but Salomen Opah would have to publicly admit that she was wrong about the magical dome existence. That alone would be worth the price of entrance.

CHAPTER 28
Field of conflict

 

“Are you trying to kill
me?” Micah could not believe his ears. How could she be so reckless? He thought they were past this; she hadn't done anything this idiotic since before her vacation.

“Micah—”

“Could you at least have
considered
the ramifications before agreeing to such folly? I cannot believe this. What were you thinking? How am I supposed to protect you while you run around a holding with a woman who believes you're out to destroy her caste? You will be sleeping in the house of your enemy, for Fahla's sake!”

Tal watched calmly as he paced her office. “She's not an enemy. Her voice is simply louder than her thought.”

“Voices can cause a great deal of damage. They can incite action.”

“Then don't you think it would be more dangerous not to do this? What better way to silence that voice, and all others who might take up the cry, than by actively proving it wrong? I'm truly at an impasse with the producers. Almost a full cycle of meetings and they still don't trust my intentions. Something has to change, and my instinct tells me this could be it.”

He stopped pacing and stood in front of her desk, hands on his hips. “Is that all it is? Or are you running again?”

For a moment there was fire in her eyes, but then she shook her head. “I suppose it's going to take a few more moons before you stop worrying about that. I'm fine, Micah. Yes, I spoke with Ekatya last night, and no, that's not why I'm doing this. Although she did give me the idea, in a way. It's been an entire cycle since she left—I'm past that. But I need a break, and I need to get out of Blacksun. So maybe I can hit two targets with one throw.”

He sighed. “You realize that every gray hair on my head is thanks to you.”

“You say that every time I put a foot off the line. And I can still recall my first days in your unit; you had gray hair then.”

“Yes, and I acquired every strand of it the moment I learned that Andira Shaldone Tal had been assigned to me.” He collapsed into the chair and looked at her beseechingly. “If I cannot inspire sense in you, can I at least inspire caution? Please take this situation seriously. Your security will be difficult to safeguard in that environment. You must allow me to do my job.”

“I promise. I think you're overstating the danger, but I'll do as you ask.”

“Thank you.” Relieved to have an actual promise, Micah relaxed. Then he began to chuckle. “You told her you were bringing twenty Guards?”

Tal grinned. “I did.”

“Poor woman.”

Micah was in Tal's office the next day when she finally told Opah that she would in fact require only ten Guards. The producer's relief was obvious even over the vidcom.

It wasn't until Tal ended the call that her composure broke and she laughed. “Did you see her face? Fahla, but that was worth the wait.”

“This looks more like the kind of stunt you'd pull on me. Why are you tormenting her?”

“Because she tormented me first. I've spent four moons fighting her in those delegate meetings, and believe me, this is the first time I've ever had the upper hand. She set up the field of conflict; now she must let the battle play out.”

Micah had already run a thorough background check on Opah and was no longer concerned about any danger she might pose. But the check hadn't satisfied his curiosity about how a producer had managed to get so far under Tal's skin when many others had tried and failed. Never would he have imagined Tal issuing a challenge like this, much less accepting a counterchallenge that increased the difficulty by a factor of four.

Now he listened to her humming contentedly as she pulled up a file for him and wondered about her word choices. A conflict, a battle—and she seemed delighted at the prospect.

Ever since the invasion, Tal had been enmeshed in difficult decisions, negotiations, and compromises where her options tended to range from bad to worse. Nothing could be checked off and forgotten; everything had long-lasting ramifications. But this challenge would have a beginning and an end. It would have a winner and a loser.

He nodded to himself. Tal was looking for a quick win and a sense of closure. He could work with that.

Unless, of course, she lost—in which case he would hear her moan about it for the rest of the cycle.

Two days later, he returned from inspecting the holding and reported that Opah had managed to create a makeshift bunkhouse in the building normally reserved for storing heavy equipment.

“It's better than a field tent by an order of magnitude,” he said. “And she and her family will be preparing our meals. No field rations—the Guards will be ecstatic. Other than the headache of protecting you in such an exposed location, this will be a plush assignment.”

“She's making the meals?” Tal asked incredulously. “For ten Guards?”

“She seemed to believe it was required.”

Tal chuckled. “No doubt she's wondering if she hasn't poured more than she can drink.”

“I'd say she has things well in hand. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if it's not you who poured more than you thought. Don't underestimate your opponent.”

“Ha. She's the one underestimating me. She thinks I'll fold the first day, but I'm looking forward to it. One moon of peaceful field work sounds like a vacation to me. I can't wait to get out of here.” Sobering, she added, “Feeding ten Guards for a moon is much too expensive. Tell Aldirk to allocate appropriate funding if he hasn't already. And add a cook to our Guard complement.”

“So now I must go back and tell her we are eleven, not ten? In addition to you and me?”

“I see you've already run afoul of her sharp tongue. Your fear is palpable.”

“The day a producer strikes fear into my heart is the day you set my pyre alight.” He raised his eyebrows. “However, I will readily admit that Raiz Opah has the most…direct communication style I've encountered in many cycles. She would make an excellent unit trainer.”

“If she trained units, we'd have an entire Alsean Defense Force cowering at the sight of a producer.”

He smiled at the image. “I'm certain she'd consider that a positive development.”

CHAPTER 29
Temporary setback

 

“Can you believe this? She's
spending an entire moon playing at being a producer! If we didn't already know she can't hold the State Chair, this would certainly prove it.” Challenger sat down with a huff. “This is it. We need to start rounding up our support. She'll never be more vulnerable to a caste coup than she is right now.”

Spinner held back a sigh. As usual, his ally saw only what he wanted to. “She's not vulnerable. Not by a long throw. Don't you realize what she's done? The producers were her greatest weakness; they're too afraid of the matter printers. And in one stroke she's brought half the caste over to her side. By the end of this challenge moon, she might even bring over the other half.”

He had to admit, it was a brilliant move. While it was not unknown for a Lancer to issue or accept a challenge, it was usually limited to the warrior and scholar castes. No Lancer in memory had done something like this. The producers were thrilled—their caste had just been catapulted into the spotlight. It gave them a welcome boost of power, and before the challenge had even begun, Lancer Tal was enjoying a swelling of support. It was a setback, but he was certain it would be a temporary one.

“Who cares what the producers think? They're not the ones we need for a caste coup. We need the warriors and scholars.”

“Do try to think at least one step ahead. No, we don't need the producers to take power. But we do need them if we want to keep it.”

“Let me guess: your counsel is to wait. Again. I'm beginning to question your commitment to this cause.”

Sometimes Spinner didn't know who he hated more, Lancer Tal or Challenger. “If I were not committed to this cause, I wouldn't have spent the last eight moons investing in it.”

“To what end? I fail to see any real progress. You talk a great game of tiles, but if talking is all you do…”

The threat was clear, and Spinner did not appreciate it. Someday, he would put Challenger in his place. But for now he still needed him, so he swallowed his anger and spoke calmly. “Not all progress happens out in the open. And with something like this, very little of it does. Let's just say I've been cooking up a surprise. It should be ready in another nineday or two, and I guarantee that Lancer Tal won't be expecting it. That's when you'll see the vulnerability you're waiting for.”

“What is it?”

“A report.”

“A report? That's your great plan? What is it about, our Lancer's nonexistent sex life? Please tell me you've got something explosive.”

Spinner smiled at the idea of a report on Lancer Tal's sex life. That would be a short one indeed. “We don't need explosive,” he said. “We just need fear.”