Desert World Rebirth (22 page)

“Welcome to the
Brazica
, Ambassador Polli, Ambassador Gazer,” a tall woman greeted them with a smile, crossing the metal floor with long strides. She walked beside an older man, with a dozen others following behind in a clump that reminded Shan of sheep pushing together. The woman had long brown hair that hung around her shoulders and a white outfit cut exactly the same as most of the people that circled the ships in this landing bay; only the others, like Kester, had brown uniforms. The older man walking beside her was the odd man out in his formal suit.

“I’m Protocol Officer Natalie Aral,” the woman introduced herself when she came close. “This is Ambassador Richard Melton. Ambassador Melton, may I present Ambassador Shan Polli and Ambassador Temar Gazer of Livre?” Natalie’s name sounded vaguely familiar, and Shan suspected she had talked to them on the communicator. He’d paid more attention to the message than the messenger, though, so he couldn’t be sure.

Ambassador Melton was an older man with gray hair and a pinched expression. Either that or all his features were simply too close to the center of his face. Shan held out his hand. “Ambassador Melton,” he offered. At least these people had bothered to have an ambassador come to the landing bay.

Protocol Officer Aral took a step backward. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I am going to see how the cargo survived. I do hope we were able to avoid any damage. I’ll designate a storage area and arrange for a breakage report.” Smiling at all of them, she backed away, leaving Shan and Temar with Ambassador Melton and a lot of people whose names they hadn’t been given.

Melton studied them so closely that Shan was on the verge of taking offense when the man started talking. “I must apologize, Ambassador Polli. We are short of shuttles in this area or we would have sent a more modern ship. We had no idea you would be bringing fragile merchandise, though, and time seemed more important than the shuttle specifications. I’m afraid that we may have some misinformation regarding Livre.”

“Really?” Shan asked as he studied the enormous bay with shuttles tucked into nooks on either side of a short landing area. The sheer volume of the ship staggered him, and he noted that most of the spaces for shuttles were empty, so he did believe that the ship was short on shuttles.

“Indeed. I’m afraid I had an initial briefing that suggested Livre would have little in the way of wealth and would likely be a source of refugees rather than resources.”

Shan looked at the ambassador, wondering if he’d misheard or if the man really had just admitted that they had never come to Livre because they would rather leave refugees to starve to death. “My people are more resilient that you might think,” Shan said, struggling to keep a pleasant smile on his face.

“So it would seem. Officer Aral says that you still have much of the original equipment working. With that sort of talent, I’m wondering if the admiral shouldn’t send some of our mechanics down to train with your people.”

“We’ve learned to not be wasteful,” Shan said, his skin starting to crawl. The friendliness reminded him entirely too much of Ben. Then again, he’d liked Ben, so maybe the ambassador wasn’t all that similar after all. Shan desperately wanted to look at Temar, to see if this was affecting him, but Shan feared seeing panic in those blue eyes when there was very little he could do at his point. He’d put them both in this situation, and now they had to muddle through.

Ambassador Melton nodded. “That’s an admirable trait for any people, but I have to admit it’s particularly important for those of us who are in the borderlands. The core alliance,” he said, spitting out the name, “can rape other planets to feed their need for resources, but we must always rely on ourselves. I’m sure that you will find that Livre’s beliefs fit well within the AFP.” He nodded and looked toward the ship. “Officer Aral will return shortly.”

Shan looked over at the shuttle that had brought them up. “I didn’t realize we were waiting for her.”

“She’s quite the expert on Livre. She’s studied all the precolonization and early reports and the transmissions you’ve sent since reestablishing communication.”

Shan really didn’t have much to say about that, and he went back to looking around while trying to keep a surreptitious eye on Temar, who had retreated several steps and stood watching the assembled group, his fingers tracing the glass knot at his neck.

“So, the merchandise you’ve brought… are these trade goods?” the ambassador asked.

“Some trade goods, some equipment beyond our ability to fix that we had hoped to trade for repairs, some sample goods.”

“And I hear you’ve brought artwork.”

“We brought glass and carved wood,” Shan agreed.

“We had expected samples of optic-quality glass if you had it, and I can promise you that the AFP will pay well.”

“I’m sure you will.” Shan cleared his throat as he realized who the ambassador really reminded him of. George Young. It wasn’t a compliment.

Shan remembered when he’d had to mediate a conflict because one of the workers had agreed to seven credits per day and Young had tried to deduct one credit because, as a large man, the worker had eaten more food than any other worker. Sadly, Young honestly thought he had a case. Shan had tried to mediate and get Young to see that he was being petty, and that his pettiness was the main reason why he was already paying seven credits a day instead of six like most landowners. When Tom had hard times, he’d dropped his pay to five, and Shan didn’t know of a single worker who had left because of it. However, Young was entirely convinced of his arguments, and had ignored Shan before going on to lose in council.

The worst part was that Young still insisted to anyone who would listen that the council had ruled against him only because he was personally unpopular. Shan wondered if Ambassador Melton would measure how much food a man ate. Probably. Maybe the ambassador recognized Shan’s discomfort, because he fell silent.

Officer Aral came down out of the ship, a smile still on her face. “I’ve made the arrangements. I only had a chance to open one crate, but it looked like the pieces came through. That is beautiful work, clearly not out of a mold. Glass art will find a significant following, especially such intricate and unique pieces. So, gentlemen, let’s find a place where we can all sit and learn a little about each other.”

Melton frowned. “I have a very tight schedule, and I’m sure Ambassadors Polli and Gazer do as well.” He turned to Shan. “If you have an inventory, we could begin discussing the current trade before talking about treaties.”

Officer Aral’s smile faltered.

Shan looked over at Temar, but he continued to watch silently. Shan could feel that little seed of panic over Temar’s state of mind begin to sprout. Moving closer to Temar, Shan lowered his voice. “Would you like to see the ship first?” he asked quietly. He wanted to see how technology had shifted in the last eighty years, but he didn’t want to drag Temar around the ship if he was close to an emotional edge, and Shan couldn’t read his expression well enough to judge.

Temar gave a small nod. “It’d be interesting.” They were the first words he’d spoken since they’d left Livre, and the fear in Shan’s gut untangled at the normal tone. He’d heard that tone from Temar back before the slavery, when he’d visited the church. Shan associated it with Temar trying very hard to stay out of the way, but he didn’t have to. Shan wanted him involved.

Slipping a hand behind Temar’s back, he urged the man forward to join the rest of them. “Then perhaps we could have a tour,” Shan suggested, not missing the surprise on the ambassador’s face. Maybe these people preferred to rush from place to place, but Shan didn’t. Even on his bike, he was seeing the world, feeling the motor between his legs and judging the slide of sand as he sailed down the face of a dune. Sitting still for hours on end had left him jittery and uncomfortable. Either that, or the feeling that he was buried alive in a giant piece of metal had him on edge—both were possible.

“A tour is an excellent idea. So often we rush to some business before getting to know each other,” Officer Aral said enthusiastically. “I have a list of ship facilities. Perhaps I can show you around while Ambassador Melton reviews the materials you’ve brought.”

From the frown on Melton’s face, he wasn’t used to having an officer tell him what to do, but Aral’s plan sounded much better than Melton’s. Shan didn’t want to go to a small room and argue over trade.

“We would love a chance to look around,” Shan answered, even though Temar seemed to have returned to looking around the room, this time at a group of workers gathering around the shuttle that had brought them in.

“Excellent—does anything on this list interest you?” Officer Aral moved closer to show him a datapad. “Observation deck” and “Gardens” and “Recreational facilities” were followed by the phrase, “Don’t let them see you two are together.”

Shan blinked, shocked, but when he looked again, Aral had touched the screen and her cryptic message had vanished, replaced by “Food preparation areas” and “Crew quarters.”

“Ambassador Polli?” she asked him with wide-eyed innocence. Shan looked over at Temar, and from the way he only casually glanced toward the datapad, Shan guessed that he hadn’t seen her message.

“The gardens would be interesting,” Temar said before offering her a smile.

“The gardens are beautiful,” she said with a wide smile. “Being from a desert world, you will appreciate the open streams. The advantage of having a sealed ecosystem within a ship is that all water is eventually reclaimed by the air circulation system, so we can have open water sources.”

“Like lakes?” Temar asked, suddenly showing interest. Shan thought about the historical vids he’d seen of lakes, and he had to admit some curiosity.

“Yes, we do have a lake, of sorts.” With a touch on Shan’s arm, Officer Aral gestured them toward the far side of the landing hangar. “Ambassador Melton, would you care to join us, or review the materials list?” She held out the old datapad that Shan had secured to the top of one of the crates. Compared to the datapads from the ship, the Livre version looked thick and dirty, and the screen was blurred.

Shan noticed that the ambassador still looked aggravated, but he took the old datapad. “I believe I will review the goods.”

“Of course, Ambassador.” She turned to Shan and Temar. “Sirs, if you would follow me, I will give you a tour.”

Shan almost reached for Temar’s arm, but he forced himself to keep his hand at his side. Up until now Temar had been largely silent and his emotions had stayed hidden behind a neutral mask, but now he gave Shan a quick frown. Caught between wanting to reach out to his lover and fear over Officer Aral’s warning, Shan waited too long and Temar headed toward the exit, leaving Shan to follow. Aral fell in next to Shan, and another woman in a brown uniform moved closer to Temar. The hair on Shan’s neck stood up as he watched the woman. She moved with a loose-limbed gait that Shan had only seen in vids, the sort of fluid movement of a warrior.

“Rula Lish is my… assistant,” Officer Aral offered with just enough of a pause to make it clear that she had lied.

“Ah.” Shan wasn’t sure what else he could say, so he closed his mouth and worried as they headed out the hangar doors into a corridor. A man in another brown uniform rushed by them, and Rula moved close to Temar to let him pass. Shan’s whole body tightened in alarm. Rula leaned closer and said something, and Temar answered, his head tilting to the side.

Officer Aral wasn’t offering any conversation, and Shan certainly couldn’t come up with any small talk as they followed Rula and Temar down the corridor. The slow curve of the ship and the way corridors met at odd angles meant that Shan quickly found himself completely disoriented.

Technically that didn’t matter, since they were trapped on the ship even if they could find the shuttle again, but as they walked, Shan developed a sinking feeling that continued to grow worse. Rula Lish and Temar stopped in front of a door large enough to ride a loader through.

“These are the gardens… well, the public recreation part,” Officer Aral explained. “The hydroponics generate most of the ship oxygen, but the smell in there is enough to make you pass out, and watching algae slowly float from one level to another isn’t very interesting,” she said as she pressed her thumb to a black square. The doors made a thunking sound that reminded Shan of a heavy lock before they slowly opened. The security measures made the sinking feeling in his gut worse, but when he saw inside, all that was momentarily forgotten.

Shan blinked, his brain in shock at the green that filled very corner of the enormous room he was looking into. Shelves with lights on the underside were covered in greenery that spread out wide, dark-green leaves to soak up the energy. Shan took a step closer, and he felt more than consciously saw Temar move to his side.

“Stars above,” Temar breathed as he stepped in, his hand going up to trace a heart-shaped leaf. Shan followed, aware of the heavy door closing once the two women had come inside.

“They’re plants—don’t you have those?” Rula Lish asked. She was a thick woman; her gracefulness when moving vanished when she stopped and put her hands on her waist. Her dark-red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail that had a black cord wrapped around it to keep stray hairs from escaping.

“We do,” Temar said, “but most have leaves that try to avoid the sun. Well, except the crop plants, of course, but even those are never this dark green.”

“No doubt the sunlight on Livre would burn these plants in hours,” Officer Aral said. “If you’d like to follow me, the pathways are farther in.” She started forward, but Shan waited until Temar was ready, walking next to him, which left Rula behind them. Shan’s gut churned.

Growing up in his father’s house, he’d often felt trapped. After his mother died, everyone kept telling him to give his father time to recover. They kept talking about what a hard life old Yan Polli had suffered, and Shan had learned to stop complaining. He’d stopped complaining about the fact that his father only paid attention to Naite, praising him for every little success, while Shan flailed to even get his father’s attention. Then Naite had started acting out—damaging neighbor’s fields and getting sentences to first days of work and then years. Shan only suspected the truth after Naite had left and his father had started finally paying attention to him. Disinterest turned to soft touches against Shan’s cheek and moments when his father stood close enough to press their bodies together. After he’d started to suspect that his father had been abusing Naite in that house, he’d felt nauseous… trapped. His bike had been his only escape.