Braxi-Azea - In Conquest Born Part 28

"Not regarding this."

"They should have. They should have expected-" She broke off, disturbed by the revelation. Why would they have neglected to explain such a crucial part of her background to him? Had they failed to antic.i.p.ate that she would risk expo- sure in order to experiment. . . . No, that wasn't like them. They were too thorough. Yet they should have briefed him on everything.

Suddenly it all fell into place. They had wanted her bound to the Inst.i.tute and this would have a.s.sured it. Unable to seek comfort among her crew, she would have had to turn to Llornu. Or bear the memories alone.

d.a.m.n you, she thought-d.a.m.n you all!

She turned back to Tau; though her fists were clenched tightly in anger she forced her voice to be level, to make it clear that her rage was directed elsewhere.

"Sit down," she said quietly. "I'll try to explain."

He took a seat by the side of her desk and she sat on its edge across from him, her fingers playing nervously on its surface. "Soon after I received this command, when we stopped at Sheva to a.s.semble an escort for the Kol-Sua entourage-you remember?" He nodded. "I was . . . propositioned by Amba.s.sador Leviren. Prior to that time I had been careful to avoid any s.e.xual involvement for fear of the political consequences, but on Sheva . . ." she sighed. "I accepted. He wanted me; it's hard to turn someone down when you can feel it directly like that. I had earned it, I told myself. I had denied one part of myself all my life, but now that the most difficult time was done with I could let go just a little. I accepted.

"He had a house on the outskirts of Venesacha and we went there: a quiet, secluded place where we could expect to be undisturbed. I remember touching the intensity of his antic.i.p.ation, and experiencing it-and everything within him-more acutely than I ever had with a non-psychic. Excitement of any kind stimulates telepathic contact, s.e.xual arousal most of all. For a telepath, pleasure is a shared experience; the barriers come completely down, and each party tastes the pleasure of both . . . I imagine. That's how it's supposed to be. I never found out.

"Because he died, Tau. When he held me-when I responded to him-he died."

She watched him for a moment, waiting for his response; when there was none she touched his surface thoughts, expecting revulsion, or pity-or both. She found only concern. It surprised her.

"I tried to determine what could have caused it," she said quietly, soothed by his apparent sympathy. "All I could think of was that the violence within me, revealed mind-to-mind with all the intensity of direct contact, was more than he could deal with. He opted out of life-simply ceased to exist. I convinced myself that was what happened and that a more violent man might succeed where he had failed. I sought one."

"Arvaras."

"Kei San. Others. It never worked."

"Aren't there ways to block contact in such a case?"

"It's called Touch Discipline," she said dryly. "I can't do it. Don't ask me why-I have no idea-I was never able to master it. My body is a conductor to thought, and the more tense I am the more it's true. My one failing. And a d.a.m.ned big one.

"I kept looking, though. I became convinced that the answer was to seek out the type of man whose own nature was so brutal that nothing I revealed would surprise him."

"Seru Che-Li."

"I spent a year researching the outerground to find the names of people who could track him down. When the time was right and we were due for ground leave I requested Adrish; I knew he was there," She shrugged, but the gesture was false in its lightness. "You know the rest."

"Same thing?" he asked gently.

She nodded. She was trying to prevent the memories from affecting her voice, but she was unaccustomed to such deception and knew that the anguish wasn't fully hidden. "He's dead. They're all dead. Something in me killed them, and that something is going to keep on killing any time I try to . . . any time I try."

"Maybe you can focus on it-"

She shook her head vigorously, no. "We're denied any insight into the telepathic process. It's guaranteed by our conditioning, supposedly to keep us sane. No, I'm stuck. And I'll tell you something, Tau. I didn't inherit my libido from my Azean parents. Accepting this has been one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."

She looked away from him, wondering if he noticed her trembling. Probably. "But if not Che-Li, then no one. The violence in him was like home to me. I can't imagine a mind more suited to my own."

"So what now?" he asked quietly.

She stood, wrapping her arms around her. "I live. I serve the Empire. I go on."

Her knuckles were white with the pressure of her self-embrace. "Reality, Tau. I have to live with what I am."

"And just let it hurt?"

"Is there an alternative?"

"Can you even ask that? Of course there is."

She looked at him a moment, considering it. "Yes," she said at last. "You could probably do it. But is it right to cure something that isn't unhealthy? To readjust s.e.xual awareness just because it isn't immediately convenient? They would like that," she said suddenly. "They would like that very much. For which reason, if no other, I won't do it."

"You're certain?"

She looked down, pensive. The Council would applaud hormonic adjustment- and that alone was enough to decide her. "Yes," she told him. "Absolutely."

He could feel the tightness in her; he moved to where she stood and reached to offer her contact. Seeing it, she flinched. "That's not a good idea right now," she muttered.

He clasped a hand to her shoulder. A wave of pain and frustrated longing swept up the limb to his brain. Squeezing her shoulder, he thought supportive thoughts.

She looked up at him. She wasn't crying; in the long years now behind her, she had forgotten how. But she was close to it.

She put a hand over his and smiled. "I'll take it all out on Braxi," she promised.

He nodded. "I'll hold you to it."

3.

It appeared to be a merchant s.h.i.+p, but close inspection revealed it to be no such thing. First, it carried too much weaponry-and carried it in an obvious manner that seemed calculated to provoke hostility. Second, it carried no marks of licensing or point of origin. Last, it had not one but two exterior protective forcefields-which indicated that it expected to be shot at, and often.

Yiril and Sechaveh looked dubiously at each other but cleared it to land.

It seemed hesitant to enter the confines of the wars.h.i.+p and came into the dock slowly, defensively. Not until it had to did it let the outer fields drop.

The guards of the Sentira stiffened as the s.h.i.+p's surface split and a ramp slid forth.

"Do you think we should have warned them?" Yiril whispered.

"Not at all."

A figure came to the top of the ramp and stood there, waiting for the inevitable inspection.

"Hold it right there-" an officer began, and then he looked at the Kaim'eri to see if his reaction was the correct one. He was startled to see the amus.e.m.e.nt with which they were regarding him and his hand, holding a stun, wavered.

Yiril walked forward. "Kaim'era Zatar, I a.s.sume."

"If not, your security is less than effective." He, too, looked amused by the confrontation. A makes.h.i.+ft headband secured his nearly-white hair to his forehead. His s.h.i.+rt was loose and flowing and open to the waist, but he had supplemented it with a wide scarf and a pair of Lugastine dress-gloves, so no more of him showed than the crew of this s.h.i.+p should expect to see. He had even bought a cloak on the way back so that there was a cascade of fabric from his broad shoulders just as there ought to be-even if it was bright turquoise.

Perhaps it was his costume which was so startling. Perhaps. More likely it was the golden face which radiated Braxana arrogance, a face free of facial hair but lightly scarred with the remnants of untreated burns.

"I trust all that is artificial." Sechaveh indicated the scars.

"Oh, quite." The false merchant s.h.i.+p had resealed and was waiting for clearance. "Let them go," Zatar ordered.

The officer in charge was confused; it took a repet.i.tion of the command by Sechaveh before he obeyed.

"Nothing personal," Yiril asked quietly, "but why are we not blasting him from the Void?"

"Because there's an explosive implant in my arm to which he has the trigger.

Speaking of which, I need the s.h.i.+p's physician."

"Then why isn't he blasting you from the Void?" Sechaveh demanded.

"Because I didn't pay him in advance-really, Kaim'eri, this is hardly the welcome I antic.i.p.ated."

They escorted him past the guards, flanking him on both sides. The men about them were clearly bewildered. "We're not pressing you for what happened, you'll notice. There are quarters set aside for you on this s.h.i.+p, and we have a few women from your House here-and wine, and a cosmetologist-"

"And someone to remove the implant."

"And that. So recover at your leisure. Afterward we'll expect a full account."

"Get me a physician and the cosmetologist and you can have it now." Yiril pa.s.sed the request on to a guard and the man ran obediently off to find them.

"Now tell me-what plans have you made?"

They stepped into the transport tube and it began to descend. "We offered a diplomatic truce on tenday this zhent- today is the fifth," he added "-to discuss the possibility of a conditional Peace around the K'vai peninsula. Azea is mining there and stands to lose a lot if it's declared part of the Active War Zone. We've implied that it might, otherwise."

"You haven't heard yet?"

"No. But the message just went out. Your plan didn't allow for much extra time, you know; it's taken us this long just to get here from Braxi."

The tube opened on a residential level which had been given over entirely to the needs of the Braxana. Yiril and Sechaveh led their companion to the proper room.

"Ah." Zatar lowered himself to the floor and relaxed into the thick pillows which covered it. "One of the nice things about dealing with Azea-side outlaws is that they've adopted certain points of our decor. Skyve's miserable little cruiser was the first thing I've been comfortable in since leaving Braxi."

A man and a woman appeared in the doorway; he waved them in. Briefly they hesitated, but when he pulled up one sleeve to reveal the crude scar cutting across his arm the man came and knelt by him on that side, the woman on the other.

"You know the formulas I've been taking?"

She nodded. "Your Mistress gave them to me."

"Excellent. Mix me a counteragent, and in the meantime I'll need this cut and colored." He ran his free hand through the long white strands. "And curled again."

"And you'll want the skin bleached back?"

"Above the neck. I can wait on the rest."

He looked at the two expectant Kaim'eri, so careful not to ask questions, so obviously wanting information. But where to start? He had spent two years among peoples so alien that the sheltered Braxana would have no real understanding of what it meant to pa.s.s for one of them, nor comprehend why choice of culture often caused him to detour from the path he had chosen. He told them briefly of his travels, and the difficulties involved; of swinging a wide arc around the War Border and entering the Empire in a region where Braxi was no threat, thus security was minimal. He told them of Tirrah and the planets like it, where he had first contacted the Empire's rejected sc.u.m and realized their worth as a tool. Where he had practiced his Azean mask. Where one man, guessing that he was from the Holding, tried to work extortion on him-and died, not realizing that a Braxana thought nothing of killing a dozen people in a night to keep his secret safe. After that he spent money freely, and found that any further troublemakers were sold out to him long before they could take steps to safeguard the information.

When he felt he had the act down right, he had moved onward, into the Empire.

The lack of starlines meant that one could travel practically un.o.bserved. He found it foolish but to his advantage.

He didn't tell them of his stop on Llornu. If nothing else, the tension of that experience was such that he would rather not remember it. He had to have her medical records to mix a timed dosage of the poison, but there would be no chance of lifting that from the StarControl files, which held too many other things of value and were closely and carefully guarded. On Llornu, however, who antic.i.p.ated theft? He counted on that as he forced his way into the Inst.i.tute's file storage, and hoped it was enough as he searched for what he wanted. He had no illusions about the risk; any guard patrolling the grounds would be psychic and a moment's confrontation would bring the whole lot of them down on his head. His hands were shaking as he found what he wanted and beat a hasty retreat. The memory was still flavored with fear, and one he would rather not review at length.

In the long zhents that followed he had transmitted the information home by drone capsule, not wanting to trust either the time or vulnerability required for an augmented transmission. He sent a capsule and left immediately for a far planet, in case it had been observed. It never was. A runner from his House brought the formulas he needed and the chemicals he hadn't dared carry on him, and a smuggler, well-paid, got them to him.

He waited. He mixed the poison, whose formula was as distinct to its victim as her fingerprints were: given her metabolism and blood chemistry he could antic.i.p.ate the time of her death down to the tenth, if not closer. He waited, and he watched the military frequencies with the special equipment he had brought, until at last the order came.

The Conqueror went to Adrish. He followed. His disguise was second nature to him by then, which it had to be if he was going to pa.s.s unnoticed by a prime telepath. He had heard that the thoughts of an a.s.sa.s.sin, focusing on a victim, were like a beacon of light to the mind trained to sensitivity; he hoped it was not true, or that he could find her distracted, or-by far the least likely-that he could manage the act without himself thinking of the consequences.

But he was lucky. He found her in a dingy gaming house in one of the lesser neighborhoods where she was busy making arrangements with one of the local sc.u.m. So intent was she on whatever she was doing that he had no problem emptying the small vial into a gla.s.s waiting to be brought to that table. He stayed around long enough to see her drink it. Then he quickly hurried out, lest the intensity of his thoughts act as an alarm and notify her of his presence.

His return to Tirrah, and thence to the Border, was unspectacular and he related it quickly, a bare sketch of necessary facts.

Then he flexed his arm in question; the physician looked up from his work.

"Almost done, Kaim'era." The implant had been deeper than expected and the local sterile-field generator could only handle so much area; he was proceeding cautiously. Zatar nodded.

"Now tell me," he said, "what went on on Braxi?"

"As much as one could ask for," Sechaveh responded. "We worked on every front and we seem to have gotten results. War reports were reworked to inspire maximum tension, and the Kaim'eri seem genuinely afraid of this woman of yours. Telos' news service-which Yiril controls-put out a report estimating a maximum of two generations before the number of Braxana is down to twelve thousand-which, given the fact that we always multiply the real figures times ten for the public, was quite a frightening prediction. The supposed author, by the way, was executed. They're getting very edgy about such things and it shows. We set off a Plague scare on the ninth moon of Dakra, which again set them to thinking. That little poet of yours threw in her sinias also. You should have heard the piece she did at the Sun Festival! We dredged up a few shem'Ari and rigged the trials for maximum effect. I would say that right now the Braxana reaction to the image of a dominant female is about as vehemently negative as it can get. So psychologically, the groundwork's been laid."

Yiril continued. "We brought up the issue of reorganization and it was received very positively-particularly after the Plague scare and the news scandal. There's a general feeling that once we can't maintain the Kaim'erate we're inviting widespread revolution, and a desire exists to restructure before that time comes.

Telos' move made them aware that we don't actually have to fall under-number to be in danger, as long as the public thinks we have. I think a good fourth of the Kaim'eri are ours already."

"We need three quarters for something like this."

"We'll get it. Sechaveh and I singled out a few Kaim'eri for leaders.h.i.+p positions alongside us and brought them here, as you requested."

"Good; they'll see it themselves. Have you told them anything?"

"Nothing specific. Three of them are an informal power-triad, as we are: Vinir, Lerex, and Saloz."

"My own father? Marvelous!"

"It was Sechaveh's idea. He felt the rivalry between you was so well known that the others would never imagine you allying. Lerex and Saloz also have private property right by the War Border, which means if they try anything risky they'll be the first to lose by it. That'll make them a safe bet for the others. Lastly Delak, for the tie-breaking vote."

"Does he also have relevant real estate?"

"Quite a bit of it."

"Excellent. A prime number of men who can never agree. That will appeal to the Kaim'erate."