This is a fan translation of The Faraway Saikat (Далёкий Сайкат) by Mikhail Akhmanov, currently only available in Russian and, because of the author's passing in 2019, unlikely to ever be published in English. This is the second book in a series called Trevelyan's Mission (Миссия Тревельяна), which is a spin-off from the author's Arrivals from the Dark (Пришедшие из мрака) six-book series.
I claim no rights to the contents herein.
Even before my visit to the Embassy Domes, when communicating with the Kni'lina in the Lunas press center, I have witnessed multiples times their adherence to the cult of leadership. This has also been noted by such authorities as Daxiumi and Dvorkin in their monumental work on the Kni'lina and by Yatsuhira Mitsubishi in Life on All Fours; there are also testimonies from other authors. In any Kni'lina group, whether temporary or permanent, an accepted leader emerges after a short while. Their position is not secured for good, it depends on external circumstances; for example, X might be the leader during a mealtime conversation, Y can take up the position at a diplomatic reception, and Z is pushed into the role in a critical time, in a moment of serious adversity, emergency, unforeseen event. This happens as a result of a struggle for leadership that typically happens in a civilized manner, but can also on occasion take on other, more violent and even fierce forms. I have not witnessed the latter, but, when imagining such a situation, have often asked myself a question: could an ambitious human win such a struggle?
Cesare Biano
Five Days in the Kni'lina Embassy Dome
Chapter 11
The Panoramic Recording
Trevelyan's dream was disturbing. He saw himself as a young trainee once more, and that he'd been sent to Inferno again, to settle a conflict between Gray Trumpeter and the barons of the Foot of the World. He'd been sent with an entire team, but they weren't the experienced emissaries of the FDAC as before; instead, they were ten Kni'lina: four Poharas, five Ni, and one Zinto. Their team seemingly landed on one of the peaks of the Celestial Ridge, but for some reason without any environment suits or even masks, so they started to suffocate at the altitude of sixteen kilometers and die amid the ice and snow. First it was Jeb Ro, then First Blade and Zend Una, followed by Pilot and the priestess Naya Acra. Trevelyan himself didn't seem to be feeling either the cold or the lack of air, probably realizing that he was dreaming it all, but the Kni'lina were dying one after another, and in the same order as aboard the station. There were five of them left now: the gloomy botanist Evening, the sad Iutin, the green-eyed beauty Ifta Kee, Depth, who was looking at Trevelyan with a challenging grin, and Course, who had turned into a metal monster. Who's going to be next? Trevelyan thought sadly while looking at their faces. Whose ashes would be burned in the shrine to Yezdan? Whom else did was destined to end up in a funeral urn, painted with blue patterns? "Not me," Ifta Kee told him. Then she walked over to him, pressed her body against his, and started to stroke his face with her gentle hand. She smelled so wonderfully, so sweetly… Dozens of volcanoes were smoking over the Ridge, and Trevelyan remembered perfectly that it was impossible to breathe in that part of Inferno. But in his dream, his nose wasn't being assaulted by sulfur or smoke, instead it smelled as if in paradise: with fresh greenery and a woman.
Suddenly he realized that he was no longer dreaming. The smell, the gentle hand at his face, and the warm female body pressing against him were as real as the alcove with the bed and the walls of plastic of the first moon color. Ifta Kee was embracing him, her playful fingers were sliding across his cheek, neck, head, while Trevelyan's lips were already catching the engorged bud of her nipple. Maybe this time they would have done it, but then Ifta Kee produced a long hoarse moan, and Ivar woke up fully. Sitting up in bed, he gentle slid his hand across the woman's tender shoulders and moved away. He felt himself incredibly light; Ifta Kee must have activated the gravity neutralizer. Based on Kleist's book and his own experience with Depth, the Kni'lina preferred to have sex in reduced gravity.
The woman's green eyes darkened, her mouth half-opened petulantly.
"You don't want to? I've heard that human males were very lustful. You don't have any preconceptions, Ivar Trevelyan, do you? You've been with that piece of trash Depth, everyone knows that… Everyone except Naya Acra, who doesn't believe the obvious…"
"I don't have any preconceptions, and I am pretty lustful," Ivar said, getting dressed quickly. "What preconceptions would a xenologist have? I've made love to women on twenty worlds, even ones that didn't look particularly humanoid. But this isn't the time, my dear. I told you that Pilot is dead, and Naya Acra is missing. This demands thinking and a response. By the way…" He raised his voice, "Station! Has Naya Acra been found yet?"
"No, nyuri Trevelyan," the cryogenic brain reported. "In human measurements, the search has been underway for three hours and seventeen minutes."
"That's a long time," Ivar noted. "Well, the upper tier is large. Has the park been examined?"
"Not completely."
"You see what sort of problems we have," Trevelyan said, trying not to look at the second geneticist's seductive nakedness. And, remembering his dream, he added, "People are dying and disappearing… Who's next, my dear?"
This last part seemed to have sobered up Ifta Kee. Her eyes opened wide in fear, her cheeks went pale; slipping from the round bed, she grabbed her saigor and started to get dressed.
"I need to reflect on what has happened," Trevelyan said cajolingly, putting on the headband. "My reflections would be a lot more productive if you answered a few questions."
"What do you want to ask me?" Ifta Kee made a pleading gesture. "In Yezdan's name, nyuri! I'll tell you what I know, just let me stay in your quarters! I'm not very smart, and I'm a mediocre geneticist, but I do have a good memory. I remember everything Jeb Ro told me… and I can give pleasure to a man…"
"The pleasure can wait." Picking up the Commodore's approving pulse, Trevelyan sat on the floor cross-legged. "Tell me, my beauty, why are you afraid of Naya Acra?"
The woman's eyes opened even wider.
"She's frostbitten! She killed someone on Tago, when the Ni Clan was fighting Earth! She was punished with five centuries of cryogenic sleep, but Jeb Ro got her sentence reduced… He was a very important man, very important… the Emperor himself bent his ear to him, as well as the Poharas from the Areopagus, and even the Ni leaders… She's grateful only to him and hates all the rest… especially me, since Jeb Ro was close to me, so close, the way she could only dream of! And now I'm left without his protection… here, at the edge of the universe…"
She looked like she was about to burst into tears.
"I'm here, and I'm not going to let anyone hurt you," Trevelyan promised. He had no idea what had happened on Tago so long ago, but he did note that the world's name was being spoken for the second time — Evening had also mentioned it. "So our priestess is a criminal…" Ivar directed a thoughtful gaze towards the ceiling. "Then why would Jeb Ro, a Poharas aristocrat, to whom the Emperor bent his ear, have brought her here? What would he want with a killer priestess?"
"He brought me, Iutin, and he was also forced to bring that spy and linguist, the Eye of the Horada… He said that he needed a loyal and experienced assistant, someone prepared to do anything… who knew how to do certain things…" Ifta Kee placed her finger against her throat, as if it were the tip of a knife. "When Jeb Ro saw First Blade on the list, he said, 'Gray-eyed save us!.. I wasn't wrong about that Naya Acra!' He also said, 'Zend Una will be useful too, since there's a woman from Tizana among the Ni.' He called them counterbalances… I remember it well!"
"He and First Blade were rivals? How long?"
"Back on Yezdan. Each of them wanted to lead the expedition and enact his plan, but the humans demanded a Poharas coordinator. And so it was done. Just don't think that Jeb Ro was grateful to you for that… he didn't like humans… he used to say, 'Once, the fools from the Ni Clan didn't manage to come to an agreement with the Poharas Clan and lost the war.'"
"Would they have won together?"
"Maybe. Jeb Ro believed so. There are those in the Horada's science department who support… supported his plan, and there are also people like that in the Areopagus, and even among the Ni leaders… Their status depends on the way things turn out on Saikat. Do you understand what status means for a Kni'lina?"
"I do. What's left is to figure out Jeb Ro's plan." Trevelyan stared at the woman with a hypnotic gaze. "I'm sure you know what it entailed."
"I'm sure I don't," she mimicked Ivar. "He didn't discuss such things with me. We had far more interesting things to do. Are you sure you don't…"
Ifta Kee started to undo her saigor, and this time Trevelyan might not have been able to resist, but then came the Brain's loud voice, "Nyuri Naya Acra has been located. She's dead."
"Show me!" Ivar and Ifta Kee shouted in unison and ran to the main area from the bedroom. The beams of the holoprojectors flashed to life, a silvery haze melted away quickly, and a corpse appeared, as if it had just fallen out of that mist; it was bloodied, disfigured, covered in the rags of her shredded clothing. Upon seeing this, Ifta Kee yelped in fright and buried her face in her hands. The shocked Trevelyan spent a second staring at this terrible sight with his fists clenched, then a strange wheezing sound came out of his throat.
"Shit!" he exclaimed. "Shit, shit, shit! What the hell? Who did that? Do you know? You know, don' you? Tell me!"
Turning to the woman, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, but she just sobbed and shook her head.
Calm down and leave her be, the Commodore commanded. You know perfectly well who killed the old hag. Pilot and Evening were with you, Course was hiding on the lower tier, the green-eyed beauty was resting, so that leaves Iutin and Depth. The judas and the witch! Which of them, do you think did it?
The answer was obvious. Telling the Brain to turn off the holoprojectors, Ivar was about to comfort and calm down his guest, but her tears had already dried. He could have sworn that she'd been crying from the fear and surprise, not for the deceased priestess. The fear had given way to relief, as she seemed to realize that the death of Naya Acra reduced her problems by half. Although the other half still remained.
"Now I understand why you're afraid of Depth," Trevelyan said. "We're going to have a talk about her and the Valls Clan, but a little later. You do have something to tell me, don't you?"
Shuddering, the woman nodded.
She'll talk, the ghostly Advisor noted. Don't flatter yourself, lad, your manly charm has nothing to do with it. She wants something from you.
Wordlessly agreeing with that, Trevelyan offered, "I'm going to do some work, and you go to the bedroom or the office and do whatever you want. The station's library must have some entertaining recordings, right? Something musical, easy? Watch them to distract yourself. And remember that you're safe here."
Ifta Kee pouted her lips capriciously.
"I don't want those recordings! I like films about Earth…" she wrinkled her nose, remembering, "Earth and one of your worlds called Gon… Gont…"
"Gondwana," Trevelyan offered.
"Yes, Gondwana! It's so beautiful, and life is so pleasant there! So wonderful and fun!"
"No wonder," Trevelyan nodded. "Constant carnivals and festivals, and between them they feast and dance 'till they drop. I'd like to go there myself. Just have to get out of this place alive…"
He dug around in his crystals, selected a recording of a sea cruise to the Palm Archipelago, where he himself wanted to go, an advertising film about Gondwana for tourists, and some others, hand the crystals to Ifta Kee, and led his guest to the office. After the arch leading to it was covered by a membrane blocking all light and sound, Ivar sat on the couch, adjusted the headband, and heard, This nympho gets aroused quickly and regains her senses just as fast. Now I'm certain that she's got an implant. It regulates her hormonal release.
"Enough about her," Trevelyan said. "I have an interesting theory, Grandpa."
And I have information, the Commodore replied. At your request, I dug around in the secret storage of our tin can, found the panoramic recording, and familiarized myself with it. Very interesting stuff! Shall I play it for you?
"Hold on. Let's work on this theory, but first I'd like to make an inquiry. What do you know about the events on Tago? Something happened there with Naya Acra three hundred years ago, during the war… She killed someone there, so they froze her."
Tago, tago… You, lad, don't know the military history of the last several centuries, the Commodore grumbled. It would be very useful, by the Great Emptiness! I'm like a pure consciousness, a soul without a body, a soldier in indefinite retirement, but I still make it a point to find out!
"So what happened there, Grandpa?"
A bloodbath happened, that's what! The way competent historians write, it was one of the darkest episodes during the war with the Kni'lina… Tago is a planet near our sector, where they built a powerful outpost. Top class! Orbital fortresses, a squadron of cruisers, and on the surface they dug themselves into the ground up to their ears and covered their dugouts and trenches with an entropic field… Do you know what that is?
"It absorbs all types of energy. No weapon, no cybernetic system, and no vehicle will function," Trevelyan reported. "On occasion, entropic fields were used in combat, each time confirming its ineffectuality. Sure, the attackers can't shoot or bomb, but neither can the defenders. Makes for a ridiculous situation!"
Exactly! When our people were assaulting Tago, they wiped out everything that was in orbit, then sent marines from the Border Worlds down to the planet. Regular lads, used to hard work from a young age… No robots, no combat suits, no blasters… So our boys shopped up the Kni'lina with cleavers and entrenching tools. Based on the footage, it was quite the meatgrinder! So if that priestess really was there, she has a good reason to dislike us.
Ivar nodded.
"That I agree with. But Naya Acra is a Poharas, and we fought the Ni."
The Ni Clan, the Advisor clarified. But eyewitnesses claimed to have seen Poharas volunteers among them. They especially valued servants of the cult of Yezdan. All of them are excellent psychologists, strong in spirit, so they were made junior commanders.
Once, the fools from the Ni Clan didn't manage to come to an agreement with the Poharas Clan and lost the war, Trevelyan recalled and nodded.
"I see! So our priestess is an old warhorse… probably killed someone when the Ni tried to flee… Well, this seems to confirm my theory!"
I'm listening, the Commodore said laconically.
Trevelyan rose and started to pace the room.
"Here's what happened. Jeb Ro and First Blade were rivals, each of them was supposed by important people on Yezdan, each had a plan, and each hoped that the humans—meaning the Foundation—would take his side. First Blade, as evidenced from his work, wanted to limit Tazinto activity by employing the bioemitter on a planetary scale, so he was on the side of the Terre. I think some in the FDAC consulate would have agreed with him, after watching the massacre in that cave Iutin and I visited… very likely would have, if not for Jeb Ro's plan. We know little about that plan, only that Jeb Ro didn't want to make use of the emitter and hoped to establish a parity between the Tazinto and the Terre someone other way. Such methods do exist: separating a part of the Northern continent with the Terre camps, introducing a religion with certain taboos among the Tazinto, and, finally, the Terre could be sedated and transported across the sea, to one of the southern continents."
"Both rivals understood," Trevelyan went on, "that here, on a remote station, the struggle between them would soon step outside the bounds of scientific discussions. The station is a purely peaceful facility, a symbol of cooperation with Earth, so they couldn't bring any weapons or guards. That's why each rival selected not only specialists into his team, but also loyal people, who were prepared to attack and defend. I'm certain they had help… it's not so easy to obtain a cyborg from Tow or to defrost a war criminal who hates humans…"
Trevelyan paused and glanced at the gray membrane blocking the entrance to the office. He'd given Ifta Kee films with the full package: images, sounds, smells, tactile sensations… She was probably on her way to the Palm Archipelago at this very moment, sitting in a chaise lounge on the upper deck of a cruise liner, the warm wind stroked her skin, islands that looked like baskets of flowers appeared on the horizon, and the generous sun of Gondwana poured heat from the sapphire skies…
Go on, the Commodore hurried him along. I'm listening intently.
"Let's take a look at whom they selected. Jeb Ro has two competent professionals, Iutin and Zend Una, plus the latter works for the Horada and therefore has a pretty effective weapon with him. Also Naya Acra, who is prepared to not only kill any Ni, but also to keep a close eye on the humans. Then there's Ifta Kee, his beautiful girlfriend… but that's for a different reason. First Blade also has two specialists, Pilot and Evening, then Course, a killer cyborg, and Depth. A fairly obvious analogy."
The witch doesn't fit, the Advisor countered. Unless she was Blade's lover.
"Agreed, Depth's role in our drama isn't entirely clear. Maybe she pursues her own goals and therefore killed those who were in her way: Zend Una and the priestess. And perhaps she's not a member of the Ni Clan, but of some other one… Pilot and Evening suspected that she was a Valls… Do we know of such a clan?"
No, but I can milk the information from that cryogenic moron. There aren't any forbidden topics for us anymore.
"There'll be time for that. First let's deal with the first two murders. So, a human appears on the station," Ivar pointed at himself, "which speeds up the events. The human seems to be on the side of the coordinator, and, while his position hasn't yet become irreversible, First Blade decides to eliminate his rival. There's a suitable opportunity: landing on the planet and observing a fight between the Terre and the Tazinto. On Blade's order, Course kills Jeb Ro, and in such a way as to make the savages look responsible. The fact of the murder is on the panoramic recording, but Blade is now the coordinator, he takes the crystal with the recording and destroys it. Had he remained alive, he would have told us that the recording doesn't show the killer, or that Jeb Ro was killed by one of the savages. There's also the possibility that he has made a copy of the recording and hidden it."
Why?
"To keep Course on a leash. Do you remember what Iutin said about the cyborg? That abominations from Tow are being handled by specialists, while other scientists know little of them. First Blade was not a specialist and didn't know all the details about Course. I think he distrusted him and kept something for a rainy day, as insurance. Like this recording, for instance… If I find a copy of it in Blade's office or quarters, it's going to be a damning proof."
So then Course must've also distrusted his boss, didn't he? He figured out that Blade would sell him out and slipped him the hypnoglyph… Right?
"Exactly. Blade had room to maneuver, Course didn't. Blade could show us the recording and say that he'd figured out that Course isn't a complete person. An uncontrollable creature with a defective brain, and who knew what to expect from that? Course would have immediately become an outcast, twice over: as an abomination from Tow, and as Jeb Ro's killer. It seems that he understood that and decided to get some insurance of his own… As for the hypnoglyph," Trevelyan stared up at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression, "Blade and Course must have brought it specifically for such an event. Iutin thinks that the cyborg hid it in his own body, in a special cavity, and I agree."
He could've smuggled in a blaster instead of a hypnoglyph, the Commodore noted.
"A blaster? Why? Course could kill Jeb RO or any other Kni'lina with his bare hands, but that would've looked suspicious. But a hypnoglyph is a perfect weapon: send it with a servant, and the result is guaranteed. I think Jeb Ro would have probably died this way, had a better opportunity not come along."
Is that your version? There was a snide note in the Commodore's mental tone, causing Trevelyan to raise an eyebrow in surprise. His ancestor wasn't known for his sense of humor.
"Well, in general terms," he muttered. "Do you feel that something is off? Something doesn't fit together?"
No, the picture is pretty logical, and I agree that everything could have happened this way. I would even say that you've stated the ideas and intents of the Baldies quite correctly. There's just one problem, a practical one.
"What do you mean?"
Course didn't kill Jeb Ro. Maybe he planned to, but someone beat him to it.
Trevelyan needed a whole minute to digest this shocking revelation. Then he spat, hit the left holoprojector, and said, "Brain, start the playback. Let's watch the recording, and if you're not kidding, Grandpa, I'm going to eat my shoes."
This time, the picture was so wide that the far part of the room, with the arches and the bathroom, was covered by a forest, a riverbank, cliffs, and Saikat's starry sky. It was a night recording, in the infrared spectrum, but the station AI reduced the darkness and returned the grass, shrubs, trees, and cliffs their natural colors. For a time, the forest landscape quivered and swayed; the cyber-observer had probably been circling in the sky, selecting a better vantage point. Then the image became steady. Trevelyan heard the rustling of the foliage in the wind and the splashing of the waves, saw the familiar clearing by the river, the bridge thrown over the stream, the dark maw of the cave, and the outlines of the Terre sliding through their shelter like shadows in the night. It appeared to be the moment right before the Tazinto attack.
"Speed up the playback," he ordered the Brain, and fiery dots of torches, tiny figures, and a forest of spears, axes, and clubs rising over them immediately appeared and poured onto the clearing. The wild horde was running towards the cave with a roar, the warriors were shaking their weapons and falling under the hail of javelins, which the cryogenic brain had marked with the evening color of mourning. This entire scene was being shown from above, from the position of the cyberscout, which was hovering over the edge of the forest, which was why it looked as if the heads and shoulders of the Tazinto, their weapons and torches were moving on their own, without the aid of their nearly unseen legs. The slit of the Terre shelter, from which the javelins were flying out, was like the open maw of a dragon, prepared to swallow the attackers along with the fire they'd brought and to spit out their bones and charred embers back onto the clearing.
"Pause," Trevelyan said, and the image froze. "Let's test the quality of the panoramic recording. Brain, my observations at the Tazinto campsite are loaded into your memory. I've indicated the name of their chief, Broken Sword. Find him in my report, locate his appearance, and try to identify him among the attackers. Is that possible?"
"It is, nyuri Trevelyan. Here he is."
One of the figures visible from above was highlighted in scarlet. Ivar asked for maximum zoom, and the back of the chief's giant head and monstrous shoulders appeared in front of him; if he wanted to, he could have counted every strand of hair on his head. After this experiment, he tracked the path of all the javelins he'd thrown that night; the Brain scrupulously marked them with the blue mournful color, painted the trajectory, and zoomed in on the slain savages.
"Excellent," Trevelyan said. "Let's keep going. Now I'm interested in the edge of the forest and Jeb Ro and Course disguised as Tazinto. Find them for me."
Pay attention, there will be three, not two, the Commodore warned him. Can you tell these lads apart? To me they all look alike.
"We'll figure it out," Ivar grunted, peering into the new image. Now he could see the distant part of the clearing, the trunks and canopies of enormous frolls and the thick shrubs. A Tazinto stepped out from behind a tree, and the Brain, illuminating his dark outline, marked the tardy warrior as Jeb Ro. But Trevelyan had already figured out that he was watching a fake: the savage man's movements were different from those of his supposed brethren, they were smooth, full of dignity, not jerky or sharp. He held his head differently, stood straight, wasn't sniffing the air, which was a habit of hunters, and was unarmed. He was standing freely, lowing his arms and shifting his left shoulder forward, so that the camera secured there and hidden under the veil of the mirage could record continuously.
Forty meters from Jeb Ro, the bushes rustled, and another figure, this one taller and more massive, appeared like a hazy specter. This savage was also not rushing after the other Tazinto; instead, he was crouching and looking around, holdings five or six javelins in his left hand. The spears were short, clearly belonging to the Terre, and Trevelyan could make out their stone tips glinting in the light of the nebula and the stars.
"And there's Course," he said. "I have to say, he's much better at copying the mannerisms of the savages. But I thought he was farther from Jeb Ro. We can determine the exact distance by comparing the recordings from their cameras and—"
This isn't Course, the Advisor informed him. You're making the same mistake as First Blade. He also assumed that this lad was Course. A large fellow, bigger than all of them in their pack, except maybe the chief. But not Course. There's our biologist!
The image shifted to the side, and a third Tazinto appeared in the woods between two froll trunks, barely visible among the thick foliage. Trevelyan thought that he'd be almost impossible to notice if one didn't know what to look for. He had the image zoomed in on the savage and confirmed that it was indeed Course. His holocamera was secured on a low tree branch, while the cyborg himself had chosen a position that couldn't be observed from above very well. He was holding a single javelin, clearly rejecting the possibility of a miss.
"Slow down the playback and give me a wider panorama," Trevelyan said. "I want to see all three figures and their actions simultaneously."
Now the movements of all three became unnaturally smooth, as if they were performing ballet to a slow funeral music. The unknown Tazinto raised a javelin and, as if reluctantly, hurled it; Jeb Ro, receiving a mortal blow, lowered to the ground with the grace of a true aristocrat; Course, almost invisible among the bushes, was standing motionless, seemingly shocked that he'd been beaten so quickly and suddenly. In the following moment, the image changed: Jeb Ro's killer melted away among the trees, Course also vanished and, seven and a quarter seconds later—a record one hundred meter dash in a forest—dove out from behind a froll, next to which lay the dead coordinator. This created a complete illusion that he was the one who had thrown the javelin, Trevelyan thought, watching his theory crash and burn in his mind's eye. This mental vision was available to the Commodore, since he immediately heard his grumbling, There is it, my boy. That's how it happened! Course waned to kill him, but he was too late, another fellow turned out to be a little quicker. Anyway, the rest isn't as interesting, plus there's nothing new for you there: after confirming that Jeb was gone, Course ran into the cave and put on a demonic show for you and Iutin. Grandpa giggled suddenly, You know what's funny? He didn't even lie: the Baldie coordinator was indeed killed by a Tazinto!
"Stop the playback," Ivar said and scratched his head. Facts were facts, he thought, and these facts complicated the situation drastically. Why would one Tazinto kill another? Sure, under the right circumstances, like in a struggle for leadership, over a female or a piece of meat that would have made sense and would have fit right into the style of the ancient time and morality of Broken Sword's horde. But the experienced xenologist in Ivar Trevelyan knew that such actions in archaic societies were emotional and impulsive. In addition, they were also accompanied by an entire ritual: threats, roars, pounding one's chest, and other sound and visual effects. But the murder of Jeb Ro seemed to be far more modern in its execution than was permitted for the stone age.
A certain warrior, a large fellow in Grandpa's words, hadn't participated in the battle, lagged behind the rest of the tribe, hidden in the bushes with Terre javelins and waited for the coordinator or, perhaps, Course — either way, an outsider disguised as a Tazinto. He knew perfectly well that such an outsider would appear, he knew the time and the place and had been tracking him, setting an ambish; he killed the coordinator with a weapon of the enemies of the Tazinto in order to cast suspicion on them and vanished with such speed that Course hadn't been able to catch him. Those were the actions of an experienced assassin, not a savage!
His next thought was of Depth having secretly going down to the planet, but Trevelyan cast it aside. All flights were registered, plus the Brain was the best witness to her alibi, confirming that Depth—still Third at the time—had been peacefully sleeping in her quarters on that fateful night. It was her signature, though: a primitive weapon, the method of its delivery to the victim, and the attempt to frame an innocent party. All that distinguished the killer's skill and cunning.
"He's not a Tazinto," Trevelyan said finally. "I promised to eat my shoes… if you insist, of course… but I'm also prepared to add my uniform and awards to the shoes. That fellow is not a Tazinto, Grandpa!"
Better eat a steak, or that vegetable diet will ruin your imagination for good, the Commodore advised him. So what are we going to do?
"We're going to visit the planet and find that strange savage. But not yet; we have a few things that demand our attention." Trevelyan glanced at the timer. "The burial ceremony is soon, and I'd like to be present at it. Then, closer to night, you and I will deal with Course. I promised that to Shiar and Evening. Zotahi and Pilot are definitely his victims!"
Now that I approve! the Advisor rejoiced. Strategically, it's the right decision —we definitely need to secure our rear. We can't go down to Saikat and leave a killer cyborg aboard. He might do something to the regenerator, the air filters, or any other life support subsystem, or even, Lord of Emptiness forbid, break into the lift shaft and come up… I'm not sentimental, but I feel bad for our Baldies, except for the witch who played you for a fool, of course.
"But I did get pleasure from that. Plenty of unforgettable impressions!" Trevelyan noted philosophically.
Pleasure… Grandpa grumbled. Just be glad that she didn't slit your throat while you were sleeping!
"It probably didn't fit into her plans at the time," Ivar replied and unlocked the entrance to his office. Ifta Kee was sitting there, on the floor, out of a Kni'lina habit, but the floor wasn't the floor at the moment, it was the deck of a marvelous yacht made of htaa wood, which was moving at full sail along the coast of an incredibly beautiful island. Palaces of crystal and silver were towering over the palms, magnolias, and tall pines with golden trunks, music was playing, processions of happy, carefree, well-dressed people walked along the alleys, from one square to another, funny gnome-like robots were serving drinks and snacks to sunbathers on the beaches, hot air balloons, flyers, and grav-gliders were floating in the sapphire sky, gentle waves were rolling onto the golden sand, rocking surfers on their crests. Then again, the yacht made of htaa wood wasn't boring either, as Ifta Kee was surrounded by a group of young bronze-skinned athletes with shaved heads, who were dancing around her like kids around a Christmas tree. Three humans, two Teruxi, and all of them were handsome!
"Enough entertainment, my dear," Trevelyan said, shutting off the holorecording. The yacht vanished, along with the sea, the sun, the sky, the islands, and the young athletes. Ifta Kee turned to him. Her eyes were beaming.
"How wonderful, how delightful! I couldn't even imagine that you have worlds like that, full of fun and joy! We've mostly seen your cruisers and fortresses on border planets, your soldiers and diplomats… Many are frightened by that, but not me! I've always wanted to visit Earth… maybe even stay there for good…"
"Really?" Trevelyan managed to say in surprise.
"Yes, by Yezdan! You have so much freedom, of which neither the Poharas nor the Ni could ever dream. A woman can do anything, have fun, dance, wear fine clothes, sleep with more than one man, and no doctor is going to say that her hormonal balance is off or that there's something wrong with her psyche… It's called privacy, right? And a woman can't be forced to undergo treatment, implanted with…" She suddenly went pale and broke off. But her confusion didn't last long; jumping to her feet, Ifta Kee leapt to embrace Trevelyan and whispered, burning his ear with her breath, "Will you take me to Gondwana? And then to Earth? Will you become my man? For a long time?.. Forever?.."
"I'm afraid I'm not yet ready for marriage," Trevelyan admitted. "But you can, of course, go to Earth. Very few Kni'lina come to us, especially such enchanting women. Our men will be delighted to see you. They will shower you with gifts for your single glance, for the right to crawl over and die at your feet."
Ifta Kee's eyes glazed over. Without a doubt, she was picturing an entire procession of crawlers gifting her villas, yachts, necklaces made of Sirian rubies and then immediately giving up the ghost to the sounds of a tender serenade. Leaning on Trevelyan's arm, she sighed dreamily, bent at her waist, and closed her emerald eyes. The length of her eyelashes was impressive.
"The funeral rite is about to begin," Trevelyan reminded her. "You're the last of the Poharas here. Will you be able to say the prayers?"
She didn't react. It seemed that she was in another world, one that was as far from Saikat and the station orbiting it as the galactic core.
She'll wake up in a moment, the Commodore informed him. Her implant is regulating her hormones.
Indeed, the woman's eyes flew open and stared at Trevelyan with a small measure of displeasure.
"Did you say something?"
"We have to cremate the bodies of Pilot and Naya Acra and do it properly. Not counting the servants, there are five of us left: a human, a Zinto, two Ni, and you, a Poharas female, who knows the rites of Yezdan'tabi. You're going to have to conduct the ceremony."
"Yes." Ifta Kee suddenly grinned predatorily. "I'm going to say goodbye to that frostbitten priestess with great pleasure. You know, Yezdan's Book has many wise thoughts, but it doesn't include one that is known to all: the ashes of one's enemy, rustling in an urn, fill the heart with morning joy. Let's go! I'm ready."
The rite passed as if a round chibhu fruit rolled, as the Kni'lina would say. This time Trevelyan was permitted to stand by the triangular table, and he was pointed at a spot between Ifta Kee and Iutin. The base of the triangle was taken up by sarcophagi, and on its other side were Evening and Depth, so the women were separated by the botanist's massive frame. Apparently Ifta Kee thought that such a barrier was reliable enough, although occasionally she shriveled and shuddered under Depth's piercing gaze. As for Trevelyan, he continued to "not see" the first geneticist, and if their eyes happened to meet, he made a face as if he'd just been served curzem made from rotten mushrooms. This wasn't easy, as Depth was traditionally wearing a short apron, and her naked body summoned up sweet memories. But Ifta Kee's apron was even shorter, and on occasion her firm thigh would touch Trevelyan's, reminding him that there were other sweet desserts aboard the station.
When the ashes of the deceased were transferred from the ogihons to the urns and the final farewell words were spoken, Trevelyan stepped back to the wall where the saigors were lying, picked up his own coveralls, and said, "I ask that the nyuri get dressed and go to the conference room. I have an important announcement."
He didn't take a single step to the door, just stood there and watched the others leave, and he didn't like what he was seeing. A new hierarchy had already been established, either by silent mutual agreement, or out of fear of the blade that had taken Naya Acra's life. Depth was walking first with her back straightened proudly, followed by Evening, Ifta Kee, and Iutin. It seemed that the Zinto was last under any circumstance.
That witch needs to be reduced in stature, the ghostly Advisor noted. I'm not going to say by a head, but you should take her down a peg. Just look at how she's performing like an admiral on a parade ground!
We're about to do just that, Trevelyan promised. Pulling out the skin folded up in a dense roll out of a breast pocket, he unrolled it, pulled it on, and put on the coveralls. Then he stepped out into the hallway, turned to Yezdan standing at the doors to the shrine with the open Book, and raised his eyebrows in thought. As the Gray-eyed sage had said, "The present casts a shadow before itself, but not everyone can read its signs." So what was that shadow, here and now? Depth's aspirations for power and leadership? The fear she instilled in Ifta Kee? Evening and Iutin's omissions? That Tazinto, who had killed Jeb Ro? Or maybe the unknown programmer Caytam, who'd turned the Brain into a spy, either of his own volition or by order of the authorities?.. In any case, there definitely was a shadow, and Trevelyan could feel its icy breath.
They were drinking tetsamni in the conference room. The servant Tikat brought the beverage in wide tocar bowls, crouched respectfully, and left the room. The invigorating aroma wafted through the air, the Kni'lina were raising the bowls to their lips in smooth gestures, and everything would have looked like a peaceful tea ceremony somewhere on the Japanese islands, under the cherry blossoms, had the men and women not been sitting far from one another. There was another unpleasant surprise, when Depth sat down on the spot previously occupied by Jeb Ro and then by First Blade. This was no longer a hint at her claim to the new status, but a confirmation of her right to leadership! After seeing this, Trevelyan felt for the palustar under his coveralls, stepped over the low barrier, and, finding himself on the Kni'lina half, took up a position in the center. The room was spacious, he had only four colleagues remaining, so maintaining cono was easy, and he was standing at least seven-eight meters from any of them.
"We are listening to the human nyuri's information," Depth said with an impassive expression. "After that I'll be making a number of instructions. All of you must—"
"No instructions from Second Depth," Trevelyan interrupted.
"First, nyuri." The geneticist's tone was as cold as polar ice. "First, which is why—"
Pulling out the palustar, Trevelyan used it to scratch behind the ear.
"I'm first here. From now on, I'm your coordinator, investigator, and Eye of the Horada all rolled into one, and each of you will follow my orders. Until a ship arrives and more authoritative persons arrive, of course… Keep drinking the tetsamni, it's calming." He raised his eyes to the ceiling. "Station, please confirm my authority."
"In the current critical situation, nyuri Trevelyan is recognized as acting coordinator," came the Brain's loud voice.
"The human? Why is that?" Depth paused before her tocar reached her lips. Her tone lowered another few hundred degrees, reaching nitrogen's freezing point."
"While nyuri Trevelyan does not possess the knowledge of the required codes and passwords, he is an emissary of the Foundation," the Brain explained graciously. "This makes him the leader of the group. The group of those who have survived after these sad events."
The palustar in Ivar's hands made several complex evolutions and froze, pointed directly at Depth's forehead. She was silent, but her gray pupils darkened.
"Here are my instructions aboard the Saikat Research Station," Trevelyan said firmly. "I'm naming nyuri Evening as my deputy at the rank of subcoordinator. Tomorrow I'm going down to Saikat…" He raised his hand, interrupting the murmurs. "This is required by the investigation into the deaths of Jeb Ro and First Blade. Until we learn the motives and the names of the killers, none of us can feel safe, which is why I have no intention of delaying my trip. I hope it will be short and I can return in a day or two. But until then…" Ivar's gaze swept the room, still keeping the palustar aloft, "until then I'm going to have to neutralize the threat of Course, which will be done tonight. I intend to kill him, if you don't mind. Nyuri Evening, your opinion?"
The botanist set his empty bowl aside.
"I agree."
"Nyuri Ifta Kee?"
The green-eyed beauty nodded, warming her thin fingers on the tocar with the steaming beverage.
"For the record, please speak your verdict loudly and clearly. The Station is transcribing."
"Agreed." Her voice didn't quiver.
"Nyuri Iutin?"
"Life is the laughter of a madman in emptiness…" the Zinto muttered. "Yes, nyuri Trevelyan, I agree, of course. But how will you do it? The previous attempt, of which I had not been informed, ended with Pilot's death… You are our new leader, and it wouldn't do to lose you so quickly."
"You won't. My funeral urn hasn't yet been made," Trevelyan said. "As for how I'm going to do it… There was once a wise saying on Earth: the less you know, the longer you'll live." He turned away from the third geneticist and pointed the palustar at Depth. "I'm stripping this woman from Tizana of her official status aboard the SRS and in the entire system. From now on, servants will not obey her, the Station will refuse her commands, and all the ports in her quarters, except for the emergency communication line, will be locked. The woman calling herself Second Depth is the prime suspect in the murders of Zend Una and Naya Acra. I'm placing her under arrest and after this meeting will personally escort her to her quarters and seal the door. When the ship arrives, I will hand her over to the authorities of Earth or Yezdan."
A daring smile appeared on Depth's lips.
"You'll have to wait a long time, mshak! Until your hair falls out!"
A paralyzer darted out of her sleeve like a snake. While she was raising it and feeling for the trigger, Trevelyan, whose reaction time had been sped up by the skin, could have fired more than once. But he had no intention of killing Depth or driving her to madness; after all, she was a person, not a cyborg, and had the right to an impartial trial. Maybe even Course had such a privilege, it would have to be figured out before the execution, even though he'd been sentenced by the other three Kni'lina and Trevelyan himself.
He leapt to Depth, bending low and dodging to the right to avoid the paralyzing beam. Suddenly she yelped, after an empty tocar, thrown by Evening, struck her on the wrist with its edge and knocked the weapon out of her grip. In the next moment, Ivar was close, and his hand lowered itself on the woman's shoulder, gripping it with such force that she screamed again.
"Course isn't the only one who can throw containers," the botanist said with a pleased expression. "You just need something appropriate… By the way, nyuri Trevelyan, you should check what else she's hiding up her sleeves. Geneticists have scalpels, very sharp ones… Would you like help?"
"No."
Ivar tore at her saigor's right sleeve, then the left one, revealing Depth's bare arms and shoulders. There was a glint of steel, the frightened Ifta Kee buried her face in her hands, while Iutin dropped his bowl with tetsamni. The blades held by loops on the inside of the sleeves were fairly long, and one of them was undoubtedly the one that had been used to flay the priestess. Keeping a grip on Depth's shoulder, Trevelyan pulled out and examined them.
"Why bother stealing my knife? You have two here, they're just as good… They can be used for anything: to take a sample for studies or to puncture someone's throat…"
"I guess you see me now, do you?" the woman hissed. "You're speaking to me too."
"I see and speak to you now," Trevelyan confirmed. "A coordinator has no right to have ambitions or personal offenses, they see everyone, even those stripped of their status and suspected of a crime. We're going to go to your quarters now. Are you going to come voluntarily? Or shall I use force?"
He increased the grip on her shoulder, and Depth groaned.
"I'll go. Release me, human." Beads of sweat appeared on her temples and scalp. "But I'd like to say—"
"Whatever she says will be a lie," the botanist Evening stated.
Depth threw him an angry glare.
"Looks like I've been stripped not only of my status but also the ability to justify my actions… Let the human remember what happened in this very room not so long ago, when the Poharas priestess accused him of killing the coordinator! I had to remind her of Yezdan's words: whosoever wishes to judge one who is voiceless is a criminal himself!"
"We were judging Course, not you," Trevelyan said. "We saw him kill, we know that for a fact, which is why we sentenced him. But no one saw you throw the blade at Zend Una or stab Naya Acra. Investigators will determine the truth, and you can tell them whatever you want. Let's go!"
He released his grip. Five deep marks were visible on the woman's shoulder.