He was a charming mind, trapped in the body of the beast.
- RABBI EKMET TUSHALLO'S CHRONICLES
"Commissioner Hilom," was Miles Teg's opening as he sat in the only plain couch in his cell-apartment. "If we are to play a game, then we will be players. Not pawns, even in your friendly hands."
It was dawn but the Commissioner did not doubt the tiny Bashar was waiting for him.
"The Commerce Agent was very forthwith," continued the boy, alluding to the meeting his guards had dutifully reported to him.
"What have you surmised then, Bashar?"' asked Hilom while sitting down.
"The thalassocracy he represents must be one of the powers you are trying to balance."
"Yes," he admitted.
"One you will try to appease with a regular flow of spice... from us. Together with a few other interstellar factions, I am sure."
"Your mind travels fast, Bashar."
"It won't work, Commissioner. The deal he offered me implies that he is just trying to siphon off some spice for his own personal profit. Deal with him alone and the Trade League will never know about your newfound strategic importance thanks to the spice trade. There must be somebody who is watching over him. That's the person you should deal with."
The Commissioner stood in silence. "You learned all that from one meeting?"
"I derive you did not consider this angle."
"No. Did he understand you are... wiser than your years?"
"He did not suspect a thing about gholas. He came to see the Rabbi, but by the end I am sure he saw the light. You will be happy to know I have not struck a deal with him," concluded the Bashar.
"I am pleased you are not sidelining us in spite of our hospitality."
"Well," said the Bashar taking out a handful of spheres from his pockets, "these spice samples to feed your diplomatic endeavors should really come from you and not from me, don't you think?"
Hilom stared at the table, five small transparent spheres each one with a blue drop in it. Jaw-dropping.
"Please accept them, Commissioner. As a token of good faith in your cause."
"I will." But he did not have any urgency to take them.
"Our Rabbi must surely have passed your test - his eyes were alight with energy when he stopped to say hi."
"He is being taken to visit his people at the outskirts of Lat."
"Hardly a possibility now, given the riots you have going on in the streets, don't you think?"
The Commissioner's eyes opened wide at the surprise, then his poker face resumed.
"How, Bashar?"
"A basic computation. I could hear noises through the open window. Your men are not to refuse a nice chat." Hilom looked at the spheres on the table. "I did not offer them," quickly added the Bashar.
The Commissioner stayed silent.
"This planet has not seen a war in ages, correct?" inquired the boy.
"If you say so, Bashar Teg."
"Yet you have a security force."
"It does the job."
"The riots must be top of mind. I thank you for coming here nevertheless. It's paramount we establish the terms of our pact before our collective lack of action forces us back into outer space."
"The ship needs to go."
"That's easy. We are a fleeting presence, a ship that you see today, may not see tomorrow. You want this ship to go away but the trade to stay. We can detach from the orbiting stations, become invisible and still circle your planet without creating ripples."
"We ought to define terms of the trade. We will only accept exclusivity," said Hilom.
"Fine. We will have freedom of movement in exchange, and access your intel."
"We initially thought the Rabbi was your leader, but had forgotten what the legends say of the Bene Gesserit. It's you speaking for the ship, not the Rabbi."
"Yet the Rabbi is one of us. Betraying me is betraying him."
"And you betraying us is betraying him as well. We are one people. You will have freedom of movement on this planet, and open access. But what guarantees do you provide? After all, a no-ship is untraceable. You ship-wanderers can walk about. We, the planet-bound, plant ourselves deep in the course of action we choose."
"No faith in the ancient alliance with the Sisterhood? Have we ever let Israel down?"
"You look like a handful of fugitives by my standards." It was time to be reticent.
"Like your people have for centuries, but the Bene Gesserit always brought you enduring support. Rabbi Estel told me to remind you of this: You shall not aggrieve a stranger or oppress him, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt."
That moved him, but externally he only snorted, and shook his head. "Why is your ship here, then? When there are so many stars..." Careful!
"When we first strode out, we liked the idea of building with friends, find strength in partnerships. But if not worthy of your trust, we'd rather be off to other ports."
Hilom decided to stay quiet.
"Alright then..." the Bashar stood up as he could walk away from his jailor, but something in his casual defiance made Hilom believe it.
"Bashar, wait," he said. "You ask for complete trust. The roots of which are in our long-standing alliance with your Order. But you, and we, are new saplings growing on top of the stump. I will accept your open hand, but we must find a way that protects my community."
"As I must protect mine, Commissioner. But true friendship must start with hard gives on both sides. Vulnerability. Reciprocal, carefully negotiated, but still vulnerability. You already know there is only one way. We will invest in each other like strangers do. Starting by exchanging hostages."
"Easy for you, to part from your Rabbi."
"But you, Hilom, get me, and any Reverend Mother or crew member of your choice."
"They say the Bene Gesserit consider their Reverend Mothers expendable. I am not sure it will be proof enough of your commitment to us."
"True. But before we continue, I also need an observer seat in your Council," continued the Bashar. "Out of this jail of course."
"My Council? For you?"
"It is singular how grown-ups tend to ignore a kid like me. I read the room undisturbed, and noticed how you are the place where the scales rest."
"Perceptive. But unsurprising, if one believes in who you say you are. Here is the investment Israel will require: spice production happens on this planet, not in some hidden system or orbit."
Teg just stared at him.
"Hard gives, Bashar," Hilom reminded him.
There was silence.
"You already told us the melange you will bring won't be the worm's," he continued, "hence you must have some technology to synthesize it. I am not asking that you give it away. But you spoke of hostages. That is one." He held his breath. This is the gamble.
The boy Bashar hesitated for a moment. "Producing spice in the open may doom us all way before you could reap the leverage you seek, Commissioner. There are many eyes... human eyes. There could be far-seeing eyes."
"If you truly bring to us the cornucopia of ancient times, then we will conceal it. My people can afford running a small no-globe."
"Fair," said the Bashar, a little too fast. "But it will take three months to bring production planet-side. Meantime, extra-territoriality means you cannot inspect our ship."
"Never could. It was a bluff, Bashar. Interstellar trade customs forbid it. All goods are free on board."
"But you will have open access to most floors, where you and your people will be able to visit or stay anytime. Because this is our pick of hostages: your Rabbi, and twenty family members we will pick among your clan and others from your community."
Hilom stared at him in silence.
"Hard gives," the Bashar reminded him. "You were first to ask that we put our golden geese in a no-globe of your own."
"I won't have my daughters be raised on a no-ship and schooled by the Bene Gesserit!"
"Secret Israel already lives on our ship. Open access. Let us decide to rotate hostages every six months."
Hilom looked deep into the Bashar's eyes, pondering. "This is a total and reciprocal commitment," he said.
"Has the Sisterhood ever given you less?"
"I agree to these terms, but I can't speak alone. It will need to convince the rest of us. Meantime, I will arrange for you more adequate quarters. I must be off. There are pressing matters."
"Commissioner Hilom, I have to ask. How many rioters?"
"Half the city is under martial law! They put an entire neighborhood to the torch."
"Tell me more." So the Commissioner did.
"Are you using armored vehicles as decoys?" inquired the Bashar. "That will attract their attention. Close down any place in the city where food or water can be obtained."
"Why?"
"Without fuel, anger disperses quickly. Open and light up every government building and temple."
"But they will loot them!"
"Deflecting them from harming the local population. Let them desecrate a temple and you will have the public opinion on your side. Do you have agents among them?"
"This is a riot! I need every man."
"You should infiltrate the mob and examine whether foreign agents are feeding the chaos, or sourcing recruits. Did the riot start in the main plaza? Do you have video feeds?"
"We are looking into all camera footage, and have deployed camera drones at every major intersection."
"Good. Has the news spread beyond the city?"
"The news, but not the unrest."
"What is in your arsenal to redirect the mob's instincts? Do you stock non-lethal psycho-chemicals?"
"What are..."
"Commissioner Hilom, do you see the value I bring you as an observer?"
"Maybe," he replied. That may just be my wounded pride.
"A spaceship has come out of the sky with the most skilled talent the Old Imperium has ever produced. My unsolicited advice: use it to your advantage. Your balancing act requires incredible resources. What do you have to fear?"
The Commissioner looked down at the child in awe.
"I only look like a child. Do you think I could be taken seriously?"
"I certainly am."
"But not others. Take me to your situation room, and I will only give my advice to you. Your call. Use or dismiss me. Embrace us as we are embracing you and this planet."
Hilom sighed. They both stood up.
"Before we go," continued the Bashar. "Here is the list for our no ship. We need food supplies, medicines, ten tons of freshwater, ten tons of sand, and..."
"Sand? And what else?" said the Commissioner, raising an eyebrow.
"Later. Now, the situation room," said Teg. "And to seal the deal, let's agree to fifty percent of the royalties on the melange."
"Fifty percent?" boomed Hilom's outraged voice. He was relieved. Impossibly difficult decisions were ahead of them, and the moves in a game that could overwhelm them at every turn. But this one detail, at least, was just a matter of haggling.