Drowning World (17 page)

This has got to be stopped, she told herself. The Deyzara must be allowed to return to their homes and businesses in safety, and the senior Sakuntala are going to have to cooperate in putting an end to this uprising. What was happening to the always fragile but long-running concord that existed between the two species was illogical and irrational.

Just like the Sakuntala often were themselves, she reminded herself dourly. No matter. She would see the situation resolved. She would
not
tender her resignation in the face of a crisis, no matter how insolvable it appeared to be or how intractable its components!

If only, she thought as she guided the skimmer over the town and toward the ever-nearing refuge of her office, the enmity between Sakuntala and Deyzara did not seem as abiding and permanent as the perpetual drenching, remorseless rain.

11

I
will try my best obtain a
pahaura,
a decree, from the Council—or at least from as many of High Hatas as I can—declaring this rising and the actions taken against the Deyzara an illicit thing.” Vertical pupils locked with Matthias's round ones. “But I only one Hata. Can only do so much.”

The administrator rubbed at the scratches on her right forearm. “I have a feeling you can do a lot, Naneci-tok.” She grinned. “I just went tripping through the trees of the Viisiiviisii, something I never imagined myself ever doing, or imagined I ever
could
do.” The smile vanished. “Now is the time for each of us to do things we never imagined we could do.”

The Hata agreed somberly. Her tongue flicked out to wrap briefly around the administrator's face, then withdrew into a cheek pouch. With that, Naneci-tok turned and departed.

Matthias watched the Sakuntala Hata fade into the rain-dimmed distance. Wincing as she pivoted on her sprained ankle, she pulled her rain cape a little tighter around her upper body and limped from the covered parking area toward the main entrance to Administration.

There were four guards there now. Posted at the portal ever since the scale of the troubles became apparent, they were now armed with rifles as well as side arms. None of them looked sleepy or bored. Her approach was noted immediately.

“Pause and identify yourse—” The guard finished with an expletive. All four of them crowded around the administrator. They were taller than she was, and for a bad moment she was mentally back at the port, surrounded on all sides by a surging mob homicidal in intent.

The feeling passed quickly. “I'm fine, thank you. Well, maybe not fine. But I'm okay.”

“The infirmary . . . ,” a tall blond woman began.

Matthias pushed past them, leaving a pool of slightly stunned expressions in her wake. “No time for that. I'll get patched up here. Too much to do.”

She was more right than she supposed. When she had finally managed to reassure her staff, each of whom wanted to treat her assortment of bruises and scratches personally, she found a Deyzara delegation waiting for her in her own office. Oddly, their presence affected her less than had the knot of four guards outside. Perhaps, she decided as she removed her filthy and torn rain cape and dropped it to the floor before she slumped behind her desk, because for the first time in hours she was in a place that was wonderfully, delightfully, blissfully dry. But not quiet.

Nearly a dozen Deyzara had crowded in to see her. According to Sanuel, they had been waiting hours for her to return. It was a measure of their distress that not one remarked on her visible, if minor, injuries, a most un-Deyzaran oversight. Ordinarily, death would have to be approaching for a Deyzara to be reduced to rudeness. But then, these were not ordinary times, she reminded herself. Just that morning, a very large number of Deyzara had been somewhat more than rude to her. Reaching up, she felt gingerly of the slowly healing wound on her forehead. Forget diplomacy, she decided. For the moment, anyway.

“Be quiet up, all of you!” Just to make sure she was not misunderstood, she repeated the admonition in Deyzar.

The combination of words, tone, and volume had the intended effect. Silence descended upon the delegation, accompanied by not a few shocked looks. Several of those present had engaged in prior dealings with the Commonwealth administrator. At none of those had she ever raised her voice, much less delivered what sounded suspiciously like a command.

It was the very most respected entrepreneur, Tasumandra, who finally took notice of the scratches on hands and arms and the raw red scrape on the human's forehead. “I do not mean to remark on something that may be unpleasant to take notice of, but you appear to have suffered some recent injury.”

“Yes.” Inner calm and a habitual sense of professionalism had returned along with the comparative quiet. “I have suffered a recent injury. At the hands of the Deyzara, I must add.”

Hootings of disbelief mixed with concern greeted this disclosure. “Where did this regrettable episode take place?”

She was calling up a projection from her desk. “At the skimmer port. I was walking with a Sakuntala Hata when we were attacked.”

“Ah, refugees.” An older female's trunk bobbed back and forth as she spoke. “While I personally regret the incident, it most certainly falls within the range of the recently possible.” Her eyes were unusually wide, even for a Deyzara. “People are very angry.”

“They have a right to be.” Matthias spoke while studying the latest news. “I don't dispute that. But it doesn't give them the right to go and attack any Sakuntala they encounter.”

“You protect the Sakuntala,” another delegate countered accusingly.

“The Commonwealth extends its protection to any and all who seek it,” she responded tiredly. “As chief administrator here I favor no side above the other. For your information, two young Sakuntala tried to kill me while I was on business at the port. My coworkers and I stopped them just before the Hata I referred to arrived to see how she could help with the current situation.”

A pair of Deyzara exchanged knowing glances. Given their bulging eyes, the exchange was hard to miss. So were their chromatically clashing clothes. In fact, with so many characteristically overdressed Deyzara in the room, any need for artificial lighting seemed all but superfluous.

“A most interesting coincidence,” the first murmured. “Two of them attempt to assassinate the administrator, and then a Hata shows up immediately after the attempt fails. Almost as if to see what has happened. What excellent timing.”

“So very much so,” responded a colleague. “Just in time to offer their ‘help'—or view the executed, depending on the exigencies of the moment. One would not think to associate such punctuality with the Sakuntala.”

Matthias leaned forward so sharply, she pushed herself partway into the projection. “It
was
a coincidence. I happen to know the Sakuntala Hata in question.”

“Oh, surely no one can dispute that,” observed another sardonically. “Of course, to say such a thing presumes that one actually can ‘know' a Sakuntala. Just as one can ‘know' the animals of the forest, or the decaying fungi of the Viisiiviisii.” Calculating whoops rose from the assembled.

Matthias chose not to argue the matter further. A hastily convened meeting in her office wasn't going to settle several hundred years of differences between Deyzara and Sakuntala. Anyway, her concerns were more immediate.

“I understand your anxiety. Believe me, I do. I'm just reviewing the latest news right now.” She indicated the information-rich projection that continued to hover above her desk. “I assure you that the Commonwealth government is aware of the situation developing here on Fluva and is preparing an appropriate response. Meanwhile, I will continue to use every resource at my command to deal with the immediate needs of your people, and to seek a solution to these unexpected and objectionable actions that are being perpetrated by a minority of disaffected Sakuntala.”

There, she thought. That was straightforward, reassuring, and diplomatic at the same time. Diplomatic in that if word of it leaked out to the Sakuntala, she had said nothing that could be construed as favoring the Deyzara.

Her visitors' reaction showed that they wanted more action and stronger language but didn't quite know how to press for it. Finally, one of the youngest delegates spoke up.

“At the risk of embarrassing myself with my forwardness, Administrator Matthias, I have to very much say that something needs to be done
now
. This is no longer merely a matter of displaced persons and stolen goods.” Both trunks stretched toward her imploringly. “Our people are being
killed
out there. Their homes are being destroyed, their occupations ruined, their lives cast aside like old namurand shells. I fear most strongly that we cannot wait for distant decisions to be made on faraway worlds as to whether a committee should be appointed to look into the matter of the minor troubles on far-flung Fluva. If the Commonwealth cannot or will not do something about this, then we us ourselves will have to respond as best we can. We are not green frashera, to be nudged unresistingly into the cooking pot.”

Hootings of support rose from other delegates. Matthias saw quickly that she would have to nip this new line of thought in the bud.

“Are you talking about armed resistance?”

The young Deyzara was not intimidated. “If we do not defend our property and ourselves, then who will?”

“The Commonwealth Authority on Fluva will,” she told him quietly. “I will.”

Trunks and arms gestured. There was a moment of silence; then another delegate spoke up. “When?”

“Right now. Today. This afternoon. I'm scheduled to conference with my military people in a little while.” She wasn't, but it was a meeting she had been intending to set up, and she might as well call for it in an hour or two.

“And Commonwealth soldiers will be deployed to defend the Deyzara?” a senior delegate inquired. “Or are you going to attempt to halt this continuing outrage with strong words?”

“You're asking me to make a decision before the decision makers have met. Everything takes time.”

Several of the delegates conferred. She could see their trunks swaying hypnotically, hear the soft chirp of their alternating hoots. After a few minutes, the improvised caucus broke. Tasumandra adjusted his burgundy, gold, and hot pink wrappings.

“We do not wish to appear obdurate. We understand most clearly what you say when you declare that you need time to evaluate and render decisions on such weighty matters.” With great dignity, he flipped a loose fold of sparkling gold material over his sharply sloping right shoulder. “We will give the Commonwealth Authority until tomorrow to respond, and not with trunk-twisting messages bemoaning its anguish over the continuing catastrophe. The Deyzara will expect action of a kind sufficient to keep people from being driven from their homes, or being murdered in their beds.

“If not,” he added as he turned to head for the doorway, “I fear most assuredly that the Deyzara will be left with no choice but to defend themselves.”

“Fight the Sakuntala and they will make what's happened so far seem like a holiday recreation.”

The delegation paused, clearly uncomfortable at her words. But Tasumandra was not to be deterred. “Without question a great many of us will die horrible deaths. The Sakuntala will butcher us in the trees, or force us into the water. If fortune favors us, we may hold our own in the towns, where our skills at organization may go some ways toward offsetting the natural combative talents of our enemy.” He looked back at her from near the doorway.

“If we move to defend ourselves most vigorously, Administrator Matthias, either we will kill enough of the Sakuntala to make them stop this, or they will slaughter us. Should either scenario eventuate, there is one thing that I can say for a surety. Speaking as a bureaucrat myself, I would not wish to be in your sandals when the time comes for an evaluation of your performance here.”

With Tasumandra's final words serving as both parting and warning, the delegation filed slowly out of her office. Left with only her thoughts and a swirling mass of information that offered up not a single line of encouragement, she knew that the Deyzara was right. If the Sakuntala succeeded, her efforts to mediate would be accounted a complete failure. If the Deyzara managed by violent means to somehow put a stop to the uprising, she would be upbraided for failing to find a peaceful solution to the problem. If neither side prevailed and the discord continued, she would be faulted for not doing enough. If she gave the order for Commonwealth soldiers to intervene, she would be assailed for using force against a technologically inferior species of sentient.

She was damned if she did, damned if she didn't, and twice damned if she did nothing at all.

Her hesitant assistant appeared in the open doorway. “Uh, how did it go, Administrator?”

“Wonderfully well,” she replied without a trace of sarcasm. She noted the hard copy he held in one hand. “What have you got for me now, Sanuel?”

He approached and passed it over. “Didn't know when you might get to your messages. This one I thought you ought to see right away. Copied it out to make sure I didn't forget about it.” He made a soft clucking sound. “Bad news, I'm afraid.”

At least that's settled, she decided. She
was
damned. It took only a moment to peruse the missive. Sitting back in her chair, she rolled her eyes at the ceiling. Outside, a heavy shower was pounding the overhang and the porch. It did not distract her. After about a month on Fluva, one hardly noticed the perpetual drumming sound anymore.

“There's no time stamp on this. When did it come in?”

Pandusky looked apologetic. “Right after you left to go to the port. I heard about what happened there.”

She scanned the note a second time, hoping that by subjecting it to her vision the content might somehow transmogrify into something less aggravating. It did not. Her gaze shifted to the window. It was raining hard enough now to obscure the view of the nearest trees.