Ambassador 4: Coming Home (7 page)

I wondered when we had progressed from worrying about the accounts to plotting against the Chief Delegate.

“Why are you smiling?”

“I’m thinking about how we determine the fate of a lot of people in this room.”

“That’s the way it should be. The association is the strongest unit of society.”

I didn’t think she understood, but never mind.

Nicha scurried in from the hallway. He made a beeline for the table, emptied one of the breadbaskets into another, mixing two types of bread—just as well that Eirani didn’t see this.

He then proceeded to stack bread, fruits and a bowl of salad into his empty basket.

“We’re hungry,” he said at my raised eyebrows, then picked up two cups, a jug of juice and his overflowing basket and carried the whole lot out the door.

Xinanu was going to have twins at this rate. I wondered what on Earth the two of them talked about by themselves in his room. More than anything, I felt sorry for Nicha.

“I hope that we won’t have to suffer through this for very long anymore,” I said to Thayu when Nicha was gone.

“No, we’ll just have to deal with the Azimi clan.”

“And with the council and why ever they blocked us at the site. I really can’t believe that they didn’t know who we were.”

“How about you were blocked
because
of who you are. Or rather, because of who our dear captain is.”

“They wouldn’t be so petty, would they?”

“After he called all of the non-pure Aghyrians second-rate derivatives, and calling us the ‘all-purpose colonising race’ as if we’re some sort of thing? After that stupid discussion on the train? The man is an arsehole.”

“You
have
said this before.”

“Maybe, but no one appears to be listening.”

I was surprised at the anger in her voice. I’d been called much worse than any name-slinging by Kando Luczon. I guess I was used to the fact that most
gamra
people thought little about Earth and its inhabitants.

I said, “You know what I’ve been thinking? Some of this stuff that the council pulls is really, really childish. I can’t believe that this pettiness is the only motive for keeping Luczon from seeing the site. They can’t just be in it to spite him, or spite us, or whatever. There has to be another reason.”

“It’s probably something stupid to do with local regulations.”

“Probably, and I don’t care how they classify someone as a local and what the rules are for historic sites. I don’t care about their regulations. I need to understand if they ever plan on giving Luczon access to the site, because if he doesn’t get it, he’s going to get up to other mischief. Somehow, I prefer to stay in control of the mischief pulled by a four-hundred-year-old man from a civilisation that can travel outside the galaxy. I want him granted access. I want him involved in the dig. If nothing else, that’s why he’s here. Who knows what all those thousands of people aboard his ship think. I want him satisfied that he’s contributing to something worthwhile.”

“So, what? You’ve written to the council already. We’ve tried getting Delegate Namion to take up our cause. What else can you do?”

“I don’t have time to wait in case the council might reply. For all I know, they’re stalling on this issue and passing my message from department to department until I give up. Delegate Namion won’t write a letter of support. Everyone is being stupid, so we’ll play stupid back. I’ll send Reida.”

Thayu frowned at me. “Send him where?”

“To the dig.”

“He won’t get in either.”

“Not to visit, to work.”

Her expression cleared. “Ah.” As spy. It would be perfectly clear to her now. She smiled. “I guess you could do that. This is where it gets interesting.”

So when we had finished dinner and Eirani came in to clear the table, I went to Reida’s room. At my knock on the door, a sullen voice inside said, “Come in.”

As I opened the door, a waft of stale, warm air laced with the scent of Coldi sweat came out. Reida sat on his bed. He might be more focused on his study now that he was no longer attached to Delegate Ayanu, but right now he was, as Eirani had aptly called it, sulking.

However, when I came in, he jumped off the bed and snapped into a subservient greeting, which I reluctantly acknowledged. Reida needed it. He was quite insecure, having grown up in a neighbourhood where a good number of people didn’t have the
sheya
instinct and would jeer at those who had it.

Urgh. Did he ever open the window in here? The room had an interconnecting door to Deyu’s room next door, and the state of the unmade bed showed what the two of them got up to at night. I’d learned to see it as a good sign that finally that part of my association was working as it needed to be.

I began, “I have a job for you.”

“A job?” He looked up, his expression hopeful.

I explained to him that I wanted him to get council guard uniforms, go to the dig site and find out what the deal was with not allowing anyone into the fenced-off site and what was going on there. He was to report to us every day on a number of different issues.

As I spoke, his morose expression cleared and made place for a smile.

“I know where to get those uniforms. And I can get a set of their equipment, too. I’ll look just like the real thing.”

“Just a reminder: I don’t want to know where you got any of this stuff, because this is done without my authorisation.” I was guessing he’d buy the uniform and equipment off the black market in Far Atok, because everything could be bought there.

“Yes, I understand, but thank you. You won’t be disappointed with my job.”

That of course remained to be seen, and I might yet receive a satisfactory reply from the council, but there was at least one happy person in my household today.

D
ELEGATE
N
AMION
’
S
control over my message account came into being overnight. The volume of messages I received went from hundreds to precisely . . . zero.

“What the hell?” I complained to Devlin. “How am I supposed to work like this?”

I contacted the Delegate’s office to ask if I could have my correspondence and was told by a sullen-voiced man that there wasn’t any.

“That’s impossible!” I said. “What about the agenda for the upcoming meeting? What about the captain? What about Marin Federza?”

“The agenda hasn’t yet been released—”

“But the meeting is tomorrow morning.”

“There was a last-moment amendment. You will get the new version after the Delegate comes in and determines the final items to be added. It’s still very early, as you’re sure aware.”

How politely could one say
fuck off
? I wasn’t going to give up so easily. “What about the rest?”

“I’m sorry. Neither of those people have sent you anything. We will send you the correspondence when it comes through.”

I didn’t believe him for one moment, but what else could I do?

Well, maybe the captain hadn’t sent anything. He wasn’t exactly communicative. And Federza was not my best pal either. He wouldn’t feel the need to send me an immediate reply, especially since my message had been lame and nondescript.

I still had trouble believing it, but maybe there had indeed been nothing.

Maybe if I had a moment, I should go into town and check the Aghyrian compound to see if Federza was in there, not receiving my messages.

Maybe.

As outsider, it was pretty hard to imagine what went on inside that complex that took up an entire city block, ironically not far from where the ship was found.

Apparently there were people who never left this complex, and whose existence no one knew about.

Deep inside I sort of knew that I was just making excuses for not having to check out the situation. I mean—how easy would it be just to ask? No, I didn’t want to see him, only to make sure that he was all right.

Then again, surely Federza had friends who would notify the right people if he had disappeared? Did that require action from me? For crying out loud, I disliked the man and he disliked me. I didn’t, above all, want to give him the impression that I cared what happened to him.

Overnight, Xinanu’s baby had decided to stay put. She came to breakfast briefly, with red-rimmed, swollen eyes. No matter how many times Thayu said
drama queen
, to me she did look extremely uncomfortable to me. Her stomach was so ridiculously swollen that she could barely sit, much less walk.

The assembly would sit tomorrow afternoon. Normally, I would be preparing for the meeting a few days in advance, but I had no idea what to prepare for. I guessed that after the previous debacle, no one had been too keen to invite Captain Luczon again, but the need to develop a unified plan to deal with the ship remained. I had asked for this to be put on the agenda. Didn’t know if it was actually happening. I had a feeling Delegate Namion might leave it off, just to spite me.

On a personal level, I needed to find something to keep the captain occupied and happy to remain in Barresh. We didn’t want him to return to the ship until we knew the ship’s capabilities. Keeping him here and occupied with something that interested him was the best way of neutralising the ship.

But no one was giving me any assistance.

And the captain was downstairs, no doubt just as frustrated with the situation as I was, not understanding it. He had no loyalty to any
gamra
systems and he would be destructive if he was allowed to get angry, and I just did
not
know what to do about it.

I had no messaging account, because I didn’t want to
send
any sensitive messages either, except to Delegate Namion, asking when control of the account could be returned to me.

You can use it. It works,
was his secretary’s chirpy reply.

That wasn’t good enough, I told him.

He replied that he wasn’t sure when they could transfer the account back to me. There appeared to be some sort of error, he said, because so much of that correspondence was coming in should be going to his boss. He needed to investigate.

Bullshit. Those people were writing to me because they saw me as the person to answer their questions. No matter what position Delegate Namion held, they did not see
him
as capable of answering their questions.

I now wished I’d never decided to send him all those messages, but knew that would not have been anywhere near an adequate solution either.

It was about midmorning when Eirani came to notify me that a visitor had arrived and that he was waiting in the living room.

My first thought was
Federza
, because he had the tendency to turn up unannounced, but when I went into the living room, I found, to my surprise, Tayron Kathraczi seated on my couch. He scrambled to his feet when I came in and nodded a greeting. Each time I saw him, I wondered if, when all his fellows on the ship had been woken up, one would be able to see the difference between them and the Barresh Aghyrians. For one, none of the locals had his olive skin, which would have to be pigmented and not tanned, seeing as he spent his life inside a space ship. He wore his dark brown hair—with wavy curls—combed back from his forehead. It wasn’t long enough for a ponytail and barely long enough to go behind his ears. His eyes were so black that you couldn’t see where the irises stopped and the pupils started. Whatever colour they were, Aghyrian eyes were always very intensely hued.

Without the presence of his captain, he looked less demure, and why oh why were all those Aghyrians so tall? He towered more than a head over me.

I gestured him to the couch, and we sat down. “How can I help you?”

“The captain wants to know if, since it is obviously not possible to see the excavation of the old ship, it would be possible to visit other sites. He wants to see Asto, even if we’re told we can’t land on the surface. He wants to see other artefacts that are preserved in this area. He understands that there are other items preserved in a place called Miran.”

“I am aware of all the places you need to visit. I have to beg for your patience. None of those sites are easily accessible. Many have cultural significance and belong to local people. We need their permission to bring you there.” For example, there were some incredible murals preserved from the time after the Aghyrians had landed in Barresh, but the site belonged to Pengali tribes, and held great significance for them. Many of those sites also were so well preserved because they weren’t easy to reach; in one case going there involved a dunking in ink-black water inside a cave in order to duck under a wall. I needed Pengali permission to visit places like this. Visiting Miran was on another level of complexity altogether.

“My captain says you keep telling him the same story. He says he wants to hear a different story.”

“I wish I could tell him something different, but unfortunately, I can’t. It will take time to arrange the permissions.”

“Is that necessary just for a visit?”

“It is, I’m afraid.”

“My captain says he doesn’t see the need for all these useless rules.”

Was he even allowed to have his own opinion or did they all have to repeat what the captain said?

“I’m guessing there would be no need for permits on the ship.” Especially not if the vast majority of the crew was in stasis. “But we’re dealing with many different peoples and different nations. We can’t just turn up, the same way that people wouldn’t be able to visit your ship without getting your permission.”

“Yet you turned up like that at our ship.”

“I could not have entered the ship without your knowledge and permission.” I still didn’t think he understood the concept of borders or different people, or
culture
for that matter. “Look, I’ll see what I can do, but I really do have to beg for your patience.”

“We have travelled from outside the galaxy. Do not try to teach us about patience.” He sounded miffed.

“I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you understood.” This wasn’t going well. One way or another, our conversations seemed to always butt up against a wall of wrong interpretations and misunderstandings. “I think we fail to understand your point of view. It’s hard for us to comprehend the vastness of the universe when we have only travelled through such a small part of it. But feel free to explain. We are eager to learn.”