The Abulon Dance (12 page)

“What does it say?”

“We don’t know. We need someone to transcribe it.” Beny looked at Triani thoughtfully. “Is Luan still in your apartment?”

“As far as I know.”

“Wait a minute, Orosin.” Eulio put a hand on his arm. “
You’re
not going in there, are you?”

“If necessary.” Beny sat down and studied his toes in their brown, beaded boots. “How many Abulonians do we know whose loyalty we can count on?”

“I’m not sure we can count on Luan,” said Triani.

“You can’t do this,” whispered Eulio. “It’s not fair. We don’t know what’s in the message. We could be asking him to go against his father; perhaps to be a traitor.”

“For God’s sake, Eulio, this is war!” exclaimed Triani. “There’s a secret revolution going on here! This is no time for bleeding hearts!”

“He’s right,
chaleen
. We have to find out what’s in that message. How do you want to work this, Triani?”

“Give me the damn thing. I’ll take it in to him.”

“How will we know what he says is really what is written there?” asked Eulio.

“We have to trust somebody,” said Triani.

* * *

From: YONAN of Quekar, leader of the People’s Technical Revolution Party

To: OROSIN AT’HALI BENVOLINI of Merculian, Ambassador from the Inter-Planetary Alliance

Your Excellency:

We are not diplomats. We are soldiers. We look to you and your Council of United Planets to help us show our people the errors of the Great Chief and his stiff-necked, reactionary advisors in turning back the clock and stopping the forward motion of progress. They have made our once great nation into a police state where slavery is secretly the norm and privacy no longer exists.

The last time we tried to get in touch with one of your people, our runner was completely discredited, publicly shamed and secretly executed. We have been forced to seek other means to gain the ear of the Alliance. To this end, we have now in our hands the Merculian CHAMION ADINO ESERIS of the National Merculian Dance Company. In exchange for his life, we demand:

1. A meeting with a representative of the Inter-Planetary Alliance.
   

2. The right to broadcast an uncensored video message to the people.
   

3. The reinstatement of the People’s Technical Revolution Party as the official opposition.
   

4. Amnesty for all members of the Revolutionary Army and their supporters.
   

Time does not stand still.

THE WAY AHEAD LIES FORWARD!

ELEVEN

“Von, how do you think the Chief is going to react to this?” asked Beny anxiously, checking his wrist chronometer.

“Did Luan give you any hints when you talked to him?” Thar-von was methodically checking through a pile of message cubes on the desk.

“He said this sort of thing had happened before and the hostages were killed because his father refused to deal with Yonan. But surely he sees this is different. I can’t believe he’ll just stand by this time!”

Triani spoke up from the corner. “It’s your job to make sure he doesn’t ‘just stand by’ this time, okay?” He tapped his foot impatiently.

Thar-von smoothed the fine, silver hair over his high forehead. “Let me repeat, Ben, that I do not approve of letting Triani come to this meeting. Things will be difficult enough without him there.”

Triani tossed his head. “Del, sweetie, it’s like this. Either I come to this meeting or I don’t go on stage tonight.”

“He has an understudy, does he not?” remarked Thar-von with a shrug.

Triani smiled. He looked at Beny, a mocking light in his black eyes. “Did Eulio ever tell you how he feels about my understudy?” he asked sweetly.

Beny winced. This is blackmail, he thought angrily. But the inevitable chain of events that would follow Triani’s refusal to dance was something he didn’t want to contemplate right now. “Let him come, Von.”

“Could you at least tell him to keep his mouth shut?”

Triani stood up and adjusted the gold medallion around his neck. “Why don’t you try addressing me in the second person for a change, Del? Or do you Serpians know anything about polite conversation?”

“This has nothing to do with polite conversation,” Thar-von said, turning to Triani for the first time. “This is diplomacy. Remember, you are just an observer at this meeting. Keep a sharp rein on that quick temper of yours. No comments. None at all. Understood?”

“You won’t even know I’m there, sweetie.”

“Make certain of it.” The meeting was held in a small room overlooking a garden in the Chief’s palace. Imperial Hunters, armed with a glittering array of knives, lined the halls and stood guard outside the door. There was nothing in the room but a large table surrounded by stools, carved from some rock-like material. The Chief sat waiting for them, his First Minister on his right, Luan on his left. Beny almost missed a step on seeing the boy. It had not occurred to him that the Chief would have his son present. The boy’s sleek, dark head was bowed, his long lashes downcast, his hands folded on the table in front of him, like the others. He had changed to blue beads and a white vest embroidered with flowers. He didn’t raise his eyes as they sat down.

“Ambassador Benvolini, I am desolate,” the Chief began. “You are in my country less than two weeks and already we have offended you with the gift of watch dogs, made you ill with our food, and allowed one of your countrymen to be forcibly taken from you. What can I say to express my sorrow? What can I do to right the wrongs?”

Beny smiled graciously, sketching a gesture in the air with one small hand. “Great One, the dogs were merely a misunderstanding, and the food you could not have known about. All we are concerned with here is Chamion Adino Eseris who was taken by rebel Hunters and is now in the hands of someone called Yonan. Can you explain this to us, Chief?”

The Am Quarr raised his eyes to the dim ceiling and lifted his hands in the air, palm upwards. “Let the Gods be my witness, I knew nothing of this! I cannot tell you how sorry I am that this has happened. Yonan commands a small but well-drilled and fanatical force of rebels hiding in the hills. They raid and pillage the surrounding towns and villages but rarely do they venture into the capital.”

“Three of them did this time, sir,” Thar-von said quietly.

“Are you the one involved?”

“I am.” Triani leaned forward tensely.

“How do you know the men who took this person are rebel Hunters?” the Chief asked. “You are a stranger to our customs and have been here even less time than the Ambassador.”

“They are missing the top joint of the fourth finger, left hand.”

“But so it is with the Hunters who are loyal to me.”

“Oh, come on! Surely
your
men do not attack and carry off helpless aliens!” said Triani heatedly. Thar-von laid a warning hand on his arm.

“The barbaric exploits of the degenerate anarchists always distress our Chief,” remarked the First Minister gravely. There was no sign now of the flashing smile. “It is most unfortunate that you have become involved in our internal problems.”

“That was the point, wasn’t it?” asked Luan in his soft voice.

“It is a pity that my only son shows no desire to be Chief,” his father said dryly. “Those uncouth savages could have no real grasp of your Planetary Alliance, Ambassador. They are isolationists who are against mingling with anyone from another culture, let alone species. They claim it will only weaken us. It is a good thing that they have no real following among our people.”

“It is also a possible reason for taking your friend,” the First Minister said. “To frighten you away, no?”

“That is highly unlikely, sir,” said Luan, softly. He was looking steadily at his father, ignoring Tquan.

“No one gave you permission to speak,” the Chief replied, not looking at his son.

“But sir—”

“Be silent!”

Luan’s sad brown eyes flicked to Beny for a moment and then dropped again.

“That is not the reason they give, Great One.” Beny was watching closely to see the man’s reaction.

“You have been in contact with them?” The Chief’s evident surprise gave Beny some satisfaction.

“We received a message from him this morning, along with the sash Cham was wearing at the time.”

“And how was this missive delivered?” asked the First Minister.

“It was left in our office.” Beny nodded to Thar-von who produced the original copy and handed it over to the Chief.

“It must have required a considerable amount of time and effort for you to transcribe this,” said the First Minister. Beny said nothing. Slowly Tquan turned his head and stared for a long moment at Luan. The boy flushed, his eyes fixed on his gold ring. For the first time, Tquan smiled. “Perhaps intergalactic politics is more appealing to your son, Am Quarr. I have always said he has talent.”

The chief made a noise of annoyance.

Beny cleared his throat. “We want Chamion back, Great One. He is one of ours.”

“Of course. That is entirely understandable.” The Chief scanned the writing rapidly, making a sucking noise through his teeth. “They demand a great deal. Far too much.” He passed the paper across to his First Minister.

“Great One, this does not look like the work of degenerate anarchists to me,” said Thar-von in a reasonable tone. “Nor do they seem to be trying to frighten us off. Quite the contrary, wouldn’t you say?”

“Lord Del, we have vast experience dealing with these people. We have tried to take them at their word and time after time have found them to be utterly faithless.” The Chief sighed. It was obviously a great sadness to him.

“They wish a hostage of greater importance, Lords, such as the Ambassador. Do you not see this?” The First Minister leaned forward suddenly. The white streak in his hair seemed to glow. “It is a trap.”

Luan rose to his feet. “May I speak?” His father nodded, his face without expression. “As your son, sir, I am in a position of prominence. I have also had some experience with politics, having sat in on many meetings and conferences as part of my training. I know a fair amount about the situation. For these reasons I volunteer to be the representative they wish to meet.”

“But Luan, what do you know about the Alliance?” asked Beny gently.

“You could teach me, lord.”

The Chief smiled, his eyes openly mocking.

Luan flushed. Nervously fingering the rough blue beads around his neck, he continued; “I have a very good memory for detail, Ambassador. You could give me the power to sign in your name whatever you agree to in advance.”

A muffled explosion of sound burst from the Great Chief. When Beny glanced at him, he winked. Startled, Beny realized the First Minister was speaking, and hastily turned to listen.

“I fear that the impetuosity of youth has not considered all sides of the question. I admire the motives—”

“Hah!” The Chief interrupted him. “Surely you realize that this oh so heroic gesture on the part of my son is a hollow one? There is no question as to who goes. There is no question of anyone going!”

“But Father—”

“Enough!”

Luan bit his lip hard and sat down.

“Bastard,” muttered Triani under his breath.

“I will not deal with Terrorists,” the Chief went on calmly. “They must be made to realize that acts like this accomplish nothing. We will not be threatened. They must know this.”

Beny felt his stomach lurch. His hands were shaking. “You are talking about a life. Does this mean nothing to you…sir?”

“I am sorry, your Excellency. You must see that there can be no exceptions.”

“But Chief! You do not understand!” Beny leaned forward intently, both hands now clutching the edge of the table. “This is not just an internal matter, as you seem to think. Chamion is a Merculian citizen and subject to the protection of Alliance law.”

“Ambassador, it is you who does not understand. Abulon is not a member of the Alliance as yet. You are merely visitors to our planet and subject to our laws, just like everyone else.”

“I don’t believe this!” muttered Triani. “Is there any chance of a move by the military to rescue Cham?” asked Thar-von.

“I am afraid that is out of the question. Because of the terrain, that would entail a full scale army operation which might escalate to a civil war. We can not run that risk, however minimal.”

“They are very well positioned and defended,” the First Minister added.

“But I thought you said it was a small force!” exclaimed Triani, unable to restrain himself any longer.

“Relatively speaking, it is,” said the Chief as he turned towards him courteously. “Their exact numbers, however, are unknown to us. It would not do to underestimate them.”

“‘It would not do’! Shit, man! This is not a theoretical tactical manoeuver we’re discussing here! It’s a life! A young, vibrant life full of joy and talent—”

Thar-von pulled him down roughly and bowed his head to the Chief. “This person is understandably disturbed, Great One. He is very close to the hostage. If his conduct has offended, I apologize on behalf of the I.P.A.”

Beny ran his fingers through his thick curls and gazed earnestly at the impassive face of the alien leader. He tried hard to keep his voice level. “Sir, this planet was represented to us as friendly and safe, as it seemed when the original I.P.A. contact team was here. The Alliance will not be pleased to find that this was a false impression created for their benefit.”

“Do not threaten us, Ambassador.”

“It is not a threat, merely a reminder. As is the fact that the one whose life you are playing with is a scant few years younger than your own son.”

The Chief looked at him coldly. “I fail to see the relevance of that remark, your Excellency. If the hostage were my son, my position would be exactly the same.”

Beny felt a cold shiver, like ice water trickling down his spine He got unsteadily to feet. “You cannot turn your back on life!” he exclaimed desperately, hanging on to the edge of the table. “Can you not find it in your heart to compromise? Just this once? Just a little? Is what they ask for so much when compared with a life? I beg you—”

Thar-von rose swiftly, breaking in on the flow of words. “Unfortunately our time is up, lords. It is with reluctance that I remind my Ambassador of a prior commitment.”