The Fresco (43 page)

Chad might think it was pretence, but Benita thought it was more probably denial, helped along by frantic, distractive activity.

They arrived at the White House and went upstairs where the president and the First Lady were waiting, both of them looking drawn and harassed. They talked about religion for a while, then about culture, then about how the Earth could meet the challenge of the predators, then about ways to prevent the predators staying. Between spates of talk, Benita or Chad, as they had planned to do, read sections of Chiddy's journal aloud and showed scenes from the tapes recorded on the journey. Chad had delivered the devices to the FBI, where they'd been examined in front of unimpeachable witnesses who would testify they hadn't been tampered with. The contents had been developed and copied before still other witnesses who could testify they had not been changed in any way.

They broke for lunch—a meal that no one really ate—
during which Benita mentally ordered everything that had been said into one, understandable package. When the meal was over, she said she had a suggestion. The others listened, at first with incredulity, Chad no less than the FL and president, as she briefly restated where they were and then went on to suggest what they could do about it. All three of them brought up objections. Benita countered the objections, soon joined in the effort by Chad, who had begun to see the possibilities.

“But can we get the kind of help we'd need?” he cried, at one point.

“I think we can probably manage that,” said the president. “What I'm doubtful about managing is my being gone without the whole world knowing about it.”

“Go on a religious retreat,” suggested Benita. “With your spiritual advisor.” She stopped, thinking. “Actually, it would be a good idea to have someone like that along. To lend us…respectability.”

“You mean the Reverend?” he asked. “He might really enjoy that. The first evangelist on Pistach-home! I think the press would try to observe even a spiritual retreat. And, of course, I've got the Secret Service hanging around, ready to testify to everything I do.”

“I think it's manageable,” said the FL. “We'll figure out a way to duck the Secret Service. And I agree with you, the Reverend would enjoy it very much.” She turned to Benita. “Do you think you can get the envoys to go along with this?”

“I don't know,” Benita admitted. “Though I think Chiddy was leaning in that direction. I'll have to talk fast, but if they will…”

By the time all four of them had agreed on a plan of action, Chad and Benita were exhausted, though the president seemed remarkably energized by the whole thing. Chad drove Benita home, asking if she wanted him to come in.

“No, Chad. I've got things to do, and so have you, and best we get at them as soon as we can. If we pull this off, it'll be the coup of the century, and we'll never be able to tell a soul.”

Upstairs, she stayed in the elevator and screamed loudly, “Chiddy, I need you and Vess!”

The buttonhole opened in the back of the elevator and they came out in their natural forms.

“Have you heard,” whispered Chiddy. “The Shalaquah has returned. They had a spy on Pistach-home…”

“And his name was T'Fees,” said Benita. “T'Fees has been working with the predators. It's as clear as your…mandibles on your face. T'Fees couldn't have mounted that campaign on his own. He needed help. T'Fees is a rebel against Pistach order, and so are the predators. They want to do what they like, when they like, and the predators want to hunt what they like, where they like. They're all in it!”

“I never thought of that,” cried Vess, in a voice that was stridently shrill, like a cricket chirp in the middle of the night. “But you're right. He couldn't have done that without help…”

Benita said firmly, “Vess, now is not the time to discuss it. We have an emergency on our hands, and we need you to round up the Inkleozese and bring them to my apartment, this afternoon if possible, or tonight, or failing that, tomorrow morning.”

Chiddy started to argue, but she took his pincers in her hands and looked straight into all his eyes. “Chiddy, you came here to help us. You were helping us. You are good people, and you were doing a good thing. Now your help is being threatened, and despite what you believe you can or cannot do, Chad and I have an ethical imperative to do what we can to prevent harm to our people.”

“But, our people—” murmured Chiddy.

She interrupted, “What is happening to your people should not determine what happens to ours, and you're too ethical a person to interfere with our efforts. The predators found us originally by following you here, which means you're responsible for the trouble we're in. I'm not blaming you, but you have a responsibility to cooperate in solving the problem. Now, please, do as we ask. Chad and I have talked it all out, and we think we have a plan.”

Chiddy stared at his feet, as though marshaling arguments, but Vess pulled him away, muttering, “Gefissit moltplat gom,” which sentiment Benita recognized. She and Chad had discussed just that point.

She figured she had a least an hour before Chiddy would manage to get the Inkleozese moving, assuming they would move at all. She took fruit juice from the freezer, made a pitcherful and put in the fridge. That left her time for a shower and hair wash, a change of clothes, time to run the clothes she'd worn on Pistach-home through the washer. Every time she put them on, she felt iglak crawling out of the seams!

Chad called twice, to ask what had happened. The first time, nothing had. The second time she told him that Vess had called to say the Inkleozese were on their way.

“Do you need my help?” he asked.

“Better not, Chad. They might take one good look at you and decide you'd make a good brooder.”

He laughed, not an amused laugh, and remarked that he was glad to be relieved of the duty, as the rest of his phone calls would keep him busy for hours.

Benita set out little glasses for the fruit juice, the Inkleozese beverage of choice. She heard movement in the elevator hall, and Chiddy and Vess came in, escorting ten of the tall, angular Inkleozese.

Chiddy and Vess introduced her to the ladies, except for the one who had saved her life. To that one Benita bowed very low and gave heartfelt thanks. Once they had all been served little glasses of fruit juice along with a honey jar to pass around among themselves, Benita asked Chiddy and Vess to excuse themselves as she had a message from the president for the Inkleozese ears alone. They had tympanum, not ears, but everyone knew what she meant. The Inkleozese had translator machines, just as Chiddy and Vess did, so she knew she and they could make themselves mutually understood.

The High Assessor, one K'tif'kt'hmm (who was to be addressed as Your Exactitude) leaned on the back of a chair, her entourage found other places to perch comfortably, and Benita laid out the problems, first of the Pistach, then of Earth, then of Earth and the Pistach and the Inkleozese. She had organized it in her head while in the shower, and was able to talk for about thirty minutes without losing track of
where she was going or repeating herself. Through it all, a small part of herself stood to one side, listening in amazement, for Benita had never thought of herself as a speaker, but her presentation was fluent and sensible. Her voice was hoarse by the time she had finished.

Her Exactitude asked a few questions, very politely. Benita was able to answer most of them, and those she could not answer, the other Inkleozese were able to help her think out.

“It does not seem impossible,” murmured Her Exactitude. “Moreover, it accords with our ethical imperative. Luckily, our imperative is based upon experience, rather than upon artifacts or scriptures, so we are not likely to be thrown into disorganization by judgments made centuries ago. We do not assert as true anything which we have not proven or seen proven by others. Thus, we never claimed that we were the center either of the universe or of a deity's attention. While we do not deny deity, we do not presume to understand it, plea bargain with it, or tell others what shape it takes. It does make life easier.”

“I am extremely grateful for your attention,” murmured Benita. “I have told you the only solution we can think of, unless you, yourselves…”

The High Assessor made a negating gesture. “No, your idea is quite good. Besides, we monitor, we do not labor. We judge, we do not devise. In this case, doing the right thing is its own reward and makes your gratitude unnecessary. Shall we summon the envoys?” She turned her head and looked around the group, all of whom raised a front leg, signifying assent.

Her Exactitude spoke rapidly into her translation device-transmitter, and in a few moments, Chiddy and Vess came in, looking rather like boys who have been summoned to the principal's office.

Her Exactitude held up a pincer. “Pistach athyci, attend. We speak on a matter of morality. Your race has encountered a philosophical abyss. Your beliefs are threatened. Because of this and others of your actions, another race has become threatened. We speak with authority. Before you attend to
the crisis of your people, you must attend to the crisis of this people, for you have reached out your manipulators and cannot withdraw them in good conscience.”

Chiddy bowed and said something to the effect that he was always at the command of the monitors.

“Pistach athyci, attend! This country has a chieftain, this chieftain has spiritual advisors. This man and his advisors must be taken to Pistach-home, at once. There they must see the great Fresco and spend a time in meditation, enabling the chieftain to return and explain to his people what has transpired. We, the Inkleozese, approve this journey and its objective. The chieftain and his people, however, cannot be taken in a tiny ship. A large ship is necessary.”

Chiddy hemmed and hawed and stuttered and thought there might be a Pistach colonial ship on Inkleoza. Or maybe on Gofar or Faroff.

Her Exactitude agreed. “This assumption has high likelihood of being accurate. We ourselves desire concurrent transport to Inkleoza, together with all the human brooders we will have impregnated by that time, in order to supervise their health. The ship must be large enough for both groups. We will need a dozen more brooders in the next few days, but this concludes the current breeding cycle. When the Inkleti have emerged, prior to pupation, the brooders will be returned to Earth.”

Chiddy was still dithering, shifting weight from one set of legs to another, upper body twisting, eyes swiveling.

Benita took Chiddy's pincers in her hands, got his full attention and told him that both he and Vess must depart immediately. Chiddy finally focused on her and agreed, though he wasn't his usual self at all.

“Pistach selves will find a large ship somewhere and commandeer it in the name of the Inkleozese!” said Her Exactitude, sounding very magisterial and imperative. “What time will this take?”

“Four days, minimum,” said Chiddy. “Four Earth days.”

The ladies bowed, Benita bowed, everyone bowed, Chiddy left, the ladies left, except for Her Exactitude.

This personage came to Benita's side. “Aside from our
providing you with the recorded voice you require, is there anything else we can do to assist you, Benita? You bear much responsibility of a suddenly imposed sort. Such surprising burdens are sometimes difficult to uphold.”

Benita thanked her and started to say, no, nothing you can do for me right now, but then she thought of something.

“Ma'am, Your Exactitude, I apologize if what I am about to ask is rude or impossible or simply undesirable on aesthetic grounds—” She stopped, clenched her jaw, sighed deeply and went on to make her request.

She seemed amused as she responded, “I will take it up with my people. If they have no objection, we will be happy to grant your plea.”

They made mutual farewells. The Inkleozese vanished just as Chiddy and Vess often did, no beam-me-up sparkles, no dissolving into space, just poof, gone. Benita had decided it was some sort of transport commonly used in the Confederation. She did not spend much time thinking about it, however, for it was ten o'clock, she had had little lunch and no supper and was desperate for both food and sleep. Sleep aboard the ship had not been restful. She thought it possible that she had dreamed during much of it: conflict dreams, terror dreams, like those she had had long ago, as a young wife, when she would wake with her heart thundering in her ears, so frightened she couldn't move. Night terrors, the doctor said. Fairly common. Meaningless, so far as anyone knew.

Well. A lot of things were meaningless so far as anyone knew. A year before, what would she have thought of an ancient invasion of the lands of the Jaupati? Would she have cared at all? If she had heard of a rebellion among the critters of Quirk, or of a Fresco cleaning, or if someone had foreseen her being selected as an intermediary…

Before she lay down, she called Chad, who sounded every bit as weary as she did.

“Well?” she asked.

“We've got seven definite yesses so far. A whole bunch of others will call back. The best ones tell us we'll need at least eighteen or twenty, and a few more wouldn't hurt. The pres got the preacher.”

“The right one?”

“Yes, the right one, plus a pinch hitter, just in case. The preacher was a little worried about the language barrier, but I said we will overcome, one way or another.”

“Don't forget emergency rations, supplies, you know. We won't be eating Pistach food or using Pistach beds, and we'll be there at least a day, maybe longer.”

“I know. Are they getting a ship?”

“The Inkleozese told them they had to.”

“How long before it gets here?”

“Four days, minimum, and I'm going to sleep two of them,” she said.

“Both of us,” groaned Chad.

When she lay down on her bed, Sasquatch curled up next to her, his back against her legs, just to be sure she didn't wander off again. She fell asleep thinking of Carlos out there among the stars. Maybe he'd decide since nobody cared, he'd swim to shore.