Antagonist - Childe Cycle 11 (52 page)

expressionlessly,
without
defiance
or
challenge,
but
he
felt
as
if she
had
spit
them
into
his
face.

"I
never
knew
my
father,
either,"
he
said.
"But
I
don't
think that's
what
you're
upset
about."

She
only
looked
at
him.

"We
don't
designate—'anoint,'
as
you
put
it—Others,
by
their ancestry,"
he
went
on.
"You've
repeated
a
common
misconception."

She
rolled
her
eyes
upward
for
a
brief
moment,
as
if
disgusted. "I
never
said—"

"For
us,"
he
said,
overriding
whatever
she
had
been
about
to
say, "'Others'
are
cultural
crossbreeds."

"All
right,"
she
said,
after
a
moment,
"I'll
accept
the
correction. It
makes
little
difference."

"That's
true,
too,"
he
said,
nodding.
She
started
to
say
something more,
but
stopped
herself.

"Being
'Other'
is
a
state
of
mind,"
he
explained.
"And
it's
a
state you
and
I
have
in
common."

"You're
trying
to
butter
me
up,"
she
said.

"If
trying
to
get
you
to
listen
to
me
with
an
open
mind
amounts to
buttering
you
up,
then
yes,"
he
said.
"But
right
now
your
thinking
is
being
influenced
by
your
reaction
to
what's
just
happened
to you
and
your
people—can
you
listen
from
beneath
that?"

Her
eyes
narrowed,
and
he
thought
he
detected
a
glint
from
beneath
their
lids;
but
after
a
moment
some
of
the
tension
went
out
of her.

"All
right,"
she
said.
"I
suppose
there's
a
chance
you
have
something
worth
hearing.
Go
ahead."

"You
were
raised
on
Kultis,"
he
said,
"so
you
probably
were
put through
some
of
those
tests
the
Exotics
like
to
measure
people with."

"Yes,
I
was."
Her
expression
had
hardened
slightly
at
his
mention
of
the
tests.

"They
didn't
say
you
tested
out
as
full
Exotic,
did
they?"

"They
didn't
tell
me
anything,"
she
said.
"They
told
my
mother I
tested
at
about
forty
percent
Exotic."

"And
the
rest?"

"Undifferentiated
was
the
term
they
used,"
she
said.
The
hostility was
still
there,
he
thought,
but
she
was
hiding
it
better. "What
they
said
makes
little
difference,"
he
replied. "What
do
you
know
about
not
fitting
in?"

"Everything,"
he
said.
"I
know
everything
about
not
fitting
in. That's
the
state
of
mind
I
was
talking
about."

She
moved
over
to
a
chair;
but
rather
than
seating
herself,
she turned
to
look
at
him
again.

"All
right,
maybe
I've
underestimated
you,"
she
said.

"Again,"
he
said.

"Again,
yes."

He
rose
and
walked
across
the
room,
trying
to
keep
his
body language
unthreatening;
and
sat
in
the
chair
next
to
the
one
before
which
she
was
standing.
He
looked
up
at
her,
still
on
her
feet and
looking
down
at
him.
Her
eyes
were
narrowed;
but
even
as
he watched,
her
face
recovered
its
neutral
expression.
After
a
moment she
sat
next
to
him,
turning
at
an
angle
so
she
could
look
directly at
him.

"You're
one
of
the
original
Others,"
he
said.
"And
you're
all
angry
at
those
of
us
who've
appropriated
your
name."

"Oh,
not
really,"
she
said,
almost
sighing.
Her
shoulders
slumped a
little,
and
he
reminded
himself
she
was
a
good
deal
older
than
he.

"I
suspect
you
know
perfectly
well,"
she
was
continuing,
"that the
Others
groups
you
and
your
brother
took
over
were
only
what they
seemed—social
clubs
of
sorts."

"But
they
were
set
up
by
you
and
your
friends,"
Bleys
said.
"To cover
your
own
activities."

"How
much
do
you
know?"

"Not
everything,
by
any
means,"
he
said.
"But
I
know
you
and your
friends
formed
the
nucleus
of
a
criminal
syndicate
on
this planet,
thirty
years
ago
and
more."

He
was
watching
for
a
reaction
to
his
use
of
the
word
criminal,
but
she
gave
him
nothing
but
her
words.

"All
right,"
she
said,
"suppose
that's
true:
so
what?"

"You
did
a
very
good
job,
once
you
decided
to
cover
your
tracks," he
said.
"But
I
know
your
group
started
here
on
Ceta,
and
was
always
strongest
here."

"Well,
it
was
natural,"
she
said.
"Ceta's
where
the
money
is—it's been
a
major
center
for
interstellar
banking
and
commerce
for
generations."

"How
did
you,
personally,
get
involved
in
the
Others?"
he
asked.

"
'Involved'?"
She
grinned,
and
he
found
the
sudden
change
from her
usual
imperturbability—which
had
kept
him
searching
her
face for
the
smallest
of
clues—a
little
shocking.
But
there
was
little
humor
in
her
grin.

"I
started
the
group,"
she
said;
and
laughed.
The
laugh
had
a slight
edge
to
it,
and
he
had
to
restrain
his
sudden
inclination
to lean
back,
away
from
her.

"We
were
on
the
outside,
wherever
we
were,"
she
continued
after
a
moment,
more
quietly.
"That's
what
Dan
and
I
had
in
common.
We
got
the
idea
to
find
others
facing
the
same
kind
of
life;
and together
we
all
found
that,
with
that
shared
apartness,
we
could
be loyal
to
each
other—we
didn't
have
to
be
loyal
to
any
state,
planet, or
company."
This
time
her
smile
was
relaxed
and
natural.

"It
brought
us
freedom.
It
was
a
natural
step
from
there,
to
start putting
people
we
could
trust
inside
various
organizations—it
gave us
opportunities
we
never
had
before."

"It
worked
very
well,
didn't
it?"

"Very
well.
We
could
work
in
secret
to
help
each
other—at
first, just
to
help
each
other
get
jobs,
or
do
business,
but
later
we
helped our
friends
take
advantage
of
information
we
had
access
to,
or
make decisions
that
helped
each
other—and
in
time,
we
took
control
of some
companies,
and
used
those
to
branch
out
into
other
fields
.
..
some
people
would
have
said
we
were
guilty
of
everything
from smuggling
to
securities
fraud."
She
shook
her
head.
"We
weren't
a gang
that
coordinated
our
actions
for
a
single
purpose.
We
were
just independent
actors
who
knew
there
were
people
they
could
count on
for
help
if
needed."

"So
the
stories
about
a
secret
criminal
organization—" "Exaggerations,"
she
said.
"Rumors
about
our
existence
began to
show
up,
and
we
ended
up
getting
blamed
for
things
other
people
did.
At
first
that
was
disconcerting—we
didn't
really
see
ourselves
as
bad
people—but
in
the
end
we
decided
that
our
best
interest
lay
in
sticking
together....
The
rumors
even
turned
out
to work
to
our
advantage,
in
some
dealings.
We
prospered."