Playing God (27 page)

Resaime's heart pounded hard and fast against her ribs. Aunt Senejess looked at her sadly and squeezed her arm. “Let this teach you, my own. Do not underestimate your enemies.”

The speaker was silent.

Armetrethe paced the great room of her home. She circled the serving tables, the stove, and the chopping block. The stump of her severed arm beat the air as if it were trying to fly away. She paused in front of one of the slit windows and watched the daughters out in the yard. They played chase, or sat in clusters with books, learning from one another. Ceian and her oldest cousins stood in the shadow of the wall, smiling indulgently at the younger daughters between their conversations.

Armetrethe wanted to run out to them and sweep as many as she could into her one arm. She wanted to track down Praeis, wherever she had gone, and shake her until her sick separateness left her and she was a true sister again. She wanted to scream and bring the entire Great Family running to her. She wanted to do anything that would end this awful, silent loneliness.

The speaker was still silent. It had been silent for a half hour too long. Senejess's contact was supposed to have called to let her know everything was all right, but that hadn't happened. It still wasn't happening.

She knew what she was supposed to do. They had a plan for this. They had worked it out very carefully. Her ears crumpled. Her shoulders sagged.

No. I can't do it. It means I'll be the last one. Praeis has turned away from us all. I don't want to be the last one.

Because if the Getesaph had taken Senejess, Senejess would not be alive for long.

Armetrethe's skin rippled up and down her back. Her one hand grabbed the back of the sofa and squeezed until the worn, sky-blue satin tore underneath her fingers.

The boxy speaker buzzed. Armetrethe dived across the room. Her hand slapped the activation switch more by luck than design. “This is Armetrethe!”

“Taraen Ul t'Theria,” came the familiar voice of Senejess's contact across the line. “Listen quick. Your family is taken. I saw it. The Getesaph have found a way to tap the Humans’ communications. There were calls, between the mother and her Human contacts and between the daughter and the mother. They discussed our mission. The Getesaph intercepted the signals. I must try to get my people away.”

The line went dead. Armetrethe stood by the speaker table, unable to move. Fear sank slowly into her muscles.

Sister? Sister? Is it true? Are you gone from me? Am I alone?

Her knees trembled. She leaned heavily against the table.

There is a plan. Her plan. I must not give way.

Armetrethe let go of the chair and strode across the room. She threw the door open.

“Daughters!” Her voice cracked hard on the word. “Daughters!”

The children looked up from books and games and conversation. In a flock, they came running to cluster around her, the biggest picking up the smallest and setting them on their shoulders. Poar and Ceian pressed against her sides. Theiareth, who looked so like her mother, stood on the edge of the cluster as if afraid to surround herself with her cousins.

Her mother should be telling her this, not me. Her mother should already be swearing death to the Getesaph, but she doesn't know and doesn't care….

“What is going on?” Praeis appeared in the doorway, as if summoned by the thought.

Armetrethe wrapped her arm around Poar. Summoning all the strength she had, she turned away from her sister.

“Your help is needed, my Daughters. Senejess and Resaime have been taken by the Getesaph, and we must let the Great Family know.”

“What!” Praeis grabbed Armetrethe by the shoulders and spun her around. Poar squealed at the abrupt movement. “You do not know what you're saying, Sister. This cannot be true!”

“It is true.” Armetrethe let go of Poar and gripped Praeis's hand. “And it is your fault.”

Whatever words Praeis had meant to speak choked her. Armetrethe kept going. “You told your Human friends what was being done. You had your daughter call you to report on what Senejess was doing. The Getesaph intercepted the transmissions. They are taken. They are in the hands of the Getesaph. They are
dead
!”

Her self-control snapped, and Armetrethe hurled herself at Praeis. She felt skin under her hand and clawed at it. Someone grabbed her, and a weight bore her down to the dirt. She squirmed and struggled. Praeis would pay, she'd pay, she'd pay! Armetrethe would send the traitor to the Ancestors. She'd revenge her true sister and daughter.

Somewhere far away she heard screams and crying and death oaths, but most of all she felt the weight on top of her that would not let her move.

“It is not true,” a voice said. “It is not. You've misunderstood somehow.”

Praeis. Praeis leaned on top of her and held her down. Praeis still denied what she'd done.

She'll die. But first she'll understand.

“Our sister's contacts told me what happened. She saw them taken by the Getesaph defenders.”

A wordless scream split the air. The weight vanished off Armetrethe's back. She rolled over in time to see Praeis's fist swooping toward her chest. The blow knocked all the breath out of her.

“You did this!” screamed Praeis. “You took my daughter into their world! You
lied to me
!” She raised her fist again.

“No!”

Poar dived on Praeis. Four of her sisters followed suit, dragging Praeis to the ground, but in the next second, Theiareth was there, grabbing whoever she could reach by the ears and hauling them off.

“Let go! Let her go!”

Some of the cousins turned on her. Others leapt to her defense. The brawl was general, and the shouted words indecipherable.

Armetrethe stared at Praeis in astonishment. The tumult of feeling roaring through her blood cleared all of an instant, and she grabbed Praeis's outstretched hand. Together they scrambled to their feet.

“Stop! Stop this, Daughters! Stop this now!” They lunged among the daughters, catching up the ones who fought the hardest and swinging them away from the combat.

Praeis snatched Theiareth into her arms and made her daughter stare at her struggling cousins. “Look at what you're doing! Look!”

“They hurt you,” she said in a small voice.

“No.” Praeis turned Theia around and embraced her. “No one has hurt me.”

“I need Resaime,” wailed Theia, burying her face in Praeis's shoulder. “Res!”

The need to comfort became as immediate as the need to hurt had been a moment before. The daughters clustered around Theia, trying to touch her, and one another, pressing as close as they could. Praeis looked at Armetrethe over the daughters’ ears as she rocked her own daughter. Armetrethe saw despair in her eyes. Praeis bled inside, as they ad did, as she should. Perhaps she was not false after all. Armetrethe wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulder.

“We will make it ad right. There are people who will help. We will send the daughters out and rouse them. I know the families.”

Praeis shook her head. “We cannot. We must go to the Queens and the Confederation.”

Disbelief hit Armetrethe harder than Praeis's blow had. “How can you say such a thing? Your sister! Your daughter!”

“May still be alive!” Praeis cut her off. She tightened her hold on Theiareth. “Things are not what they were. The Humans—”

“Are as cold and distant as a moon!” Armetrethe pulled her arm away. “How can you!”

“Control yourself!” snapped Praeis. “Or would you have our daughters set on each other again!”

Armetrethe let her gaze sweep over the daughters, who stood clustered together, their expressions ranging from solemn to confused to outraged.

“The Confederation is a sham and serves only the Getesaph,” she said slowly and deliberately, not looking at her sister. “The families who must know will be told.”

“So will the Queens-of-All,” answered Praeis.

Armetrethe's ears trembled. “I hope the Ancestors know how to work this out, Sister, for I do not.”

She heard the ghost of a sigh from Praeis. “Neither do I.”

“Any word?”

Trace shook her head. R.J. puffed out his cheeks and looked out the window to the landing strips. For a change, the artificial plain was empty of people. The prep crews had withdrawn to the launch bays and were running the final checks by computer. The passengers were in their couches and their relatives were under cover, watching on the screens, and Lynn, who had worked so hard for this quiet, uncluttered moment, was nowhere to be found. Keale had no news to give them.

“You want to delay?” Trace asked.

“Yes.” R.J. ran his hand over his helmet, thinking for the millionth time how strange and uncomfortable it was not to be able to touch your own skin. “But we can't. Veep Brador's already given the order.”

“I know.” Trace touched the comm key. “Give me Launch Control.”

After a moment, Launch Control answered. “We're here and set whenever you are, Trace.”

“What's the word from on high?” R.J. kept his eyes on the waiting ships. He wanted noise, motion, not this feeling of the whole project holding its breath. There should be a sensation of proud excitement swelling his chest. Instead, he felt frightened.

“On high is waiting for their guests,” said Launch. “Red carpet is all rolled out.”

Trace touched the MUTE key, glanced at R.J., then the launch strip. “We could call the veeps again, just to be sure.”

R.J. shook his head slowly. “You know what they'll say. The show must go on.”

“And so it must.” She touched the key again. “Very well, Launch, let them go.”

Trace stood so close to him that their suits touched. Together, they watched the first of the shuttles rod into position.

Chapter XI

T
he aerial record hasn't shown up anything.” Lieutenant Ryan stood at the end of the conference table in Keale's office with his hands behind his back. Keale listened to him with a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Then again, with all the relocation traffic, you could drive an elephant under us and we'd be hard put to notice. We've had no new construction, no new military activity, no extra movement around the Parliament. We have people down in the security tunnels, and everybody who isn't stationed out on the
Ur
or the
Cairo
is in the Hundred Isles.”

As Keale watched Ryan's face, something in him began to recover. The lieutenant didn't look nearly uncomfortable enough for someone whose report to his superior was a long litany of nothing.

“So, what have we got?”

“Three more missing persons.”

Keale sat bolt upright.
“What?”

Ryan ran a cable from the infoview on his hand to the tabletop. He touched the PLAY key on one of the keypads. The wall screen lit up and showed the playback of a set of shuttle passengers disembarking at the Getesaph departure point. Most of them were Humans in clean-suits, but a pair of Dedelphi, a mother and daughter, picked their way through the Human stream. They held hands tightly as they hurried across the concrete to the port's main building.

“Before Nussbaumer left t'Aori, she authorized travel orders for Praeis Shin t'Theria and her daughter Resaime Shin to go from t'Aori to the Hundred Isles. Nussbaumer also set them up with a room at the port.”

Keale leaned forward. “Shin t'Theria? Didn't she found Crater Town?”

“Her family did. She was called back by the Queens-of-All to help out with Dedelphi-Human relations.”

“That's right. I met her at a couple of prep meetings.” Keale's eyes narrowed. “That doesn't look like her.”

“It isn't.” Ryan murmured something to his implant. The scene cut to the inside of the port budding. The pair of Dedelphi, almost lost in a sea of their kindred, moved toward a comm station. “This one”—Ryan touched the mother—“is Praeis Shin's sister, Senejess Shin. A little while after Nussbaumer got here, she got a message from Praeis Shin saying that the letter that had been sent asking Nussbaumer for travel help was forged by her sister, who was traveling under Praeis's name with Praeis's daughter, presumably to spy on the Getesaph.” Ryan looked triumphant at having gotten through that chain of events.

Keale replayed the sentence in his head and sorted through it until he decided he had a grasp on the main players. “Do we know why Nussbaumer didn't just haul Senejess Shin out of circulation like she should have?”

“No,” said Ryan. “All we know is that Senejess Shin and Resaime Shin are missing. Apparently the Queens-of-All know it, too. They've called an emergency session of the Confederation for this afternoon.”

Oh,
just
what we need; the t'Theria and the Getesaph up in metaphorical arms.
“Did Nussbaumer have any contact with them at the port?”

Ryan shook his head “Not as far as we know. She sent messages to them both. One addressed to ‘Praeis Shin,’ asking her to dinner, and the other to Resaime, telling her how to get in touch if she needed anything.”

Keale suddenly and sincerely wished he had Nussbaumer in front of him so he could ask her what the hell she thought she was doing. “So, that's two of the missing persons. Who's the third?”

Ryan muttered to his implant and the scene changed. Now the screen showed one of the launch-prep meetings held for the evacuees. The recording had probably been pulled from the instructor's camera eyes.

At Ryan's direction, the image zoomed in on one man standing on the terrace over the meeting, watching the proceedings with a strained expression.

“Who's he?” Keale asked as Ryan froze the scene.

“Arron Hagopian,” said Ryan. “He's a cultural xenologist. He's been living with the Getesaph for the past ten years. He's also a friend of Lynn Nussbaumer's.” Keale made a hurry-up gesture with two fingers. “She's only met with him once officially since we got here, but we thought he might know something, so we went looking for him, and didn't find him.”

Keale rubbed his forehead and waited for Ryan to continue.

“We were already pulling Lynn's threads from the system log, so we yanked his as well. After the departure session you see here.” Ryan nodded toward the frozen video image. “Hagopian threaded a request through his room terminal for the passenger manifest for the first outbound Getesaph shuttle. Then he found out where Dr. Nussbaumer was…”