Scaevola's Triumph (Gaius Claudius Scaevola trilogy Book 3) (11 page)

"I'm glad that at last you agree," the Ulsian said, with a mixture of relief and arrogance. "You must excuse me. I must go."

"Presumably to another meeting," Gaius muttered.

"Of course!"

"How can we find out what's going on at the meeting discussing us?" Vipsania asked. She had lifted her tone and was desperately trying not to give further offence. "I mean, since it's about our future, we should know something about it."

"On your display," the Ulsian said. "Key in the meetings channel, and key in 85/53212."

"Why such a large number?" Vipsania asked innocently.

"Because," the Ulsian said in a tone of utter exasperation, "each meeting has to have a different number, and your affairs are that number on the list this year!"

The Terrans simply stared at each other as the Ulsian strode off. They had that many meetings on that many topics, which went on for almost unlimited time? When did anybody on this planet do something other than attend meetings?

Lucilla turned towards the Tin Man, and said, "This may seem a silly question, but is there a reason Ulsians cover themselves completely?"

"It is quite a sensible question," the Tin Man nodded. "The clothing item you refer to is called a trefune. It is now an item of formal dress, like a Roman toga."

"How do Ulsian's recognize who's underneath?" Vipsania asked curiously.

"They don't," the Tin Man said, "which, I should add, is the current purpose of the trefune. When Ulsians attend meetings, they may then express any opinion they wish to express, free of any fear of consequences. You cannot attack the person of the speaker, so to speak, if you have no idea who the person is. Accordingly, all issues have to be discussed solely on their own merits."

"That could lead to problems," Gaius frowned.

"How?"

"Well, suppose, say, you were discussing the city's water supply. A speaker could claim to be the senior engineer but he could be anyone. A lunatic could insist on anything, on the grounds that . . .

"Not at all," the Tin Man said. "Anyone who claims to have views superior in anyway to the average views must present the evidence for the expertise, and would not wear a trefune."

"So if you arrived at a meeting without a trefune," Lucilla offered, "you would be declaring that you thought yourself to be superior to others in the room?"

"Yes," the Tin Man said. "Returning to Gaius' example, the senior engineer would not wear a trefune. He would not be claiming to be superior to the others in general terms, but he would be claiming superior expertise in the matter of water supplies. But anyone without a trefune and without such a good reason would be immediately condemned for arrogance."

"Then perhaps we should get . . ."

"No need," the Tin Man said. "If you do not wear one, you can also be stating that you are non-Ulsian, which, in your case, is self-evident."

"I see," Lucilla said, although from her expression it seemed evident that she did not see very much.

"What an interesting custom," Vipsania remarked later.

"Very," Lucilla replied sarcastically.

"No, I mean it," Vipsania continued. "The senate, back in Rome, could do with those trefunes. Then they could get on with serving Rome instead of grand-standing, and trying to put something over one of their many enemies."

"Perhaps," Lucilla countered, "but doesn't it also show the Ulsians up as a thoroughly cowardly and devious lot?"

"What do you mean?"

"They have a nice-sounding purpose now, after years and years of self-justification, but think about how they could have gotten started? Why hide your face?"

"You think . . ?"

"You hide to be devious, so as not to face up to your responsibilities, to . . ."

"Not so," the Tin Man interjected. "Their history is quite different."

"Exactly how?" Lucilla asked.

"When Ulsian culture was far more similar to yours, there were wars across the planet, just like yours, except Ulse had developed far more terrible weapons. Most Ulsians were scarred, or deformed in some way, from radiation or other poisons. The trefune was worn to hide the deformities. Initially the purpose of the trefune was to spare the wearer the sight of others shuddering when they saw him. Later, when governments tried to control the population, the trefune was resurrected as a means of showing independence. Now those terrible times are past, it still has formal value."

At first Lucilla seemed embarrassed at having been caught thinking badly of the Ulsians, but then she suddenly realized that the Tin Man, by interrupting, must have been listening to their conversation. Which meant that the Tin Man was listening to all their conversations. He may be there to help them, but he was also there to oversee them. Anything they said could be reported. In whispers, she individually told the others.

Vipsania was horrified, but Gaius seemed not to be surprised. As he whispered back, it would be surprising if the Ulsians did not wish to monitor what they were doing. But since nothing bad had happened so far, as long as any anti-Ulsian feelings got no worse they should be all right. Hence, younger sister, try to keep quiet about anything that particularly annoys you.

* * *

Two days later a different Ulsian in a green trefune came to the door, to announce that the need for getting out of this room was appreciated, and a zone of open countryside had been set aside for their use. It could be accessed through a special tube exit, which the Tin Man could take them to any time they wished.

"But there's still no contact with Ulse itself, is there?" Gaius asked in an irritable tone.

"No."

"You feel we're inferior, and can't . . ."

"No!" the Ulsian interrupted. "We don't at all. However . . ." he paused, and became almost embarrassed.

"However what?"

"Your arrival has created an unexpected possibility for study," the Ulsian said.

"You're going to watch us like animals in a cage!" Gaius spat. He stepped forward aggressively, almost as if he was going to attack the Ulsian. "That was not . . ."

"Please, no!" the Ulsian shrunk back.

"Gaius," Vipsania whispered. "Please don't?"

"Don't what?" Gaius said irritably, although now a little calmer.

"Don't do anything to irritate our . . . guest."

"It's very difficult not to get irritable when you're being lied to!" Gaius said angrily.

"You haven't been lied to!" the Ulsian protested, "but your violent attitude isn't helping in the slightest."

"Violent?" Gaius roared, and the Ulsian shrunk back again. "What've I done that's violent?"

"You looked as if you're going to hit me!" the Ulsian protested.

"Oh dear!" Gaius shrugged, and stepped back, almost deflated. "Listen! If I were going to hit you, you would've been hit long before now."

"What Gaius is trying to say," Vipsania intervened and stood between them, "is that he is angry, but he was never going to hit you. Humans tend to shout," she continued, "when they get frustrated, because the explanation presented is illogical or non-existent."

"You wish a logical explanation for our actions?" the Ulsian frowned.

"Yes," Vipsania replied, then held her hand up to stop Gaius from speaking. "I know," she continued, "that getting angry's irrational, but the solution's easy. Give us a logical explanation of why we aren't being treated like slaves, or prisoners, or exhibits, and what we have to do to get over this, because we really don't wish to stay in this room all our lives."

"That is fair comment," the Ulsian responded. "The question is, can you understand?"

"Not on the present information," Gaius said calmly. He had begun to appreciate what Vipsania had done.

"The general feeling in some quarters," the Ulsian said slowly, cautiously testing the attitude of his audience, "is that while Ulse must treat you like civilized beings, and help you to get around in Ulsian society, there has to be something coming the other way."

"Payment?" Gaius frowned.

"Exactly!" the Ulsian nodded. He seemed almost relieved to be understood.

"We've got none of your money," Gaius said slowly, "and really we've got nothing to sell. We've got very little from home, so . . ."

"No, we don't expect you to give up your possessions," the Ulsian said, "but we might ask you to do something."

"What?" Gaius asked in surprise.

"You'll find out," the Ulsian said, then added with a laugh, "when the meeting gets to a conclusion."

"I might have guessed," Gaius muttered.

* * *

Two days later, by which time the Romans were beginning to wonder whether they would ever leave this room, the Tin Man suddenly activated himself, and informed Gaius that the Ulsian committee had reached a decision, and had a proposition for him.

"Yes?" Gaius asked. The group had discussed this issue almost to death. They suspected that they would be asked to do something that effectively made them exhibits, objects for the Ulsians to look over. Something not very much different from being zoo exhibits. The question was, for how long? Perhaps they should go to almost any reasonable length to get out of this room. Which, of course, left open the question of what was reasonable. Nobody had a good answer to that.

"You will be asked to complete your engine," the Tin Man said.

"What?" Gaius asked in surprise. Of all the things he had thought of, this was the last, although later, when he came to remember the prophecy, a chilling thought came over him that this had been pre-ordained.

"You heard," the Tin Man replied calmly.

"Yes, I did," Gaius conceded. "It was just that I didn't believe it."

"You should know by now that I do not lie or make frivolous statements."

"Of course," Gaius agreed. "I just don't see why?"

"Ulse wants you to make it." The Tin man said this without emotion, as if it were self-evident, and this annoyed Gaius, although as Vipsania pointed out later, since the Tin man had never yet shown emotion, now was hardly the time to expect to see it. "They will make a program on what you do."

Gaius stared at the Tin Man for a moment, then realized that what he was asking, bizarre though it was, was another version of what they had discussed. And it was by no means the most unpleasant option they had suspected might be requested. "A strange form of entertainment," Gaius shrugged, then reflected that it might be no worse than the rather dreary stuff he had already been watching.

"What the programme will be about will have nothing to do with how an engine works," the Tin Man continued, "but rather how inventions are made. You will have to make all your trials, and have all your failures."

"Suppose I can't?" Gaius asked with a frown.

"Can't or won't?" the Tin Man responded immediately, and although there was no emotion in the question, the rate at which it had been delivered seemed to be laden with irritation.

"Can't!" Gaius replied. "You see, I have never made a bolt. I have no real skill at working with metals, and I always got someone else to do it for me. I . . ."

"You are entitled to any skill you could have obtained in your civilization. As a reward, if you succeed, you may learn whatever technology you can."

"Or anything else?" Gaius asked.

"Anything you are capable of, except possibly the latest military plans which are secret. Also, you may all go anywhere you like on Ulse, as long as you do not make a nuisance of yourselves."

"And how can I get something made? I'm not allowed to return and −"

"I shall order it."

"You can go back?" Vipsania asked angrily.

"I can specify what you would do down to the last femtometer," the Tin Man said in an unperturbed tone. "It will be made on Ulse, but indistinguishable to anything made on Earth." He paused, and added, "I have all the knowledge Timothy had of Terran manufacturing. Also," he paused again, then added, "you will get the benefit of any doubt. If you ask for something that could conceivably be made by your technology, or you can state how to go about making it, then you will get it."

"Effectively, you want to be entertained by my efforts, my failures, my −"

"Yes," the Tin Man said, "but you will be getting an excellent bargain. Look at it this way. Somehow you have to pay for your upkeep while here. No! Don't protest until you hear me out. Ulse is obliged to keep you alive, and if you really want to sit down and just take, giving nothing back for it, you'll probably get away with it, but nobody's going to be that impressed. Do this, and you'll earn enough to be able to afford all sorts of privileges for the rest of your life. Also . . ."

"Also?" Gaius asked curiously.

"The outcome for your abductor depends on what happens."

"How come?" Vipsania asked.

"The greatest crime is to seriously alter the course of a civilization. He will argue you would have failed anyway. If you don't go through with this, that argument must prevail."

"I see," Gaius muttered.

"You'll have to try," Lucilla said to Gaius. She put her arm on his shoulder, and added, "Otherwise I suspect we'll seldom even get out of this room."

"I suspect trying won't be enough," Gaius muttered. "I think I have to succeed."

"I know you will," Vipsania said, giving him a hug.

"Touching faith," Gaius smiled, "but −"

"I believe the Ulsians expect you to succeed," Vipsania snorted, "and I know you're persistent."

"And why do you believe the Ulsians expect me to succeed?"

"They want you to do it. You heard. They want to be able to see what invention involves. They're hardly likely to find out much unless you can succeed, and remember, they've seen your diagrams, your bits and pieces. If there's something missing beyond your ability, why would they be bothered?"

"Interesting logic, as Timothy would say," Gaius said, as he began to pace up and down the room.

"I shall return to the door," the Tin Man said, "while you decide."

"There's no need," Gaius said. He turned towards the Tin Man and shrugged as he said, "I'll do it." He turned towards the others, and added, "I don't really have a choice, but you never know, it might even be fun."