Chapter Two

Anaena

Life went on at its humdrum pace for Tankar. Gradually, over time, some Stellarans chatted with him in the cafeteria and on the gangways. Anaena had accepted his frequent library visits. She handed him the requested books without a word, so he was surprised the day she spoke.

“You’ve now read the entire Valoch oeuvre. What novels do you want to read next?”

“I don’t know, anything’s fine.”

“May I give you some advice?” she offered.

“If you wish.” Tankar hesitated.

“I’d suggest The Wind of Kormor by Paul Valenstein. We consider it the best book ever written here on the Tilsin. Valenstein lived and wrote in the last century.”

“Why are you so friendly all of a sudden?”

She curled into herself and answered without looking at him. “Let’s just say that I now understand my debt to you.”

“You owe me nothing at all, if you’re referring to the first duel. You helped me more than you did my unfortunate opponent.”

“No regrets there,” Anaena admitted. “In any case, Hank was such a troublemaker he wouldn’t have lived long. But still…I breached the rules of the game; what I did was inexcusable.”

“So, why did you do it?”

“I loathed you,” she said bluntly, meeting his look.

“But it’s not my fault I’m on the Tilsin.”

“And it’s not my fault that your ancestors forced mine into exile.”

“How am I responsible for the behavior of my ancestors? I don’t think mine were even involved.”

“We are the products of our worlds, Tankar,” she said, using his name for the first time. “Stellarans hate and look down on all planetaries, and, worst of all to us, are the Empire planetaries. Do you realize you’re the first of your kind we’ve rescued? And that happened because Tan is the Teknor. Could you in absolute honesty swear none of our habits strike you as laughable? Or awful? Can you swear that your main goal right now isn’t to escape and return to Earth?”

“I wouldn’t swear to that, no,” he replied, shaking his head.

“You complain about how much we despise you. But what do you think of us? Do you think we can’t tell? That we don’t notice?”

He shook his head in denial. “I don’t have contempt for your civilization. I admire how you’ve built these monstrous stellar-travel vessels even though I don’t fully understand your way of life. And yes, you’re right, I do dislike some of your customs, like the idiotic duels, which no true man should take part in. If the point is to show bravery, there are far better ways.”

“You really don’t understand, do you? We all take personal responsibility for our actions, and that’s the basis of our freedom. I can insult anybody I like, but I have to be willing to pay the price. How do you resolve questions of honor on Earth?”

“Sometimes by duel,” he admitted. “Soldiers do, in many cases. But a duel only takes place following a ruling of the duelers’ peers. For the commoners, there are courts. For the nobles, the Emperor is the judge.”

“I like our way better. Your book is in Niche 23. Happy reading.”

Anaena tossed back her mane of shining coppery hair, then promptly resumed her previous stance, and Tankar wondered whether their chat was a singular event. He suspected their relationship had shifted in some still mysterious way. Her face was more open, and, a few times when she did not know he was looking, he spied a smile.

On that day he left the library at the same time as Anaena.

She spoke first. “Since I opened hostilities, maybe I am the one who offers a cease-fire. I’d like to ask you some questions about life on Earth. Would you like to have dinner with me? Don’t get the wrong idea, please,” she warned, “I’m not like Orena.”

He hesitated briefly. The offer was tempting, but was she hiding the reason for her offer? She noticed his hesitancy and said, “Don’t misunderstand me, we’re a long way from being friends. I’m simply asking for a favor, and I can repay you by showing you a machine room.”

“They’re off limits to me.”

“Not if I go with you, under Teknor’s orders.”

That decided him. “Okay. Where do I meet you?”

“My house, 144th Street, Apartment 530, Bridge 4, Sector 2. Seven p.m. I’m also a decent cook, as you’ll see.”

He sent Orena a comtext that he’d likely be home late. He was surprisingly happy, but he was not ready to admit it.

If Anaena is at least cordial to me, the others will have to accept me. I’ll have a place in this city and stop being a do-nothing parasite. I’ll teach the men the martial arts. I’ll build a tracer or at least show them how. Wait! That thought stopped him in his tracks. No, that’s my ace in the hole; I’d better save it. But at last I’ll be a man again.

His reverie ended with a jolt. He’d arrived in an unknown street, virtually deserted at that time of day. It extended in one long line of identikit doors and unadorned partitions. Where the hell am I? The next crossing enlightened him. He was on Bridge 4, Sector 2, 144th Street. He checked his digital timepiece and realized he was 90 minutes early.

“I must be in a hurry,” he muttered to himself.

He passed Door 530, then walked the whole street, wandered around, then retraced his steps, consulting his timepiece from time to time. He was five minutes late when he rang the bell.

Anaena’s apartment was very different from Orena’s and his own; bigger, it featured an anteroom with floor-to-ceiling shelf-lined walls. The shelving held old books and microfiche cases. Since the young woman had failed to come out and greet him, he nosed through the books. Most were about physics and other scientific disciplines excluding two entire rows devoted to books about the Mpfifis. When the curtain between the anteroom and the rest of the flat lifted and Anaena appeared, he could hardly believe his eyes.

Her red hair cascaded down her shoulders framing her golden face and shining malachite eyes. Her delicate green floor-length dress enhanced her curves and her little white feet were laced up in gold leather-strapped sandals.

“I remind you to watch it, Tankar,” she warned. “This is not a proposition.”

He stood at attention. “Am I not allowed to admire beauty without being accused of inappropriate intentions?”

She smiled. “Please come in. And let’s observe the truce. This evening, like good adversaries after a tough fight, we shall be as friends.”

The room was cozy despite the dark décor. It felt intimate despite the bright light from three old-style floor lamps. Tankar was very happy. He had never enjoyed, had, in fact, objected to Orena’s preference for veiled light and corners bathed in the half-light of the vid-screens.

“Sit, please. Take a book if you wish. Our meal is almost ready.”

He chose The Mpfifi Threat and sat down. He leafed through it without paying much attention but was quickly engrossed in the first chapter. It was a taut analysis of the available data on the enemy. The content was tighter and more nuanced than in Sorensen’s so-called classic. One section on defending city-states seemed quite good. Why were the principles not applied? he wondered.

Anaena returned. “Are you enjoying that?”

“Very interesting. Especially the analysis of your defense weaknesses.”

“I really like it too.”

“Why don’t you follow the advice in there? It’s totally relevant.”

“It was just published yesterday.”

He looked at the publication date and the author’s name: Anaena Ekator!

“You….”

“Yes, except for the chapter that you like so much; you wrote that!”

“What? What do you mean, I wrote it?”

“Don’t you remember your last meeting with my uncle? He recorded everything, and I made good use of the material. Your name really should be on the cover with mine.”

“So you’re the one in charge of assessing the Mpfifi threat?”

She stood and adopted a mock serious stance. “May I introduce Anaena Ekator, chief of the anti-Mpfifi unit?”

“But I thought….”

“That I was just some redheaded feline, as our mutual friend Orena calls me? I’m an expert in alien culture and biology specializing in non-human races. Aside from the mortal danger they represent, the Mpfifis fascinate me as much as they terrify me. Shall we eat before the food gets cold?”

The dinner was simple but delicious without the type of culinary flourishes that Orena mastered. Tankar praised the food, but Anaena owned, “I know my limitations. So rather than fight on a terrain where I know I’m going to lose, I prefer to work within my comfort zone.”

“You’re an odd type of girl, Anaena. How old are you?”

“Young enough to reply without taking umbrage. Do your years last 365 days, and days 24 hours like ours do?”

“Yes.”

“So I’m 22 and a half.”

“I’m 24.”

“Not much of a difference, then,” she said cheerfully. “Now it’s for you to return the favor of dinner, as I said earlier. So, tell me about your Empire, your planet.”

He spoke. First he rattled off technical material as if presenting at a conference. Gradually, in response to her subtle queries, his answers became more personal. He told her about his experiences, his now-dashed hope of one day commanding a fleet that would set foot on undiscovered worlds.

“You’ll see more unknown worlds with us than you would’ve done for the Empire.”

“Maybe…but as a passenger? That wasn’t the idea.” He sounded miffed.

“Or as one of us if you make the effort to assimilate.”

“You think that might happen? You all never let me forget I’m an outsider.”

“Who knows?”

“Tell me about yourself, please,” he said. “It might be easier for me to understand your culture if I can get a handle on how a typical citizen thinks and wishes and fears.”

“I don’t have much to tell, really. Unlike most Stellarans, I’ve never left the city I was born on aside from a few planetary pit stops. I lived like many others until I turned 15, and my uncle became the Teknor. I became his personal assistant while I was in college. I studied alien culture because I wanted to. I became an archivist as my social-good job. That’s it. We don’t have all kinds of wild adventures like you did as a Guard.”

Tankar looked at her furrowed brow. She was speaking in a very neutral, calm tone. Had he missed something, or was she actually envious? “You said most people have traveled more than you. Is that the normal course of things?”

“Oh, yes. We like variety, and, under other conditions, I might’ve swapped city-states too. But the Tilsin has a concentration of everything we know about the enemy, so my place is here. Without that…. After a couple of years you get to know everyone and always see the same old faces in the gangways. Don’t overthink the way Orena behaves toward you. You’re the new kid in town, and that newness dominates people’s views of planetaries. She has those biases too, though maybe a bit less than the rest of us because of her father.

“The other thing is that it’s good for a nomad-race as a whole to swap men and women so that the gene pool stays fresh. We saw what inbreeding did to the very few, isolated colonists of Tircis, after their starship dropped them on that tiny, arid island. They’re barely human now.” She paused. “Would you like to see some photos?”

She got up, slid open the door to a closet, and pulled out a projector. On the blank wall he saw a strange face, totally normal at first blush, but, looking closely, he saw the eyes stared straight ahead but were both too big and too pale. The ears were so small they seemed like an afterthought. The skull was pointy and sheer under a crown of yellow hair that resembled a light, down-filled quilt. Another slide revealed a whole man with the skinny legs of a stork or ibis, overlong arms and shoulders so narrow and flaccid it looked as if the arms grew out of the torso itself.

“And it’s not just their physique either, Tankar. The changes to their brains meant communication with them was almost as tricky as with the Mpfifis.”

“Do you have photos of them?”

“I can do even better than photos. I’m going to show you something, even if it’s a bit of a pity to end such a pleasant evening on such a sinister note. When we recovered the Roma, we found some still-intact automatic cameras and film. I have copies.” She fumbled through the closet and came out with a much bigger projector than the first and spools of film. “These are ours.”

The screen revealed a section of a gangway like the ones on the Tilsin blocked by a barricade of stacked-up bodies and weaponry. Then an almost human shadow crossed the screen and a Mpfifi appeared in a corner. Tankar automatically leaned forward and noted the figure was not dreadful. He just felt a vague discomfort as if looking at a nasty cartoon.

The greenish skin covered in white needles seemed both flexible and tough while the face lacking ears and nose was stony, inexpressive. Gloomy eyes darted around the gangway. The figure moved toward the camera until its face filled the screen, and Tankar was able to see its breathing apparatus pulsing under its jaw. The Mpfifi vanished from the screen.

Other film fragments followed with battle scenes that Tankar found compelling. There also was footage of a last-men-standing council meeting in a room with shattered walls. The fracas around them made the conversation hard to hear.

“This is their document,” Anaena explained. “The Mpfifis’ eyes don’t have the same light sensitivity as ours do, so the film may seem underexposed. We found the camera under an Mpfifi corpse, one we killed when we arrived. The only human survivors were eight women and about 50 children who’d hidden in a hold. When the Mpfifis saw us arrive on the Suomi, they fled without even trying to fight back and, without tracers, we were unable to pursue.”

The film appeared to have been shot in an aggressive orange light. It lent a weird hue to the plants and made the whole atmosphere feel off in some undefinable way. The film illustrated the taking of the Roma from the invaders’ perspective: their careful movement from gangway to gangway, from park to park. The battle had been ferocious, and the Mpfifis paid a high price for their victory. Twice the images swung around as if the cameraman dropped the equipment and another person’s hand had saved it from crashing to the ground.

“Now I understand where you learned about their tactics,” he murmured quietly.

As the battle drew to its end, the Mpfifis got sloppy about advancing. “Look closely, Tankar. You’ll see why we hate them so much and fear them as well.”

The camera focused on about 50 human captives, primarily women and children, their backs against a wall. One of the few men pulled into the foreground hands in the air. He spoke, though his voice was garbled by the recording device. His words were hard to understand, but his request was obvious from his hand movements. He was begging for mercy for the sorry herd of survivors. One Mpfifi came into camera range, raised his weapon and, in a burst of energy, burned the supplicant’s feet. The man fell to the ground and, with apparent pleasure, the non-human slowly burned the man alive. His face remained impassive as he set fire to the human’s hands, then his arms and legs and finally the torso with a final spurt of fire. Other non-humans then made their way through the ranks, and slowly they roasted the men, women and children. Sometimes they allowed the prisoners to flee a few meters and then burned away their legs. By the time Anaena flicked the projector off, only three women were visible. Anaena wept.

“No. I can’t watch anymore. The last woman was my mother, Tankar, do you get it? My mother? She was just visiting the Roma. We arrived a few hours after the carnage. If only we’d been able to follow the enemy through hyperspace, if we could’ve pinpointed their home planet, their empire! We have bombs powerful enough to send a kingdom out of its orbit, to zap it into oblivion. We’d so happily use those things. But we can’t! We have nothing. Our physicists search and search and never come up with the answer.”

And that’s not going to happen anytime soon, Tankar thought, since you abandoned the Cursin hyperspace apparatus. In the Empire, the discovery had come about in part by accident, such an unlikely event that he doubted it could be reproduced. Should he give them the secret? Put them on the right track? He remained unsure.

Anaena spoke softly but with passion. “My uncle is convinced you have such tracers, Tankar. I agree with him that, without them, your Empire wouldn’t be in the shape it is in, so big now that you no longer can visit all of the planets the Empire claims for itself. If you have this thing, please, please give it to us. You’ve seen what the Mpfifis can do. They’ve not yet started to attack the stronger planets, but they well may one day, and, on that day, Earth will not be immune. When you were drifting in your space suit, my uncle rescued you for that reason.”

Her words wounded him. “And I guess that’s why he gave me the A-card. No, Anaena, we don’t possess the secret to the tracer. I’ve told you this over and over, and I’m tired of repeating myself!”

“I don’t believe you,” she spat. Then, regaining control of herself, “Yes, we’ve harmed you, I admit that. Once we rescued you we should have fully embraced you, but we just couldn’t. There’s been far too much bad blood between us and the Empire, even though, admittedly, no blood has been shed in a long time.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, Tankar? My uncle doesn’t care about ancient history, but there are others who’d never have accepted you. Tan is a Teknor, but he’s not an all-powerful emperor. His authority rests only on his technical skill, granted him by the Great Council. As for me….”

“You were the opposite of friendly. I’m not even reminding you of your attempt to have me killed. This evening, you’ve proven to be the sole Stellaran other than Orena to show me friendship. Tonight erases any debt you might have owed me.

“The Empire had no tracers,” he lied, “but, a few days before the rebellion began, I attended a conference of military technicians, and they spoke of the possibility. I’m going to rifle through what I remember. Unfortunately, that day I wasn’t really giving the talk all my attention. If I remember anything important, I will go see the physicists right away.” He stood and said graciously, “Good evening…and thank you.”

She walked him to the door. Tempted to lean over and kiss her, he was annoyed at his own desire and did not.

As he headed home, he mulled over the horrifying film and the conversation that had followed. Why had he made that half promise? Why the white lie? Would he give up his only tradeable item in exchange for small gestures of friendship? In fact, did she even feel friendship toward him? He’d find out soon enough.

Orena was waiting up for him and reading. “Good evening? How was the redheaded feline?”

He nodded his head yes.

“You’re free,” she said.

“It’s not what you think. She pumped me for information about the Empire, Earth….”

“Yes, the habits of savages have always interested her. Especially their mating habits.”

He lost his temper, and shouted at her. “She is nothing to me. The only thing she wants from me is to say we have hyperspace tracers.”

“Do you?”

“No!” He spat the word out.

“Me, I don’t really care. Goodnight, Tankar.”

“Aren’t you staying?”

“No, not tonight. I don’t deal in other women’s castoffs.”

“Not everyone has the same habits as you.”

“You did when it suited you.”

“Hell, Orena, I keep telling you that the girl is nothing to me; she’s my enemy! You may be right that I’ve been a bit too stuffy, but I’m getting really fed up with you all. You don’t even have the generosity to save a man from the void without a hidden agenda. You’re not much more humane than the Mpfifis.”

“What do you know about that?”

“Anaena told me. The Teknor rescued me because I’m from the Empire, and he thought we had the tracers.”

“Son of a bitch! Now you see how low the Ekators sink.”

“Honestly? I would’ve done the same in his shoes. Goodnight.”

“No, I’m staying.”

“I’m not a charity case.”

“Can you see me giving to charity?”

* * *

Tankar saw Anaena several times more over the following days. She was cordial but distant. He remained convinced that her invitation was part of a plan to manipulate him that had failed. Then things changed yet again when he ran into her in the street.

“Come see me, Tankar. I still have a lot to learn about the Empire.”

“I’m not so sure you really care.”

“Don’t. I promise that I won’t mention the tracers again. You want to withhold the secret? That’s your choice.”

“So what are we going to talk about?”

“Everything and nothing, if you wish.”

“Why the sudden interest in me?”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No! Of course not. When should I come over?”

“Tomorrow night. I’ll invite some intelligent people.”

“To show them what a tame planetary looks like?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m doing it to break the cycle of loneliness you seem to be caught in.”

Tankar had to admit that he spent a very enjoyable evening. There were six people in total, four men and two women. Anaena’s female friend was a pretty brunette, and the three male Stellarans were lively and witty. Much wine was drunk and songs were sung. The others praised Tankar’s singing of the ‘Guard Heroes Song’. Eventually the four guests left and he was alone with Anaena.

“I’m nosy, and, like all women, I love a good story. Tell me about the first battle you fought.”

“It’s not very interesting, Anaena, believe me. All wars are pretty much the same.”

“We’ve never really waged war from the Tilsin,” she replied. “And our city-state versus city-state battles are heavy affairs with fortresses and the like. Nothing like your fast cruisers rushing around.”

“Okay. If it’s that important to you. I was just a cadet, fresh out of school when—”

“Not that stuff. Tell me about the first time you commanded a cruiser.”

He smiled, both flattered and amused. “It wasn’t a cruiser, Anaena. Just a recon scout. Me and five other guys.”

“Even better. It’ll be more interesting. But you quickly got to the point of commanding a cruiser, yes?”

“I was on a torpedo boat when the uprising began. If you really want to know the whole story: I’d just taken over as commander of the Saphir when the Martian riots broke out. Mars is quite close to Earth, one of the closest in the solar system. It wasn’t even really a police operation. The only major issue was that three cruisers that landed on Mars joined the mutiny and backed the rebels.

“Seventeen vessels, ten cruisers and seven scouts, took off. My job was to keep watch on the squadron’s left flank. We bombarded Mars until they surrendered. When I say we, I mean the bulk of the flotilla. But I was following the enemy ships heading to Pluto. My scout was faster, and I was gaining on them when they plunged into hyperspace. It was my first trip as commander, so I didn’t know what to do at first. Follow them or wait for backup? But then a quick look at the screen on the tr—”

He stopped midsentence and said, “Oh, shit!” He stared at her and sighed, “Your match, Anaena.”

“What?”

“Don’t play the innocent with me. Now you know we have tracers. This evening, this whole setup was intended to get me to admit to it. Your out-of-the-blue friendship should have warned me, but I’m as gullible as a cadet, so I bought it.”

He mocked her speech patterns. “No, not that. Tell me all about your first battle where you commanded a cruiser.” He shook his head. “I’m an idiot. One of the first things we learn in the barracks: call the adjutant ‘lieutenant’…what’s the risk? But you still don’t have the secret, and you won’t get it even if the Mpfifis burn me alive.”

“Come on, Tankar, be reasonable. Should it become necessary, we always have the psychoscope. You remember that you and Tan talked about it? I hate the idea, and my uncle doesn’t like it either, believe me or not.”

“From Tan, I believe it, no problem. I think he’s the sole man in this city-state worthy of the name. As to you, why would you look out for me?”

“Because I don’t believe anyone has the right to invade another man’s subconscious,” she said in a dignified manner. “And because I’ve come to admire you.”

“Riiiight. There’s another one of your tricks.”

“I’m a Stellaran, Tankar, and I can’t lie: we’re under threat. Slowly but surely, we’re losing to the Mpfifis. I’ll do anything in my power to get the secret out of you.”

He looked at her smugly. “Anything? Really? Anything?”

She blushed, furious. “Yes, anything,” she spat, “but I’ll kill you afterward.”

He shrugged. “I’m not going to ask you for anything. The day I decide to give up the tracers, I’ll do it for free. But I’ll have enjoyed being your friend.”

“And you’re so sure you don’t already have my friendship? Do you really think I would have had you in my home twice—”

“You told me you’d do anything to get your hands on those blueprints.”

“I did say that,” she acknowledged. “It’s true that we’ve eroded your trust, and that’s a pity. I would’ve liked to help you fit in here. We need men like you on the Tilsin.”

“If only you’d decided that one sooner.”

“You’re being childish, Tankar. You’re acting like a kid who throws his toys on the floor because he doesn’t get his way. How could you possibly expect immediate acceptance from a society that has a multitude of good reasons to hate the Empire? We had to study you; it took time.”

“Maybe I’m impatient,” Tankar admitted, then paused. “Let’s make a deal.”

“Yes?”

“I’ll sketch out blueprints for a tracer. As I’m doing that, I’ll give all of this more thought. When I complete them, I may hand the sketches to Tan, or I may not. In return, all I ask of you is friendship. Nothing more.”

Anaena held out her hand. “Thank you, Tankar. I give you my word that, until you make up your mind, I won’t ask you about the tracers again.”

He went home, his heart feeling light. Orena was not in the apartment. He went to bed but could not fall asleep right away. Eventually he got out of bed and began to scribble.

In the morning, he bought a small strongbox and some drawing materials. He only left the house for meals and declined two invitations from Orena. He accepted a third after she burst into a fit of jealousy, preceded by her ‘You’re free’ mantra.

He spent a few happy days absorbed by the interesting work that gave him the sense of being a man once again. The task was a daunting one. He knew the theory behind hyperspace tracers, of course, but was unsure how to apply theory to a blueprint. He wished he had his reference books. He realized there was a world of difference between maintaining and fixing a neutrinics-based machine and creating one from scratch. He had moments of despair but only once did he slip all the papers into a folder and consider bringing them to a physicist to complete. Then he went back to the job at hand with determination to see it through himself.

“This is my ace in the hole. I can’t waste it,” he said out loud. Had he in fact analyzed his approach, he would have realized he was unwilling to admit defeat.

Tankar reached completion except for building and fine-tuning a prototype. He did not have the tools. Partly out of bravado but in greater part for Anaena, he had decided to hand over the plans to the Teknor. He did not think he was in love with Anaena. He was used to living among fellows except for brief forays to the Center for Racial Perfection. Orena was meeting all of his emotional and physical needs, but he was enjoying the mental chess match with the Teknor’s niece. He had been ahead just once in their relationship, when he had not turned her in after the duel. She had regained her edge by having him over for dinner twice. Now he would be vastly increasing her debt to him: once personally and once for her people, the Stellarans. He had no idea what would happen next, but he did not worry about it. Anaena had brought spark back into his life.

If I ever accept the teaching job the Teknor offered me, it would be fun to toy with the Stellarans and make them bend to Guard rules, he dreamed.

He smiled mischievously at his plan to hand over the blueprints to the Teknor as he headed to the library where he expected to see Anaena.

And then the Tilsin’s sirens rang out three times.