Part 12

Du’Fairosay

Mario Agana, personal assistant to Petrus Desailly, looked at the clock on the bottom of his terminal screen and noted with a sigh that it was already twenty to eleven. He glared at the flashing reminders and the reminders, not cowed, gazed back unperturbed. ‘Maybe he’ll be late,’ he thought, hopefully. He knew he wouldn’t be.

Agana had worked for Desailly for a little less than a year, about the time it took for people to stop saying how impressive it was he had got the job and start to watch to see what he would do next. Not that there was any doubt about that, of course. He had it all planned out. He often said he couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t wanted to be in politics, and it was almost true.

When he was very small, he’d wanted to be a gardener, following old Nũno through the damp green fronds of his grandfather’s garden in Santana like an acolyte, but he’d soon grown out of that. Politics was in his blood, handed down like the name from his grandfather, who’d been Santana’s mayor for twenty years, and a long-dead ancestor who once, back on Terra, had been a president. The ancestor’s picture had hung on the wall in the dining room, the features disappeared into black mold, and little Mario had replaced them in his mind with his own. He knew what he wanted.

He’d known what he wanted when he was sent away to school in Airdrossa, known it with such certainty he had hardly even cried. He’d known it when he’d got into Santa Maria college, the best on the planet, and when he’d graduated sixth in his year and persuaded his mother to fund him making tea for no pay in the agriculture office, to learn. And when he and his best friend Damien had gone for the same job in Desailly’s private office, he’d heard himself mention in crisp clear tones to his interview panel how Damien had a problem with drink and a loose tongue with prostitutes and he’d known it then, as well.

He hadn’t seen Damien for years, he was probably still there, making the tea. You had to choose your friends for the job you wanted, not the job you had. It wasn’t very moral, maybe, but everyone knew that morals didn’t really come into it. He hadn’t been back to Santana either, his mother guilt-tripped him about her advancing age every time he made his duty call. Since it had been Sept Karne’s home town, it didn’t do to remind people of the connection.

Sometimes, waking to a clear Airdrossa sky, his bones would remember warm wet air lying on skin like a flannel, pink flowers pushing through the slats across the window and insects calling to each other through the garden, but that was all. His secretaries complained that he kept his office too hot when it was raining, but he had excised the south-western sibilance from his voice at school long ago. Now he spoke in the dry tones of the professional everywhere on the continent, shaded at important moments like everyone else’s with Desailly’s Chaireddan twang.

The communicator on his desk buzzed and he flicked it on.

‘Yes?’

‘Mr. Agana,’ his current secretary, Adéla, announced. ‘He’s here.’

Ten minutes early. ‘I could really do without this, this morning,’ he said, resigned, and she giggled. ‘Shall I tell him to walk round the corner and back?’

‘Tempting…but no, better not. Show him up, gorgeous.’

‘Charmer.’ She giggled again. ‘Anything for you.’

He sat scratching the side of his hand, until he noticed and slapped his other hand down flat on the desk. It was absurd to be nervous, excited. He had seen aliens before, plenty of them, he had seen the Chi!me Ambassador and the special envoy more times than he could count. It didn’t do to be at a disadvantage, the alien would have met plenty of Terrans, after all. The alien had probably been meeting Terrans all his life, and if he, Mario, had never actually met a Chi!me in his turn, he didn’t have to show it. There was a knock at the door and Adéla swayed in. She held the door open with her hips and let the alien walk past her. ‘Du’Fairosay,’ she said with a show of indifference. ‘I’m just going to get him a drink.’

‘No, thank you. I don’t want anything.’

It spoke Terran perfectly, a little high-pitched, but otherwise with hardly a trace of accent, cool and clipped. Typical, Agana thought. ‘Thank you, Adéla,’ he said. She tossed her head and let the door bang at her departure.

The alien sat down and looked at him. The blue skin was disconcerting but only that; only slightly different, like paint that someone might put on for a party. The eyes were worse, dark and closed so that you couldn’t tell what it was thinking, or if there was anyone behind there to think at all.

‘Agana, right?’ it said. ‘Du’Fairosay. Pleased to meet you.’ It held out a hand, as it did it every day. Agana took it. It felt light and slightly dry, like his own.

‘Shall we get on? We’ve got a lot to get through.’

The tone was efficient, with an energy driving behind the words that was immediately, reflexively familiar.

‘Sure,’ Agana said.

‘I understand you have the location of the meeting confirmed?’

‘Yes, that’s right. My secretary has recorded the directions for you, no doubt you’ll want to check them yourself…’

‘Of course, but if in the meantime you had a map?’

‘You’re sitting at it.’ Agana permitted himself a slight smirk. That would give the alien something to think about. They might not be Chi!me, but they were not exactly Jeba, either. He passed his hand lightly over the surface of the desk and the contours of Benan Ty sprung faintly glittering into 3D life under his palm. The alien gazed at it. Agana could almost believe he looked impressed.

‘As you know,’ he went on, gesturing with one finger, ‘the meeting place is here, at a place called Cairn Fields. See it? In the south of North Province, east of Chaireddan but south of Ultima. I know it’s as far south as ViaVera would agree to come, but it’s not too bad from our point of view. You’ll note it’s directly north of Biterra, and there’s a good road running almost all the way. It will make travelling much easier. It’s a good choice.’

‘We do our research. I assume you’ve started the checks of the field?’

‘I’ve had people crawling all over that field and the village for the past two weeks. I promise you, by the time of the meeting there won’t be a gnat on a fern that I won’t know the business of.’ Du’Fairosay smiled. Agana added, ‘Seriously, I can personally guarantee that there are no booby traps in that field. It’s clean.’

‘Good. The Ambassador will be pleased to hear it. Now, about transport…’

‘Well, the heavy stuff, the tents, tables, equipment and so on, that can all be taken up ahead of time. Like I said, we’ve got a crew up there now round the clock, so there’s no problem with setting things up early. That way, the dignitaries can travel light and have an easier trip.’

‘About how long will it take?’

‘To get to Cairn? Well, it’s not as quick as if we’d been able to use aircraft, but of course we had to agree a no-fly zone with ViaVera, so that’s out. But, as I said, there’s a good road from Biterra almost all the way, and there’ll be a tube laid on to Biterra, so it shouldn’t be more than the best part of a day. We thought the Ambassador would travel up with the Presidential party on the day before the meeting, if that is acceptable? The tents are very comfortable, and they’ll want to be rested. Of course, if she wants to make other arrangements I can…’

‘No, that’s fine. The Ambassador will be delighted to accompany them.’

‘And of course there will be the usual press corps with the party. As far as I know there are no journalists embedded with ViaVera, but you never know. I would suggest that the ceremonial handshake for the screen is at the end, not at the beginning of the meeting though, we really don’t know how amenable ViaVera are going to be to anything.’

‘I agree. But I’m not sure about the presence of reporters. I’ve seen your press and I have to say, I am not impressed. It won’t do anyone any good if they dress up the whole meeting, or denigrate it just to feed the people’s appetites for scandal.’ His voice took on a faintly lofty air. ‘At UP, we would issue our own report to the broadcasters, we would never let them compose it.’

Agana allowed himself a smirk. ‘Ah, but you misunderstand the relationship of the government and the press. It’s true we can’t issue our own statements, we have to allow them to say what they want to say, but you can be assured that all the reporters who travel with us will want to show and say exactly what we would want them to show and say, no more and no less, entirely of their own volition. It’s a little thing we call influence. You should try it.’

‘Thanks, I think I’ll leave it to the experts.’ Du’Fairosay smiled drily. ‘But, if you can confirm that there will be no negative coverage I’ll accept the reporters have to come along. I suppose your people have to hear about it somehow.’

‘Exactly, and we have nothing to hide except whatever we want to hide, which they will do for us automatically. Neat, huh?

‘Now, about security. We’ve agreed that there will only be ten personnel per side in the meeting itself, and they will not be armed. As you know, the security is to be provided by neutral guards hired for the occasion, and I understand that your envoy’s office is dealing with that side of things?’ Du’Fairosay waved his hand in assent.

‘Now, our intelligence is that there is unlikely to be a problem in the meeting itself, since both sides will be disarmed and both will have their most important people there, although we will have the security guards keep a cordon around the field just to be sure. We think any problem will come either before or after. Obviously the security of the party travelling will be handled by the President’s guards, but I assume that the Ambassador will also want a squad of personal guards, both for the journey and the meeting? I can arrange for six of our best – ’

‘No.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘The Ambassador will not require a Ty bodyguard. We will arrange our own security.’

Agana stared at Du’Fairosay in puzzlement. ‘Well, you can, of course,’ he began, ‘but wouldn’t it be better…’

‘I have had experience of Ty security, when I hired Ty bodyguards for the Ambassador and she was nearly killed when they ran away under fire. In the streets of Airdrossa, in broad daylight, while she was returning from seeing Desailly! I do not intend to repeat the mistake. The Ambassador’s security will be provided by Chi!me guards.’

‘Well, of course, that incident was most regrettable and those responsible have been disciplined…’ He was mumbling. He pulled himself up, took a breath. ‘But you have the right to arrange any security you choose, of course. That will be no problem. If you let me know how many guards the Ambassador will be bringing, I will arrange the seating on the train accordingly and let you have the passes.’

Du’Fairosay looked gracious. ‘Thank you. Now, about armaments, I understand there might be a problem?’

Agana rolled his eyes. ‘You could say that,’ he said, rueful. ‘The idiots down at Espada, they’ve had the order for the new carriers for months and they leave it till now to tell us they won’t be ready. Programming problems, they say. They didn’t even have the courtesy to let us know, I had to call them for the delivery date before I found out. It’s not a problem, of course, we have plenty of older stock we can use, but we did want everything to be the best.’

‘So in fact the answer might be not to use Espada at all?’ It was said straight-faced, but the intent was clear. Agana permitted himself a short laugh.

‘Against Espada I cannot possibly comment,’ he said. ‘But if you have a suggestion, I’d be glad to hear it.’

‘I think,’ Du’Fairosay said slowly, ‘that you will find yourselves more than adequately equipped with Chi!me carriers in time for the meeting, and blasters too. Call it a little gift in recognition of friendship.’

‘Really? That’s marvelous, I mean, it would really…does the President know?’

‘I haven’t told Mr. Desailly yet. I thought I would leave that to you. Credit where credit is deserved, after all, I know that doesn’t come too often.’

‘And that’s the truth.’ Agana looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly lunchtime. Shall I call Adéla for something to eat?’

‘Won’t she be busy?’

‘You’ve obviously never had your own secretary. You, my friend, are important. She’s probably listening right outside. Watch. Adéla!’ he called, raising his voice. On cue, the door swung immediately open.

They looked at each other, suppressing laughter, across the table. The lights from the map danced over their faces, brown and blue, casting the skin into shadow so that from where Adéla stood in the doorway, they looked exactly alike.