Postscript

On Zargras

On his way upstairs after supper he stopped by his daughter Felia’s room. She was out with her age-mates, re-bonding after half a cycle away on Chi!me Two, and would not be back until late. The night lights shone in over a confusion of half-unpacked trunks; clothes and shoes, discarded, spilling out over the floor. They would have taught her to be as neat as long ago they had taught him, but however well he had done at the school, as soon as he had got home he had strewn his things all over his floor just the same. Cast onto the wall, slightly crooked, was a new picture; a grainy image of a young Terran woman, white-faced beneath dark hair, with an ancient gun. Now ViaVera were gone, Mara Karne was fashionable again.

On the terrace the lights were low, the sinking sun a thin line beneath the clouds on the distant horizon. A fine rain fell, pattering like dust, on the dome above his head. The houses at the edge of the dome were at a premium on Zargras but he had been happy to pay it. It didn’t do, he had always said, to be too cut off from the universe.

It was also the most fashionable district, of course, and that was important too. Even in his position you had to be seen with the right lifestyle, even Felia keeping up with the latest trends was part of that. He was pleased to see she had listened to him. It was strange, how the young responded to Mara Karne, this Terran rebel dead half a galaxy and five cycles ago, but an interest in Benan Ty was always going to be useful these days. He was always careful, but even he should be able to allow himself to feel pleased about Benan Ty. It had gone well, despite the resistance and Ai’Amadi’s long face there was no denying it. They would crush the insurgents, they always did. It was just a matter of time and it needn’t concern him, it was an army matter. He had had some very useful talks with some of the major traders, the business in Airdrossa was booming.

Once they had control, they could open up the rest of the continent, get some of the land under proper cultivation, start using it profitably instead of allowing this foolish peasant agriculture. There was always a better use for peasants; judging by his current housekeeper they could do with some on Zargras. No, he had been right when he had said, cycles ago, that Benan Ty was the true road to Terra. It never did to gloat, but he could enjoy vindication.

There was the question of the Desailly trial, of course, but the longer they left that, the less of an issue it became. Everyone knew Desailly was guilty, there was no need for a performance when they could keep him secure for the moment when they might need him again. He had been a determined man for a Terran, Desailly, but everyone always broke in the end. There was no reason for Ai’Amadi’s doom saying; he was upset about his protégée, that was all, and had to learn a long-overdue lesson about attachment. This doubt he claimed about what had happened to the woman was just silly, as if she might still be wandering about down there, waiting to save or to accuse. She was dead, dead as she was supposed to be from the very first. All the ends were tied.

As he thought that, he realized he had the oddest sense that it was not so, the faintest image of a line flapping free, but that was ridiculous. What else could there be? The rain splashed louder on the dome. He was not going to dwell on it, this unease that must be the product of fatigue, nothing more. He knew there was nothing wrong. He would go down and sit with his terminal for a while, tidy up a little, drop a note to his assistant to check he was still awake. Maybe he would look into a few things, get rid of this absurd worry before it became a habit. Wasn’t there something about some other people who weren’t Terrans, in the mountains? He was never one for details.

He clicked his fingers at the terminal screen. He had a new message from the second representative that he really should answer, three from his assistant that he would have to review, another from a source he didn’t recognize at all that piqued his curiosity. He worked on, immersed, and in the blue hum of the terminal, the thing he was going to check slipped quietly from his mind and disappeared.

***

The lights in the house went off at around midnight, then on briefly again a little later when En’Felia came home. Her voice drifted outside in laughter, doors slid shut, then again there was silence. Over the darkened terrace, beyond the orange-lit dome, on Zargras and Ty, on Chi!me and Jeba the rain went on falling; falling gently, patiently, to the end of the night.