Trekmaster. James B. Johnson
mother and son were tall, though TJ must have contributed some height to Michale; both stood and sat straight; rounded faces, ovals contrasting TJ’s occluded but sharper visage. And unlike the King’s, their noses fit their faces. Gwen’s hair seemed prematurely silver, Michale’s still thick and dark, curls hanging over his forehead.
LETS GET ON WITH IT! she screamed silently. She’d practiced this presentation all the way to Bear Ridge and she was becoming flustered.
The Chief Padre gave her a sour smile. He sat at the foot of the table, chair turned so that he could watch her presentation. A Catholic planet, her data base had told her, but she was not entirely certain whether this was a significant fact or not.
She avoided looking at the man in black, the man with the eye patch and the sword? knife? scars upon his face.
The jester slouched in the corner near her. The King had introduced everyone formally and, regardless of her mnemonic training, she couldn’t remember all of them; but with time, she’d get to know them. She didn’t understand why Prince Michale seemed unhappy and she did understand why the Chief Padre seemed unhappy. The Profane King? Or was there more to the Chief Padre’s discontent?
The King nodded and the room fell silent. He smiled at her. “Miz Gold?” Apparently he felt there was no need to formally introduce her to the assembly.
She decided to eliminate the formal introductory remarks that she’d copied out of the Federation Etiquette data base. She cleared her mind.
“Your Majesty,” she said, “as the Envoy of the Federation of Planets, it is my task to evaluate the planet of Bear Ridge and its people, and specifically its governmental structure to determine whether it meets the criteria for entrance to the Federation of Planets. The application by Thomas Jefferson Shepherd Rex to the Federation Council was well received, and thus Bear Ridge has been placed on a list of possible entrants. As you know, the Council sits for ten Federation standard years as constituted without membership change or addition of other planets—and the beginning of that session is not far off.”
As the King nodded agreement with her words, she knew the time compression factor weighed heavily on his mind. “We’re all familiar with this introductory stuff,” the King said in a tone of dismissal. “Who are we up against?” He looked around the room. “I’m not going to wait ten years and go through this test again just to get generated power and indoor plumbing.” He received a polite laugh. An expression of pain streaked across Prince Michale’s face.
Sharon stared at the King, wanting to repay his impatience with a tart word. Diplomatic? Hardly, but—blast it! She’d really practiced her presentation. And on another level she was fighting a growing attraction to this demanding man. He was pushing her, testing her. She simply stared at him. She could hold her own with men, people trying to push her. Had this man grown up in adversity? No, he’d been born to royalty. She had grown up in an Israeli refugee camp in a stinking valley edged off the Shan plateau in Burma country. A tributary of the Salween River was the only running water they had. The daughter of a Burmese general out of favor because he’d married an anglo-jewess. She squared her shoulders.
“Who are we up against?” the King asked again.
“Your Highness, only a dozen planets have been re-contacted this session, and not all of those are far enough advanced to meet the criteria yet. The wars of the Rollback struck when Earthe was stretched too thin, colonizing planets faster than they could plan for and almost faster than they could logistically support.”
“Almost as if they knew the Rollback was coming,” the King finished for her. “Who’s against us?”
“Eight planets have been evaluated thus far,” she said, “seven have failed.”
“You don’t really want to tell me, do you?” the King said, drawing himself straighter. “Lookit here, girl, I know there is only one slot open for the next Fed Council session. I want it. They can play their politics and do whatever the hell they want with their damned slots, but I want my planet admitted, and I want all the modern technologies here and here damn quick. I want aircars, indoor plumbing, air conditioning, instant communications....” He looked about and obviously realized that everyone in the room had heard it all before. Sharon simply watched and listened. “Okay, okay,” he said. “They are going to dilute their Council strength only by one this time. I want to be that one. I don’t want Bear Ridge to have to wait ten more years for TODAY to arrive. No contact for ten more years? Think of the diseases that could be conquered in that time, think of....” He hesitated. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
The Queen Mother nodded enthusiastically and Sharon felt an immediate liking for the old woman. She had the same craggy face the King must have under his beard. But there was something tough and smiling underneath Felicia’s put-down of her son. Entry to the Federation was as important to Felicia as it was to the King. Sharon did not agree with the Federation “hands-off” or quarantine of planets not yet admitted, but as part of that organization, she had to support the policy.
The King was still staring directly at Sharon and she felt antagonism rise in her, displacing the attraction she’d felt earlier. He was challenging her.
“If Bear Ridge passes my evaluation, you are up against only one other possible entrant to the Federation Council, Sire.”
“Which one?”
Sharon hesitated. Should she answer? She didn’t think it was required and wasn’t covered in her instructions. And since this was her first major assignment, she was unfamiliar with the form. The King continued to stare at her.
“Two Tongues.” There, she had said it.
“Tirano?” demanded the King, naming the ruler of Two Tongues.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Christ.”
The Chief Padre frowned.
“Christ,” the King said again as if to upset the priest. “Two Tongues is technologically more advanced than we are,” he pointed out, his voice sounding depressed.
Sharon sensed his disappointment. She also thought there might be more to his anger about Two Tongues than met the eye. “One seat, Your Majesty. Two potential applicants. Those odds are not bad.”
“Tyrannical Tirano? Tyrannosaurus Rex? That lard-ass, son of a....”
Felicia cleared her throat.
The King of the planet of Bear Ridge looked guilty, shook his head and stopped. Everyone else in the room seemed to be inspecting either the ceiling or the floor. The Prince shook his head and made a disapproving, dour face at his father.
“You know Tirano?” Sharon asked, curiosity overcoming diplomatic caution. Two Tongues was in this solar system, a rarity for two habitable planets to be located in the same system. But with only horsepower on Bear Ridge, how could...?
“Yeah,” said the King. “Met him a couple of times. Fed sponsored conferences, here, on Two Tongues, at Fed-central.”
Sharon failed to understand the animosity about Tirano. “May I continue?” Her voice came out more haughty than she’d intended.
“Sure, go ahead.”
“How I make the evaluations is all organized. By checklist. I shall observe, I shall investigate, I shall interview. There are certain mandatory requirements for entry to the Federation that must be met. For example, I must personally review everything about your military and observe a series of predetermined, complicated maneuvers. I must go through each governmental department to insure Bear Ridge is sound and able to adapt to Federation organization and regulations—if admitted.”
“Besides all that,” TJ interrupted again, “do you foresee any special problems?” He’d changed from his ruined formal court garb into a simple, almost military, sky-blue tunic which was reflected in his gray eyes.
“The mysterious inhabitants,” she said.
The