Martyn was glad to be on his own in a strange human settlement. He enjoyed Lucky’s company. She was the only human he had ever spent a significant length of time with by himself. While he had taken part in a number of interrogations and consulted on other communications this was his first field assignment and it was exciting. It was that, rather than any feelings he had toward the woman, that filled him with happiness. The only thing that clouded his bliss was the idea of visiting the consul.
Perhaps it was something in the personality of the few Vregonians like him that had been chosen as students of human culture, but he found himself not liking his own people very much. He would defend them to the death of course, metaphorically speaking, and would trust them over the humans’ every time, that went without saying. Truly enjoying their company though was a different matter. He supposed that the immersion training he had received from his earliest days was also to blame.
Even if those factors didn’t weigh in to the equation paying homage to the consul was something to dread. The misfits that they sent to posts like this were almost always unpleasant or so he had heard. Anyone willing to be so cut off from the rest of their people could hardly be any different. The irony of that thought wasn’t completely lost on him. At least he wasn’t doomed to the banishment, self imposed or by legal fiat, that some of these so called consuls were. No, he could come and go from one world to the other as he had between water and air for his first few years of life.
The humans that worked with the consul, if there were even any that payed him any heed, probably didn’t even realize that he wasn’t much more than an outcast. They probably also wouldn’t understand the social pressure that was placed on someone like Martyn to go and see him anyway. If it weren’t for their cover story, truthfully, Martyn would probably skipped the visit no matter how wicked that might seem to prior generations. One thing humans did get right, a thing he admired them for, was their rugged individuality. Lucky couldn’t possibly know the pressure he was under to fall in line.
He had looked in to the life of this particular consul before setting foot on Bifrost. Sid was a real rotten egg, a religious zealot. The belief system he represented, though bits of it were valuable to the collective, was painfully out of date and insulting. One things humans did get right, perhaps the only thing and even that a little overblown, was the philosophy that the individual was the pinnacle of society. That was going too far, naturally. It was almost as bad as what he was likely about to hear from his fellow Vregonian. Still, at least the humans erred on the right side. The truly sad thing though was that their current ruling council was on board with this slop, at least in word if not deed. It had been toned down for the general populace, but many of the council still worried about what the Mind would think. That representative of their collective unconscious couldn’t think its way over a stump, but you couldn’t tell that to most.
He was nearly oblivious to the humans around him. Most of them had seen a Vregonian, but there will still gawkers since one or two was all most had seen. Before docking Martyn checked the public station net and knew the layout of the place. He knew where he would find the consulate and his feet took him there without error. Even off planet there was an acute sense of his surroundings and an innate direction sense that carried over from some migratory ancestor. Much like the humans he admired, his own species came from a prey animal that developed higher brain functions to survive. They travelled more in groups than the humans though and from that was born this group mind that many of his people still clung to with a religious fervor. The link to one another was once incredibly strong. Nurturing that dormant ability now that they had advanced so far, climbed into the very stars, seemed a step backwards. Still it was that, as much as any map, that drew him to his fellow.
The house that he arrived at was much like the ones on either side, low and beige with curtained windows. There was no marker to indicate that the beings that lived there weren’t humans except for a metal sculpture hanging from the doorpost. To a human’s eye it was almost amorphous, swirls of some malleable element. There were subtle colors present, but in the shifted spectrum that Martyn could see a pattern popped out. The whole was representative not only of the mind, but of the primordial soup that they had come from. There was a lot of cultural baggage tied up in it and even he wasn’t completely immune. He stopped up to it and tapped each piece once. It produced a resonance that again was so subtle any human would miss it. His host’s species were certainly gifted with a finer sense of smell and touch than his but they had their own advantages.
Satisfied that his presence had been made known, he waited. After a few moments the door opened. Martyn was more than a little shocked by what greeted him. The being was almost a full meter taller than he was and had green, heavily mottled skin and a broad head. It was a member of their warrior class and judging by his skin and stance, a very old member indeed. He wore the gray body sleeve that most of his class wore under their armor. There were no weapons present that he could see, but that meant little. In any case he could easily break Martyn in half bare handed.
The behemoth blinked slowly, stupidly. His movement were sluggish and he hesitated before speaking. “Welcome to this house.”
The formal greeting was in their own tongue and the fetid breath was tinged with alcohol. Martyn crossed his arms, palms outward at shoulder height. “I come in peace.” He returned the formal response. “I come seeking Faiwu. Is he within?” The human syllables nearly tripped over his tongue mixed in with those of his native language. He didn’t know the consul’s birth name.
“He is. You may enter.” He moved back, opening the door wide enough so that Martyn could come in. “I am Lowmaster.” He continued in their native language, but also gave his human name. “You have not given your own.”
Minor annoyance flashed thorough Martyn. To be reminded of a simple breech of protocol by what was no doubt a piece of flotsam washed up here on this station was a nuisance, but a stinging one. “Martyn. Martyn Darkly.” He entered the house. It smelled of home and not artificial scents either at least not so he could tell. The deep, complex smell of rot and standing water was comforting after the canned air on the ship. The anteroom that he now stood in was much more humid than anywhere else he had been recently. It was as close as the station could provide for them to their own atmosphere. The floor covering simulated damp, loamy soil. He removed his boots and let his feet squish. It was relaxing.
“Wait here.” Lowmaster extended a hand for him to stay put. A door slid open into a much darker room beyond where the smells and moisture were even more intense. That was promising and at the same time off putting. It would be enjoyable to fee so at hime, but it meant that Fiawu was not integrated into his host’s environment. That struck him as more than a little rude. It also meant that the consul might be even more seperationist than he read.
After two minutes the door reopened. Lowmaster stood there blocking the way. “You must remove the synthetics. Only then can you enter.”
Martyn bared his mouth ridge in annoyance, but did as he was told. He removed the khaki suit careful to hang it so that none of the contents of his pockets would come out. Now completely naked and weaponless, Martyn moved through the door. It was dark beyond, even by their standards. He could see well enough to avoid bumping into any walls and completed the complex maze of halls that seemed odd and pointless. Finally, Lowmaster lead him through a door and into another small room. It was done like his great grandparents’ bungalow, reed flooring and low wooden furniture with a low domed ceiling over all. At the center of the dimly lit room sat the holy one, or so Martyn’s elders would have called him.
The source of the light was an artificial fire just a meter in front of Faiwu’s chair. Four others surrounded it. The small black and red amphibioid gestured for Martyn to take one. “Welcome to my home. Please join me in the sacred space.”
It was like he had stepped back over four thousand years. Nothing here was artificial or so it seemed. For everything to be truly natural would be difficult and expensive. That would be in character for one like Faiwu. He wouldn’t even tolerate artificial clothing in this ‘church’. Vregonian’s really didn’t have anything like a religion. They worshipped no gods like the humans. Perhaps in the dimmest recesses of their history they did, but this wasn’t about a higher being. It was about the potential of the many becoming one being.
Respecting the wishes of his host, Martyn took a sit across and to the right. Lowmaster took the similar position to his left. Martyn tilted his head sideways. “My thanks for your welcome. I will only be here for a few days, but I wanted to give you my respects.” He brought no gifts. That was a human tradition he was fascinated by. They didn’t al do it, but it seemed to him that humans didn’t believe that someone could provide for themselves. That was the message a gift of any sort communicated to his people.
“What brings you here Martyn?” Faiwu continued to look into the reddish light source.
“I am with a human. She and I escaped our security forces and together we came here. We are business partners.”
Fiawu looked up. “You add your work to a human’s? What is the point of that?”
“I needed a contact among her people. She and I were in the same cell. It was expedient.” Most older Vregonians believed that humans were non-entities. They simply hadn’t evolved to the place where they were anything worthy of consideration. If it weren’t for the other sentients in the galaxy or for the danger that some said humans represented they would have simply ignored them. Martyn didn’t agree, recognizing some worth in the odd looking species.
“Interesting.” The warrior Lowmaster rumbled. “And now that you are here will you still work with her?”
“So long as she is useful.”
Lowmaster let out a long low groan, a thoughtful sound. “Well, if you need information on anything about this settlement, you only have to ask. If that will relieve you of your burden. The humans think I am as one of their drunkards.”
That explained the alcohol smell. Vregonians couldn’t actually metabolize it and it had no effect on them. Humans likely didn’t know that. He looked over. “I thank you Lowaster. That may be useful.” Humans tended to ignore things they didn’t understand, even more so if they thought they did. “At the moment we are looking for a job. I need funds since I was unable to acquire them prior to our escape.”
“What crime did you commit?” The question came from the consul.
This would be a little tricky. Crimes against a human would be considered no problem. You couldn’t really commit a crime against a non-person. Any crime against his own people may bruise the relationship he wanted to build here. It could be useful, especially if Lowmaster had overheard anything about the shipment of eggs. “A brother and I conspired to collect an excess tax on trade between us and some human settlements. We would keep the difference.” That wasn’t a very severe crime against his own people. Most of the harm would be on the humans and it didn’t ultimately harm their own. Still it was likely that the more modern government would treat it as a crime since it would harm long term trade agreements.
Faiwu looked disappointed. “Ahhh greed. It would seem that this has become our peoples greatest sin. We mar the face of our great mind with it. We want everything that our technology can bring us.”
Martyn interrupted. “No disrespect intended sir, but what is the point of having all of these things if we aren’t to use them. Your house is no thatched hut from one of our home worlds and yet here you have all of the comforts you could possibly desire. It is as though you never left home.” The sort of backwards thinking Faiwu was displaying was ultimately more harmful than any petty greed. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed himself and his words bore from that seed. “Not that you left home precisely. If you are here then surely it’s because whatever ’sin’ you committed was no less egregious than my own?”
The larger one began to rise, seeming to grab for a weapon that wasn’t there.
Faiwu raised a hand. “Be at ease Lowmaster. He is right in a way. We three are here not of our own free will. We have been sent here and must make the best of things.”
Lowmaster took his place again but shot a warning look at Martyn.
“I agree.” Martyn nodded his head in the human gesture. “And as I said, I mean no offense. I want my time here to be pleasant and my time with you two mutually rewarding. I don’t know how long I will be here or what is in store for me.” He paused. “In fact I am hoping perhaps you can help me with that.”
Faiwu leaned backwards. “I am listening. I would be glad to help a brother with any problem he may have.”
That was one bonus of working with someone who believed as Faiwu did. When he called Martyn a brother it wasn’t in that way that humans seemed to use. While there was not doubt a significant amount of separation between them genetically, he did genuinely view anyone of his species as a brother and extended a certain level of trust that humans would find hard to extend to a complete stranger. Martyn felt no similar compulsion. He didn’t really trust Faiwu or Lowmaster, but could mimic the ancient customs well enough and take advantage of them.
“Good. You see the human I am working with was arrested for being in charge of a shipment of some of our eggs.”
Lowmaster hissed violently and Faiwu grimaced. Imagining the fates of a large number of their people in the hands of the clumsy humans was unsettling to say the least.
“Patience my friends, patience. I too was angry at her until I realized that she had no knowledge of the shipment. She did not know what she was guarding. The law makers of course did not trust her word and there was talk of sentencing her to death.” There was no death penalty for Vregonians themselves. The did occasionally carry it out against other sentients. This was a bit of a problem with their allies so they tended to keep it quiet. It was only used in the most extreme cases though and smuggling eggs could qualify.
“That is why we felt it necessary to escape. She is seeking those who were behind this smuggling operation and bring them to justice. Personally I don’t think she will be able to do this on her own and it is a worthy goal to seek the persons behind it, so I will help her. In the meantime we are both also looking for meaningful work. Anything you could do for us in either arena would be useful.” He stopped and looked back and forth between the two, gauging their reactions.
“You are very trusting of this human. Why?” Faiwu looked puzzled.
“Ah, well you see I was trained to be an agent for the Collective and as such am a good judge of their character and whether or not they are lying.”
Lowmaster rumbled. “And yet you use this training to deceive the very ones you are sent to work with? I do not understand this. It seems a breach of trust.”
Martyn felt some pity for the large warrior. They weren’t widely known for their intelligence or quick thinking, outside of a battlefield at least. “Sometimes my work called for deceit. it is the way of things. You understand how to use the blades or massive energy catapults that your calling leads you to master. This is simply one of mine.
Lowmaster nodded slowly, seeming to understand.
“It all serves the ultimate purpose of those I once worked for. Unfortunately they did not see my activities in that light and I lost my status as an agent when I was put in jail.” No such thing was likely to happen. Losing your status as an agent was difficult at best. You almost had to kill the wrong person to do so and there weren’t that many wrong people. The Collective was such a large and convoluted organization by its very nature that even its own higher ups didn’t entirely understand its purpose, much less all of its by laws. Every agent he knew and there weren’t that many he knew, used that to their advantage. That and the number of missions and agents made identifying his fellow operatives difficult to say the least which was why even killing a fellow wasn’t an act that would get you much more than a stern reprimand.
“Well, if it is a job you are seeking I do not think we can be of much help. We both have our contacts here but very little in the way of pull.”
Martyn cocked his head in submission. “I know. It must be difficult here for you.” He sympathized with the consul. As much as he disagreed with his worldview it couldn’t be easy living in the midst of this artificiality, cut off from his kin. “You must feel so disconnected.”
“No. No not at all.” He gestured at the room. “I have all of my needs met. And I am very much connected with the mind. Our ancestors and my connection with them knows no physical boundary.”
Martyn nodded again. It wasn’t a spiritual phenomenon. Even the consul didn’t believe in life after death as some humans still did. It was the wealth of experience passed down through teaching and genetics that he spoke of. But there was something more, a component too esoteric to be passed around outside of the true believers that was almost that ethereal. “Well as I said, whatever help you can give would be appreciated.”
The big one shifted in his seat. Martyn looked over at him. Lowmaster was as old as Faiwu, that was certain. Both were well into their second century at least. The warrior caste was far more pragmatic than most others and as a result, since there weren’t many large wars they had to fight, they had become more bureaucratic. Sitting on this station with only Faiwu for company was grating on him. Martyn needed to find out why he was here and leverage that. It could only be done in private though, it would seem.
Martyn stood. “I hate to leave, but I have some other business to attend to.” It was slight breech of social protocol. The whole meeting had been rushed, that was certain.
Faiwu stood as well. “Nonsense. You should stay. Have supper with us. I can only provide an approximation of a real meal for you, but it’s the least…”
“No, I’m truly sorry. I must go.” They would chalk it up to his youthful carelessness That was true, as far as it went. He didn’t want them to think him completely without manners. That might reduce their level of helpfulness. Still they were somewhat hostage to him, since as he said he was free to come and go, criminal or not. His exile was self imposed. He could use that and planned to.
Lowmaster saw him back out and as Martyn dressed, he spoke. “So, general, why are you on this outpost?” The question was abrupt and presumptuous.
The bulky militarist looked down on him with the equivalent of a smirk. “You are a brash one. I will answer your question though. I ran in to one such as you on a mission. I determined that he was standing in the way of the betterment of our species and I snapped his neck like a rotten branch.” There was no subtlety in that message.
It took Martyn aback, though he worked hard not to show it. “Ordinarily that would not end in a banishment.” Martyn was no expert on law an their judges had quite a bit of latitude, but killing someone alone with malice didn’t end in much more than a long imprisonment or perhaps a reprogramming. It sounded like he may have actually had a reason, though a gray one at best.
“He was the brother of an influential politician. It was only thanks to a friend that I got off planet at all. My long term of service to our people made the friend sympathetic.”
“You must miss home?”
The general made a guttural sound, near laughter. “That place has become a cesspool. The word and life of a general means nothing compared to the life of one barely more than a hatchling and a hatchling with poor manners at that.” His dark eyes twinkled. “I have no desire to return. There are other plans though. If you find yourself unable to return home and you find yourself missing the comforts of it, return here and perhaps we can talk about it.”
Other plans? The general didn’t feel a need to elaborate and Martyn was now sufficiently intimidated that he didn’t want to press the issue. “I will. Thank you.” Intrigued by the offer, it was more than a casual dinner invitation, he nodded and turned to the outside door. It was then that he remembered that he didn’t tell them where he was staying. He turned back. “I’ll be at Mae’s Chop House if you need me.”
“We will talk soon.” The general turned and went back through the maze entry, leaving Martyn to help himself out.
