Now the rest of the human race was discovering how well he had been bred.
There were a few perfunctory introductions and such, but not much conversation on the trip in. Mavra immediately realized, though, that Trelig would not be fooled by this motley crew. A two-meter-tall, ruddy-faced, and full-bearded man with bright-blue eyes was definitely not from the Com world of Paradise, where all the people were bisexual, identical, and about two-thirds his height. He was definitely a freighter captain like herself, or a barbarian from the newer settled worlds. Eight males and six females—she thought; with two it was hard to tell—all there more to get information than to be overawed.
The New Harmony stewards walked down the aisle, collecting pistols. They explained that each of them would be further screened for weapons before disembarking and suggested that surrendering all of them now would save later embarrassment.
Mavra handed in her pistol; the weapons she really counted on had passed every scanner she’d ever tried. If they hadn’t, she wouldn’t have them with her now. Landing on New Pompeii, she found she had been right. She walked boldly through the scanner, and it didn’t paralyze her, as it did to two of the others carrying concealed broken-down pistols and knives.
Finally they were all cleared, and Mavra looked around.
The small spaceport was designed for two ships such as this one; there was another in port, almost certainly Trelig’s private craft. Guards and scanners were all over, but she expected that. Her mission didn’t look impossible.
She could use some help from the others, she knew, but dared not enlist them for the same reason they couldn’t use her. It was highly probable that at least one, maybe more, was an Antor Trelig plant.
No luggage was off-loaded; none had been allowed. Trelig would provide, he’d said, and he limited what anyone could carry in the process.
The man himself stood there to greet them—tall, much taller than the New Harmonites, a giant-sized, muscular, exceedingly handsome version of the model. He wore flowing white robes and, with his very long hair, looked like an angel.
“Welcome! Welcome! Dear friends!” he called in that now famous orator’s voice. He’d paid good money for it, and he’d gotten value received. He then greeted each in turn, by name, and kissed their hands in the universal formal ritual of greeting. When he took Mavra’s his bushy eyebrows, another departure from the New Harmony model, went up.
“Such amazing fingernails!” he exclaimed. “My dear, you resemble a sexy cat.”
“Oh?” she replied, not disguising her contempt. “I thought you killed all the cats on New Harmony.”
He grinned wickedly, and went on. When all had been greeted he led them out of the small, plush terminal. The sight was stunning. First, it was green—exceptionally green, a garden of tall but carefully manicured grass. To their left was a great forest that seemed to go off to the seemingly nearby horizon; to their right, small hills covered with brightly colored trees and flowers. And in the center, perhaps five hundred meters away, was a city the likes of which they’d never seen.
A hill dominated the scene; atop its grassy slopes was a tall building made of polished marble. It was enormous, like an amphitheater or temple. Below, at the hill’s base, stood stylish buildings of an ancient model, also of marble, with huge Roman columns supporting great roofs that were decorated with mythological sculptures cut into the stone. Each had great marble steps going up to its entrance, and some were open enough that the visitors could observe spacious interior plazas festooned with living flowers and great statuary and decorated with fountains at their centers. The central building had a dome and the longest and grandest staircase. Trelig led them to it.
“I allow as little technology as is practical here,” he explained as they walked. “The servants are humans, the food and drink is hand-prepared, and in some cases hand-harvested. No powered vehicles. I make some concessions, of course, such as the lighting, and the whole world is climate-controlled and maintained under the plasma dome and air pumps, but we like to keep the feeling rustic.”
They found no difficulty with the walk or with the stairs; the.7 gravity made them all feel great, almost as if they could fly, and they weren’t as tired at the exercise as they would be walking a kilometer on a one-G world.
Inside the main building was a great hall. A real oak table had been opulently set; it was low to the ground, and they would sit on padded and soft fur-covered cushions when eating. Below the table area was a slightly sunken wooden polished floor, like a dance floor, and the whole area was circled by great marble columns. Between the columns were stretched silken hangings, apparently in strips. They blocked the view, though.
Mavra looked up and saw that the dome had a complex mosaic design inside. Lighting was adequate—although the hall was somewhat dim except in the area of the polished floor—but so indirect that it was impossible to tell its source.
Trelig seated them all, and took his own place at the head of the table. Fancy fruit cups were set in front of each place, real fruit, they all noted. Other exotic fruits decorated the tables—kumquats, oranges, pineapples. Many poked gingerly at the fruit with their chopsticks; most had never had the real thing before.
“Try the wine,” their host urged. “Real stuff, with alcohol. We have our own vineyards here and turn out some pretty good stuff.”
And it was good, far better than the synthetics they’d all been raised on. Mavra picked at the fruit. Raised on synthetics, she preferred them to the real thing. The wine, though, was excellent. Such stuff was generally available, but usually priced far out of reach for most people.
Trelig clapped his hands, and four women appeared. They were all tanned and dark-haired, but otherwise distinctly different, certainly products of worlds other than New Harmony. They were all longhaired, wore heavy cosmetics, and were also heavily perfumed. They were also barefoot, and dressed only in filmy, single-piece dresses of unfamiliar but obviously ancient design. You could almost see right through them.
They cleared away the fruit cups and wine glasses with efficiency, not glancing directly at anyone at the table or saying a word. No sooner did they disappear beyond the curtains than other women, behaving with the same glassy-eyed efficiency, appeared carrying perfectly balanced silver trays on their heads.
“Disgusting,” Mavra heard a man near her snarl. “Human beings waiting on other human beings when robots can do the job.”
Most nodded slightly in agreement, although she wondered how many of the visitors were Comworlder politicians with whole worlds of slaves.
The performance continued throughout the meal, each course being perfectly timed. Wine was supplied in great variety and quantity, and never was a glass allowed to remain empty. The women performed as if they were machines. Mavra counted eight distinct serving girls, and who knew how many others supplied them out of sight beyond the curtain.
The meal was strange, exotic, and exceptionally good, although Mavra was filled after the second course and several others quit along the way. The bearded man wolfed down the food, though, and Trelig took some of each course.
Afterward, he showed them how the cushions unfolded into recliners, and they relaxed, with more wine and snacks, while a small circus of musicians and jugglers performed in the lit wooden floor area. The festivities went on for some time, and the evening was enjoyable. Trelig knew how to throw one hell of a banquet.