‘But we must get our research findings back to Ziode,’ she insisted.
‘We could try launching a message boat. It probably won’t get far.’
‘Do it anyway. We’ll have the tapes ready in five minutes. After that I want time enough to destroy our records.’
‘I should be able to delay things that long. I’m sorry about all this, Amara, but we really don’t have any choice but to comply.’
‘I know.’ Amara shut off the vidcom and turned to Estru. Even in defeat her look of stubbornness remained.
‘Damn,’ she said. ‘Damn.’
Then she issued the orders which kept the department frantically busy for the next quarter of an hour. Two complete copies of all their findings were made. One went to the launching bay. The other they hid where the Caeanics would be unlikely to find it unless they took the Callan apart rivet by rivet – in which case the record would burn up before it came to light.
Then all records, reports and dissertations contained in the sociological computer were erased.
At last Amara sat back with a sigh, satisfied that the Caeanics would not discover the highly strategic secret of the existence of Sovya. Then she sat suddenly upright, her mouth set.
‘We shall have to destroy Verednyev too.’
‘No! I mean, not yet anyway.’ Estru was disturbed. ‘His background isn’t immediately evident. They won’t learn it unless they interrogate him – in Russian.’
She clenched and unclenched her fist indecisively. ‘They’ll interrogate everybody. It’s too much of a risk.’
‘It wouldn’t be a very nice thing to do,’ he protested, ‘unless we absolutely have to.’
Grudgingly she conceded. ‘We’ll leave it for the moment. I don’t like having to kill him any more than you do. But I want his guards armed and informed of their duty, should it become necessary.’
As the Caeanic officers came aboard the message boat was launched. It was equipped with self-destruct, but this precaution proved superfluous. Before it could even slip into overdrive a pin-point ray shot out from the Caeanic cruiser and vaporized it.
Minutes later the Callan, accompanied by its escort, moved off and headed deeper into the Arm of Tzist.
The Ziodean ship was approaching Inxa, Verrage’s sparkling main city, when Captain Wilce again called Amara’s department. He sounded slightly embarrassed.
‘Captain Grieuard –’ he gestured to a bearded Caeanic standing behind him, just visible on the vidplate – ‘requests that the head of the sociology department joins us on the bridge.’
‘We have no sociology department,’ Amara answered adamantly.
‘It’s no good, Amara. He knows. He seems to know everything except your name.’
‘All right,’ she said, becoming sullen and downcast. ‘I’ll be along presently.’
She cut the connection and spoke furiously to Estru. ‘This is intolerable. We should ram the cruiser and self-destruct.’
‘Don’t start thinking of suicide yet, Amara. Maybe we can still get back to Ziode.’
‘Hmph. I can just see these people ever letting us into the light of the day again.’ She folded her arms across her chest.
‘Well, let’s hang on to our scientific objectivity for a while,’ he said drily. ‘Would you like me to come with you?’
Dumbly she nodded.
Estru had been watching on the vidplate as the Callan glided over Inxa and put down near the centre of the city, which in contrast to the uniformly rectilinear style of Ziodean towns was built on the principle of curving terraces. Clearly the Caeanics displayed in their architecture some of the flair they put into costume. He was put in mind of an aerial whirlpool of frosted colour, a titanic amphitheatre, or a vast swirling orchid.
It was tempting to compare it with some Ziodean city, such as Gridira, also a state capital. Although neither side would ever admit to any similarity in their political institutions, they both followed the system of maintaining several equivalent capital worlds, none having preeminence and each capable of exercising government. The difference was that Caean seemed to have no regular machinery for policy-making. Ziode saw this as a dangerous source of instability and indicative of a lack of self-control. Ziodean propaganda was always warning of ‘the mindless hordes of Caean’.
Estru was surprised to see no sign of activity on the landing ground. He took his eyes from the screen as Amara coughed. She was ready to leave.
On the bridge the four Caeanic officers who were keeping awkward company with Captain Wilce and the bridge crew turned and smiled charmingly at the entry of Amara and Estru. While they were being introduced Amara stared fascinated at their jet-black uniforms, which even to her untrained eye made those worn by Wilce and his men seem shabby and desultory. The Caeanics wore a type of galea, or helmet, which curved closely round the skull and flared outward at the front in a paradigm of the Mintov formula for space strains. The supple lines of tunic and leggings further suggested the relativistic curves and tensors of the void. The whole uniform was a paradigm of deep space. If she let herself gaze at it too long she seemed to be hurling through long black light years, deep into infinity.
Captain Wilce’s voice brought her out of her trance. ‘Captain Grieuard wishes to assure us that his government has no hostile intentions towards us,’ he said stiffly, ‘and hopes we will consider them as hosts, rather than captors.’
‘We have no wish to molest you,’ Captain Grieuard added in heavily accented Ziodean, flashing Amara a dark grin.
‘But you have molested us,’ Amara replied indignantly. ‘You have waylaid us, destroyed one of our boats –’
‘With respect, madam, you were trespassing, ignoring all diplomatic procedures – and have been doing so for some time. Our actions are not unreasonable. But let us not begin on a basis of hostile feeling. If Captain Wilce and yourselves will be so good as to accompany us into Inxa, there are certain personages there who are earnestly desirous of meeting you.’
‘And while we are gone the Callon will be turned inside out,’ she retorted.
Captain Grieuard waved away the idea with an elegantly dismissive hand, pursing his lips in amusement and shaking his head. Amara had to admit that he was disarming – and handsome, and vigorous, and winning. A dashing young officer…
She arrested her train of thought. The space-clad Caeanic spoke again. ‘Take the view that you are making a diplomatic call, even a social call. Those are my instructions.’
‘And afterwards will we be permitted to return to Ziode?’ Amara asked coldly.
Captain Grieuard shrugged.
She took Captain Wilce to one side. ‘A tactfully put piece of coercion, Captain. Still, not quite what we had expected. Are you coming with us?’
‘In the present circumstances my duty is to stay with my ship. If they’ll agree to it I’ll send Second Officer Borg instead.’
‘All right. But what happens if they don’t let us back on board?’
‘Let’s be realistic, Amara. We always knew this might happen. We are entirely in their hands. Just see what pressure you can exert on whoever it is you’ll be seeing.’
‘Perhaps they won’t be eager to make too much of the incident, after all.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
Grieuard affected uninterest when Wilce offered Borg in place of himself. ‘It is a matter of choice on your part, Captain, though my principals would certainly be displeased not to receive Madam Corl. Frankly I am more concerned that we should not keep our dignitaries waiting any longer than we must. Perhaps we could now debouch?…’ He made an elaborate gesture that was almost gallant in its insistence.