She studied him again. “Human. You’re not, are you?”
“Never was. Though my mother was human, my father– n my mother’s husband, but the man who begot me-wasn’t. And I’m not. I didn’t know that until I awakened. It was a terrible shock.”
“I can imagine.” She sat up, folding her legs into a full lotus and holding her head. “Why do I believe you?”
“I’m glad you do.”
“Because you need someone to believe you?”
“No, because I need to convince you so you won’t ever mention this to anyone-not here, and not on Earth. Not anywhere, not ever. As I offer my promise, I need yours.”
Her eyes opened wide. “Or you’ll throw a whammy on me so I can’t tell?”
Her reason almost obliterated by shock, she was still capable of that insight. His heart threatened to spill over with love. “That’s what I’m supposed to do,” he choked out. “You can imagine why. If-humans-discovered us.”
“How many of you are there?” He shrugged. “A couple thousand, no more.”
“How many humans do they kill each year?”
“I don’t know. Not many. Since about 1850, killing humans has been a crime. It leads to pogroms against us. So the law is vigorously enforced.”
This too was a half truth. Deaths of human stringers were investigated by the Death Committee, composed of both Tourists and Residents, but the Tourists usually claimed their stringers died naturally simply from being fed upon. Even if the stringers had been mildly abused, the Tourists usually got away with it if they didn’t leave a mess to attract human attention. Marked stringers were possessions. “Inea, now we live mostly on manufactured blood. Our numbers are not increasing. We’re not a burden on humanity, and we’re not a threat. Your silence would not harm humanity.”
“Why do I always believe you? I’m not a credulous person.”
“No, but you’ve always known truth when you hear it. Look, pledge me your silence just until you discover that what I’ve told you is flatly untrue.” What will I do when she discovers what I haven’t told her?
“You’ll take my naked word?”
“If you’ll take mine. Have I ever betrayed you?”
“You were alive. But you didn’t come back to marry me. You let me think you were dead. You let me go on as if you’d died. But you were alive! How could you-”
“They wouldn’t let me! It’s against our laws. I’d given my word to uphold that law. I had to. I needed the help of others of my. kind.”
She melted. “It must have been awful for you.”
“There were some bad moments.” He got to his feet. “You haven’t promised.”
“What will you do if I don’t?”
“I’ll walk out of here and never speak to you again in any personal way. I’ll be nothing but Titus Shiddehara to you. And I’ll probably have to do my best to have you cashiered off the Project, just because I couldn’t stand being so near you and unable to touch you. I love you.”
“And you’d use your power to make me forget who you really are?”
Slowly, deliberately, he shook his head. “I couldn’t. I just couldn’t bring myself to do that.”
He knew it was true, and he also knew what stakes he was putting on the table. Earth’s whole luren community could be wiped out within a few years because of his scruples.
“What would keep me from blowing the whistle on you? Supposing, of course, that I could find proof?”
“Oh, I suppose you could find proof. You’re awfully clever. But what sense is there in releasing a bloody frenzy of fear and terror, a witch hunt that would burn thousands of humans along with most of us, when we aren’t a real threat, and there is a real problem demanding all our attention, the problem from out there?”
“What do you know about the aliens?”
“Not as much as I want to know. What do you know about them? You’re evading my question.”
“I’ve given my pledge; I’m waiting for your promise.”
“If you feel so sure my own common sense would keep me quiet, why do you insist I give you a promise?”
“To salve my conscience. I told you, I’m not supposed to let you walk around knowing what you now know and not, uh, gagged by a whammy.” He avoided using luren terms because any accidental reference could betray her to Abbot. “Besides, knowing how hard it is to get promises to roll off your tongue, I think I trust your word more than my whammy.” He had only exacted one other promise from her: marriage. And then he’d died two days before the actual ceremony.
She smiled nostalgically. “I haven’t forgotten all the times you proposed.”
“I haven’t forgotten the one time you accepted.”
“Are you going to hold me to it?”
Her expression became so neutral that if he hadn’t been listening with all his other senses, he wouldn’t have known she was throbbing with hope as well as dread.
“Inea, I think we have to renegotiate the contract. After all, even the wedding vows are only until death do us part-and it did. Surely that breaks an engagement, too. But we can start all over again.”
“And this gag promise is only until I discover you’ve lied and your people are indeed a threat?”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
Grimly, she replied, “That’s all you’re getting. But that much you do have. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Now what about the question you evaded? The aliens?”
“I’m going to continue to evade.”
“Why?”
“Basically, to protect you.”
“From?”
“I’ve already told you. I’ve broken a law for you. You’re walking around with a head full of knowledge you shouldn’t have, and no gag-whammy to keep you silent. One slip and we’re both in an awful lot of trouble.”
“How much trouble?”
“Life or death for me. Being gagged for you.”
“They wouldn’t kill me? For knowing?”
“For knowing? No.” Not legally, anyway. But just let Abbot Mark her, and . He couldn’t finish the thought.
“But they’d kill you?”
“Might. It’s a pretty terrible crime-endangering all of us. They wouldn’t understand-about you and me.” He helped her to her feet and resisted the natural embrace, holding her shoulders at arm’s length. He wanted to take her to bed as he’d never wanted anything else in his life. But he wasn’t going to spoil this with haste.
Rationally, he knew the most they could have together would be a few short decades. She’d die of old age while he still seemed young and had to change identities every few years. But right now, those decades were worth his life, and more. It was something he had to have, no matter the price. And if that meant going to bed alone tonight, then so be it.
She broke away and turned to the door. “You’d better go. I’ll get through the night alone. I’ve done it before.”
He gathered himself. “But this time, I’ll be there in the morning. And tomorrow night, too, if you like.”
“We’ll see. I have to think.” She opened the door for him. “I’ll see you in the morning, Dr. Shiddehara.”
“Titus,” he corrected.
“Titus.”
He was left alone in the busy, well-lighted corridor. But where before his mind had been a deep, black silence of fatigue and despair, it was now filled with plans. Where the station had seemed cold, distant, alien, and unreal, it was now home. There was nothing he couldn’t do. It wasn’t elation that buoyed him all the way to the elevators. It was strength.
He felt as refreshed as if he’d slept the day through. The renewal showed in his body. The last of the solar irritation was gone from his skin. A vague headache that had plagued him had disappeared. He felt wonderful.
He sent the elevator up to the surface, and set out to visit the alien craft. No doubt Abbot had been there ahead of him, but he would catch up now, and he would win.
Chapter five
Titus knew that besting Abbot was a fantasy, but he nursed it like a potent drink as he made his way toward the locks leading out to the alien ship. Abbot had been playing this game for too long. But on the other hand, there was something to be said for youth, flexibility, and desperation. Not Inea. He’s not going to get Inea.