To Storm Heaven - Esther Friesner [80]
“Thanks,” Avren said when they were in the free air.
“You can thank me best by explaining what you’ve been doing here on Ashkaar for—how many years?” “What, just me? Or the rest of us?” “Your record will do for a start.” “And for whose benefit will I be making this explanation?” “Your own. They say confession’s good for the soul.” “The soul.” Avren shook his head. “I never cared much about all that. Leave it to the bovereem, that’s what I always said. Still, a job’s a job, and I’m damned good at this one. You won’t find a better agent on Ashkaar than me. I was the one who came up with the shepherd dodge. Before that, we mostly had to do our observations from hiding. That’s a pretty lonely life.
No wonder so many of us went—well, crazy.” “What do you mean?” Troi asked. She was seated with Ambassador Lelys on a stone bench built right into the side of the oberyin’s house. The Orakisan held a leaf in her hand and was tracing its outline against her palm over and over again.
“What would you call it when an agent throws over his life’s work, gives up the game cold, takes to the land just as if he was born one of these Ashkaarian savages, and his last message to the Masra’et isn’t fit to be repeated? Crazy, that’s what.” “And what your people have been doing to the Ashkaarians is sane?” Geordi asked severely. “Maybe the Masra’et could do with a few more honest messages from agents who’ve come to their senses.” Avren snorted. “Honest death sentence, you mean.” He saw Troi’s inquiring look and added, “Well, what do you think they do when one of their agents goes native on them? Just let them run off free?
Oh, yes! That makes sense.” Mr. Data cocked his head. “Sarcasm. Interesting, but unenlightening.” “Oh, it’s enlightenment you want?” Avren drawled.
“When I was sent here to replace the last agent that went over the lip, my first assignment was to find her and take her out of the picture before she said anything that could hurt our operations. I’ll say this much for the Masra’et, they don’t play favorites. It didn’t matter whose daughter she was, she was dangerous and she needed to be eliminated.” “So you killed her,” Geordi said, biting off the words.
Avren gave him an uneasy look, as if his response might bring reprisal. “No,” he said carefully. “I didn’t need to bother. By the time I caught up with her, she was dead already. Childbirth. Talk about going native! No need for her to die of something like that if she’d had the sense to stay Ne’elatian, but that didn’t suit her. Not old Udar Kishrit’s girl, no. Just as stubborn as her father, she was, and look where it got her!” “Udar Kishrit’s—” Geordi’s lips moved over Avren’s words. “Mr. Data, can I see you a moment?” He walked briskly away from the bound Ne’elatian agent and didn’t stop until he was well up the mountain. Data and Troi traded a baffled look before the android went after him.
Geordi stood with his back to a lone tree, tall and prickle-branched as an Earth pine, when Data overtook him. “She’s been telling me things, Data,” he said.
“She?” “Ma’adrys. Ever since I met her on Ne’elat, lots of things. But this was one thing she never told me.” “I do not believe that she was aware of this, Geordi,” Data said.
“Not aware? Not aware that she and Bilik were going to be… paired?” “Ah. I thought that you were referring to the fact that she is the grandchild of the head of the Masra’et.
The timing is certainly right.” “Time.” Geordi drew the word out. “Too much time. Too many years of injustice. It’s got to end, Data.” “I am in agreement with you in theory, Geordi, although I admit I am not very sanguine as to any immediate change taking place. Of course the optimum modification in the status quo would be for the Ne’elatians to admit their past faults and take the first steps toward establishing cultural equality with their sisterworld.” “Wouldn’t that be nice,” Geordi muttered.
“Starting with some simple medical help.” “Indeed.” Data had learned to perceive sarcasm, but he still