Tropic of Creation by Kay Kenyon Read Free Book Online

“My mistress wishes to know how you came to the burial place.”
    He decided on the short answer. “In the digging machine, which we found on the surface. We meant no harm.”
    “How many came with you?”
    “Just myself.”
    The interpreter spoke now to Nefer, and they conferred for some time, with Nefer keeping her gaze on thecarpet. Complex symbols nested in squares within squares, like a mandala in reds, black, and gray.
    The interpreter translated. “Why did you venture to disturb our departed kin? Do your people not tend to show honor to the dead?”
    “It was an error of ignorance. I couldn’t guess it was a burial site. My people don’t bury our dead this way.”
    “You would not be aware of human catacombs?” the interpreter asked without reference to Nefer.
    Old Earth had societies where catacombs were used. It astonished him that the ahtra knew this. “Yes,” he said, “but it is a very ancient custom, no longer much known. I apologize for the offense.”
    The blink came from the bottom up. “Perhaps you were careless?”
    He ignored the rebuke. He had no wish to convey undue deference. “Please translate my apology for your mistress.”
    As far as he could tell, his interpreter did so. Hearing this, Nefer raised her hands slightly in a gesture he took for acceptance, but which might also have been a shrug of indifference. Nefer looked at Eli for the first time. He thought he had seen more sympathetic eyes on drill sergeants. But ahtran eyes were very large—larger than a horse’s. It was disconcerting, and perhaps accounted for their look of a raptor. Seeing the two ahtra together, he noticed that this Nefer looked different than the interpreter, with less prominent markings.
    The interpreter spoke again. “My mistress would know your rank and mission among us and how many are with you … above.”
    He told the truth, since it wasn’t clear to him if more or fewer troops would be to his advantage. He explained the situation of the marooned group, and that he had intended to leave the surface within a week, having stayed longenough to collect evidence in regard to the absence from duty of Luce Marzano and her crew. The discovery of the working hexadron and the tunnels, however, prompted an investigation, armistice or no.
    There was a long silence as both ahtra stared at the floor. Finally, Nefer asked, through the aide, “What armament have you brought with you?”
    “We have little. We are a transport ship. No threat to you.”
    When the aide translated this, he noted that the lead ahtra’s data tendril jerked, almost like a startle reflex. The interpreter looked up at him. The dark eyes fixed him in a disconcerting, long gaze. When the gaze was withdrawn, it was like a sentence being passed. The room grew stifling—overwarm and more perfumed.
    “Release my bonds, as a courtesy,” he said. “You have my word I intend no violence.”
    Nefer granted permission and the aide came over to unfasten the ties. The aide’s facial patterns were mirror images on each side, with the largest ovals resting on the cheekbones.
    “What is your name?” he asked.
    The ahtra’s head turned to the side, avoiding his eyes while working the ties. The light caught the skin tracings in high definition for a moment, showing gradations of bronze coloring, deepening to brown. “I am Maret,” the aide answered very low.
    Eli rubbed at his wrists and arms while the aide moved back into place. Before questions could resume, he said, “My superiors will want to know the purpose of your presence here. How shall I answer them?”
    Nefer took a long time to answer.
    Maret translated. “We occupy this world as is our right. Below.”
    They sat for some time, waiting for Nefer to continue.When she did not, Eli ventured, “You abide by the treaty terms?” Not that he would believe their answer.
    “It happens we have always been here. It is not forbidden by treaty.”
    “I am free to go?” The silence greeting