“It is,” he said, with no shame whatsoever. “Which, in my mind, is a damn sight better than whatever emotional garbage you lot are nattering about all the time. Although I will say one thing,” he said, lowering his voice as he passed me. “I don’t quite know how you got Kade to disobey you today. It was a fancy trick, however you did it. But the fact remains that the bond is unbreakable. He is as much a slave to you now as he ever was. Just in case you were inclined to start believing your own lies.” He smirked, made a ‘humph’ sound, then brushed past me and headed for the door.
“I would think twice before using our wormhole again,” Nors called after him. “We won’t be disabling your ships anymore. We’ll be destroying them.”
Volgoch glanced back and shrugged. “Such is life,” he said simply. And then he was gone.
Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment, trying to get their heads around what had just happened. The entire case was a farce. And if we hadn’t believed the Culrads’ stories about the Nwandu’s intentions, Volgoch’s admissions about Vendanu paying to get Kade back would have quite thoroughly eradicated any remaining belief we had in her good character.
“Oh, fuck my life,” one of the Eumadians’ lawyers said, and that broke the tension all around the room. Conversations sprung up everywhere, the lawyers and Associates discussing how to manage the media storm that this would create, the spectators – those of them that remained, at least – marvelling at the outrageous events of the day, and the military personnel muttering about whether we should let the Eumadians leave and who was to blame for the entire fiasco.
Personally, I just wanted all this to be over. I wanted to grab Kade, jump into the nearest taxi, and go home. My head was pounding and my chest ached. Kade’s disobedience at the winery hadn’t been a result of his attachment to me, but because he’d been programmed to save my life, no matter what. Bryce had been right all along; trying to turn him into an independent person was a lost cause. I’d just refused to see it.
“Fuck, man.” Bryce arrived at my side, pulling me into a tight hug. I hugged him back, at the same time as knowing it was Kade I really wanted to be hugging. “That was nuts. But Kade, my man,” he added, pulling back, then taking Kade’s hand and shaking it. “You seriously know how to kick some ass. Remind me never to piss you off.”
“That means he thinks you did well,” I told Kade, in response to his baffled look. In general, our translators were good at interpreting the nuances of slang and metaphors into culturally appropriate phrases. But every now and then, they missed a beat or two, and I suspected this was one of those times.
Kade smiled demurely. “Thank you,” he said. He looked tired. From the altercation with the Nwandu? Or the news that he had been destined to have his brain fried by Vendanu? Or just from the stress of the whole case? I resolved to give him some time off, once Henderson cleared us from active duty. I’d take him for walks by the river, and buy us both ice cream – assuming Kade actually liked ice cream – and then spend hours taking him apart in bed. I’d ask him to cook dinner, and then heap copious praise on the result. I’d tell him to cuddle up next to me on the sofa and spend hours stroking his hair, while we watched some cheesy movie about star-crossed lovers finding true happiness. I would meet Kade where he was at, I resolved, and to hell with all the voices saying I was doing the wrong thing. Kade was a slave. And according to both him and the Eumadians, he was perfectly happy being a slave. All I needed to do to keep him that way was to reward him for it. Sex, praise and attention. That was a recipe I could learn to work with.
The next person to join our group was, surprisingly enough, Jethrigol, with Khelesh tagging along behind. “I’d have to review the video footage to be certain,” Jethrigol said with a sly smile. “But I think there’s a fair chance that Kade saved my life back there. Given the chance, Vendanu would have killed me. So I suppose I owe you another favour now.”
I snorted in disbelief. “You said at the start that letting Khelesh take that cargo saved hundreds of thousands of Culradish lives. If what you say about the Nwandu is true, then you’ve saved literallybillionsof our people. I don’t think you owe us anything.”
Jethrigol looked thoughtful for a moment. “Then maybe we can negotiate on a slightly different level. And I realise you’re not the authority I should be speaking to on this matter, but I thought I’d float the idea.” He glanced at Henderson meaningfully, and I braced myself for whatever he was about to say next. “What would you say to considering negotiations for the Culrads to join the Alliance? I’m not guaranteeing we’d even put in an application. I’d have to speak to our Council about that. But we like your ethics and you have a degree of compassion that few in the galaxy could match. I do think that makes you a little too naïve at times, but we can work on that.”
“It’s a big question,” I said, knowing I was indeed the wrong person to be asking. “There would be a rigorous vetting process – on both sides, I’m sure. And the Parliament would likely be wary, given what just went down with the Nwandu. But if what you said today is true, then I’m sure the Parliament would be willing to discuss the idea with you. You seem to know plenty about the goings on in the local galactic sector. And apparently, that’s something we need more of.” I wasn’t above admitting that we’d screwed up big time with the Nwandu. How could they be enslaving entire species and we hadn’t known anything about it?
“I do have one more question, though,” I said. Jethrigol seemed to be a font of information, and I wasn’t above exploiting it. “In that video you showed us, the Nwandu were enslaving Geshtoch. We know they’re fairly prolific, so maybe that shouldn’t be a surprise. But we’ve got a serious problem with them here, and Vendanu had offered to help us round them up, so that they could, and I quote, ‘transport them back to their own planet’. The Nwandu would have just enslaved them, wouldn’t they?”
I’d expected a simple answer – a ‘yes’, or at worst, a ‘maybe’. But instead, Jethrigol tilted his head quizzically, his ears twitching in what I guessed was a Culradish version of a frown. “Why do you have a problem with the Geshtoch?” he asked. “Yes, they’re prolific and they’ve made their way to dozens of planets in the local sector. But almost every species has found a way to live peacefully with them. How is it that you’re having a serious problem?”
“We negotiated a treaty with them,” I explained. “But they keep breaking the terms of it. We’ve ended up at war, with them constantly encroaching on our territory and us constantly having to beat them back.”
Jethrigol stared at me for a long moment… and then he burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, you what?” he asked, when he gained a little control of himself. “You’ve negotiated a treaty with theGeshtoch?”
“Why is that funny?” Henderson asked him.
Jethrigol grinned, as if we were playing a joke on him… and then he sobered, when he realised we were serious. “You can’t negotiate a treaty with the Geshtoch,” he said slowly. “Or at least, not if you expect them to adhere to it. The Geshtoch are not people. They’re animals.”
“Bullshit,” Bryce replied, an automatic reaction that any of us could have matched. “They speak in a coherent language. They wear clothes. They use advanced technology.”
Jethrigol nodded, now taking the conversation a whole lot more seriously. “They are skilled at using and maintaining highly complex machines. So they have a certain level of intelligence, yes. But what they lack is any concept of the long term consequences of their actions. They act impulsively. They are incapable of planning for the future. So any agreement with them meant to shape their future behaviour is doomed to fail.”
Bryce scowled at him. “A lack of foresight is not the same thing as being an animal.”
Jethrigol nodded, then he sighed. “And this is the problem we have with the Alliance. You’re too generous. You’re too compassionate. You see too much good in other people. The Geshtoch have a certain type of intelligence, but not of the right sort to be considered people. Not according to the Culrads, at least. So if you want my honest advice, the way you learn to live peacefully with them is to domesticate them, the same wayyou would any of your livestock. Speak gently to them and give them gifts of nice food. They’re particularly partial to bright colours, so give them vibrant clothes or blankets. Make friends with them, and then employ them to work for you. The Geshtoch are startlingly good at terraforming, by the way. I mean, that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, if they’ve been successful at making a home for themselves on Rendol 4. Your whole planet is still only forty per cent terraformed. And at least half of that must be thanks to the Geshtoch.”
“But… isn’t that just exploiting them?” I asked. “Making them work for us, in exchange for a few scraps of cloth?”
“You’re rewarding them for doing something they’re naturally good at,” Jethrigol said. “Isn’t that the same thing you do with your domestic animals? I’m not suggesting you make them suffer. Depriving them of food or water, or working them too hard would indeed be exploitation. But rewarding them for doing something they would have done anyway? I hardly see how that could create a moral dilemma.”
I glanced sideways at Kade. Jethrigol’s solution seemed remarkably simple. And it could be applied as easily to the dimari as to the Geshtoch; ask them to do something they wanted to do in the first place, and then reward them for it. I certainly didn’t believe that the dimari were animals. And we’d have to do a fair bit more investigation to decide whether the Geshtoch were animals or people. But as far as strategies went, it seemed like a fairly foolproof one. Perhaps the Alliance had been getting it wrong with both species.
“We’re going to take our leave now,” Jethrigol said, nodding to his team of soldiers. “But we’ll certainly be in touch. We and the Alliance do not agree on everything, but I believe there’s enough there to be worth exploring the possibilities. If nothing else, I would certainly like to see a peace treaty negotiated between our two peoples. And if we can arrange more? All well and good. Goodbye for now, Lieutenant Aiden Hill. It’s been a pleasure to finally be able to meet you.”
Jethrigol gathered his troops and exited the court room, and now that they, the Eumadians and the Nwandu had all left, the room was starting to look rather empty.
“Hill,” Henderson rumbled, and I glanced over my shoulder at him. “Go home,” he said. “You have the next four days off, at a minimum. I’ll have to thrash out a new roster, given that the Ambassador is… well… Given that she no longer requires a security team.” That was an understatement, if I’d ever heard one. “But I’ll try to make sure you have plenty of time off. You’ve been put through the wringer here, in a way you never should have been. So get your ass home and take it easy.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, never happier to be obeying an order. “You know where to find me if you need me.” I said my goodbyes to Bryce, Nors and ahandful of other soldiers, then led Kade out of the courthouse. I used my comm to order a taxi, and a notification popped up saying that one would be there in about three minutes.
