Venus Rising (20 page)

“We don’t have time for political
maneuvering,” Tarik said impatiently. “The Cetans are gathering
near Belta right now to refit their ships.”

“Belta is many light-years away from the
Capital,” said Kalina, who had been listening silently yet intently
to the discussion.

“Haven’t you understood, Mother? With
Starthruster installed on each Cetan ship, Belta is only
two
days
away from the Capital.”

“Then,” said Kalina calmly, “there is only
one thing to do. Send for Halvo. “

“I tell my fellow Members that Kalina is the
secret of my success in the Assembly.” Almaric actually laughed,
much pleased with his wife. “They think I am being modest, yet you
have just heard the proof of my assertion. Were this room not
completely secure, had anyone recordings of our conversations in
here over the last forty years, I would stand unmasked. Halvo is
exactly the person to help us.”

“I should have thought of him myself, Father,
and so should you,” Tarik said ruefully. “Where is he?”

“Just one day from here,” Kalina replied.
“What more natural than for a mother to want both her sons home at
the same time, especially when they have been away for so long? I
will transmit a message to him at once. I will use the secret words
we agreed upon to let him know it is an urgent call. He will come.”
She rose and headed for the door.

“Do you mean Admiral Halvo?” Narisa asked,
impressed. Tarik had never mentioned his brother’s name to her. “He
is your son?”

“He is,” Kalina replied proudly. “Is there
anything else you wish to say before I open the door? Almaric?
Tarik?”

“I will go to find my friends from the
Assembly.” Almaric rose, too. “If they are alerted, there may be
something we can do when Halvo arrives.”

“Father, a request. Will you ask Jon to visit
me?”

“Your old teacher? Yes, certainly.” Almaric
paused by the door. “Is there anything else you need?”

“A few minutes here, to speak freely with
Narisa.”

“Seal the door after we leave,” Kalina told
him. “When you have finished, Narisa, there will be a servant in
the corridor to take you to your guest chamber. Tarik, your old
room is being prepared for you.” She came back to kiss her son
again before leaving him alone with Narisa.

She had stood up when Tarik’s parents did.
She watched him seal the door, uncertain what he would say or do.
He looked so serious.

“The most important thing to remember,
Narisa, is that every room in the house, except this one, probably
has at least one eavesdropping device hidden somewhere in it. That
is why this room is essential. You cannot speak freely outside it,
not even in the garden. Somewhere in the Assembly chambers, some
adherent of Leader Tyre is listening to every word he can hear,
hoping we will say something to prove our story a lie, or discredit
my father.”

“I will remember. Tarik, I am truly sorry I
sent out that rescue call. You would not be in danger from the
Assembly if I hadn’t done it, and it’s clear to me our coming here
won’t make any difference to the Jurisdiction’s defenses.” She
wanted to tell him she now knew he had been right in everything he
had said about the Assembly, and probably about the Service, too,
but Tarik stopped her with words and actions.

“I am not sorry.” He caught her face between
his hands. “You did the correct thing, Narisa. If you hadn’t, no
one would know about the Cetan plan until it was too late. I was
angry because you sent out a message without my express permission
as your superior officer, and because I wanted, very foolishly, to
stay on that peaceful planet, alone with you. But you were right,
and I was wrong and selfish. Difficult as our situation is, we
belong here, trying to convince the Assembly we are telling the
truth, doing everything we can to save the Races who live within
the Jurisdiction. We will find a way to do that. I know it.”

“I miss the planet,” Narisa said, “and the
birds. Especially the birds. At the end, I wanted to stay there,
too.”

“I know,” he whispered. “Just the two of us,
alone together. At least we are together now. We have this short
time, if nothing else, my love. Until the Cetans come.”

She was hypnotized by his purple-blue eyes,
by his wide, tender mouth so close to her own. She wrapped her arms
around his waist as he brought her face, still clasped between his
hands, forward until their lips touched lightly, separated, then
met again more firmly.

They were shaken by a gust of passion so
intense neither of them could resist it. They clung to each other,
swaying, until Tarik caught her beneath her knees to lift her off
her feet, and they sank together upon the soft Demarian carpets.
Tarik pulled open the clasps of her jacket, searching for her
breasts, while Narisa tore at his uniform, and then her own,
wanting his hot flesh on hers. All the time their mouths touched as
both were unwilling to lose that sweet contact for an instant.
Finally they were naked. Narisa’s hands roved over his beautiful,
tightly muscled body, while he caressed and probed gently with his
fingertips, driving her wild with ever-rising desire. They came
together, fitting so perfectly they might have been two halves of
one body, and Narisa cried out in joyful release, hearing Tank’s
answering cry, and then his murmured words telling her he loved
her, loved her, loved her….

“And I love you,” she whispered back, and
felt his arms encircling her even more tightly, felt his mouth on
her throat and cheeks, and then her lips, and they ended their
love-making as they had begun it, with their lips touching lightly
again and yet again.

Narisa was conducted to the guest chamber
that would be hers by a tiny Demarian maidservant, a creature
scarcely out of childhood, who said, between giggles, that her name
was Chatta. Narisa’s room, like the rest of the house except the
secure room, was ornately decorated in typical Jurisdiction style,
with dark green and deep red covering walls and floors and
oversized carved furniture. The windows were long and narrow and
heavily draped in red and green fabric so that little natural light
could enter. This lack was offset by black metal torchieres placed
at intervals along each wall. The upward flaring light from these
lamps cast strange patterns on the carved molding where the walls
met the ceiling, and made dark shadows around draperies and
furniture. The bed was huge, covered with a dark green fabric that
seemed to absorb most of the artificial light. Narisa had never
thought much about decor or furniture, but she suddenly felt
oppressed by her surroundings. She found herself longing for the
serene simplicity of Dulan’s glistening white island retreat.

“The bathing room is here,” Chatta announced,
giggling again. “My mistress Kalina has ordered fresh clothing to
be brought to you, so you may wear something other than your
uniform for the evening meal.”

Narisa, who had followed Chatta through the
pointed archway into the next room, nodded without listening very
closely to what the maid was saying. She could not take her eyes
off the tub. It was big enough to hold at least six people. In
contrast to the gloomy dark red walls of the bathing room, the tub
was of deepest green stone, with lighter green streaks swirling
through it. The openings for water were gold, shaped like the heads
of Demarian leopard-wolves, and there was a twisted gold railing
along one side of the three steps that led down into the tub.

“I would rather swim in the lake,” she said,
sighing.

“We have no lake here,” Chatta said with a
giggle, turning a lever to start the water flowing. She opened a
green glass bottle, letting a heavy odor fill the room. “Do you
wish scent?”

“No,” Narisa said hastily, wrinkling her
nose. “Nothing. Just plain water and plain cleanser.” She should
not have mentioned the lake. She had to remember Tarik’s warning
about eavesdroppers, and little Chatta might report anything she
said.

Chatta added cleanser to the bubbling water.
Narisa pulled off her uniform and underclothes, folded them neatly
on a carved black and red bench, and then stepped into the tub. She
sat on the lowest step and let the warm water foam up about her
shoulders. She felt pleasantly relaxed after her love-making with
Tarik. She did not want to think about what might happen to both of
them, and to Gaidar. Just for a little while she wanted to revel in
being a woman in love. She slipped dreamily backward into the
water, wetting her hair. As she lifted her arms to begin washing
it, Chatta started giggling again. Narisa wished the silly girl
would stop. She was beginning to break Narisa’s peaceful, romantic
mood.

“Oh, Mistress Narisa,” Chatta said, laughing
and pointing one small finger. “You are hairy.”

“Hairy?” Narisa stopped scrubbing her head
and stared at the maid.

“Your arms,” Chatta said between giggles.
“And your legs, too. I noticed them when you undressed. How very
funny. I have never seen a woman so hairy.”

“It’s not funny at all,” Narisa said
patiently. “Commander Tarik and I were marooned without supplies.
We haven’t been able to take our pills for more than eight days. Of
course I have hair on my body, and he has a beard.” It had started
growing once again after they left the island, for the Cetans
favored beards and did not stock the pills aboard their ships.
Tarik looked as rough-faced now as he had when they first reached
Dulan’s island.

“I saw him.” Chatta continued her giggling.
“Commander Tarik looks almost as fierce as a Cetan warrior. Isn’t
it fortunate the pills are only for body hair? It’s not like the
ancient days. Now we have an injection each year for the other, and
we don’t have to worry about forgetting and breaking the law.”

“You are too young to talk about such
things,” Narisa said, starting to wash her hair again. But Chatta
would not be silenced.

“Next year I will have my first injection,”
she announced proudly.

Narisa recalled her own excitement when the
time came for her first annual injection. It was an important
turning point in life for every boy and girl. The law Chatta had
mentioned dated from the days, centuries before, when a series of
medical advances had made overpopulation a problem on all but the
most inhospitable planets. The Assembly had passed a law requiring
every citizen of the Jurisdiction, of whatever Race, to have an
annual anti-fertility injection. The same law made it necessary to
apply for permission before reproducing. The law had worked well.
Jurisdiction population had stabilized. In some places it had
actually dropped off in the last century or two with Cetan raids
destroying large numbers of the Races, but the Assembly had never
bothered to repeal the law. The Assembly, Narisa reminded herself
sourly, disliked any kind of change. The Reproduction Law had been
in effect for so long that most people accepted it without
question. But Narisa had lately begun to question a great many
things. She floated in the warm, soapy water, wondering what it
would be like to have Tarik’s child, to hold a tiny body in her
arms and know the two of them had created it with their love.

“Mistress Narisa?” Chatta’s giggly voice
broke into her dreamy thoughts. “What shall we do about your body
hair? It is not fashionable, you know.”

“I do look awful, don’t I?” Narisa found her
own laughter matching Chatta’s. “Can you find me some shaving
equipment so I’ll be presentable tonight? Remind me tomorrow to ask
the Service for another supply of pills.”

The gown Chatta brought her to wear was of
heavy dark green fabric, intricately draped and folded and gathered
on the left shoulder with a huge red stone clasp. Every possible
edge of the dress was decorated with a wide band of dark red
embroidery.

As she followed Chatta through gloomy deep
green corridors and down wide red stone staircases, Narisa felt
dragged down and encumbered by the weight and complexity of the
garment. At least her right arm and shoulder were bare. She had
refused to wear any of the heavy jewelry Chatta offered to her, but
she had given in and allowed the little maidservant to draw her
hair into a thin gold band, which held the golden brown tresses
away from her face, pulling them up onto the back of her head.

Chatta also insisted on painting Narisa’s
face, lining her eyes with wide streaks of gray powder until they
looked deep and mysterious, the gold flecks in the gray irises
showing clearly. Then Chatta tinted Narisa’s cheeks and lips with
coral polish, and buffed all her nails with a matching coral
powder. High-heeled slippers in a shade to match the dress
completed her costume. Narisa, accustomed to flat Service boots,
found it necessary to negotiate each steep, polished stone stairway
with great care.

Along their way they were joined by two of
the guards who had accompanied Almaric’s party from the Assembly
chambers to his house. The men said nothing; they simply fell into
step with the two women, one ahead of Narisa and to her left, the
other a little behind her and to her right. Their positions served
to remind Narisa she was a prisoner. She could not, for instance,
walk through the main entrance, which she saw just ahead, and stand
on the top outside step breathing fresh air, which was what she
wanted to do. She felt as though the dark colors and heavy decor of
Almaric’s home were stifling her.

Chatta looked frightened when the men
appeared. She was pale as she turned to the left, away from the
entrance, and beckoned Narisa to follow her down a corridor. She
showed Narisa to a wide double door of black carved wood. There she
stopped.

“I was told to bring you here,” Chatta said
nervously. “I will return to your bedchamber to wait for you
there.”

The maidservant fled, and one of the guards
opened the doors for Narisa. She walked past him, into the room
where they were to eat. It had shiny black floors, deep red walls
and a series of black and gold lamps hanging from the ceiling over
a long table of polished red stone. But this room was not as
oppressive as the others she had seen, because one long wall was a
series of pointed arches opening onto a wide terrace. Beyond the
terrace lay a garden, with a fountain splashing into a tiny pool.
It was a carefully tended garden, and artificially heated in this
cold season on the Capital planet, but over-cultivated or not, it
contained the fresh growing plants and trees for which her spirit
longed. She went through an arch onto the terrace, her guards
following at a discreet distance.