The Heaven Makers Part 27

"Why . . . why're we so valuable?"

He gestured, a handsweep that pointed from her feet to her hair. "You're gross and overgrown, but quite a bit similar to us. We can identify with you. There's entertainment in your strivings, a surcease from boredom."

"But you said -- illegal?"

"When a race such as yours reaches a certain stage, there are . . . liberties we do not permit. We've had to exterminate certain races, severely punish a few Chem."

"But what . . . liberties?"

"Never mind." Kelexel turned his back on her. It seemed obvious she spoke from actual ignorance. Under such manipulator pressure she could hardly lie or dissemble.

Ruth stared at Kelexel's back. For long days now, a question had been creeping upward in her mind. The answer felt deeply important now. "How old are you?" she asked.

Slowly, Kelexel rotated on one heel, studied her. It took a moment to overcome the distaste aroused by such a gauche question, then: "How could that possibly bear on anything that concerns you?"

"It . . . I want to know."

"The actual duration -- that's not important. But a hundred such worlds as yours, perhaps many more, could've come into being and dissolved to dust since my conception. Now, tell me why you want to know."

"I . . . just want to know." She tried to swallow in a dry throat "How . . . how do you . . . preserve . . ."

"Rejuvenation!" He shook his head. What a distasteful subject. The native female was truly barbaric.

"The woman Ynvic," Ruth said, sensing his emotional disturbance and enjoying it. "She's called the s.h.i.+psurgeon. Does she supervise the . . ."

"It's routine! Purely routine. We've elaborate protective mechanisms and devices that prevent anything but minor damage. A s.h.i.+psurgeon takes care of the minor damage. Very rare, that. We can take care of our own regenerative and rejuvenating treatments. Now, you will tell me why you ask."

"Could I . . . we . . ."

"Oh, ho!" Kelexel threw his head back in a bark of laughter. Then: "You must be a Chem and conditioned for the process from birth or it cannot be done."

"But . . . you're like us. You . . . breed."

"Not with you, my dear pet. We're pleasurably similar, that I admit. But with you it's dalliance, insulation from boredom, no more. We Chem cannot breed with any other . . ." He broke off, stared at her, remembering a conversation with Ynvic. They'd been discussing the native violence, wars.

"It's a built-in valving system to keep down the immunes," Ynvic had said.

"The conflicts?"

"Of course. A person immune to our manipulations tends to become generally dissatisfied, frustrated. Such creatures welcome violence and disregard personal safety. The attrition rate among them is very high."

Remembering Ynvic's words, Kelexel wondered: Is it possible? No! It couldn't be! Gene samples from these natives were on record long ago. I've seen them myself. But what if . . . No! There's no way. But it would be so simple: falsify the gene sample. s.h.i.+psurgeon Ynvic! But if she did, why? Kelexel shook his head. The whole idea was preposterous. Even Fraffin wouldn't dare breed a planet full of half-Chem. The immune ratio would give him away before . . . But there's always the "valving system."

"I will see Fraffin now," Kelexel muttered.

And he remembered: "Ynvic was referring to native immunes, but she said person."

15.

Fraffin sat waiting behind his desk as Kelexel entered the director's salon. The room's silver light had been tuned to a high pitch, almost glaring. The surface of the desk glittered. Fraffin wore native dress, a black suit with white linen tie. Golden b.u.t.tons at the cuffs reflected shards of brilliance into Kelexel's eyes.

Behind a mask of brooding superiority, Fraffin felt himself poised for a pouncing elation. This poor fool of an Investigator! The man had been aimed at his present moment like an arrow. It only remained for him to find the sort of target in which he'd been embedded.

And I aimed him! Fraffin thought. I put him here as surely as I put any native into its predicament.

"You asked to see me?" Fraffin asked. He remained seated, emphasizing his displeasure with the visitor.

Kelexel noted the gesture, ignored it. Fraffin's posture was almost boorish. Perhaps it reflected confidence and that would bear watching. But the Primacy did not send complete fools to do its investigating and the Director must discover this soon.

"I wish to discuss my pet with you," Kelexel said, seating himself across from Fraffin without invitation. The desk was an enormous empty expanse separating them. A fault glistening reflection of Fraffin could be seen in its surface.

"There's something wrong with your pet?" Fraffin asked. He smiled to himself, thinking of the latest report on Kelexel's antics with the native female. The Investigator was suspicious now; no doubt of that. But too late -- far too late.

"Perhaps there's nothing wrong with my pet," Kelexel said. "Certainly she delights me. But it has occurred to me that I know so little really about the natives, her sources, so to speak."

"And you came to me to fill out this information?"

"I felt certain you'd see me," Kelexel said. He waited, wondering if that barb would sink home. Surely, it was time they brought the battle more into the open.

Fraffin sat back, eyelids drooping, silver-blue shadows in the sockets. He nodded to himself. Ahh, it was going to be good sport playing out this fool's downfall. Fraffin savored the antic.i.p.atory moment, the instant of revelation.

Kelexel put his hands on the arms of his chair, felt clean edges of construction, a gentle warmth. A distant musky aroma permeated the room, an exotic tantalizing thing full of alien strangeness . . . a floral essence perhaps.

"But you enjoy your pet?" Fraffin asked.

"A delight," Kelexel said. "Better even than the Subi. I wonder that you don't export them. Why is that?"

"So you've had a Subi," Fraffin said, parrying the question.

"I still wonder that you don't export these females," Kelexel said. "I find it very odd."

Oh, you find it odd, Fraffin thought. He experienced an abrupt sour feeling about Kelexel. The man was so obviously besotten with the native female -- his first experience with them.

"There are many collectors who'd leap at the chance to have one of these natives," Kelexel said, probing. "Of all the delights you've gathered here . . ."

"And you think I've nothing better to do than collect my natives for the delight of my fellows," Fraffin said. His voice sounded snappish and he wondered at the emotion in it. Am I jealous of Kelexel? he asked himself.

"Then what is your task here if not to make profit?" Kelexel asked. He could feel himself growing angry with Fraffin. Certainly, the Director knew he faced an Investigator. But none of Fraffin's actions betrayed fear.

"I'm a collector of gossip," Fraffin said. "That I create some of this gossip myself, that is of no moment."

Gossip? Kelexel wondered.

And Fraffin thought: A collector of ancient gossip -- yes.

He knew then that he was jealous of Kelexel, envious of the man's first encounter with a native female. Fraffin remembered the old days when the Chem had moved more openly on this world, creating the machinery of long maturation which they could exploit -- devising leprous diplomats full of pride's blind ignorance, nurturing death wishes to ride each back like a demon. Ahhh, those had been the days.