The Heaven Makers Part 2

"Of course not; they wouldn't be that simple. But why would you . . ."

"To feel him out."

"You've professionals for that job."

"But he wants to see me."

"Here is real danger. Let him once suspect and he'll not bid. He'll just snoop until he has us all in his noose."

"He may not bid anyway. Someone must find what will tempt him."

"We know what'll tempt him! But let him get just the faintest hint that we can interbreed with these savages, the most vague suspicion and we've lost him . . . and ourselves as well."

"I'm not a child to be lectured to, Ynvic. I'll see him."

"You're determined, then?"

"I am. Where is he?"

"Out on the surface with a tour crew."

"Ahhh. And we're monitoring, of course. What does he think of our creatures?"

"The conventional things: they're so gross, ugly -- like caricatures of Chem humanity."

"But what do his eyes say?"

"The females interest him."

"Of course they do."

"Then you're going to withdraw from the war drama and set up a story for him?"

"What else can we do?" his voice revealed frustration and resignation.

"What'll you use, that little group in Delhi?"

"No, I'm saving that one for an emergency, a real emergency."

"The girls' school in Leeds?"

"Inappropriate. What do you think, Ynvic -- will violence catch his mind?"

"Definitely. It's the murder school in Berlin, then, eh?"

"No, no! I think I have something much better, I'll discuss it after I've seen him. As soon as he returns, have . . ."

"One moment," Ynvic said. "Not the immune -- not that one!"

"Why not? Compromise him completely."

"That's all this investigator would need! That alone without . . ."

"The immune can be killed at any time," Fraffin said.

"This Kelexel is not stupid!"

I'll be cautious."

"Just remember, old friend," Ynvic said, "that I'm in this as deeply as you. Most of the crew could probably get off with sentences of constructive labor, but I'm the one faked the gene samples we sent the Primacy."

"I heard you," Fraffin said. "The word is caution."

3.

Feeling reasonably secure behind his cover, Kelexel paused just inside the salon-office of the story-ship director. He cast a searching look around the room: such interesting signs of wear on furnishings supposedly resistant to such depletion. The control supports of an editing chair showed a polished glitter where Fraffin's arms had rested.

He has been here a very long time indeed, Kelexel thought. We are right to suspect the worst. A Chem's attention span cannot be that long -- unless there are forbidden attractions.

"Visitor Kelexel," Fraffin said, rising. He indicated a chair facing him across the desk, a simple wooden artifact native to this place. It was a nice touch of the exotic, made a stranger feel uncomfortably alien and un-adapted to outpost living. Fraffin himself occupied a conventional floater seat, its body sensors tuned to his personal needs.

Kelexel bowed over the immersed viewer in the desk, used the formal greeting: "Director Fraffin, the light of a billion suns could not add one candlepower to thy brillance."

Oh, Lords of Being, Fraffin thought. One of those! He smiled, timed his seating to coincide with Kelexel.

"I grow dim in the presence of my guest," Fraffin said. "How may I serve such a distinguished person?" And he thought: Preferably on b.u.t.tered toast.

Kelexel swallowed, felt suddenly uneasy. Something about Fraffin bothered him. The director was such a small man -- dwarfed by the desk and its instruments. Fraffin's skin was the milk-silver of the Sirihadi Chem, almost matching the room's walls. It was the man's stature; that was it. Kelexel had expected someone larger -- not as large as the va.s.sals of this planet, certainly . . . but . . . larger . . . something to go with all the power visible in his features.

"You were very kind to grant me your time," Kelexel said.

Conventionally, Fraffin said: "What is time to the Chem?"

But Kelexel didn't rise to the cliche. The power in Fraffin's face! It was a famous face, of course -- the black hair, the pits of eyes under jutting brows, crag cheeks, outcroppings of nose and jaw. Large reproductions of that face danced on the air wherever a Fraffin story was shown. But the actual flesh and bone man bore an unretouched resemblance to the reproductions that Kelexel found disturbing. He had expected more false drama in one or the other. He had expected disparity, a sham somewhere to help him see through these people.

"Visitors don't usually request an interview with the director," Fraffin said, prodding.

"Yes, yes, of course," Kelexel said. "I've a . . ." He hesitated, realization coming over him. Everything about Fraffin -- timbre of voice, the rich skin color, the total aura of vitality -- it all spoke of recent rejuvenation. But Fraffin's cycle was known to the Bureau. He wasn't due for rejuvenation in this period.

"Yes?"Fraffin said.

"I've . . . a rather personal request," Kelexel said.

"Not for employment, I hope," Fraffin said. "We've so . . ."

"Nothing for myself," Kelexel said. "My interest level is quite low. Travel seems to satisfy me. However, during my last cycle I was permitted to have a male offspring."

"How fortunate for you," Fraffin said, and he held himself still and watchful, wondering: Could the man know? Is it possible?