He brooded all the way down the stone corridors to the guest suite. He paused at the door, then knocked.
"Enter."
Gwen Tremaine was standing at the window. Yellow light streamed through light brown hair, showed up green eyes. She was very short; "five-foot-two," the song said, and that was about right. She wore a spectacular blue gown, cut in a style more Parisian than anything fashionable on Tran. It was made of some kind of blue silk that shone in the evening sunlight. She continued to stare out into the gathering dusk as Rick came in.
"A penny for your thoughts," he said in English.
She laughed. "There aren't any pennies here. But I'll tell you anyway. I was trying to decide which made me sadder, that Earth is out there somewhere, or that my baby's father is there-"
"You do miss him, then?"
She shook her head slowly. "Rick, I don't know. Sometimes I want him so bad I could die. And sometimes I just want to kill him." She turned away from the window. "I was in love with him, you know. I could say I was kidnapped, but I wasn't, I got on that damned flying saucer of my own free will because the man I loved asked me to."
"And left you here when you got pregnant."
"Yes." She went over to the small table and sat down in one of the wooden chairs. "Wine? Yes, let's both have some."
"The real question is did Les mean it when he said he'd come back?"
"Yes. That's the real question." She drank the full glass of wine and poured another. "He said he'd come back-but Rick, have you ever thought that maybe he intended all along to dump me here? That he never did tell me the truth about anything? Sure, I got pregnant and wouldn't let his damn machine do an abortion, but maybe that was just a good excuse to get rid of me. Maybe he was tired of me anyway."
"You didn't think that last time we talked." Rick took the chair across from her and lifted his own wine glass. "Cheers."
"Cheers. No. Last time we talked I was sure he loved me. Next time maybe I will be, too. But just now-just now I'm not sure."
"Okay. But he did give you the transceiver. And he told you about the rebellion among the human troops of the Confederation-"
"It's not a rebellion," Gwen said. "More a-a dissent. And-Rick, have you told anyone about this? Anyone at all?"
"No."
"Not even Tylara?"
"Not even Tylara. I won't tell any locals. Or any of the troops, either. Not unless I have to-if you and I are both killed, someone here has to know. Warner, maybe."
"Yes, I've thought of that too. But don't tell him yet."
"I won't. Next subject. You know more than me about what the Shalnuksis will do. Had any more thoughts?"
"Some. Over there-that wooden chest. It has maps, areas I think might be best for raising surinomaz. One good area would be along the western border of the Roman Empire."
"Which we don't own. Oh-have you heard about the Council this morning? I'd like you to be on the delegation to Rome."
She nodded. "Another journey. More time away from my son."
"Take him with you-"
"Into a civil war? Don't be silly. But you're right, I have to go. I can inspect the potential cropland on the way. Meanwhile, we want to begin growing madweed on our side of the border. We won't get a full crop this year, but we ought to start experimental plots now. Get some experience with the stuff. It's tricky, Rick. The ecology is all bound up with some little mammals that are something like rats. They swarm into the fields and die, and when they rot they fertilize the plants. They also stink to the throne of God."
"Not to mention necrotic products."
She nodded agreement. "I'd think those fields get pretty unhealthy. Which is one reason the peasants don't want to grow madweed. You've got your work cut out to make them do it."
"Convicts. Criminals-"
"I suppose. And when you're done with them, when the madweed fields have killed most of them, the Shalnuksis will finish the job for you."
"When?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Certainly they'll want to trade with us as long as we have surinomaz, but after that-you have as much evidence as I do. I think they'll try to find out which is our center of culture, and destroy it."
Rick nodded thoughtfully. Certainly there was plenty of evidence. Every six hundred years, when surinomaz grew well under the influence of the Demon Star, the Shalnuksis came to Tran with a fresh crop of Earth mercenaries. Roman legionaries, Celtish warriors, Franks. And every time, when the aliens had got all they wanted, they tried to exterminate their agents. The legends told over and over of skyfire, and everyone knew where there were fields of glass…
"So we'll want to be sure we don't build anything modern looking."
"That may not be good enough. Rick, there were Tran languages in the computer on Les's ship. They talk to locals. They'll ask questions, and 1 think our University will be the first target."
"I thought of that too," Rick agreed. "Which is why I'm not putting much into brick and mortar. By the time your boyfriend starts dropping atom bombs on us, all the important people will be long gone to the caves. Meanwhile the travelling teams go teaching science to every villager in Drantos. And-Gwen, this is all crazy! A galactic civil war over Earth-"
"I told you, it's not a civil war. Just a disagreement among the leaders of the Confederate Council," Gwen said. "And I think it's crazy too, but-" She pointed out the window.
"Yeah." Crazy or not, they are here, on Tran. It wasn't Earth. Given that one undoubted fact, what couldn't they believe? "Look, your friend Les is the best chance we'll ever have for getting off of this planet. And he told you he'd come for you-"
"If he could. Yes."
"And you believe him."
"I remember I did when he told me," she said. "I don't know about now. What difference does it make? He is our only chance."
"And what about the rest of us?"
"Rick, I don't know."
"Yeah." But it wasn't likely that Les would give a damn about the mercenaries. He might care for Gwen and their child. That might even be likely. But there was no reason at all for him to worry about a bunch of mercs. "Gwen, why did you want to see me alone?"
"Your wife doesn't like me. I don't much care for her, either."
"She's jealous. She thinks I'm your baby's father. Or that I could have been, anyway. Your wanting to see me alone didn't help the situation."
"It didn't hurt it, either."
"No, I expect you're right. Not much would."
"And I just wanted the chance to speak English and talk without having to worry about what I say. Rick, it gets pretty bad up there in Tamaerthon. Always on guard so that I don't give away something."
"And you're not on guard with me. You're not keeping any more secrets?"
"No, of course not."
You sure as hell did, Rick thought. For damned near too long. So how can I trust you now? "So. How are things at the University? Any trouble?"
"No. And of course I have the pistol you gave me-"
Another point of contention with Tylara. She thought she should have had Andre Parson's.45 Colt. But Tylara had plenty of experience protecting herself on Tran, and Gwen had none. "Do you like my dress?" she asked. "Yes. I was just admiring it."
"It's called garta cloth. Larry Warner got it. Rick, it's a very close weave."
"So?"
"So we could make a hot-air balloon from it."
"You're kidding. Hot damn, of course! Observation balloons! They used them in the Civil War, and the Franco-Prussian War, and-can you really sew the seams tight enough?"
"Yes. We've tested a small model, and Larry made glue from horses' hooves. It will really work. The only problem is the cloth. It comes from the south. We don't have enough, because the trade routes are in a mess. It's very expensive-"