He felt relaxed... clear-minded.
On the whole, he thought, he'd much rather be a pot washer than a Hero of the Revolution.
Marr and Senn observed Sten's beaming face as he slathered marinade over chicken.
"Do you think he's ready?" Marr whispered.
"Absolutely," Senn said. "I don't like to pat myself on the back, but I think this is one the best jobs we've ever done."
"Beings don't realize," Marr said, "that the first—and only— real secret of a dinner party is getting the host prepared first."
"A little kitchen magic," Senn said. "It works every time."
The Zaginow leader forked one more bite from the creamy pastry dish in front of her. She looked at it... as if not believing her body was capable of handling still more. The fork continued its journey and the pastry disappeared into her mouth.
She closed her eyes. Ebony features a portrait of bliss. Tasting. Mmmmm.
Her eyes snapped open to find Sten grinning at her.
"Oh, burp," she said. "Oh, heaven. But, I just couldn't eat anymore."
"I think the chefs will forgive you, Ms. Sowazi, if you resign the field of battle," Sten said. "You've certainly given it your best."
He glanced around the banquet room. Marr and Senn had turned the drafty Bhor hall into a wonder of festooned flowers and subtle lights.
The other guests were as dazzled and replete as Sowazi.
For two hours, Marr and Senn had commanded convoy after convoy of deliciousness through the room. Whether the dish was meant for a human or an ET, each was greeted and devoured with great enthusiasm.
Beings had their elbows—or equivalent parts—on the tables now. Chatting warmly away with Sten's colleagues as if they were all long-lost friends.
As a capper, Marr and Senn had printed up souvenir menus for each member of the Zaginow delegation.
"We always do it," Marr said. "Beings like to show the folks at home what a good time they had. It's wonderful advertising for us, as well."
"Not ‘advertising,' dear," Senn said. "Not in this case, at any rate. Remember, we're revolutionaries now. The military term is ‘propaganda'."
"Same thing," Marr sniffed.
‘True. But 'propaganda‘ is much more romantic."
Sten had to admit that the souvenir menus fit the bill perfectly as propaganda.
On the back was a picture of himself, flanked by the master caterers, Marr and Senn. On the front, Senn got his theme: "A FEAST FOR ALL BEINGS."
This was the menu for the humans:
SOUP
Hungarian Tomato Vodka Miso Saki Shrimp
SALAD
Cambodian Raw Fish Tomato Cucumber Raita
APPETIZERS
Basque Mountain Oysters
Russian Blinis and Caviar
Armenian Stuffed Mushrooms
ENTREES
Jamaican Jerk Chicken
Moroccan Roast Lamb
Broiled Salmon Steaks
Mesquite Broiled Vegetable Kabob
SIDE DISHES
Lebanese Rice Pilaf
Rosemary Potatoes
Cuban Black Beans & Rice
DESSERT
New York Style Cheesecake Swedish Pancakes With Lingonberries
The items listed on the menus for the ETs were equally impressive.
Sten saw Marr peering from a doorway. He spotted Sten and waved. It was time.
Sten turned to Sowazi. "I think we're being called for coffee and brandy," he said.
She laughed, deep and pleasurable. "Cigars, too?"
"Cigars, too," Sten promised.
"Lead on, Sr. Sten."
As he rose to do her bidding, Sten made a furtive thumbs-up motion to Marr. Everything was going according to plan.
"Here's our position," Moshi-Kamal said. He was the second member of the troika that ruled the Zaginows. "We're willing to come on board. But we need some assurances."
"I can't give you any," Sten said. "Remember, I started the conversation by saying the odds are decidedly against us. If you join us... it may be an act of suicide."
"But your own behavior does not bear that statement out, Sr. Sten." This was from Truiz, the ET member of the troika. "You fight well. Logically. Certainly not like a suicidal being. You also have had many successes."
"They look good," Sten said, "but they're not near enough. The Emperor has had a lot of bad days. He can afford to. If I have one... it's over."
"Why are you being so candid?" Sowazi wondered. "I would think you'd be pointing up the positive. The fleets you command. The victories. The growing number of allies."
She waved at the cozy paneled den Marr and Senn had converted an old weapons room into for this conversation. "You sit here at ease, dining luxuriously, thumbing your nose at the Emperor and his hellhounds. Why aren't you boasting of these things to win us to your side?"
"I could," Sten agreed. "But the trouble is... Once I'd won you over, I wouldn't be able to count on you. When something terrible happened—and I promise you it will—you'd see that I'd lied. And desert me.
"There can be no mistake about this," Sten said. "This is a fight to the finish. The Emperor will never give us quarter. We lose—we die."
"I can understand this," Truiz said. The little tendrils wriggling beneath her eyes were red with frustration. "But the picture you paint is so bleak. Give us some hope."
Sten leaned forward. "Right now, I have the Emperor's forces strung across the map. What I don't have pinned down... I have chasing its own tail. But I can only keep this going for a little longer.
"I need two things right now. Reserves. And an opening. Without the first, it will be difficult to support the other."
"Do you think you will get this opening?" Moshi-Kamal asked.
Sten paused, as if giving serious thought. Then he nodded. "Without a doubt," he lied. "No matter how we read the progs, they keep on coming up with the same thing. The thrust of the fight is with us. Sooner or later, we're going to have a breakthrough."
‘Then we want to be there," Sowazi said. "This... this... being has become unbearable."
"He is forcing us to become one of his dominions," Moshi-Kamal said. "Putting us under his heel. The beings of the Zaginows have long memories. We all come from working people. The class the bosses put in dark holes full of sharp machin-ery."
‘This is true," Truiz said. "All of our ancestors fled from some despot or other. We can't condemn ourselves to the lives they escaped."
"Did you know," Sowazi hissed, "that he is even putting himself up as a god? He has these... these... beings bounding about proclaiming him a holy thing. They want to put temples up to him in our cities. It's... filthy!"
It wasn't necessary for Sten to comment. Instead, he looked from one to the other.
"Then you'll join us... even without assurances?"
"Even without assurances," Moshi-Kamal said. "We will join you."
"And we might also be able to solve your first problem," Sowazi said.
"How, so?"
"Why, the reserve forces," Truiz said. "We assume you have more beings at your disposal than ships and weapons?"
"You assumed right," Sten said.
"I'm sure you are aware that we have thousands of factories—forced on us by the Eternal Emperor—designed and tooled to build those things."
"I knew that," Sten said. "But I also know they've been shut down for some time. I figured most of the machinery had either rusted or been sold for scrap."
"Only a few," Moshi-Kamal said. "Mostly, they are in excellent condition. It's one of the benefits and curses of the Zaginows. We can't stand to see good machinery go to ruin."