Lunzie looked around, seeing only the same roomful of massive bodies, none of the other lightweights in sight Across the serving table, one of the servants was watching her with a smirk.
"Come on," said Zebara, with a touch of impatience. "You don't really think I'm going to rape you."
She didn't, of course. But she wished she could find someone, a lightweight on the Team, to let them knowhe was going with him. She managed not to flinch Zebara took her wrist and led her along the serving table toward the short end of the hall. The servant was still smirking, grinning openly finally, as Zebara led her through a double doorway into a wide, carpeted passage. Here the crush was less, but still heavyworlder men and women walked by in both directions.
"Restrooms," said Zebara, still holding her wrist and leading her right along a side corridor, then left along another. He opened a door, and pulled Lunzie into a room lined with glass-fronted shelves. Broad, heavy couches clustered around a massive glass-topped table. "Here! Sit down and we'll have a chat."
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Lunzie began, as Zebara turned to look around the room, his eyelids drooping. He waved a hand, which she took as a signal for silence.
The couch was too deep for her comfort; her feet did not reach the floor if she relaxed against the backrest. She felt like a child in an adult's room. Zebara walked around the room slowly, obviously intent on something Lunzie could neither see nor hear. She could not relax while he was so tense. Finally he sighed, shrugged, and came to sit beside her.
"We must take the chance. If anyone comes, Lunzie, pretend to be struggling with me. They'll understand that. They know I was fond of you, that I considered you a 'pet' lightweight. That is their term for it."
"But…"
"Don't argue that with me. We haven't time." He kept scanning the room. This close, Lunzie could recognize the slight tremor that age had imposed on him; she grieved for the man he had been. "I know about Ireta, though I didn't know beforehand, and couldn't have stopped it anyway. Please believe that."
"I do, of course. You aren't the kind…"
"I don't know what kind I am any more." That stopped her cold, not only the words but the deadly quiet tone of voice. "I am a heavyworlder, I am dying. Yes, within the year, they tell me, and nothing to be done. I've been luckier than most. My children and grandchildren are heavyworlders, who face the same constraints I do.
"So while I agree that mutiny is wrong, and piracy is wrong, that we must not make enemies of all you lightweights, I wish the Federation would face facts about us. We are not dumb animals, just as you say that the subhuman animals that all once ate are not 'dumb animals.' How can I convince my children that they should watch their children starve, just to preserve the sensitivities, the 'philosophical viewpoint' of those who don't need meat but do want our strength to serve them?"
Shaken, Lunzie could only stare at him. She had been so sure, for so long, that Zebara was the best example of a good heavyworlder: trustworthy, idealistic, selfless. Had she been wrong?
"You didn't mistake me," Zebara said, as if she'd spoken aloud. Was her expression that obvious? But he I wasn't really looking at her; he was staring across the the room. "Back then, I was what you saw. I tried! You can't know how hard, to change others to my view-point. But you don't know what else I've seen since, while you were sleeping the years away. I don't want war, Lunzie, as much because my people would lose it as because I think it is wrong." He sighed, heavily, and patted her arm as a grandfather might pat a child. "And I don't like being that way. I don't like thinking that way."
"I'm sorry," said Lunzie. It was all she could think of.
She had trusted Zebara; he had been a good man. If something had changed him, it must have been a powerful force. She let herself think it might have convinced her if she'd been exposed to it.
"No, I'm sorry," said Zebara, smiling directly at her Again. "I often wished to talk with you, share my feelings. You would have understood and helped me stay true to my ideals. So here I've poisoned our meeting, a meeting I dreamed of, with my doubts and senile fears, And you're sitting there vibrating like a harpstring, afraid of me. And no wonder. I always knew you were a brave woman, but to come to Diplo when you'd had such vicious treatment from heavyworlders? That's incredible, Lunzie."
"You taught me that all heavyworlders were not alike," said Lunzie, managing a smile in return.
He mimed a flinch and grinned. "A palpable hit! My dear, if trusting me let you be hurt by others, I'm sorry indeed. But if you mean that it helped you gather courage to come here and help our people, after what you'd been through, I'm flattered." His face sobered. "But seriously, I need your help on something, and it may be dangerous."
"You need my help?"
"Yes, and that…" He suddenly lunged toward her, and flattened her to the couch.
"What!" His face smothered her. She beat a tattoo on his back. Behind her, she heard a chuckle.
"Good start, Zebara!" said someone she could not see. "But don't be too long. You'll miss the Governor's speech."
"Go away, Follard!" Zebara said, past her ear. "I'm busy and I don't care about the Governor's speech."
A snort of laughter. "Bedrooms upstairs, unless you're also working on blackmail."
Zebara looked up. Lunzie couldn't decide whether to scream or pretend acquiescence. "When I need advice, Follard, I'll ask for it."
"All right, all right; I'm going."
Lunzie heard the thump of the door closing and counted a careful five while Zebara sat back up.
"I'm glad you warned me! Or I'd be wondering why you wanted my help."
"I do." Zebara was tense, obviously worried. "Lunzie, we can't talk here, but we must talk. I do need your help and I need you to pretend your old affection for me."
"Here? For Follard's benefit?"
"Not his! This is important, for you and the Federation as well as for me. So, please, just act as if you…" A loud clanging interrupted him. He muttered a curseword Lunzie had not heard in years, and stood up. "That does it. Someone's hit the proximity alarm in the Governor's office and this place'll be swarming with police and internal security guards. Lunzie, you've got to trust me, at least for this. As we leave, lean on me. Act a little befuddled."
"I am."
"And then meet me tomorrow, when you're off work. Tell your colleagues it's for dinner with an old friend. Will you?"
"It won't be a lie," she replied with a wry smile.
Then he was pulling her up, his arms still stronger than hers. He put one around her shoulders, his fingers in her hair. She leaned back against him, trying to conquer a renaissant fear. At that moment the door opened, letting in a clamor from the alarm and two uniformed police. Lunzie hoped her expression was that of a woman surprised in a compromising position. She dared not look at Zebara.
But whatever he was, whoever he was in his own world, his name carried weight with the police, who merely checked his ID off on a handcomp and went on their way. Then Zebara led her back to the main hall where most of the guests were clumped at one end, with the lightweights in a smaller clump to one side. The other members of the medical team, Lunzie noticed, were first relieved to see her, then shocked. She was trying to look like someone struggling against infatuation, and she must be succeeding.
Zebara brought her up to that group, gave her a final hug, and murmured, "Tomorrow. Don't forget!" before giving her a nudge that sent her toward them.