George Martin - Old Mars

Thoughtful Grace , the emperors of the Crimson Dynasty had called the tembst-modified warrior caste that had enforced their will and kept their peace. They were rare now that the Tollamunes controlled nothing except the old capital of Dvor-il-Adazar and its environs, but it wasn’t only Martian manners that ensured a ring of empty tables around Teyud.

Sally didn’t intrude on the game; they took their atanj seriously here. The Coercive threw the dice one more time, moved a Transport piece to the square of the left-side Despot, nodded very slightly, and began to pack the set away. When the pieces were in their holders she folded it shut and tucked it into a pocket in the sleeve of her robe.

“I profess amiable greetings in return, Teyudza-Zhalt,” Sally said.

She took one of the flowers and dipped it in the sauce. Amiable greetings included an invitation to share. The texture was slightly chewy and the flavor sort of like frangipani-scented sweet-and-sour pork; her stomach growled.

Murder and sudden death, but you still get hungry if you don’t eat … and I literally threw away dinner .

“Contractual discussion?” she went on to the Martian.

“You have recently been engaged in lethal or near-lethal conflict,” Teyud said thoughtfully. “You were struck by an anesthetic dart there—” She tapped the back of her neck. “You are not accompanied by the … unconventional canid. I request details; then we may discuss contract terms in accordance with degrees of uncertainty, calculable risk, and difficulty.”

They did, and in a marked concession to Terran custom, the mercenary shook hands to seal the deal; hers was firm and dry and extremely strong. It wasn’t the first time she’d worked for Sally or other members of the Alliance mission here.

“This will be an interesting task,” she said.

“I need to get my colleague back,” Sally said grimly.

“That is the point of interest,” Teyud said, finishing her globe of essence. “That he was removed indicates that immediate lethality was not the object of the attackers. They were—metaphorical mode—operating as if intent on armed robbery, even though they stole nothing else. They wished to steal a vas-Terranan. Surely even the most eccentric of collectors would not do that simply to have one on hand? I am pleasantly at a loss for an explanation.”

The clock on the wall began to sing in the poetic-aesthetic mode, with a tone like the grief of diamonds:

Hours like sandOn the shores of a bitter seaFlow on waves of time;Twelve hours have passedSince last the SunRose in blind majesty;It shall yield heedless to nightIn one more— “Bit him, emphatic mode! Bit, bit, bit him!” Satemcan said viciously, snarling … literally. “I bit the intruder on the territory of my social reference group!”

“Yes, you did,” Sally said patiently, patting the canid on the head.

“I will—future-conditional intentional case—bite him again, emphatic mode!”

You couldn’t just say you absolutely would do something in the future in Demotic; the assumptions built into the structure of its grammar forbade certainty about uncontrollable events. Satemcan was coming as close to that as possible.

The canid wasn’t looking at his slightly scruffy best; the areas over his wounds were naked and glistening with the pseudoskin that covered them. He was moving well enough, though, and the medical tembst used organic glues to hold things together internally. They’d be absorbed as the accelerated natural healing took place.

And there was a crazed look in his reddish eyes. Not a happy camper , Sally thought. Well, neither am I .

“Canid,” Teyud said. “Can you track these individuals?”

“Yessss,” Satemcan said, all business for a moment.

He began to walk away from the apartment building, nose working as his deep red tongue came out to lap over it. After a moment he sniggered, which was something to see:

“He-he-he-he! Here they triggered an antiscent aerosol. I express derision! Utter futility! My exceptional sensitivity and practiced skill easily uncover the scents of blood and fear pheromones.”

He trotted on. Teyud was keeping her eyes up, watching for movement on the low rooftops without seeming to strain.

“Intriguing,” she said softly. “This resembles minor-unit confrontation tactics more than most private commissions.”

Martians weren’t any braver than Terrans, on average; they were just more straightforward. Teyud was, though. They’d worked together before, and it could get stressful. But right now, Sally didn’t give a damn.

“I express regret at the risk you must undergo,” Sally said.

The Coercive didn’t look around, but there was slight surprise in her voice:

“I chose to be involved.” Thoughtfully: “You vas-Terranan are the first new thing to come into the Real World in a very long time. Working with you is less demoralizing than sitting and contemplating the time when the Deep Beyond spreads over the final cities and the last atmosphere plants wither.”

“It will be a long time before that happens, too,” Sally said; it didn’t bother most Martians much.

She was checking their six; it would be difficult to detect a tail, but not impossible.

“Not so long as the time that has passed since the date when the First Emperor reigned,” Teyud said. “Ah, your canid halts.”

“Here,” Satemcan said, casting around under the feet of irritated pedestrians. “Multiple trails, but the freshest leads into this structure.”

“Oh, shit ,” Sally added, as the canid looked up with tail waving, expecting praise. “Ah … good job, Satemcan.”

The glyphs on the building read:

Cooperative Agency for Aggrandizement, Zar-tu-Kan Franchise .

“What are we going to do?” she said. In English: “Here at Yakuza Central?”

“I recommend following the exhortation on the wall: Enquire Within ,” Teyud said.

The waiting room was a large arched space; it had a rack for scrolls, which was the equivalent of a stack of magazines, and a vending device for essences. And there were advertising posters on the walls:

Have you lost the desire for self-preservation but lack the fortitude for conventional suicide? Then consider tokmar addiction, the most subjectively pleasant form of slow dissolution for individuals with your psychological malfunction! Initial samples available gratis!

Or:

Few satisfactions equal the excruciation of those who have antagonized or superseded you. Indulge spite and envy! Our specialists …

“It’s not the differences that are really disturbing, it’s the goddamned similarities,” she muttered, avoiding the helpful illustrations. “Or maybe it’s both. We do the same stuff, but they’re so fucking up front about it.”

Satemcan had his ears laid back as they entered; he must be getting a snoutful of unpleasant scents far too faint for human or Martian nostrils.

“Apprehension,” he whined. “Fear.”

“Did they come through here?”

“That way,” he said, pointing with his nose.

That way was effectively the receptionist’s desk, the one with a helpful sign:

Past This Point Those without Authorization Will Be Killed without Warning .

“You wish?” the receptionist said.

Then he took in Teyud, and Sally could see his pupils expand. He brought his hands out of his sleeves and laid them carefully flat on the table.

“You wish, most refined of genome?” he repeated—this time using the honorific mode.

Three Coercives in black robes stood behind the slab of gray smooth stone, and she thought there were probably more in the offing. This was thug central. It was some consolation that their eyes were traveling between her and Teyud with a certain nervousness; she’d been here long enough to read Martian body language well. It gave her an advantage, since the locals she dealt with didn’t have nearly as much experience with Terrans.