Butler, Octavia - Survivor

“We’re about to lose our prisoners, Jules.” She had already given the room a quick check to be certain that it, like the rest of the house, was free of Garkohn listeners. Now she sat down.

Jules closed his book. “You mean they’re plotting an escape? How did you find…?”

“No. I mean their people are coming for them.”

“Same question, Lanna. How did you find out?”

“Diut told me. He came back secretly two days ago. He wanted us to know about the escape so that we wouldn’t interfere.”

Jules grunted. “I must have made a pretty poor impression on him if he thinks I’ll stand for that!”

Alanna said nothing. His words were meaningless. More “ritual lying.” She had no more time for it than Diut had had. She had some harsh truths for Jules—about the Tehkohn, about herself.

He studied her, interpreted her silence his way. “You told him we’d go along with it, didn’t you!” he accused.

“I did,” she said quietly. “We had a choice. We could give up the prisoners peacefully, as he commands, or we could fight to keep them and lose the help he would have given us. But he won’t help us while we hold his people captive.”

“Not captive, Alanna, hostage! Image of God, the whole point of holding them here was to…”

“Was to keep the Tehkohn from attacking. But your talk with Diut has already accomplished that. He won’t attack us, and he’ll help us break free. But those prisoners are the price we pay for his help.”

“Unless he decides not to bother helping us once he has them.”

“He’s given us his word.”

“For what it’s worth.”

She shrugged, wondering why he continued to argue. There was nothing for him to win. “Diut’s word is no small thing with him,” she said. “He’s testing us. If we can obey him, control the people in this matter, then he’ll be willing to trust us in other more important matters.”

“We’re the ones who must prove ourselves.”

“We’re in the inferior position. We need him. He doesn’t need us.”

“That’s exactly what’s bothering me.”

Alanna let her expression go flat and bland. “Could we stop him from taking the prisoners if he came here with a force of Tehkohn?”

“Just possibly, now that we’ve been warned.” He sighed, leaned back wearily. “But of course, we won’t. Thanks to our ‘inferior position,’ we don’t dare. I know it.” He sat still for a moment, eyes closed. “All right, Alanna. Tell me about the Tehkohn escape. Just what is it we won’t be interfering with?”

She watched him very carefully as he spoke, hoping that he was as convinced as he seemed to be. A foolish move now could destroy everything.

“Tomorrow night,” she began, “Tehkohn hunters will replace the incoming Garkohn relief guards. They will have to do it near here to prevent Natahk from getting word of it too soon. There’s a slight chance that our gate guards might see something—a few luminescent flashes perhaps. If they do, they’re to ignore it, and they’re to let the Tehkohn hi as though they believe they’re admitting Garkohn. Diut has promised that the Tehkohn who take part in this will be disguised—camouflaged—well enough for us defective Missionaries to make an honest mistake. In fact, they’ll be disguised well enough for the Garkohn to make the same mistake until the Tehkohn are too close for it to matter.

“They’re going to keep the fighting as brief and as quiet as possible, and as long as the Missionary guards stay out of the way, they won’t be hurt. That’s the most important part. Personally, I think the best thing for our people to do is look scared and confused and run for cover. It’s going to be pretty hard for them to tell Tehkohn from Garkohn in the dark, and that can be our excuse. We’ll need all the excuses we can invent, too, because there are bound to be Garkohn around that we don’t know about and they’re going to take everything they see back to Natahk.” She paused, thinking. “That’s all. All we have to do is avoid mixing in.”

Jules shook his head. “And all we” have to do after that is hope Natahk lets us survive long enough for Diut to keep his word. Natahk is going to know we aren’t completely innocent this time.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t suppose Diut had any suggestions as to how to handle that?”

“No.”

“He wouldn’t.”

She turned her head a little, stared past him. “You know what to do.”

“Oh yes.” He drew a deep breath. “I know. It’s become a habit. Fight, for the sake of appearance, then give in. Over and over and over, to Diut, to Natahk…”

“For the people,” said Alanna. “For the Mission.”

He said nothing. His face was set in lines of bitterness.

“You give in,” said Alanna softly. She was talking more to herself than to Jules. “You give in until your position seems strong. Then you use your strength and others give in.” She paused, glanced at Jules. “The people need time to grow numerous and strong.”

Jules made a wordless sound of disgust. “Do you think you have to tell me that? I know it, and it still galls me. And the people aren’t going to like it any better than I do when they understand it. I only hope I can get it across to them in a way they’ll accept before the Garkohn goad them into doing something desperate.”

Alanna nodded. “You’ll have to teach them. I remember… it was a thing people learned quickly enough in the wilds back on Earth—when to fight and when to give way. The ones who survived learned.”

“And this is the wilds all over again, isn’t it? With you better fitted than any of us to survive.”

She shook her head. “You’ll buy my survival, Jules—mine and everyone else’s—by submitting, by playing all three of your roles. Leader, slave, ally… I don’t blame you for hating it, but I don’t doubt for a moment that you’ll do it.”

“You can add a fourth role to that if anything goes wrong,” he said. “Traitor. Because if I fail, the people will surely be destroyed one way or another.”

Alanna drew her arms tight across her stomach. “I know.” How well she knew. “But deception is the only real weapon we have. We face physical chameleons. To survive, we must be mental chameleons.”

There was a long silence, and when Alanna looked at Jules she saw that he had read more than one meaning into her words. She had hoped he would. She had never spoken this openly with him before, but it was time for him to begin to understand.

“Wild human philosophy, Lanna?”

“Survival philosophy.”

“Yes. In a way, you used it on us, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And on the Tehkohn?”

“Yes.”

“All without losing yourself? What if I asked you again what happened while you were with the Tehkohn.”

“This time, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“You may have told me too much already.”

She shook her head. “Natahk will be here soon. He could force me. into a role that seems traitorous to everyone else. I don’t want it to seem so to you.”

“The penalty for playing too many roles.”

“When I came back to the settlement, I decided that I would play as many as necessary to get the people out of this valley, away from the meklah, the Garkohn, and the Tehkohn.” She spoke quietly, but with all the intensity that she actually felt.

He raised an eyebrow. “You seem to mean that. What if I asked you why you mean it—other than to save yourself, of course. Why… chameleon?”

“Because of you and Neila,” she said. “I keep telling you that. It’s true. It’s taken me two years without the sight of a Missionary face to make me realize how great a debt I owe.” She stopped, gave him a long look. “Natahk can’t stop me now. Even if he killed me, a way of escape would still be opened for you. Only you and the rest of the Missionaries can stop me—by letting him turn you away from me.”