Chapter 9

As the months traveled down to the vanishing point of time, neither Naras Sharaf nor his Fourth Father, nor any of the members of the Family Si, which was in charge of covert activities among non-Family worlds had any reason to regret the time and effort they had put into recruiting the human Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin.

The information that came from him in a steady stream was every bit as valuable as anyone could wish. Furthermore, he refused their offer to transmit the information through an intermediary because, as he said, of the danger of detection.

Thanks almost entirely to Loo-Macklin’s information, the Nuel were able to defeat UTW forces in three out of four small battles in free space, and to accomplish this with surprisingly light casualties.

These unusual successes, for usually the results were reversed, emboldened the more militant among the Families to call for the all-out war they had put off in favor of numerous small-scale skirmishes. They were voted down unanimously in the private chambers of the Council of Eight.

It was pointed out to the hotheads that the recent modest successes their forces had secured had been made possible in large part because of information obtained from a highly secret source. Expanded conflict would make the always-nervous humans extra wary, would jeopardize their source, and would make it unlikely he could supply enough information to assure the success of such a risky and dangerous enterprise.

Besides, there was no need to take such a chance. Patience was a strong Nuel virtue. An occasional defeat in combat might have a deleterious effect on human morale, but it would be slight at best. Most citizens of the huge UTW paid little or no attention to such news bulletins, repetition having long since inured them to the effects.

More important by far was the information their special source provided the Council about psychological motivation, the fragility of computer programming on some of the less affluent worlds, and related matters.

For example, there were the worlds of Mio and Giyo, where Nuel-manipulated businesses were able to gain control of local commerce. Again, thanks to information supplied by the mysterious source. It was the first time commercial penetration had achieved such a result.

Using such methods, some among the Nuel predicted that within the next fifty birthing cycles the Families might gain enough influence within the eighty-three worlds to affect decisions not only among planetary boards of operators, but also on an interworld level.

Within a hundred and fifty cycles, it was not inconceivable that complete control could be gained of the UTW. This with little loss of life, commerce, or material.

The predictions were not idle, nor dreams, for the source of critical information necessary to grease the path to quiet conquest was likewise still comparatively young. Nuel physiological engineering could extend his life an extra fifty or sixty years, and thus his usefulness.

There was no reason to fear for the plan. The Great Families were hard pressed to constrain their delight. Many looked forward to the day, though they personally might not live to see it, when a new era of Nuel expansion would reach out to encompass a hundredth of the known galaxy.

Skepticism was greatest among the Si Family, which was responsible for interspecies intelligence work. Years of frustration in dealing with humans had made them irritable and inclined to criticize as a matter of course. Gradually, however, their famed surliness gave way to an unbridled enthusiasm greater than that of those Family members who’d voted to support the enterprise, as Loo-Macklin’s information continued to flow freely and prove in every instance to be accurate as well as valuable.

For his part, Loo-Macklin’s interests prospered mightily. His employees could only shake their heads in wonder at their boss’ incredible ability to continually locate new sources of rare metals and earths, or to provide the groundwork for the development of new techniques in gene and bioengineering, which confounded the experts employed by his own companies. Particularly when one was aware of Loo-Macklin’s nonexistent background in such fields.

Those who had watched him over the years, however, were surprised by nothing Loo-Macklin did. Basright, for example, accepted such miracles without comment. They were simply a part of the endless river of surprises that flowed from the remarkable individual he worked for.

Basright suspected that Loo-Macklin had put together a private, sequestered research team of top specialists in many fields and that they labored out of sight (and out of any competitor’s bribery range) to produce one explosive discovery after another. It was the sort of thing Loo-Macklin would do, in order to enjoy his competitor’s confusion and frustration as much as the fruits of his think-tank’s labors.

In fact, Basright was not far wrong. He erred only in not suspecting the inhumanity of those unseen researchers.

Naras Sharaf continued to function as intermediary between Loo-Macklin and the worlds of the families. Oftentimes Loo-Macklin preferred to deliver really important information in person, so a private resort station had been set in orbit around Evenwaith.

Whenever man and Nuel were to meet, the station’s guests were given good-byes and its personnel sent on vacation. The freefall display chambers were shut down, the rooms for logi exercise turned off.

Naras Sharaf always arrived in a shuttle vehicle of human design and manufacture, adapted for Nuel use. It was impossible to shield so small a vehicle from detecting equipment. Therefore, the captain of the starship, which delivered Sharaf to such meetings, nervously kept his own much larger craft many planetary diameters out from the surface.

None of the station’s employees ever became suspicious of the periodic shutdowns. They were glad of the frequent, if sporadic, vacations which came their way and accepted them with good grace. It was hardly their business, was it, if the station management chose to turn the entire facility over to some rich executive or operator for a private party?

Even the shuttle crew, which carried Loo-Macklin up to the station, remained innocent of the real purpose of their boss’ journey. They did their job quietly, efficiently, without questions. They made too much money for too little work to trouble themselves with questions.

They didn’t worry about their boss flitting about an empty space station. His reclusiveness was famous, and such stations were largely automatic, computer-maintained and run. And, in truth, Loo-Macklin often went up early so he could roam the empty, silent corridors in peace prior to the arrival of Naras Sharaf.

It was he who’d insisted on the meetings to hand over especially important or sensitive information. Though he and Sharaf employed the most modern of tightbeams for their communications and encoded them with sufficient complexity to baffle even those who performed the encoding, he still worried about a message being accidentally intercepted by some idle, unsuspecting communications prober far out in interworld space. Personal contact was expensive, time-consuming, and dangerous. The Nuel agreed at once, however. The cost was nothing, the time well-spent, the danger an inconvenience compared to what was gained. The important thing was that secrecy was assured, and Loo-Macklin’s status rose in the eyes of the Si because it was the human who had proposed it.

“Greetings, my friend.” Naras Sharaf stepped out of the large airlock into the station, his cilia moving damply across the velcronite floor. The Nuel were slow and not particularly agile. What they lacked in athletic ability they more than made up for with exceptional digital dexterity. A Nuel tentacle was capable of feats of manipulation no human hand could hope to equal.

Loo-Macklin extended a hand and Naras Sharaf enveloped it in a tentacle. When they separated, the man spat in the palm of his left hand and touched it to the edge of another tentacle, the mingling of bodily fluids being the equivalent among them of a friendly greeting.

He walked patiently alongside the bulky alien as they strolled toward a large chamber, which no station guest had ever entered. It had been adapted to serve Nuel as well as human comforts.

Behind the two, several other Nuel clad in freshly spun uniforms were unloading tightly packed precision instruments designed to aid in the manipulation of cellular material, Loo-Macklin’s reimbursement for today’s package of information. The equipment had been built with Loo-Macklin’s specifications in mind. The Nuel engineers had become experts during the past few years in supplying him with requested instrumentation. They looked on it as a challenge, for not only were they constructing much new machinery, but every piece had to look on close inspection as though it had been built by human hands.

Naras Sharaf settled into the powder-blue cupouch and leaned his gross, warty form back against the inner curve of the horseshoe brace. He touched a control on the nearby dispenser. It served up a triangular drinking vessel filled with a liquid any human would have found unpalatable, if not downright corrosive.

“Well, my friend,” he finally said after sucking the triangle dry and ordering up a refill, “I hear from sources that our long association is leaving you more prosperous than ever.”

“I’ve been raised to status Second Class. It is supposed to be quite an honor, though I find such affectations distracting as well as meaningless. Odd how people will take the measure of a man by what words tell about him, without ever meeting the person in question themselves. I’m sure there are hundreds of people who have fully formed opinions about me, whom I will never actually meet. But this must be meaningless to you as well.”

“Not so, not at all at all,” replied Naras Sharaf. “You forget what a student of human culture I be. There is much that I find confusing, admittance be made.”

“No more confusing than most humans find your society,” said Loo-Macklin. “They wonder at sixty inhabited planets ruled not only without the direction and wisdom of advanced computers, but by a family system they consider archaic.”

“It has served the Nuel for thousands of years.” Naras Sharaf’s voice assumed an unaccustomed solemnity. “It serves us still.”

“And very well, too,” Loo-Macklin agreed. “You’re looking well.” His gaze dropped and he said politely, “I see that you’ve added an inch to your skirt.”

The Nuel shifted in the cupouch. The several flaps of gray flesh, which hung from his lower abdomen to overhang the upper cilia, moved from side to side like the wings of a manta under water.

“Not unfortunate have I been. Why deny that our association has brought glory to me as well as benefits to you? I gain praise from it. Now then,” he said eagerly, “what new delights do you have for me?”

“Always in a hurry, Naras Sharaf.” Loo-Macklin smiled thinly. “Later. First I have a request.”

“Ah. Something in addition to the agreed-upon shipment.” The alien seemed uncertain. “Well, ask. I suppose the Families would grant you a bonus now and again. They owe you much.”

“It’s nothing involving Family expenditure; no credit or instrumentation or pharmaceuticals. Nothing like that, at least not directly.” He leaned back in his chair and regarded the ceiling, his voice assuming a falsely wistful tone.

“You see, I’ve made it possible these past years for the Nuel to participate extensively in the commerce of the eighty-three worlds of the UTW. What I want, Naras Sharaf, is the right to do the same on the worlds of the Families. There are already a few human firms who’ve managed to gain access to your markets.”

“Little things,” said Naras Sharaf nervously. “Minor trading at specified and restricted interworld ports. They run no products directly to Family worlds.”

“Well, I want to.” Loo-Macklin looked hard at the alien.

“You say what a student of human culture you are. I’ve not been idle these past years. I’ve studied you, Naras, and everything I could obtain about the Nuel.” He made a gargling sound.

Naras Sharf twitched and his eyes performed acrobatics. “I did not know you could do that, Lewmaklin!”

“A difficult language,” Loo-Macklin confessed, “but not an impossible one to learn, if one persists. It would be easier with water in my lungs, but I can’t drown and speak at the same time the way you can.”

“But that was the calling for converse,” muttered the astonished Naras Sharaf. “I understood you clearly.”

“There’s a way of compensating that my own linguists have been working on for some time,” Loo-Macklin told him. “It wasn’t as difficult to accomplish as some would think. The main block was the fact that electronic translators do a perfectly adequate job of translating human and Nuel words. Also there’s not much call to master a language when there’s little opportunity to use it. Contact between our peoples remains minimal.”

He leaned over, sipped at a drink and added some new words. “It’s an intimate way of speaking and it takes care and practice,” he told Naras Sharaf. “But if I concentrate, keep a glass of water or some other liquid close at hand, and learn how to form the tones properly, I can reproduce almost any sound in the language of the Families.”

“A remarkable accomplishment, Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin,” said Naras Sharaf honestly. “Such efforts convince me you truly wish to do commerce directly with the Family worlds.”

“Truly,” gargled Loo-Macklin, adding in terranglo, “I think it’s only fair. I’ve made it possible for the Nuel to do it on numerous human worlds. I ask only the same privilege. It’s not as though you’d be opening the Family worlds to general commerce. Only my people would have the right, a right you know I won’t abuse because our interests are the same. I’ll screen everyone chosen, from the ship pilots down to the factors.”

“A powerful request,” Naras mumbled. “Naturally, I have not the authority to grant it.”

“But you’ll put it to the Council of Eight on my behalf?”

“Well, to the Si and Orlymas, at least. Those are the families that regulate commerce.”

“Tell them it’s not something only I would benefit from,” Loo-Macklin urged him. “Any trading families involved will likewise benefit. I’d think they’d jump at the chance to trade directly for UTW products on their home ground. It would mean my people would be absorbing some of the transportation expense and troubles.”

“I know, I know. There have been many who secretly if not openly have wished for such a thing. But continuing hostilities between our peoples …”

“That won’t be a problem because you’ll be dealing strictly with my companies,” Loo-Macklin reminded him impatiently. “The Families already know me, know what I’ve done for them and will continue to do. It’s only that I don’t see any reason why all concerned can’t increase their profits while the Nuel increase their penetration of the UTW.”

“So simple you make it sound; simple and inevitable.” Naras seemed to be gaining confidence in the idea. “Yes, possible this may be. Truly will I communicate your request to the Orlymas, though the Si must clear it first. I think it may take a full vote of the Eight to make it happen, however.” He paused, then asked curiously, “Tell me, my friend, why have you waited this long to make this request? I suspect it is not a new thought with you.”

“I can’t hide anything from you, can I, Naras Sharaf? No, it’s not a new thought. I had it in the back of my mind on the day we first met outside Cluria.”

“Then this is the end you have been working toward all along.” Loo-Macklin nodded. “It makes great sense. An interesting place to visit must be the back of your mind, Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin.”

Loo-Macklin shrugged. “Not really. Crowded, certainly. But not especially interesting. My desires are quite basic, really. Uncomplicated.”

Naras Sharaf made a sound the man could not interpret. Then, “I admire your patience. You have so firmly insinuated yourself into the intelligence network of the Si Family that I suspect they could not do without you. I think the Eight will grant your request. Once you begin, there are many small trading families who will swarm to do business with you.”

“Think of the propaganda benefits to be gained by the Families, too,” Loo-Macklin hastened to point out. “You’ll be able to make a grand pronouncement over UTW channels that after many years the Nuel, as a gesture of friendship between our peoples, are opening up their internal trade to human entrepreneurs.”

“Of course, that means only those companies owned or controlled by you,” said Naras.

“Of course. But it will look excellent in the human journalistic channels. The Families will gain in ways other than commercially by granting my favor.”

“Of myself, would I grant it this moment,” said Naras Sharaf, now positively enthusiastic about the idea, “but as mentioned, I have not the authority.”

“That’s all right.” Loo-Macklin dialed himself a nonalcoholic drink from his own dispenser. “I’ve waited years for this. I can always wait a little while longer. …”

There was much debate among the Eight Great Families over Loo-Macklin’s extraordinary request. The more insular among the Nuel were opposed. But Loo-Macklin, via Naras Sharaf, assured the heads of the Families that there would be no flood of humans, of potential intelligence agents, traveling among the sixty worlds of the Nuel. There would be only Loo-Macklin’s chosen representatives, chosen ones on whom he would keep a close personal watch to make certain no UTW government agents infiltrated their number.

When they asked for reassurances, he informed them that several agents for the Board of Operators’ covert activities bureau had already approached him for permission to work with his trading factors on the Nuel worlds. Instead of turning down the request, he’d agreed.

Now he supplied their names and likenesses to representatives of the Si, so that a close watch could be kept upon them. The Si were delighted, pronouncing Lewmaklin almost as devious as themselves, and almost voting to make him an honorary member of the family.

That would have been too much, however. After all, a human.

Loo-Macklin was not troubled by the slight. Honorary family status meant no more to him than the Second Class status he’d achieved among his own kind.

At any rate, the Council of Eight was convinced, and Loo-Macklin was granted his trading privileges.

Within three years, he had thirty different trading establishments on twenty of the major Nuel worlds. As he had predicted, the propaganda victory for the Families was considerable, and they were able to insinuate themselves ever more deeply into human affairs. Profits exceeded the expectations of Loo-Macklin and Nuel trading families alike.

It was when he was making a personal inspection trip to Molraz, one of the largest Nuel worlds, that his guide, Naras Sharaf, drew him away from a just-concluded business meeting and conducted him to a place of privacy.

When he was certain they were alone, the alien turned both vast eyes on the man. “If you are still so inclined, Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin, I have a special treat for you.”

“Still inclined? What are you talking about, Naras?”

“Something you mentioned to me a number of years ago. Something which I naturally ignored at the time and never remarked upon again, but which I did not forget. My mental file is almost as large as the one I employ for food.” He caressed his protruding abdomen. His skirt almost hid his cilia now, dragging on the floor. A handsome specimen of mature Nuel maleness.

“I wonder if your interest remains.” He glanced around the circular room once more. “There are those who would think it heresy and have my skirt for it, but I feel that as friend as well as associate, I owe you this chance.”

Loo-Macklin wondered what the alien was being so secretive about. As he watched, the two el spinning their way across Naras Sharaf’s upper body switched to silver and gold as they consumed his old attire of black and white polka dots. Naras automatically lifted his left upper tentacle to allow them access to his flank and back.

The el were one bioproduct humanity did not take to. The idea of inch-long bugs constantly crawling over one’s flesh was not appealing to the majority of mankind, not even to the more fashion-conscious among them. Besides, the el tickled the more sensitive human skin.

Loo-Macklin found them unirritating and had bought several dozen of the industrious little creatures early on in his trading relationship with the Nuel. The sight of his clothing changing constantly during the day was as fascinating as the material, a fine silk, was comfortable. The special el he wore had been trained and bred by Nuel designers to clothe the human body.

“Enough toying about, Naras Sharaf,” he said, more curious than impatient. “What desire have I forgotten that you have not?”

“Your wish to observe a Birthing,” Naras Sharaf told him in a low voice.

Loo-Macklin felt a rising surge of excitement, rare these days. Any hint of something new and special was an event.

“Very much would I like this. Are you truly serious?”

“Truly much so,” said the alien. “But there are complications.”

“I am not surprised. What kind of complications?”

“To the best of my knowledge,” said Naras, hesitating to answer, “no alien, human or otherwise, has ever witnessed a Birthing in person.”

Loo-Macklin saw no reason to argue with that. A Birthing was an event of importance and privacy.

“But you,” Naras continued, “have become such a vital part of our efforts to infiltrate and control the UTW, and have proven your loyalty on so many occasions these past years, that you have made many friends among the families. So I have been able to secure permission from one such for you to observe one of their Birthings.” He hesitated.

“But there is a condition. A strong condition.”

“Name it.”

“Restrain your compliance ’til you have heard.” Loo-Macklin hadn’t seen Naras Sharaf this serious in some time. He listened carefully.

“The observer psychologist in charge, with whom I had contact, was most reluctant, but he agreed to pass favorably on the request if you would accede to one condition. His superiors agreed and think it a valuable idea even if no Birthing view was involved.

“Recall you that a number of years ago I mentioned to you the possibility of your taking on an implant?”

Loo-Macklin’s memory sought. “Vaguely, yes. You never told me what kind of implant.”

“It was first proposed by the Si. You are a remarkable human, Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin, but I do not know if you are remarkable enough to agree to this.

“There is a very small, empathetically sensitive creature we have bred. A symbiotic nonmotile insect about the size of the claw in your smallest digit.”

Loo-Macklin looked thoughtfully at the nail adorning his little finger.

“Somewhat smaller than that, actually,” said the uncomfortable Naras. “There is a technique by which it can be sensitized to a particular thought. It is then implanted behind the cerebral cortex of any oxygen breather. An Orischian, for example, or myself, or a …”

“Or a human,” Loo-Macklin finished for him. “Myself, for example.”

“Truly, for example,” Naras admitted, watching him carefully for reaction. As usual, there was nothing. Naras had grown adept at recognizing the meaning of human gestures and expressions. Loo-Macklin was neutral as ever.

“You would be asked to think a certain thought at the moment of sensitization. There are ways of checking on such things. We have equivalents of your truth machines. The sensitization process, by the way, is a chemical one and utterly painless.”

“What kind of thought?”

“That you would agree never to do anything that would be contrary to the best interests of the Nuel. The actual insertion is performed under local anesthetic. You would never feel or be aware of the presence of the lehl in your skull.”

Loo-Macklin reached back and rubbed his neck. “How long does this little visitor stay with you?”

“For the life of the implantee or until it is removed by Nuel surgeons. I assure you that only my own people are capable of making such an implant work. If anyone else, human doctors for example, were to attempt to remove the lehl, the process would affect the creature’s emotional stability and it would react by defending itself.”

“And how would it do that?”

“By hiding in the only place it knows. By leaving its assigned position and burrowing as deeply as necessary into its host’s brain.”

“Then I’ll make sure I don’t sign up for any surprise operations.” Loo-Macklin smiled slightly.

“Then you consent?” Naras Sharaf was startled in spite of himself.

“Why not?”

Naras performed several elaborate gestures and eye movements indicative of astonishment mixed with delight.

“That is wonderful to hear and a great relief to me personally. I can tell you now that for over a year there has been much talk of testing your loyalty by asking you to undergo such an implanting. The Si were against it, not wanting to risk losing your aid should you decline. They will be most pleased and your decision will strengthen their position within the Eight.

“The problem arose because whether you realize it or not, Kee-yes vain Lewmaklin, you have become so deeply entrenched in not only our intelligence service but also general commerce that your humanness itself became enough to condemn you in certain circles. Many grow nervous to see a human wield such influence. Now that you have agreed to accept an implant, even those voices raised most vitriolic against you must cease their complaining. Your ability to work freely among the families will not be questioned again.”

“What happens if someone goes back on their sensitized thought but doesn’t try to have the lehl removed?” Loo-Macklin asked curiously.

“The disturbance will register with the creature. The chemosensitive receptors within its body will become irritated and the body will release a nerve poison. The action is instinctive and reflexive. The creature has no more control over it than you do. The host dies quickly. There is no effective antidote. The mind dies first.”

“Unpleasant. Yet you regard the lehl as a beneficial creature.”

“All creatures, no matter how seemingly insignificant or unimportant, have their uses. That is a lesson your kind has yet to learn.

“As long as you do not try to have it removed and do not retract the sensitized thought, you will not even notice its presence, save for one small side effect.”

“Which is what?” Loo-Macklin asked.

“The lehl prefers calm surroundings, as does any sensible creature. It secretes other chemicals to make its ‘home’ a comfortable place. While it remains with you, you cannot suffer cerebral hemorrhaging. If you receive damage to the skull, the lehl will assist your natural bodily mechanisms in healing any wounds.

“And another headache you will not have for the duration of your life.” Naras Sharaf sounded pleased at being able to cite a beneficial effect or two for the implant.

The former sounded good to Loo-Macklin. He did not tell Naras Sharaf that in his long and complex life he had never experienced a headache. …