III
Simla wallowed in the deep bath in the Palace apartment they'd given her. It had been weeks gone since she'd had a soak, the last bath had been in her own apartment in her father's palace on Old Earth. Subsequently there had been nothing but showers and though they ensured she was clean, there was no pleasure in them. Shap made a clumsy attempt at scrubbing her back but she missed the soft hands and twittering voices of her personal androids. Even a lowly domestic android would have made a better fist of it than Shap, whose hands were better designed for combat than soaping her golden brown skin. But, still, it was luxury compared to those ship-board showers.
That First Minister had looked interesting, would he be a good kisser? That was very important. She wondered what it was about him that attracted her. Nice face, good body, sense of humour, those were all positives, but there was something else. It was his confidence, she decided, he was a man at ease with himself and that was atum-on in itself. She hardly knew him, of course, but, damn, that man was hot!
She stretched out and let her head rest on the lip of the vast bath.
"Do not fall asleep, mistress."
"Don't fuss, Shap."
"It is for your own good. I could allow you to sleep but you would be crabby when you awoke."
"Crabby? I am never crabby."
"I beg to differ. You frequently curse at me after an afternoon nap. I would regard that as being crabby."
Despite him she closed her eyes. "Are there any eligible men on Pendor?"
"None, mistress."
She lifted one eyelid. "Too quick. Not even you had time to consult your database."
The android wasn't fazed. "I have been consulting the database since we landed. I anticipated your request."
"The love-lorn Princess's reputation precedes me. Do I have any clothes for a Presidential reception, Shap?"
"As you know, the pack you brought from Old Earth contains only four pairs of tights, three kilts, four tunics and two jerkins."
"You forgot the waterproof cape."
"I did not think that would be suitable for a reception."
"Guess I forgot the evening dresses."
"That is singular, mistress, you only own one and you've never worn it. But I'm sure our hosts would provide if you cared to ask."
"Oh, I couldn't do that, Shap. A Terran Princess begging for a gown? I'm not here to give the fashionable ladies of Pendor a good laugh. Maybe I'll just go naked and tell them it's the latest fad on Old Earth. They'd be stripping off in minutes."
"The culture of Pendor would not accept the idea of nudity lightly. They are a generally reserved people."
"Damn them, spoiling all my fun. Throw me a robe."
Simla climbed from the bath and perching herself on the edge, dried herself leisurely. "I hope you're not going to start exterminating people if I find somebody attractive at the reception."
"I act only in your defence, mistress."
"If I was to give First Minister, Yaf, a friendly peck on the cheek, would that set you off?"
"A friendly peck on the cheek, as you put it, is not a threat. But if he attempted any further liberties I would be forced to act."
"He's the First Minister of an entire planet, for God's sake."
"His rank makes no difference."
"It would cause one hell of a diplomatic incident."
"I have the authority of your father."
"My father has no authority out here, Shap. They may call him the Great Father, but it's only a ceremonial title as the elected leader of Old Earth's people."
"Still. The peoples of the Twelve Worlds respect their roots and your father's position. They would not accept any assault on his daughter."
"I don't think Yaf would assault me. Seduce me, maybe. An arm round the waist, a kiss on the neck as we danced." She thrilled at the thought.
"The parameters for acceptable behaviour are in my programme. If they are breached I shall act."
".And break the poor man's arm?"
"I shall give him a verbal warning first, as I did with the Serdan Duke."
"People aren't used to being given orders by androids, Shap." She hugged the robe around her. "What to wear, what to wear?"
"I could ask our hosts to supply some suitable apparel and claim your gowns were lost during our voyage here. This would ensure you were not mocked by the women of this planet."
Simla threw off the robe and advanced on her pack. "You're too ready to tell lies, Shap. It makes me distrust you."
"The ability to lie is not normally programmed into an android's neural net, mistress. But dissimulation is a necessary combat strategy. However, I would not lie to you."
"And I don't want you lying to the Pendorans. I shall wear a tunic and kilt and damn their opinion. I'm not here to win any fashion contests."
The reception was held in the great hall of the Presidential Palace, an anachronism dressed in flock wallpaper and shimmering chandeliers. It mostly went as Simla had imagined as the great and good of Pendor lined up obediently to troop by her and shake her hand before gathering in little cliques to gossip, eat, drink and occasionally dance to some local music which Simla found dreadful. The men were upright and debonair and their ladies stylish and elegant, but Simla knew that her title outshone them all and made them ignore her shabby drab. There were a few attractive men but they kept their distance and Yaf informed her that the story of the Serdan Duke had spread quickly. She damned Shap's aggression but to rub their noses in it, and because nobody else asked, she dragged the mechanical man onto the floor for a waltz. The effect, of the slender, long-legged, Princess and the stocky android, pirouetting around the floor caused a buzz but this was what Simla wanted. The gravity of Pendor was slightly lower than that of Old Earth and Shap, of course, never tired, so they saw several squadrons of partners from the floor before Yaf finally cut in and took her hand.
"Not afraid of a broken arm?" she asked, smiling.
"My intentions are honourable, Shap," Yaf said, bowing to the android, "I merely wish to talk with your mistress."
"No ravishing then," Simla said glumly.
"The price is too high, I'm afraid. I swim for exercise, so I need my arms."
His dancing was a joy after the lumbering android and Simla didn't feel much like talking, but she knew her primary task was diplomatic. "What do you need to know, Yaf?"
The First Minister hesitated, as if unsure of how to broach the subject. "This might seem rather strange, considering we've barely met, but I have a notion to accompany you on your vital mission, if you'll have me." She stepped back from his arms and looked him up and down. "I'm doing all of the inhabited Worlds. It will take months."
"I have vacation time coming. I'll be with you as a civilian, but my name will carry some weight. We must make the other worlds move, and fast."
"And what of Pendor?"
"We may be farmers, but we are also excellent bureaucrats. I have set the wheels in motion already. We are calling up men for training. We are stockpiling resources. We will be ready if these devils come."
Simla was glad that he'd caught the urgency of the situation. "You move fast, First Minister. You give me hope for our people."
Yaf gave a little bow. "So you have no objection to me joining you?"
"None at all, I welcome it. Just don't get fresh or Shap will kill you."
Yaf grinned. "Duly warned. But why didn't your father send a political retinue with you in the first place. It seems to be asking a lot of a ... "
"A mere girl? I've been called worse, Yaf. But as I said, people on Terra don't reckon the threat yet, just like that damn Coosoli and his buying them off. In any case, huge grandstanding might cause a panic and the Great Father wants us to be ready, not running around like headless chickens."
Yaf thought on this for a moment and then shook his head. "I tend to disagree. We might have to cause a panic to get some of these slug-a-beds to move, and better the people panic now than when alien troops are bombarding their homes."
She hadn't thought of that and it gave her pause. Perhaps this handsome First Minister had picked up on something they'd missed. Was a sharp shock the best way to drag them from their complacency?
"We have no fleet, only one old cruiser, the Robin, but the President has put it at my disposal. More importantly, it's faster than any star-liner, and means we can proceed at our own pace rather than waiting for scheduled flights."
He was moving too fast, she needed time to think. One of the reasons his father had sent her alone was because he knew how single-minded she was and he didn't want any bevy of courtiers clouding her mind with doubt. And now this First Minister offered to help her and was full of suggestions, but he didn't seem to be any kind of hindrance. In fact, he was the most dynamic man she'd met in years, a match for herself, almost.
"Let me sleep on it, " she said quietly.
"If you're tired I can call this circus to a close."
She thanked him for his gallantry and made her way back to the apartment, having asked Yaf to send some food there. She'd danced so much she'd forgotten to eat at the reception.
To her surprise it was Yaf himself who wheeled her dinner into her. "I thought we could talk some more while you ate," he explained as he sat down beside her on her bed.
She inched away from him, her eyes on Shap. "Simla's bed is a dangerous place, Yaf."
"I think Shap knows me by now."
"He'll still cut your head off if you lay a hand on me."
He started slightly at her, but caught himself. "You're a beautiful woman, Simla, but not every man is eager to get his claws on you."
"Oh, does my beauty not beguile you?"
"Entrances me, but I don't think you're worth getting my had ripped off for."
"I'd have a surgeon stitch it back on, promise."
He ignored her and began placing food for her onto a platter. She appreciated the gesture and grabbed the dish of roasted meats in gravy, vegetables and bread baked with herbs. It was delicious. "You set a good table, Yaf."
Yaf accepted the compliment with a nod. "It wouldn't stand well if an agricultural world like Pendor didn't feed it's people well. But the reason I needed to talk to you further is because I wanted to assure you that you take the lead on this mission. I saw you hesitate when I offered to join you, don't deny it. But I only want to help you, I'm no glory hunter."
She looked at his chiselled face and decided to test his mettle. "Shap, check his biographical database. Is he now, or has he ever been, what could be described as a glory hunter?"
The response was quick. "Within the biographical information in my database, no."
Yaf clapped his hands in triumph. "There, I'm vindicated!"
She laughed at his gloating while chewing on a piece of venison. "I may not accept my android's judgement. You might just be the guy that wants to be remembered as the man who saved the human race."
"And you don't want to be the girl who does the saving?"
She finished her meal and pushed the plate away. "But I didn't volunteer. I'm under the express command of the Great Father."
"Your dear father."
"I'm a Royal Princess, dear boy, I could be sunning myself on a beach in a tiny bikini, sipping rum cocktails and tantalising the local boys, not tramping across the galaxy with an android for a chaperone."
"Then neither of us is a glory hunter and we do this for the greater good of humanity?"
"Agreed, we are totally selfless." She smiled and pulled her legs under her on the bed but decided against reclining with Shap's baleful glare on her. She had an urgent urge to flirt with this man but to put temptation in his way when it might lead to murder or mutilation seemed a step too far.
Luckily Yaf took the initiative. "Shap, would you take the trolley back to the kitchens?"
The android hesitated.
"The kitchens are on the floor below and there is an elevator ten yards from that door. You can be back in three minutes and I doubt I can seduce your mistress in that time."
There was another pause before the android moved. "I do not need to be present to defend my mistress. My hearing is highly tuned and I shall hear any infraction." He pushed the trolley hesitantly towards the door. The moment he was through it Yaf stretched toward her and kissed her quickly on the lips. "A silent kiss then," he whispered.
He'd kissed her! She squirmed with delight. And she would have him to herself on a long voyage. And surely warships had many hidden corridors and rooms where it would take an age for a android to find them. But she must make him work for her hand.
"Why did you do that?" she asked.
"Because I wanted to. I have this strange compulsion to kiss beautiful women."
"Ah, so, you think I'm beautiful."
"Not classically, because that's boring. But you have a face, Simla, that positively sings."
She hugged her knees. "Simla with the Singing Face. You make me sound like a sideshow freak."
"You don't take compliments easily, I like that."
"Well, I don't get them that often."
"Now, you're fishing. Tell me about yourself, Princess Simla of Old Earth."
Simla stretched out as Shap returned and took up his position. "What is there to tell? I'm the second youngest of the Great Father's eight daughters, Geneva's the youngest. I'm the no-talent one, but that's okay because nobody expects anything from me that way."
"I don't believe that for a moment. You're one of the most fascinating women I've ever met."
"Ah, that's my personal magnetism. I had it recharged before I set off on this trip."
"Oh God, and a sense of humour too, I love it."
"You're pretty cute yourself."
"Madam, I am First Minister of an entire planet, I cannot be described as cute, it would look ridiculous on the election posters. Vote Alrick, Your Cute Candidate."
Simla laughed and decided that she definitely liked this man. "What do your posters say?"
He rested a casual hand on her ankle. "Oh farmers are boring people so I have to be boring old Yaf for them, and it's mostly true."
"Now, that's a lie. Doesn't seem to me like you're the kind of guy who'd get into politics."
"Yeah? The truth is that I was born to serve, it was the way I was brought up."
"Oh God, you sound just like my Dad. He's always harping on about our role in life and serving the people. Guess I'm too self-centred for that."
"Doesn't strike me that way."
Simla found herself drifting into the warm stare of his brown eyes. "Oh, they're always finding little missions to send Simla on, just to give her something to do."
"I don't think this is a little mission. I wouldn't send somebody I didn't trust implicitly on such an important task."
"Oh, I have my uses, but the Great Father could have got his message to the Twelve Worlds with one transmission."
Yaf shook his head. "No, that was a masterstroke. Sending his own daughter carries much more weight."
"And there I thought he just wanted me out of the way to stop cluttering up the Palace."
"You live in the Great Father's Palace?"
"All five unmarried Princesses do. We have an apartment each, so we're not in each other's pockets." A Princess that lives in a Palace, I am moving in exalted circles."
"It's nothing but a bore, Yaf, believe me. And a hypocritical one at that. Dad's elected, but they call him Great Father and his daughters Princesses like he was some ancient King or Emperor. Where's the sense?"
"Tradition's a powerful force, Simla, and people need it. It's fine as long as it's not misused."
She threw her head back. "Oh, I've seen them all, Serdan Dukes with their silly swords and Kindoran Earls who have their lineage tattooed on their back. They're insane, it contributes nothing to humanity."
He smiled. "Live and let live, or in the Old Earth adage, Tt takes all sorts to make the world go round. ' Let them have their little fantasies. It's not as if it's like the old days when the aristocracy lived off the sweat of working men and women. They're just silly people who like to give themselves silly titles."
She wondered how they had drifted away from the important subject of flirting and decided to return to her course if possible. "You're kind of young for a First Minister aren't you?"
He grinned again. "I'm thirty, since you ask and, as I said, politics is in my family. I was making speeches when I was knee high."
"You poor thing." She sat up and put her hand over his on her ankle. "Make a little speech for me now, Yaf. Wax eloquent on how beautiful and fascinating I am."
"Talk about being forward."
"It comes with being a Princess, sirrah. Now, your honeyed words, if you please."
Yaf leaned towards her. "Look into my eyes."
She pulled back. "Oh, no way, that's cheating."
"As you wish," and he fixed her with the power of his eyes and began.
"Lovely Simla, may I say,
You entrance, in every way,
Your coal black hair, your pale green eyes,
Call from me adoring sighs,
I love your wit, your angel smile,
For those I'd walk a thousand miles,
You are a treasure, this I swear,
Your lips do call for all my care,
I have not known you long, my sweet,
But know this now,
I shall not retreat."
Simla had sunk totally into his eyes and remained fixed there. "If that was rehearsed," she hissed, "I'll kill you."
He waved his hand before her eyes, breaking the spell. "Every word made up on the spot, I swear."
Simla sniffed and raised her chin. "You are a bit of a catch yourself, Mister Alfrick, you're as handsome as they come, you move like a cat, you're funny and you can make up a poem at the drop of a hat. Some woman will be lucky to get a hold of you."
"As long as it's you," he replied, without a trace of humour. He stood up then and, after bowing to her, left her room. Simla lay for a long time thinking about him. Yes, she lusted after him, but this was more than lust. She genuinely, properly, and enthusiastically, liked him. And how far was that step from like to love? Be still, my girlish heart, she laughed to herself and slowly, but slowly, she drifted off into a warm, satisfied, sleep.