Part 17 (2/2)
A wall that had long ago been the inside of this mountain, before it was split by . nature's most elemental forces, then carved and shaped and worn smooth by flowing water and blowing wind. By the Hidden Hand the Sojourners believed in, extended by Mother World to guide and protect them. The surrounding grandeur of Sanctuary Canyon almost made Riker a believer, too.
They rounded the canyon rim and entered the Stone City, where Riker was presented to Lessandra in her barren garden. The old woman hobbled up to him, then propped her weight on her walking crutch, the padded mob tucked under her arm. The crutch was adorned with intricate carvings, and polished ebony designs were inlaid along the shaft. In her white hair Lessandra wore a circlet of silver, finely wrought but tarnished by time in an environment that offered no protection for precious bangles.
Riker wondered about those elegant touches that seemed so out of place in the ragged world the Sojourners had chosen for themselves. As Lessandra sized him up, he did the same to her. A missing leg, one half-closed eye, weathered skin, missing teethlife hadn't been easy for her. ”So you're Riker.”
”And you're Lessandra. You lead these people?”
She snorted a mirthless laugh. ”You could call it that.”
”Then we've got important things to discuss.”
”Oh, do we now? Let's do it over evenmeal.
I've had food prepared. Little one,” she said to Mori, ”fetch some of the silberry wine.” She turned to glare at a man and a woman standing beside her.
The woman had a deeply lined face, though she was much-younger 179 than Lessandra. The man was also middle-aged, with a gray beard. ”We want to be part of this,” said the woman.
Lessandra puckered her lips in annoyance. ”I don't have to let you, Glin.”
”Then Jaminaw and I will have to tell the people you're keeping secrets from them. That won't do wonders for your support.”
”Come along, then, d.a.m.n you.”
She led the small group to her house. Even in twilight, Riker could see that the two-story building was constructed of sandstone bricks hand-hewn to exacting tolerances, their beveled edges so tightly aligned that a slip of paper would not fit between them. Inside, the walls were covered with large tapestries woven with abstract geometric designs, their colors amazingly vibrant, especially in contrast to the drabness of the desert terrain Riker had looked at all day. Candles in holders chipped from stone blocks were scattered liberally about the main room, bathing it in soft light that quivered with every breath and breeze. There was no furniture, except a few squat barrels serving as tables. Large pillows and heavy blankets littered the floor, and that was where they sat. Mori entered from a back chamber with a clay pitcher and mugs for Lessandra, Riker, Glin, Jaminaw, and Durren. A younger girl, in her mid-teens, scurried in with two platters of fowl roasted to a crunchy goldbrown over an open flame. They were still sizzling. The serving girl left the food on the barrel tables, then disappeared and hurried back with a meager salad of leaves and roots. Mori poured the drinks and then sat down.
Riker was glad for the hot food, since the temperature 180 had started to drop with the approach of dusk, a common characteristic of most of the deserts he'd seen. ”Tastes good.”
”See? We're not starving,” Lessandra said smugly.
”Of course this is the first time we've had meat in three weeks,” Glin countered.
Lessandra flashed a dirty look at her, but Riker spoke first. ”Look, let's get one thing straight. I'm not your enemy. My s.h.i.+p came here to help Thiopans who need help. We've got food, medicine, all sorts of supplies to help your world get back on its feet.”
”Do you have weapons?” Lemandra said.
”Not for you-and not for Stross. This is a humanitarian relief mission.” ”We're the ones who need what you've got. I'll trade you to your captain in return for all those supplies.”
”We can't do that. We're empowered to deal only with the planet's authorized government.”
”Come back soon and we will be the government.”
”I might as well tell you now, Lessandra,”
Riker said in a firm voice, ”that Captain Picard is not going to bargain for my release.”
”I know one thing: he won't let you die in our hands. People who have come this far to help poor starving famine victims are too softhearted to leave one of their own in captivity.”
”n.o.body on the Enterprise is indispensable.”
”Brave talk.”
Riker nibbled on a leg of fowl. The meat was tough-these birds had not been raised on quality feed, that was certain-but however they were cooked, the flavor had a satisfying tang to it. ”Not brave-just factual.”
”So your captain thinks you're worthless.”
”I didn't say that, Lessandra. But Startleet has very clear guidelines for dealing with terrorists.”
”We're not terrorists!” Lessandra sputtered.
”You may have perfectly valid grievances, but the second you kidnap hostages, you become terrorists. If you give me back unconditionally, I promise you'll get a fair hearing from Captain Picard.”
The old woman grunted disdainfully. ”And you'll overthrow Stross for us.” ”We can mediate.”
”Mediate what?”
”A settlement-not a surrender.”
Jaminaw stabbed an enthusiastic finger into the air.
”Listen to him!” Riker frowned, trying to fathom this battered leader who, at the moment, held his fate in her hands. ”What exactly do you want equals and don't tell me the overthrow of the government.”
”But that is what we want, Riker.”
”Give me something realistic, and maybe the Federation can help you.”
”Why would Stross listen to the Federation?”
Ixssandra asked. ”Because he wants Federation aid-and the Nuarans aren't the only alien race who would like a piece of your planet. Stross can accept aid from the Federation-or dominance from the Nuarans or the Ferengi. I know which one I'd pick if I were sitting in his chair.”
Glin munched reflectively on a root. ”So you're saying that in return for aid, Stross might be inclined to pay some mind to what the Federation says about our fight?”
”Don't misunderstand me. We have a very strict rule called the noninterference directive. We can't meddle with the internal affairs of any world, nor can we change how any society is developing just because we think our way is better. But if we're asked to help settle a dispute, we can try to bring two warring parties together for their own common good.”
”Tell him what we want,” Mori piped up.
The older council members looked at her, and when no one spoke right away, she told him herself.
”We want the right to live our own way. We want a chance to convince other people that our way might be better, but if they don't choose to agree with us, then we won't force them-sort of our own noninterference directive.”
Riker looked at the others. Lessandra's face furrowed in disapproval. But Glin and Jaminaw were nodding. ”Is Mori right?” he asked.
”The essence is there,” Glin said, her graying whiskers twitching. ”Ealix dung!” Lemandra exploded. ”You're all ready to betray everything our ancestors stood for, everything Evain taught us and died for. You're ready to believe that Stross and his criminals will learn to love Mother World overnight and accept the Hidden Hand and live in true Fusion with the land. And if you believe that, you've all got sand for brains.”
”Lessandra,” Riker said, ”governments sometimes do incredible turnarounds when the alternative is extinction. And in the case of Thiopa, your environmental disasters could mean the extinction not only of the government but of life itself.”
”Besides,” Glin added, ”no agreement is forever.
<script>