“Still not what I was,” Stavros said ruefully. “The medics don’t make extravagant promises, but the exercises are helping. Makes the metal beast easier to manage, at least. Here, give my cup a warm-up, will you?”
Duncan did as requested, put it in Stavros’ hand, settled again with his own cup cradled in his palms. After a moment he took his first sip, savoring the pleasant warmth. Soi was a mild stimulant. He found himself drinking more of it than was likely good for him these last few days, but his taste for food had been off since his sojourn in the desert. He sipped at the hot liquid and relaxed, knew that he was being swept into Stavros’ talented manipulations, set at ease, moved, directed; but he was also being heard, for what it was worth. He believed, if nothing else, that Stavros began to listen and cultivated the regul for reasons that did not involve naivete.
“It was a mistake, my speaking out,” Duncan admitted, which he had never admitted, not to his several interrogators or in any of the written reports he had filed. “It wasn’t that I didn’t know what I was saying; I did. But I shouldn’t have said it in front of the regul.”
“You were in a state of collapse. I understood that.”
Duncan’s mouth twisted. He set the cup aside. “Security got a sedative into me to shut me up and you know it. I did not collapse.”
“You talked about a holy place,” Stavros said. “But you never would talk about it in debriefing, not even to direct questions. Was that where you found the artifact you brought back?”
Duncan’s eyes went unfocused, his heart speeding. His hands shook. He attempted to disguise the fact by reaching for the plastic cup and clenching it tightly in both hands.
“Duncan?”
Dark and fire, a gleaming metal ovoid cradled in Niun’s arms, precious to the mri, more than their lives, who were the last of their kind. Do nothing, Melein had bidden him while he stood in that place holy to the mri, touch nothing, see nothing. He had violated that trust, delivering the wounded mri into human care, to save their lives, by putting that metal ovoid into human hands, itself to be probed by human science. He had spoken in delirium. He looked at Stavros, helpless to shrug it off; he did not know how much he had said, or with what detail. There was the artifact itself, in Flower’s labs, to make lies of any denial.
“I had better write the reports over,” Duncan said. He did not know what else to say. A colonial governor had dictatorial powers in that stage before there were parliaments and laws. He himself was not a civ, and unprotected in any instance. There was very little that Stavros could not do even including execution, certainly including shipping him to some station elsewhere, away from the mri, away from all hope of access to them and to Kesrith, forever.
“Your account was not accurate, then.”
Duncan cast everything into the balance. “I was shaken. I wasn’t sure, after I was silenced the first time, how much was really wanted on record.”
“Don’t give me that nonsense.”
“I was not rational at the time. To be honest to be honest, sir, I had the feeling that you wanted to bury everything about the mri, everything that happened. I wasn’t sure I might not be put off Kesrith because I knew too much. I’m still not sure that it won’t happen.”
“You know the seriousness of what you’re charging?”
“This is a frontier,” Duncan said. “I know that you can do what you want to do. Even to having me shot. I don’t know the limit of what I know or how important it is. If an entire species can be wiped off the board and forgotten what am I?”
Stavros frowned, sipped at his drink, made a face and set it aside again. “Duncan, the regul are living; their victims aren’t. So we deal with the regul, who are a force still dangerous and the mri ” He moved the sled, turned it, looked at him at closer range. “You have your opinions on the mri, very obviously. What would you do with them?”