IV

All the way to the Afen, Kurt had balanced his chances of rounding on his three nemet guards and making good his escape. The streets of Nephane were twisting and torturous, and if he could remain free until dark, he thought, he might possibly find a way out into the fields and forests.

But Nym himself had given him into the hands of the guards and evidently charged them to treat him well, for they showed him the greatest courtesy. Elas continued to support him, and for the sake of Elas, he dared not do what his own instincts screamed to do: to run, to kill if need be.

They passed into the cold halls of the Afen itself and it was too late. The stairs led them up to the third level, that of the Methi.

Djan waited for him alone in the modern hall, wearing the modest chatem and pelan of a nemet lady, her auburn hair braided at the crown of her head, laced with gold.

She dismissed the guards, then turned to him. It was strange, as she had foretold, to see a human face after so long among the nemet. He began to understand what it had been for her, alone, slipping gradually from human reality into nemet. He noticed things about human faces he had never seen before, how curiously level the planes of the face, how pale her eyes, how metal-bright her hair. The war, the enmity between them, even these seemed for the moment welcome, part of a familiar frame of reference. Elas faded in this place of metal and synthetics.

He fought it back into focus.

“Welcome back,” she greeted him, and sank into the nearest chair, gestured him welcome to the other. “Elas wants you,” she advised him then. “I am impressed.”

“And I,” he said, “would like to go back to Elas.”

“I did not promise that,” she said. “But your presence there has not proved particularly troublesome.” She rose again abruptly, went to the cabinet against the near wall, opened it. “Care for a drink, Mr. Morgan?”

“Anything,” he said, “thank you.”

She poured them each a little glass and brought one to him. It was telise. She sat down again, leaned back and sipped at her own. “Let me make a few points clear to you,” she said. “First, this is my city; I intend it should remain so. Second, this is a nemet city, and that will remain so too, Our species has had its chance. It’s finished. We’ve done it. Pylos, my world Aeolus-both cinders. It’s insane. I spent these last months waiting to die for not following orders, wondering what would become of the nemet when the probe ship returned with the authority and the firepower to deal with me. So I don’t mourn them much. I ...regret Aeolus. But your intervention was timely, for the nemet. Which does not mean,” she added, “that I have overwhelming gratitude to you.”

“It does not make sense,” he said, “that we two should carry on the war here. There’s nothing either of us can win.”

“Is it required,” she asked, “that a war make sense? Consider ours: we’ve been at it two thousand years. Probably everything your side and mine says about its beginning is a lie. That hardly matters. There’s only the now, and the war feeds on its own casualties. And we approach our natural limits. We started out destroying ships in one little system, now we destroy worlds. Worlds. We leave dead space behind us. We count casualties by zones. We Hanan-we never were as numerous or as prolific as you-we can’t produce soldiers fast enough to replace the dead. Embryonics, lab-born soldiers, engineered officers, engineered followers-our last hope. And you killed it. I will tell you, my friend, something I would be willing to wager your Alliance never told you: you just stepped up the war by what you did at Aeolus. I think you made a great miscalculation.”

“Meaning what?”

“Aeolus was the center, the great center of the embryonics projects. Billions died hi its laboratories. The workers, the facilities, the records-irreplaceable. You have hurt us too much. The Hanan will cease to restrict targets altogether now. The final insanity, that is what I fear you .have loosed on humanity. And we richly deserve it, the whole human race.”

“I don’t think,” he said, for she disturbed his peace of mind, “that you enjoy isolation half as much as you pretend.”

“I am Aeolid,” she said. “Think about it.”

It took a moment. Then the realization set in, and revulsion, gut-deep: of all things Hanan that he loathed, the labs were the most hateful.

Djan smiled. “Oh, I’m human, of human cells. And superior-I would have been destroyed otherwise-efficiently engineered for intelligence and trained to serve the state. My intelligence then advised me that I was being used, and I disliked it. So I found my moment and turned on the state.” She finished the drink and set it aside. “But you wouldn’t like separation from humanity. Good. That may keep you from trying to cut my throat.”

“Am I free to leave, then?”

“Not so easily, not so easily. I had considered perhaps giving you quarters in the Afen. There are rooms upstairs, only accessible from here. In such isolation you could do no possible harm. Instinct-something-says that would be the best way to dispose of you.”

“Please,” he said, rationally, shamelessly, for he had long since made up his mind that he had nothing to gain in Nephane by antagonizing Djan. .”If Elas will have me, let me go back there.”

“In a few days I will consider that. I only want you to know your alternatives.”

“And what until then?”

“You’re going to learn the nemet language. I have things all ready for you.”

“No,” he said instantly. “No. I don’t need any mechanical helps.”

“I am a medic, among other things. I’ve never known the teaching apparatus abused without it doing permanent damage. No. Ruining the mind of the only other human would be a waste. I shall merely allow you access to the apparatus and you may choose your own rate.”

“Then why do you insist?”

“Because your objection creates an unnecessary problem for you, which I insist be solved. I am giving you a chance to live outside. So I make it a fair chance, an honest chance; I wish you success. I no longer serve the purposes of the Hanan, so I refuse to be programmed into a course of action I do not choose. And likewise, if it becomes clear to me that you are becoming a nuisance to me, don’t think you can plead ignorance and evade the consequences. I am removing your excuses, you see. And if I must, I will call you in or kill you. Don’t doubt it for a moment.”

“It is,” he said, “a fairer attitude than I would have expected of you. I would be easier in my mind if I understood you.”

“All my motives are selfish,” she said. “At least in the sense that all I do serves my own purposes. If I once perceive you are working against those purposes, you are done. If I perceive that you are compatible with them, you will find no difficulty. I think that is as clear as I can make it, Mr. Morgan.”