Power and Money

"Wow, you must really like lemons," Cha'Rolette commented as she levitated a piece of bread up to her mouth and took a tiny bite.

Gerald chuckled. "Actually, I can't stand them."

"Then why do you eat them?"

"I eat them because I don't like them."

Now it was her turn to look surprised. "Is that a human thing?"

"Oh no. Humans are normally quite gluttonous. In fact, naturally, I have quite a sweet tooth."

"Yes, but... then why do you eat them?"

"Because it's something my body wants, not something that I want. It's part of my religion."

"What your body wants, what you want, it's the same thing, isn't it?"

"So long as you only do what your body wants, there is no "you," there is only a body.

"Seems like splitting hairs at best."

"That's because you've accepted your bondage. Try to go a week without food, and you will see how strong your chains are. Try to go a week without sleep, and you'll see how your body can override your mind effortlessly when it tries to assert itself. Denying the body to strengthen the spirit is part of my religion. It's the same reason I turned you down the first few times."

Her knife levitated up and spread some soft cheese onto a cracker. "What do you mean?"

"Well, let's not mince words, here. You are strikingly beautiful. Your whole body is basically designed to rob a man of his wits. That is extremely dangerous to me, you see."

The knife and cracker drifted back down to the table. "You know, I've dated a lot of men, but that has to be the weirdest, most backhanded compliment I've ever heard."

"I suppose it is."

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "But, at least it shows you are not completely immune."

"How's that?"

"Well, it was awkward and roundabout, but you did finally compliment me on my looks."

He found he didn't like this line of discussion, so he decided to change it.

"I'm afraid I still don't see the point of me being here. I stick out like a crate of sore thumbs."

Her wine glass floated up to her lips and she took a moment to savor the aroma before relaxing into a long luxurious sip. "The point is for me to introduce you to my world. Let you see me in my natural environment. Broaden your horizons. That is the purpose of education, is it not?"

"Well sure, if by education you mean getting a degree in learning about how wonderful you think you are."

She suppressed a chuckle, set her glass down, and then allowed herself a little giggle. "My dear Dyson, I am a Ssykes. I don't think I am wonderful. I know it."

A blue-skinned man with slicked-back red hair walked up and bowed deeply. "Forgive my intrusion, Duchess, but I must ask for a minute of your time."

Cha'Rolette tucked a ringlet back behind her ear. "You know this is not the place for the family business."

"I know, but this cannot wait. Pirates have attacked the hyperspace pulse station on Impe."

"They're becoming surprisingly bold, that's the third attack near the core in as many months."

The man nodded. The entire system is blacked out, we can't get any waves in or out.

"So why come to me?"

The man lowered his voice to barely above a whisper. "I know of your father's black-box network."

"That rumor was debunked in court as I recall."

"Please, I have family on Bespass. I need to know that they are safe. Could you use your private security to take them into one of your facilities, and keep them protected until the crisis is over?"

Isn't there an army for things like that?

"Please, your private security forces are far better equipped anyway, and these pirates are particularly dangerous. They are led by Lyssandra Bal."

Gerald recognized the name. He remembered her fierce eyes, the empty feeling deep in his gut. A part of him truly believed he was going to die back on that starliner. It was something he tried not to think about.

Cha'Rolette glanced over at Gerald, clearly not comfortable discussing this in front of him. "Let's examine the details privately."

The man pulled out a portable link and set it down on the table. While Gerald watched, they each pulled out a cable and plugged it into the back of their necks. It only took a second, their closed eyes moving back and forth underneath their eyelids as if dreaming, then they unplugged and nodded to one another.

The man placed his hand over his heart, gratitude in his eyes, nearly to tears. "Thank you, he said sincerely. "A thousand times thank you. My father and I are forever in your debt."

"We are only too happy to help. Just remember, there may come a time when the Ssykes ask a favor of you, and when that time comes, you may not refuse. That is the condition."

"Of course, Duchess."

As the man walked away, Gerald was impressed with the straight and proud way he strode. It seemed so at odds with the deference he had just shown to her, almost as if he became another person once he was out of her range.

"Who was that?"

"You don't know? I guess you wouldn't, would you? That man is Ruvator Wontwoon, son of Emperor Qetimong."

"Emperor... wait, you mean, like, THE Emperor emperor? The Emperor of the whole Alliance?"

"Is there another kind?"

She leaned in close. A rather unnecessary gesture, since she spoke telepathically, but it had the effect of making him pay closer attention. "Look, I understand how it must seem from your point of view. In your world, when someone boasts it is seen as a weakness of character, am I right? It indicates that they don't seem to understand that somewhere out there, there is someone more powerful and wealthy than they are."

Gerald nodded.

"But what you forget is that there does actually exist that one person who actually is the wealthiest, the most powerful. For that person, boasting would not be a weakness of character, but an objective fact. In this galaxy, that spot belongs to a handful of families like the Ssykes. So, when I say things like, 'I don't think, I know,' it is not bravado. I am merely stating a fact of reality."

Gerald took a sip of water. "I see what you are saying, I really do. But, to me, wealth and power are not the measures of a person's value."

"Tch, of course you think that way. That's how all people without power think."

Their waiter returned with two copies of himself and their food was displayed for them. Her dish was tiny, a little piece of meat barely bigger than a grape, while on his plate sat a single lemon.

Gerald looked up in disappointment and was about to speak when he felt an invisible finger press against his lips.

"Wait for it."

Then suddenly, the waiter tapped the top of the lemon and it unraveled itself into rings of rind and peel that expanded outwards in spinning circles. The wedges inside bloomed open like a flower, then each tip flowered yet again. When it was done, there was a miniature planet of rings and moons with a beautiful flower at its center.

Gerald couldn't believe his eyes. "That was... amazing."

"The chefs here are the best." Cha'Rolette said as her ringlets glowed and her little piece of meat was sliced by an invisible knife into dozens of perfectly tiny cubes.

"The amazing part is that he did all that with only a lemon and a single knife. It's called Essajabar, an ancient Uekemondoxian art form."

"Like origami but with food."

Her translator opened up a little window before her with some pictures of origami so that she would know what the word he used referred to.

Gerald looked at the artwork on his plate. "It's so nice I don't even want to eat it, I want to put it on a shelf somewhere and look at it forever."

"Oh, no no," the waiter protested. "Art must be enjoyed not locked away. Please, eat, enjoy your meal. I will attend to my other tables. When you are done the Tauseer will come by with the check."

Cha'Rolette levitated one of the tiny cubes up to her mouth and she chewed on it very very slowly, savoring the experience. Though it was small, the scent coming from off of her plate was immensely impressive. A wonderful savory scent with notes of floral intertwined into it. For half a moment, he thought to ask her if he could try a bite, but he crushed that urge as soon as it appeared.

"I love coming here. They have the most complete selection of Nufol of anywhere on Central."

Gerald thought it a little odd that she was talking while she chewed her food, but he quickly realized that since her people didn't use their mouths to talk, it wouldn't really be a faux pas for them like it was for others.

Gerald hesitantly plucked a lemon wedge from his creation and put it in his mouth. "So, if you don't mind me asking, how do your tentacles work?"

A little window appeared before her, displaying images of tentacles.

She scoffed. "They're not tentacles. They're a psychic organ called ta'atu."

"Oh, sorry... I just... uh." He could tell she was clearly offended.

"You thought they were tentacles?"

"Well... you know. They... ah."

"You mean this whole time you thought I was like one of these octopus things or something?"

"No, I uh... oh boy..." He could feel his face flush with embarrassment. Despite trying so hard not to be a xenophobe, he had clearly stepped over the line here.

He reached out for his glass but nervously knocked it over instead. The ice water spilled down into his lap and he jumped up to his feet, frantically yanking a spare napkin, and knocking over the floral arrangement in the process.

Cha'Rolette smiled widely and began to laugh. She tried to demurely cover her mouth up with her hand, but she couldn't suppress the sound. As he wiped his robes off, he realized that it was the first time he had seen her laugh. It was a smooth and silvery sound that came from deep within her throat, much different from the voice she projected with her ta'atu.

"You are a lot funnier than I thought you'd be," she chuckled.

"Oh, monks are very funny. You have to be with what we've been through. When you are neck-deep in sick people every day, you learn to see the bright side of things."