Choices | Page 3

to
me in warning as a tall, elegantly-attired Tradurian approached us
through the assembled guests. He was like a great ship whose prow cut
the waves with impunity, the crowd parting before him without urging,
while in his wake trailed an even dozen of his entourage, who, like
gulls hovering above the transom of a yacht in hopes of food, waited to
dart forward upon a summons. At the great man's side a young
woman--surely too young to be one of his many wives--matched his
pace without seeming effort, floating gracefully along in a billowing
cloud of silver-blue silks. She was tall and slender and strikingly

beautiful; and I wondered if the crowd parted as much for her as they
did for the man whom she accompanied.
"It makes you wonder if we actually won the war," Burrye said in a
surly undertone.
"It would have been a mistake to have completely crushed the Church,"
I said around a tight smile. "And on worlds like this they're still the
dominant power."
"Like I said," Burrye growled: "It makes you wonder who won the
damn war."
"Prelate Kuhn," I said, bowing deferentially as the head of the
Tradurian Red Catholic Church halted before us and surveyed us with
an imperious air.
"Our host, Tiae Morrisohn," said one of the courtiers in response to
Kuhn's questioning look over his shoulder. "The new Federation
ambassador from Earth, assari."
"Earth," said Kuhn, venting the word from his mouth as though it were
an imprecation. "You are a long way from home, ambassador," he
added, with a lowering glare of openly hostile contempt.
It was difficult to know what to say in response to the obvious. But as I
regarded the prelate and his companion, I realized he wasn't talking
about light-years. Indeed, the great gulf between our two worlds
became markedly evident as we stood there facing one another.
"The people of Earth wish you long life and prosperity, assari," I said,
filling the sudden and uncomfortable silence with this stilted bit of
protocol I'd been instructed to follow.
"I do not need, nor do I desire the good wishes of your world," snarled
the prelate. "It may well be the belief of the Federation that you have
won a great victory and that you have somehow unified the Earth
Empire, ambassador. But I can assure you that is not a sentiment shared

by my people. We tolerate your presence here because the Terms of
Surrender provide us no alternative. But beyond honoring the
agreement signed by the cardinali, we are not obligated to embrace you
and your heathen ways. We do not wish to be contaminated by the
incursion of outside forces."
"It isn't our intention to threaten the integrity of your world in any way,
assari," I assured him, although that was stretching the truth somewhat.
"Your very presence here threatens it," he said; and then he was gone,
drifting away in his cloud of obsequious followers, targeting yet
another of the offworld ambassadors as an audience for his litany of
condemnation.
"You were lucky," said Burrye dryly. "He's not usually so pleasant." He
had a glass of something potent in hand, and took a sip from it as his
narrowed eyes followed the progress of the prelate through the room.
"I've met worse."
He shook his head, sober-faced. "No, Captain, I very much doubt you
have. This is no ordinary man; and his feelings about offworlders are
widely known. They carry considerable weight--even if the Church is
no longer the force it once was in the Empire. When you've been here a
bit longer you'll realize that while Tradur may outwardly appear to be a
paradise, it's anything but."
"You make it seem so ominous," I teased.
Burrye didn't laugh. "I think it is," he said.
"Surely you don't put much stock in rumor."
"You've only been here a couple of days," he grunted as he took yet
another draw from his drink. "You haven't seen much beyond the
embassy and the shuttle port. Wait a few weeks. The allure of the
scenery soon fades, I assure you. It won't be long before you'll realize
there's something not quite right about this place."

"Maybe you're making the mistake of looking at it through the eyes of
an offworlder," I suggested.
"They're the only eyes I have, Captain."
"We can't judge them as we would judge ourselves," I cautioned him.
"They're tens of light-years and a dozen or so centuries removed from
Earth."
"Clearly," Burrye muttered, with a distaste I found disquieting.
"Tell me," I said, wanting to change the subject, "who was the woman
with the Kuhn?" I tried to sound casual in my inquiry, but was only
partially successful. I could tell by the cautionary look Burrye gave me
that he wasn't in