Har Norma Byukan
Ding dong.
Norma twisted away from the Partner Meeting. "Who is it?"
"Dain." The office piped in his voice.
"I'm running a meeting."
"What are you after, Norma?"
Echoing the past, the question snagged Norma's attention. Recalling shared excitement, the
question spiked Norma's curiosity. Penetrating her mood, the question stole Norma's
concentration. Everyday business fell from her thoughts.
She cocked her head, instinctively turning in the direction of her front door. It's beginning
already, she thought, the alignment of players who will fulfill my royal ambitions. A sense of
destiny, tingling with conviction, washed over the scenery in her mind. The electric feeling
settled her down, a sovereign amidst all the minions of Popovich; it purged her doubts; and it
opened her up.
In that instant, a dazzling insight evoked her energetic history. Another engaged her potent
future. All she had to define: a forceful present to bridge between the two.
"Come in," Norma said to welcome not just Dain, but the fate that had brought him.
A shiver along her spine refocused her awareness on the can-see in the virtual hollow below her.
Dain's image still attended; the other Partners included him in their discussion. The deception
pleased her for a second. She, however, needed none of that. She broke into the dialogue, curtly
relinquished the chair to Idombruce, disconnected from the meeting, and whirled away even before
the projection of people and table faded.
Norma strode from her office, honoring its integrity this time by using its physical entrance.
Dain's silhouette hung in her mind, as though radiating from the entrance room, off the hall below
and to the left. With the image came vivid memories of his maverick combine and its raid on
Byukan-Hamil's marketplace.
That season six years before had stirred her like the caress of an inventive lover when she thought
herself satiated. Business lost. Competition sighted, analyzed, and attacked. More business
lost. BH response intensified. Market share still slipped away.
Norma sent her standard offer to merge businesses. Dain's terse "No" — like the slick rasp of
sharp metal on metal. Her formal request for a meeting/can-be-felt, coy with her assumption of his
interest. His sally into BH's can-feel room when he deigned to respond — like a slithery cascade
of ancient coins.
Memory of that meeting sent a delightful shock down from her navel into her groin. So much
mystery-danger-challenge in that room. His energy, his insolence, like clues to his real desire to
step across into Byukan-Hamil. Her own joy as she chased and lured him.
He threatened her domination of Continent Popovich, yet he had the gall to ask, in that first
meeting, "What are you after, Norma?"
She had to have him with her, to train him, to use him, to confine him. Instead of saying that,
she had answered, "We've gone stale, here in Byukan-Hamil. Come refresh us, Dain; inject us with
your vitality, your creativity. And I will give you the power to change a continent."
She had lied to him then. She would lie to him again.
Dain had accepted her offer, and she had cured him of threat. She had absorbed him into her staff,
made him Partner to give him the illusion of power, then leashed him. She had set aside the joy of
his challenge for the more permanent delight of control.
Norma faltered. In her mind, destiny's canary-yellow background grayed into twisted fate. The
tingle in her gut soured into doubt. She halted, just short of the archway to her entrance room.
Right now, Dain worked as her agent, just a deputy with Partner title to increase her weight on the
Team. She used him to fetch tactical results, strategic advantages, whatever her current scheme
required, always under tight rein. On the same leash that tamed him, Dain could not forge
dislocations in the consortium large enough to enable her ascent.
More to the point, if she unleashed him, did he still have the old energy, the old insolence, the
old menace that stirred her even now? Could he carry enough power to expedite her vision?
She cocked her head, instinctively turning in the direction of her office, the place where promise
had filled her. The yellow light of destiny radiated from there, re-igniting her.
Dain owed her. As her delegate, he had learned much, seen much, traveled wide, met many people,
far beyond any other job on the continent. Now was his chance to pay back that investment. Was he
up to it?
She must find that out, here and now, in this room. And if he failed the test? If that single,
insightful question proved an empty echo of his former acumen? She would eliminate him, the first
Partner to go as she downsized the Team — to one.
Norma's loins stirred again as she took Dain's fate upon herself. She breathed deeply. The air
stroked her nostrils, filled her lungs; its oxygen ignited her arteries. Sighting along his
future, she aimed at the other Partners. Her skin awoke to the stroking of her suit's cool-silk
lining; it hinted of sheets and other bedroom sensations. With the Partners all gone, she would
rule the continent!
Excited, focused, Norma leaned forward and peeked into the entrance room. Splashes of blue and
orange played against light woods. Mirrors heightened the cheery effect.
Dain stood motionless, his back turned, his head bent forward. He appeared carved from glacial
ice, ancient, arctic, patterned with seams. So different from her fiery memories of him.
Norma blinked slowly, wiping out the wintry image, and looked again. This time, she saw Dain's
slack semi-formal business suit. Under it, his short, slender body, a body she had never seen
nude, that no one had ever seen nude. Everyone acknowledged Dain's disinterest in the sensual. He
had never fulfilled that capacity with her. For that restraint, she had stabled him, channeling
his talents into routine chores, developing them as befits a workhorse, not a champion stud.
Would it always be so? No one partner had ever satisfied all her hungers. Would she never find a
partner as Danielle found Josef? Dain, embedded once again in a ligature of power, would do
nothing for her carnal lusts, not even whetting them with word play. Tidhar, long seconds away,
politically innocent, could satisfy only her body, not her ambitions.
Or could he? The question flushed out a glimpse of Tidhar in sortie, earnest, aroused, commanding
— she gleefully tucked that kernel away, settled her mind on Dain, and strode through the
archway.
Norma caught sight of Dain's face in the mirror behind her liquor server. He bent, not in thought,
but over a smoky liquid in a squarish stub-glass. She watched him sniff and nibble at the viscous
surface, then freeze. His uplifted eyes met hers in the reflection. Slowly, he straightened, set
the glass on the bar, and turned to her.
With another flash of aroused instinct, Norma ignored Dain's readiness to talk. She detoured to
the bar and selected a carafe of off-world port. Stroking its crystalline neck, she pondered the
adjoining hutch and the stemware arrayed there. After a moment, she chose a lucent-china goblet
from Pegasi's Nipple and poured several long swallows into it. She slowly replaced the carafe and
cupped the goblet in her hands. Then, she leveled her attention on Dain.
"What did you ask me?" she said.
Another moment eddied about them as she saw nothing stir in Dain's marble-like eyes. In those
seconds, Norma wondered, Is this zhuhndí interruption — really, more like a physical pre-emption
— a sign of alliance or challenge? Is its urgency based on concern for mutual welfare or for his
personal gain? Hope for his ambition surged around the question.
Dain stepped away, as if dodging her passion. Yet, his words snapped when he repeated, "What are
you after?"
Norma slipped a middle finger over the goblet's edge and into the cool port. As she lifted a
dark-red trickle to her mouth, she said, "You know too well, Dain."
"Perhaps."
Does he know what these mind-games do to me? Her breath quickened. Am I wrong about his use of
flirting? She parried with misdirection; the best always contained truth. "I'm not going lose
this contract, especially not to—"
"A combine from another continent."
Does he reflect my stress over that issue, or his own? She awarded him points for arousing the
question — and answered, "Should we be concerned that it is Gatogrebok?"
"It's us or them on this planet today."
"We don't challenge them on Continent Grissom."
Dain shrugged and turned aside. "We have our territory." He circled behind her. "They should
respect it."
"And we should protect it!" The words escaped Norma before she understood what they revealed in
their meaning and their outrage.
The hutch's mirror caught them both between two wide-set rows of glassware, her in close-up, his
full figure set against the decor. Dain caught air in a fist and growled, "We must pressure the
Ganj-Dareh Collective."
Norma opened her mouth to hide a grin. This Dain, polished by my tutoring, stirs me like the old
one did. She stared into his reflection's eyes. He met her gaze. Direct, exposed. Never has he
been so provocative!
Words popped out of her: "Whose side do you think Irwin's on?" Too late, Norma clamped her lips
together.
The question had burst from several layers down. It revealed a key point in her political
formulations. Its answer determined her campaign against the Partners — the other
Partners, Norma realized and relaxed a little. Dain aligned with her; he remained her agent even
in her new, grand ambitions. Yet, she needed a final test for Dain to decide his role. This might
be it. She held her breath for his response.
Dain slipped out of view.
Aiee! Just when I've made contact with him! Years of frustration seethed through Norma. His lack
of sexuality had always made him slippery, without the can-feel fulcrum she used on everyone else,
man and woman alike. Why did he do this?
Dain spoke from behind her, "We could do with one less Partner, you know."
Tempted to spin and face him, Norma kept herself still by swirling the port in its glass.
After a heartbeat, Dain went on, "I've developed means to bypass the policyware so we could make
the consolidation relatively painless. Very little disruption for the combines."
She delayed again, this time by lifting the goblet to her mouth. The port's potent fumes assailed
her. Its thick bite aroused her tongue, her palate, her whole mouth. The sensations kindled
Dain's words.
Norma peered into the cup to see the idea better. Irwin was wrong: a new style of proposal won't
budge the Ganj-Dareh Collective. But other pressure might, pressure aimed at the very base of
their common psyche. And Dain is just the man to bring it to bear. Consequences blossomed. She
straightened her head slowly to see them more clearly. Dain will need access to data and resources
that cut diagonally across the consortium's hierarchy.
Norma liked that. Through Dain, she could slice and reroute those lines of power. If she tried it
herself, the Partners would unify to resist. Dain, with his talent of mimicry, his gift of
ruthlessness, could make that transfer happen. He, subtly wielding her imprimatur, perhaps
benefiting from her occasional intervention, could gut the Team and hand their essence to her on a
platter.
Ready to talk, Norma set down the goblet and turned to find Dain. The room offered few shadows,
but he stood in one thrown by a ceiling-tall toromiru tree. Its wandering, tufted branches laced
his figure with dusky patterns, obscuring one eye, one arm, one hip, but leaving the rest exposed.
Norma set fists on hips and said, "Come here."
Dain stepped forward and halted a pace away. In the full light, his face, except for his
inscrutable eyes, seemed receptive, even pliant.
Norma continued, "Post Notices of Hiring on our continental board in the Mirnaya Direvnya.
Byukan-Hamil is forming a combine to manufacture products for interstellar export. We are
interested not only in combine members, but also tacticians, team-leaders, and product ideas."
"How many?"
"Imply unlimited."
Dain returned her gaze as though trying to see the thoughts marshaling in her brain. Then, in
short seconds, the shining surfaces of his eyes changed as something inside them, behind them,
shifted. He now stared beyond her, beyond the room.
"Strangers," he whispered.
Norma nodded and extended a finger in caution. "Make sure they're quiet, well-behaved strangers.
House them in every neighborhood. Make sure every member of the Ganj-Dareh Collective sees fresh
faces everywhere, walks with outsiders, rides with newcomers, eats with strangers. Give them so
much change they won't ask for any more."
He returned to there, to then, raising his eyebrows, pursing his lips, as though focusing his
thoughts. "People are out of work all over the continent. The transports will be busy."
"Good."
"We have the gong-she contracts in Ganj Dareh. Our combines will outstrip their budgets for food
and matériel. They'll have to rent more living space."
"So you can help them increase service with the demand."
"We should hold the announcement. Give me a chance to prepare our service combines."
"No. Announce it now."
"Norma—"
"Now. I want things stirring on this continent immediately."
Dain matched her scowl. Slowly, with a touch of a smile, he lifted his hands toward her, palms up
and empty.
Time to place her bet, release the authority — the power — necessary for Dain to get his little
errand done. The old Dain, unbound, had threatened the Team of Partners; he had threatened the
fabric of the consortium; he had even threatened her. She saw now that his menace had been
polished over the years, veiled but not diluted. Cravings, sultry and demanding, stirred in her
royal loins.
A queen takes chances to gain new powers.
Norma said, "Do you carry an llevar?"
He tilted his head slightly, lifting his shoulders in assent.
"Let me take over," she said.
Gaze still locked on hers, he gripped one lapel and peeled it back, revealing his neck above his
shirt's scoop collar. His skin, tight, pale, rough, taunted her lips. A hint of redness there led
her eyes to a slim probe, his llevar's agent-for-assurance. It led back into the thin, contoured
shoulder pad containing the device itself.
Norma reached toward Dain. She focused on the agent, to keep her intent clear, while an impish
thought scampered in her mind, spooking glimpses of intimate possibilities. All she felt, though,
was the tiniest scrape.
In that moment, the llevar awoke its holoscreen by his right shoulder, its volume empty except for
a few generic agents made available for her as a guest.
Hand lying along Dain's collarbone, Norma eyed the projection and said, "Compose an imprimatur,
consisting of the following proxies."
She named the permissions slowly, carefully selecting them to give Dain maximum penetration of the
other Partners while minimizing his threat to her. As she worked, she noticed how he kept
his gaze aloof, except for glances that remarked on specific accesses as she granted them. He
acknowledged only the most powerful, and that pleased her. Her confidence gathered its feet under
this course of action.
At the end, though, she added, "Imprimatur expires with this project, this 'Rendezvous of
Futures.'"
Dain's shoulder twitched under her hand, a flinch of disappointment stilled by an acceptance of
challenge. Good. Her bet on him was well-placed. He would work fast and hard to prove himself
here. He would also be ready when she proposed a new way to rule this continent.
"End imprimatur. End connection."
Dain swung his gaze back to her. "What if we win?"
Norma swung her body and her attention away. She placed a fingertip against her glossy cup; only
smoothness came through the light touch. Winning? Losing? Those won't mean much in the larger
context of things. Not when I'm through with it.
"We'll build and put all those people to work," she said and glanced back for a response.
"Make it happen in zhuhndí, some real jobs, some real products?" Dain nodded over his own words.
"We might just turn a profit on the whole thing." He grabbed one last nibble from his glass, set
it down, and walked out without another glance or word.
Norma coiled to watch his exit. Façade or genuine reaction? No matter. A twinge of approval had
risen out of her, as it usually did when a dynamic agent went to work on her behalf. She
acknowledged Dain's performance to evoke her confidence.
And with a faint groan, she acknowledged her pent-up ardor, brimming without Dain there to force
her composure. Very specific hungers awoke in her lips, breasts, groin, thighs, and fingers. And
so many seconds before Tidhar returned from his errand, returned to their very specific
rendezvous. In the meantime, she realized that only physical replaced physical, one aspect of
zhuhndí for another. If she couldn't have one, she would appease herself with another: a glorious
ski-trek over the snow-covered Byukan-Hamil Mountains, climbing furiously up and away, then
plunging back.
Reasserting control, Norma nudged her goblet within reach of the bar's cleaning automaton. The
move left her poised with both hands on the server, one stretched across it, the other relaxed on
its forward edge. The mirror behind reflected the pose. She absorbed the image, pleased,
contemplative.
The suit's understated charcoal complemented her golden tan. Its cut emphasized her broad
shoulders, athletic build, trim waist. She pictured her tight butt, muscular legs, commanding
stance. At the same time, her glistening caramel braid led the eye from her erect head, her
regular features, lush eyebrows, sculptured nose, full lips, along her graceful neck, and down
across her replete bosom, sensuality clearly restrained, yet just as clearly alive.
The body and face of a queen.
