“We’re still in Sevarium,” she whispered to Paul. “How is this possible? It looks interesting though.”
He squeezed her hand, then they passed through the doors of the Ministry, away from the heat and dust and lust of the outdoor spectacle.
The Minister sat at a vast desk made of a sparkling deep green mineral. He looked up from signing documents, obviously interested to see the keeper.
“Varga! I had not expected to see you today. These have come from the Arch?”
“So they say.”
Paul took advantage of the fascinated silence to introduce himself and Suka.
“Oh,” said the Minister. “Intergalactic anthropologists. I did wonder if we would get any.”
“What has happened? I would like to hear your explanation.”
“Before those disgusting Chavians destroyed our civilisation, we were working on a time-travel facility. You seem to have discovered it.”
“Time travel! Then we are in…the past?”
“Yes, a hundred aeons prior to our doomsday, to be precise. Or rather, ninety-eight now. Two aeons have passed.”
“You came through the Arch as well?”
“Yes. Myself and the majority of our best engineers had time to escape destruction before the toxic waste hit our planet’s surface. We have assimilated very well into our planet’s past, as you see. Within a few aeons, Paladium Three will be at the forefront of interstellar technologies and we will be able to alter the course of time.”
“That’s frowned upon, as you know.”
“Question of survival, dear fellow. Survival of the brightest. I like that take on evolution, don’t you? And besides, there’s precious little you can do about it. Now you’re here, you’re here. For good. So you can play along with us and join in the spirit of Sevarium, or you can spend the rest of your lives in incarceration. Which will you choose, I wonder?”
“We can’t ever leave?” said Suka in a small voice.
“Can’t have you sneaking off to Federation High Control and telling tales, can we? I know what you people are like. You don’t understand our ways. We’ve had mega-aeons of being told we’re disgusting perverts who ought to be blasted into oblivion. You can go and click your tongues and voice your distaste in splendid isolation, where we don
’t have to see it. Keeper, send for the incarcerators.”
“No!” Paul stepped forward, holding up a hand. “Listen to me. You are mistaken. Suka and I, we understand your ways. And we are in sympathy with them.”
The Minister paused long enough for a sneer to form. “Really? You know, the phrase ‘I wasn’t born yesterday’ is truer for me than for most. I was born tomorrow. And I know you’re looking for a way out of this fix. Pretending you can live the Sevarian Way won’t work.”
“But we can! We came here because we had a personal, illicit interest in your way of life—one we were forbidden to indulge. We even performed the bonding.”
“Oh, come, come?”
“I took Suka to the punishment suite and we made full use of its facilities. Suka.” Paul turned to her, exasperated by the Minister’s reluctance to believe him. “Show the Minister.”
Her eyes widened. “Show him?”
“Yes.”
“Show me what?” The Minister leant forward, salaciously interested.
“Ensign, I order you to lower your trousers and present your bare backside to the Minister.”
The firmness of his voice was not to be brooked. Suka shuffled around, red-faced, and bent to lower her tight trousers, easing them, with some sucking in of breath and wincing, down over her bottom.
“Oh…I…say,” breathed the Minister, sounding awed. “You didn’t lie. You have tasted our ways. And you, Commander, you like the whip hand?”
“I do indeed. Did I say you could pull those up, Ensign?”