Read Phoenix Café for Free Online Page B
Authors: Gwyneth Jones
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Maitri sighed. he explained succinctly.
Sattva’s manner changed.
agreed Lord Maitri, gloomily.
Reformers and Traditionalists were the principal human political parties, former combatants in the Gender Wars. They contended for control in every city, not always under those names. Originally they’d represented the human sexes: the Reformers being the party of the women, Traditionalists mainly led by men. Throughout Earth, and especially in fiercely Traditionalist Youro, the factions were more and more at odds as Aleutian influence withdrew.
Sattva frowned: then deliberately raised his voice in another speech, short and to the point. “The Expedition is doing its best to build bridges. One reason I’m here today, Lord Maitri, is to sound-out Youroan opinion on our negotiations with the Reformer regime in the Americas.”
North America had quarantined itself, early in the Aleutian era. The southern continent had joined them later on. The Americas had shut themselves off, behind physical and data-proof barriers, and refused to recognize the Aleutian presence. Presumably there was some covert human contact, but the aliens had never been able to find a go-between. For a hundred years they’d been pretending they didn’t care, and secretly longing to be invited back.
Maitri grimaced a discreet warning: the word “Reformer” struck a wrong note in this company. Sattva forged on regardless.
“It is our hope that our last acts on Earth will be to heal the breach between the two great Broods, and bring the Americas back into the human fold. We mean to secure peace with honor, for all humankind.”
he added sourly, He paused, his attention caught by the spectacle of Catherine, and Michael Connelly Junior, returning from the garden. He stared forbiddingly at the gilded scion of the Traditionalist Regime, as he parted from “Miss Catherine” and strolled idly across the room.
said Maitri. Maitri’s glance lingered fondly on the self-regarding progress of the young human male. “The uncertain splendor of an April day—” he murmured.
The Aleutians were the lords of life. In the days of First Contact, and for generations after, human deadworld communications devices had been avoided with horror: void-force technology was an offense against reason and religion. Maitri glanced at Sattva’s virtual ghost with a wry smile.
They had drifted, as they talked, to the buffet table. The food was as usual practically untouched. Maitri sighed. He felt warmly towards Misha Connelly, whatever the young rascal’s motives. He began to rearrange the tidbits in more enticing patterns.
said Sattva.
![Training Their Mate [Pack Wars-Book 1]](https://fs.bookdaniel.net/559068/thumbs/152x264/training-their-mate-pack-wars-book-1.jpg)
Maitri sighed.
Sattva’s manner changed.
Reformers and Traditionalists were the principal human political parties, former combatants in the Gender Wars. They contended for control in every city, not always under those names. Originally they’d represented the human sexes: the Reformers being the party of the women, Traditionalists mainly led by men. Throughout Earth, and especially in fiercely Traditionalist Youro, the factions were more and more at odds as Aleutian influence withdrew.
Sattva frowned: then deliberately raised his voice in another speech, short and to the point. “The Expedition is doing its best to build bridges. One reason I’m here today, Lord Maitri, is to sound-out Youroan opinion on our negotiations with the Reformer regime in the Americas.”
North America had quarantined itself, early in the Aleutian era. The southern continent had joined them later on. The Americas had shut themselves off, behind physical and data-proof barriers, and refused to recognize the Aleutian presence. Presumably there was some covert human contact, but the aliens had never been able to find a go-between. For a hundred years they’d been pretending they didn’t care, and secretly longing to be invited back.
Maitri grimaced a discreet warning: the word “Reformer” struck a wrong note in this company. Sattva forged on regardless.
“It is our hope that our last acts on Earth will be to heal the breach between the two great Broods, and bring the Americas back into the human fold. We mean to secure peace with honor, for all humankind.”
The Aleutians were the lords of life. In the days of First Contact, and for generations after, human deadworld communications devices had been avoided with horror: void-force technology was an offense against reason and religion. Maitri glanced at Sattva’s virtual ghost with a wry smile.
They had drifted, as they talked, to the buffet table. The food was as usual practically untouched. Maitri sighed. He felt warmly towards Misha Connelly, whatever the young rascal’s motives. He began to rearrange the tidbits in more enticing patterns.
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