That evening Cyril, Rigi’s older brother, joined her and their parents and Paul for supper. He’d dined with the Sorensons’ for the past two evenings, suggesting that his interest in Miss Adele Canopa Sorenson had shifted from general to specific, and vice versa. Rigi studied the pastry-wrapped bites on a bed of greens and orange-leaf. Please not tam, she whispered silently, please not tam. “Let us give thanks,” her father stated.
The family quietly sang a song of thanks and blessing, then ate. Leaper bites, not tam, hid in the pastry and Rigi savored the tart flavors, eating no faster than her mother did. Cy started to inhale his portion, caught his father’s look, and slowed to a brisk pace. Did he ever taste what he ate? Rigi knew some of it came from being a hungry man, and some from his time in the Royal Stellar Navy, but Cy absorbed food rather than eating it, as best she could tell.
A crown-roast of leaper told Rigi that Shona was in an especially good mood. Or he’d seen some of the cooking files popular at the moment and had decided that he could best the humans at their own dishes. Shona usually won, so long as hand kneading was not required, or making soufflés. Staré attempts to make a proper soufflé did not work well, since Staré moved by hopping. Shona's cheese pie, however, far exceeded anything humans could produce, at least in Rigi’s slightly-biased opinion. The roast almost slid off the bones as her father carved it, and the scent tickled Rigi’s nose and made her wonder if she could have Cy’s portion. How did Shona do it? No one ever knew, because he guarded his recipes better than the Crown guarded state secrets. The family ate in silence, giving the wonderful meal due and proper attention.
After the fruit course, Timothy Bernardi inquired, “How is your testing progressing, Rigi?”
“I’ve passed all the knowledge tests, sir, and only need to take the practicals to have basic certification.”
“Do you have a date set?”
“No, sir. I was going to apply tomorrow.”
Her mother spooned a bit of fruit into Paul, then sighed as he “thppth”ed it back out. “Young man, who taught you that rude habit?” Neither Rigi’s father nor brother would look at Mrs. deStella-Bernardi for some reason. “Auriga, I was under the impression that one signed up for a testing time.”
“I must submit my knowledge test results and recommendations first, ma’am, and then apply for a time slot. We use the same facility as the military and Staré medical personnel, and the Crown peace keepers, so they get priority. I provide three choices, and they assign one.”
“Ah, thank you. For some reason I understood that a new facility for lower-level testing had been completed.”
Her father said, “It is, dear, but the full equipment for Staré has not been installed yet. If Rigi were only testing human, she would go there. There’s been some question about how to include Stamm considerations with the simulations, and so it is taking longer than anticipated.” He studied the ceiling and shook his head a little. “It seems that simply coloring the models to represent dominant Stamm colors was considered discriminatory.”
Cy made a quiet, rude sound, and Rigi started to roll her eyes, then caught herself before her mother saw. Proper ladies did not show their personal opinions in such crass ways. “Sir,” she said instead, “do you not find it passing strange that the royal authorities cannot take the Staré at their word concerning Stamm?”
He considered as he drank his coffee. “No, but that may be because I deal with Crown and Company thinking on a daily basis. Sorting humans by skin-tone caused a great deal of trouble on Home, and it is now axiomatic as well as law that external shadings must be ignored. Thus simulations that accurately depict Stamm must have indicators other than fur color and body size. Now,” he held up one finger, forestalling Cy’s protest, “just how one is to make that determination when trying to assist an unconscious, bleeding accident victim I have yet to hear. I’m certain a way will be found, but until then someone must fret over such details because that is their job—to fret over such details.”
Rigi’s mother gave him a look. Rigi wondered why. At least he had not been asked to leave following the Crown’s assuming direct control of Shikhari from the Company. Thus far not too many things had changed in Rigi’s world. In fact, the strange weather and the lack of the usual wet season caused more problems than did the lowering of the Company’s seal and rising the royal banner. It had given Tomás Prananda a promotion to captain, something Rigi hoped meant that he could start looking for a wife.
Talk shifted to other topics, mostly Cyril discussing Adele Sorenson, her beauty, virtues, and excellent taste. Rigi wondered how long until he got permission to ask her to marry him, and decided she’d give it three more months before inquiring. He needed to prove that his work was secure enough to be able to provide for her and their first child, should they be so blessed. Would that mean Cy relocating to the west, on the other side of the Kenusha Plains, to the plantation belt and the great fruit farms where the Sorensons lived most of the year? Shona would approve of that development. Rigi wondered if she should see about eligible men from that area. Oh pish, she scolded herself, you have another six months before you can even consider accepting a proposal to court, let alone any offer of marriage. She’d been an adult since she turned sixteen and finished school early, but eighteen was the age of legal right.
Rigi sipped some tea and decided that she’d see about the schedule tomorrow, then do a sketch of the female hopling from the park, to see if she could catch that fascinating color pattern. She could always use more practice drawing fur. Now Rigi understood why Aunt Kay specialized in birds and reptiles and plants—they didn’t have fur.
Three weeks later, rain pounded down outside the buildings of Sogdia as if trying to make up for lost time. Rigi considered the second Stamm female with a compound fracture of her tail. Although rare, such things could happen, and required a great deal of care. According to the protocol, the Staré medics were concentrating on worse injured Staré, and the other available human responder was male, leaving Rigi as the best alternative. Rigi took a deep breath, picked up a tail-rest and splint, and some bandages, and began work. She’d already sedated the female using a rapid-acting sedative mist because that could be done from a distance without physical contact. Rigi located the problem, used temp-tape to pull the hide back to reduce fur contamination, and looked at the exposed spinal cord. It seemed uncontaminated with an undamaged mylan-sheath, so she rinsed the cord with the appropriate cleaning fluid, then reduced the fracture, taking great care to ensure that the cord did not get pinched in any way and that that vertebral pads remained uncompressed. Then she adjusted the tail brace and released the temp tape, sliding the skin back over the wound and bandaging it to keep more debris out. After that Rigi checked that the brace fit the female, adjusting it slightly for better support at the head of the tail. The patient’s respiration and heart beat remained steady, as did her blood pressure. No, wait, what was that?
“Cardio assist and plasma,” Rigi called. “Falling blood pressure, possible internal bleeding.”
She heard four beeps and a ping, and froze. A green light came on, and a voice said, “end of simulation. Results recorded.” Rigi tidied up her kit and once the door opened and the holo faded, left the fake Staré where she was. Rigi went to the waiting area to hear the results. That had been the final portion of the practicum.
Two other humans and a Staré waited as well. The Staré seemed fourth Stamm and sat off to the side in the Staré section, where the seats had been designed for people with thick tails who half-crouched when they sat on sturdy leaping legs. He poked at something on a modified electronic pad, and Rigi wondered if he had his scores already. His mouth worked back and forth as if chewing, and she caught a whiff of //nervous// from him, nothing too strong. He was concerned but not terribly so.
“Ugh, I failed hard,” the man in front of Rigi declared, slouching in the chair, legs outstretched. He finger-combed blond hair that needed a trim. “I got four neuro cases in a row, with
scent-sickness as a chaser.” He must have been testing for advanced certification.
“Sintaree,” the Staré door opened and the male stood and hop-walked out of the room. Rigi hoped that he’d passed. Being a trained and certificated medic could elevate a Staré within his Stamm, or even out of it if he were good enough.
“Miss Bernardi.”
Oh dear, she must have failed. Rigi stood and followed the stern-faced proctor out of the waiting area. They walked down a short hallway and turned into a smaller room. Two men and a woman sat at a table with electronic and hard-copy forms in front of them. Two of the forms appeared to be examination print outs, and Rigi noticed a distressing number of red marks on one of the forms. She’d failed. She curtsied and waited, eyes on the edge of the table closest to her.
“Miss Bernardi, I have a question about your response to the second case, the second Stamm hopling with an apparent concussion.”
“Ma’am?” She didn’t look up.
“Why did you palpate the base of the ears first and only then followed standard procedure?”
Good question. Rigi thought how to phrase her answer, couldn’t find a tactful response and said, “Ma’am, that’s what I saw Staré do in the field. Each time, the hopling calmed down if agitated and relaxed if tense, and then the adult continued inspecting and treating the hopling. It seems to settle hoplings, especially younger ones, and to allow a less stressful examination. So I did it in order to ease the hopling and make examination easier.”
“You owe me three credits,” one of the men said, chuckling. “I told you she must have seen a Staré do it at least once.” Rigi dared to look up. The man at the end of the table had kind eyes that almost disappeared into smile-wrinkles. “It can also work on older Staré, if they are critically injured, but we recommend a proper sedative first, so that Stamm contamination is not a problem.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The woman snorted a little. “Very well. Miss Bernardi, you pass the practicum as well as the knowledge tests, and you are now certified as a basic-level emergency responder and basic-level nurse. I am curious where you learned about blindgass.”
Rigi closed her eyes for a moment, pushing the memory away. “I was at the coming-of-age celebration where blindgass was released into the ventilation system. I assisted an emergency nurse who was also a guest.”
“Ah, yes. I’d heard about that but I was on the plantation rotation when it happened. Thank you. Please sign here, and here, and imprint in that square.” Rigi did as the woman asked. The examiners shook her hand, and the smiling gentleman presented her with two cards, one to augment her usual identification, the other granting her access to the medical e-network if she needed to look up information or to file a report.
Rigi could have danced on her way out to where she’d agreed to meet Makana and the wombow cart. The heavy rain shower had passed as well, and she didn’t bother with pulling up her rain hood. The cool, fresh air felt like a blessing. Makana, a light-medium brown-grey third Stamm, had run errands while she tested, and seemed to be in intense conversation with another Staré, judging by the rapid ear movement and tail twitches. Rigi did not sniff—that would be eavesdropping. She didn’t catch any strong general scents, however, suggesting that the topic was something harmless or unexciting, like the wrestling rankings or some Staré gossip. The dark grey wombow that Rigi’s brother had named Stodge snorted and rustled in his harness as she approached. He could be anything but stodgy when the mood struck him, and Rigi half-expected him to curl into a ball and just roll that way some days. Not that wombows could do that, mind, but the Staré had hopling stories about super-fast rolling wombows. The beasts did look like balls, given their rounded heads, roundish bodies, round pillars for legs, and a little half-round tail. Their thousand-kilo cousins, the wild wombeasts, could also move quickly if necessary, and Rigi hoped she’d never be close enough to a wombeast stampede to view that rapidity in person.
Makana saw her and broke off the conversation. He and the other male bowed to Rigi and she hand-bowed back. She climbed into the rear seat of the cart, carefully making a space among the groceries and what appeared to be bundles of cloth. Oh, the new drapes for the windows in the visiting room. Makana inspected Stodge, in case he had managed to get tangled in his harness or had attempt to eat something best left untasted, like a piece of paper. Satisfied, Makana untied Stodge from the hitching frame and backed both wombow and cart clear before getting into the front Staré seat. Rigi’s father had commissioned a new cart, this one with seats that could be changed for either humans or Staré to drive. The Staré handled their seats, humans mounted and removed the human version, and thus no contamination concerns bothered anyone.
Rigi wanted to tell Makana the good news, but decided to wait and let the entire household know at once. Then she’d tell Uncle Eb, Aunt Kay, and Lexi, the third Stamm Staré who acted as Uncle Eb’s, well, Rigi couldn’t quite say. Research assistant probably came closest, if one included doing strange things for the Crown as research. Lexi was the first Staré she’d ever seen in full military armor, armor that matched her uncle’s.
Makana tended to be quiet, and so Rigi sat back, as much as she could without squashing the groceries, and looked around. Sogdia had grown over the past ten years, although she rarely saw the new areas on the other side of the spaceport. Her parents leased a house on the far edge of the company and government district, not too far from the military section, but in an area with large lots and room for Staré housing on the properties. Rigi had also visited the special Staré enclave south of the spaceport where humans rarely if ever went, and then only by invitation. She preferred the districts closest to her house, with their busy markets and access to the temple. She avoided the spaceport district of course. No proper young lady went there on her own, and even Makana’s presence might not be enough to keep people from assuming the wrong things.
Stodge plodded through the light misty rain, and Rigi hoped it would stay light until they got home. She had not raised the rain shield on the cart and doing so from inside was tricky. Makana, however, took no chances and wore a full rain-cape, rain-mitts over his forefeet, and a special rain-hat to keep his ears dry. He detested being wet. His full-brother Lonka, the family butler and household manager, seemed less bothered, although no Staré enjoyed being drenched in cold water. They shared that with humans, Rigi had noticed, and she wondered if it were a mammal thing. She certainly preferred cool and dry to cold and dripping wet.
They reached the house and Stodge stopped. Makana flipped the guide lines but the wombow stood still, fascinated by the flowers and other plants now decorating the front gate. Indeed, as Rigi covered her mouth to keep from giggling, Stodge stretched as far forward in the harness as he could and tried to nibble the closest flower. “Bad beast,” Makana snapped, //annoyed/irritated//. When Stodge persisted in his efforts, Makana climbed down, coiled the guide lines, and pushed Stodge’s head with his forefoot, making the wombow obey. Stodge grumbled but gave in and plodded the rest of the way down the street, around the corner, and through the back gate into the yard. There Rigi dismounted and picked up the bundles of fabric, balancing them carefully as she went up the steps to the verandah. Lonka and Shona met her. Lonka held the door to the mud room open while Shona went straight to the cart to get his grocery order. Rigi heard Makana saying unkind things about Stodge’s ancestry as she went inside.
She changed shoes, hung her coat on the proper hook, walked into the main hall and boggled. “Oh my. Is someone coming to supper?” Flowers in vases stood on most flat surfaces, a swag of flowers hung over the front door, and Rigi caught a glimpse of more flowers when she glanced upstairs to her room and workroom.
Her mother sighed. “No. It seems someone told Lexi the results of your examination. Lexi informed Ebenezer.” She shook her head. “That man knows no moderation.”
Except, as Rigi started looking at the cards, only three of the arrangements came from Uncle Eb. A ra
ther more modest one came from Tomás, and two bouquets came from different Staré groups. Rigi wanted to crawl into the storage cubby behind the bookshelf and hide. She’d only passed the primary certification test! It wasn’t that difficult, wasn’t such a major accomplishment, was it? After all, the Tradition encouraged men and women to cultivate their talents and skills for the benefit of all created beings, human or otherwise. She was just doing what she was supposed to. And the cards from the Staré? One came from the Sogdia elders, including Kor’s twin. The other was from the Staré who served in the army with Tomás. Rigi wanted to go to them and apologize for not being what they thought she was.
“Ma’am, how long should we leave the flowers on the front gate?”
“Hmm? At least another day, why?” Her mother frowned. “They shouldn’t begin wilting until after that.”
“Stodge tried to eat them. He stopped in the road and Makana had to get down and guide him by hand.” A wombow jam in front of the house would be terribly embarrassing.
“Oh dear. I’m sure Ebenezer did not think about that.” Her mother sighed. “Kay is such a wonderful woman to put up with him.” She pursed her lips and frowned just a little. “Lonka?”
Lonka appeared within two heart beats. “Ma’am?”
“Could you please see if Eenjean left any of the anti-nibble spray after he treated the house flowers? The gate flowers might attract unwanted attention.”
“Yes, Mrs. deStella-Bernardi, and I believe some remains.” He hand-bowed and disappeared around the corner.
Stamme: Shikari Book Three Page 2
