The Darkness at the Edge of Noon: a Thalassia novel
Page 27
“Another problem solved.” Logan said dryly. “Let’s find the crystals and get out of here before anyone else arrives.” Tam and Logan dragged a couple of heavy tables and braced them against the now unlockable library door. “This will drive them crazy.” Logan gave the table a final push. “The empty room—locked from the inside.” He wiped his hands on his pants. “Which way to the storeroom, Caera?”
She pointed to the dimly lit back corner. “The door is back there.”
Two kicks opened the locked door, and the four entered slowly, sneezing in the dusty, mold smelling air. Rotting wood crates were stacked helter-skelter in the dark room, and they were about to give up, when Rhiannon found the second door, hidden behind a moldering tapestry. After Tam opened the door as gracefully as he had opened the first, they entered and found what they were looking for. Silvie had been mistaken, however. She had only counted the boxes that lined one wall. All four walls had boxes stacked to the ceiling. And they were all full.
Sitting on a heavy wooden table in the center of the room was a single, four foot wide silver sphere.
“Rhiannon, can we take all these?” Logan said, with something approaching awe in his voice.
“Oh, my, yes.” She reached out a slim hand and touched a box. “We’ll take the lot.” There was a brief flicker, and the entire contents of the room, sans dust, was sitting in a huge work area. Work benches and banks of strange equipment that blinked and winked ominously lined the walls. Light as bright as the day blazed from the ceiling.
Rhiannon took off her helmet, set it on a convenient bench and shook out the red glory that was her hair. Her violet eyes were intent and focused. “Medin. What is the purpose of the metal sphere on the center table?”
“The sphere is an advanced reader, miss.”
Her brows furrowed. “I don’t see a slot for the data cubes.”
“None is needed, miss. This machine can automatically scan all twenty five thousand data cubes. It is really quite an advanced design.” There was a note of grudging respect in the disembodied voice.
“Can we operate this reader?” Logan asked quietly.
“I’m sorry sir. The unit is inoperative.”
Logan sagged. “Do you know what the problem is?”
There was a strange noise in the air, and Logan was puzzled for a moment, until he recognized it as laughter. “The battery appears to have become disconnected during the transit from Earth. There was, obviously, no one capable of repairing it after the unit was unloaded.”
“Can you repair it?”
There was a momentary pause. A tiny green light appeared on the skin of the sphere. “The unit is now operational. Accessing data...” Logan drummed his fingers on the table, and Rhiannon looked ready to scream. “Oh my.” The soft voice said. “This is a record of all the cumulative knowledge and culture from the planet Earth. All the music, all the art, all the science, all the literature. Everything. The small crystal that we had was obviously someone’s private copy of Mozart, and the player was his or her private property, for use on picnics and such. The data capacity of each crystal is virtually immeasurable, and all these cubes are filled. Details in the library, for that is what it is, are current up to the departure of the five ships for Thalassia.”
Silence descended on the room, and Logan felt as if his knees would buckle. All the knowledge of old Earth, at their disposal. Logan cleared his throat. “Medin, how long will it take you to copy all this information into your own memory?”
“Sir?”
“If this reader is hundreds of years old, I really don’t want to risk losing our only access to our data because of a blown fuse or broken thingie that we can’t find or can’t replace.”
“Sound logic, sir. It will take me three days to enlarge my physical memory systems to accommodate this data, and three weeks to transfer it.”
Logan glanced at Rhiannon, and she gave him a warm smile. “Go ahead, Medin. I agree with Logan completely.”
“Yes, miss.” The mellow voice confirmed.
“And Medin?”
“Yes, miss?”
“Please give Logan MacKennit, Alpha three two seven clearance, the same as I have.”
There was a slight pause. “I already have, miss.”
Rhiannon opened her mouth, and then shut it, her face turning red. “Medin, are you laughing at me?”
“Would I do that, miss?”
She turned a fuming irate look on Logan. “You...you corrupted my moon!”
He returned a look of total innocence. “Would I do that, miss?” He said in the same exact tone as Medin. Tam and Caera were doubled up with laughter. “Medin, would you please, if you have the time, find us a piece of music that will get the Zzzkntti attention, and one that will snap them out of their killing frenzy. A lot may depend on your choice.”
“You would trust me with something that important?”
“Yes, I would.” Logan replied bluntly, after only a moment’s hesitation.
“Thank you, sir.”
He turned back to Rhiannon. “My head is swimming from all this.” He offered her his arm. “Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?”
She rolled her violet eyes to the ceiling—and took his arm. “Sure thing, sailor.” She glanced down at the armor she still wore and wrinkled her nose. “Just a minute.” She pulled her arm away and vanished, to appear a minute later looking elegant in a short cocktail dress of pure white. She acknowledged his stunned look with a whimsical little smile. “Shall we go?” She asked, tucking her arm into his.
Selene and Rhiannon had, irreverently, named the small pub Olympus, after some vague reference from ancient Earth mythology. There were a few dozen small tables scattered about the cozy low ceilinged room, and a fire burned cheerfully in a large stone fireplace. Three or four people sat at the dark wood bar, and four or five more couples occupied tables. Some looked up and waved when they entered. Some didn’t.
Logan ordered a bottle of wine, and silently poured when the waiter delivered it. He raised his glass. “To successful journeys; one just completed and one still to come.” The others thought about it for a second, before they drank.
“I take it,” Caera began slowly, “That you intend to complete the mission you started.”
“I do.” Logan replied, not raising his eyes from the red wine.
“Then I’d like to...”
“No!” Logan interrupted her rudely. “Your arm may be better now, but this is no mission for a recruit.”
“But...”
“He said no.” Rhiannon said quietly, backing him up. “And I agree. I don’t want to bury you alongside Max and Lucas.”
“So, you’d rather bury Logan then?” The goddess looked back with suddenly stricken eyes. Nunan realized what she’d said and she gasped. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean...” The goddess stood, wiped the tears from her eyes, turned and left without a word.
As she walked by, Nan casually touched Logan’s shoulder, and he knew that she would be waiting for him at home. He looked across the table and gave Tam a lopsided grin. “See if you can find the team, and tell them that we’ll be leaving.” He thought for a minute. “Make it noon tomorrow.” He stood up and gave Caera a wink. “I’ve got to go see if I can calm Rhiannon down.” He left the pub without another word.
Tam stretched out his legs and took a long drink of wine, before he sighed and put the glass down. “Good job, Nunan. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone put both feet in their mouth.”
She gave him a flat look. “It’s a gift I have, don’t cha know?” She sipped her wine. “Is it true what they say, about the survival of recruits?”
Tam seemed to be staring at a spot over her head. “Yup. In a battle most of the casualties are recruits. In a bad battle, like the one they face, you’d be as good as dead.”
“But all they have to do is go to this island and play some music to quell the Zzzkntti. How hard can that be?”
Tam drained his glass and touched her shoulder.
“They have to get through fifteen thousand insane Zzzkntti warriors to get to that island.”
“Oh.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “But Logan will probably die.”
“He knows that, and so does Rhiannon.” He turned and left her sitting there, alone.
“Hello, Nan.” Logan said as he walked in the door to his family’s home. “Funny meeting you here. Cup of tea?”
“Yes, please.” She rose from her seat before the fire. “I still don’t want you to go.”
“We’ve had this discussion before.”
She smiled wanly. “Yes we have, and you said the same thing. I understood why you had to go then, and I understand why you have to go now. I still, however, don’t WANT you to go.”
He handed her the steaming cup of tea. “Ahhh.” He took a sip of his tea. “I don’t WANT to go either. I’d much rather stay here with you, and watch my children grow up.” His eyes opened wide as he realized the truth of what he’d said. “Maybe settle a few domestic squabbles. Kiss a few babies, make a couple of speeches. I could handle that. Oh, yeah, and tackle one really pressing issue too.”
Nan smiled over her cup. “And what would that be?”
Logan set his own cup down. “How does a moderately ugly mortal soldier ever hope to have a life with a virtually immortal goddess; one who isn’t even human by her own admission? Can you answer me that?”
“All things are possible, Logan MacKennit, especially for two people who love each other. Good things come to those who wait.”
“Wait!” Logan scoffed. “I’ve waited long enough. Now I just want to survive.”
Rhiannon set her own cup down and gave him a serious look. “Logan, there’s something I need to...”
The door chimed softly, and Rhiannon’s forehead creased in a frown. “Come.” Logan said into the air, and Tam Kirby walked in, took one look at the two and raised his eyes to the ceiling.
“I’m getting as bad as Caera. Sorry, Goddess. I’ve managed to locate all of the team but Maeve. No one can seem to find her. Strange.”
“I know where she lives. I’ll tell her.” Rhiannon said in a resigned voice. “I should go.” With that she turned and glided out of the door.
“I’m really sorry, Logan. I didn’t think Rhiannon would be here.”
“That’s all right, Tam.” Logan replied, slapping the man’s arm. “I just wonder what Nan wanted to say to me when you arrived. Hope it wasn’t anything important.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve got to go home. Your team will be waiting at noon.”
The door slid silently shut, and Logan picked up his tea cup and sat before the fire. “Medin.” He said to the air. “Have you come up with any appropriate music?”
“I believe I have, sir. To catch their attention we’ll use ‘Fanfare for the Common Man,’ by Aaron Copeland. Once we have their attention we will hit them with the ‘Blue Danube’ waltz by Johann Strauss II. If the Mozart was good enough for our green skinned friend the other night, these two should bowl the rest of them over.”
“Excellent. I’ll listen to them tomorrow. Thank you for your help, Medin.”
“You’re quite welcome, sir. I’m glad to help. Good luck tomorrow, sir.” The voice added quietly.
“Thank you, Medin. Goodnight.”
“Good night, sir.”
Chapter 20
The faces of the squad told him that they had all figured the odds long before they rejoined the others. An occasional clink of metal was the only sound they made as Logan looked around. But for them the room was empty. He’d hoped that... He ruthlessly put the thought aside. If she didn’t want to see him off it was her business.
“We’re on the last part of the mission, folks. This is the part that really counts. We will be going back to Crabtree Island, where we departed, and continue from there.”
“Ahhh.” Grady rumbled, frowning. “I thought that all them sailors was killed.”
“They were.” Logan gave the man a level look. “We will do it ourselves. Tanden Barr can act as our captain.”
“Does that mean we row?” Grady was frowning.
“Yup, if necessary.” Someone groaned. “Medin will have the data cubes and music player ready when we reach the island where the festival is being held, and once we’re there he will deliver it to us.”
Instead of asking Medin to send them, Logan reached out with his mind, opened a doorway to the small deserted island, and stepped through. The squad followed almost on his heels.
“And this Tk’ Lat character is supposed to have a boat waiting for us to paddle across to the island?” The question came from Aileen, who was striding along at his side.
“That’s the plan.” Logan swallowed his butterflies.
The day was cloudy and bleak, as if the very weather reflected their moods. A faint charnel-house smell hung in the air as they reached the battered shelters, and Logan felt his stomach clench.
“The sailors put the sweeps behind our shelter, under the eaves.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll check inside to make sure we haven’t forgotten anything. Tanden, you, Padraig and Grady can step the mast and get it rigged.”
Tanden gave him a quick nod. “She’ll be a long pull upriver, I’m thinkin’ sir.” The man sucked his gums as he studied the whitecaps roiling on the dark water. Logan could hear him sigh. “Best be at it then.” He moved off toward the boat, almost dragging his feet.
Logan watched the slump of the retreating shoulders for a moment before he put his hand to his medallion.
He glanced at the men working on the boat, and the women carrying the sweeps down to the dock.
Logan shut his eyes.
Logan looked at the small boat bobbing unevenly in the swells.
Her laugh was gentle.
Logan was still trying to catch his breath when Aileen Cronin arrived. She took one look at him and laughed. “Who was it this time? Selene or Rhiannon?” She paused for a second, studying his face. “It had to be Rhiannon. There’s no anger in your eyes.”
He took a breath. “How do you know?”
She gave him a flat look. “It takes a goddess to really get you flummoxed, Logan. Selene makes you mad. Rhiannon affects you in—other ways.” Pink tinged her cheeks and she laughed. “We’re about set to go. Shall we start loading the boat now?”
“I think that we’ll wait until morning.” He gave her a wink. “Conditions might be more favorable then, for a long voyage.” She walked off muttering something under her breath about the duplicity of men.
They chose a small shelter that had been unoccupied the last time, and thus remained unsoiled with the taint of spilled blood. Dinner finished and the fire
crackling comfortably, Logan pulled out his mandolin. “I thought that a little music might be nice. Anyone else bring an instrument?” Megan pulled out her tambura with a shy little smile, while Padraig produced his flute. A soft thump came from Maeve’s bodhrán, and she looked at him with unreadable eyes. Logan gave her a sly wink. “We have the musicians and we have the instruments. What shall we play?”
“‘Down by the Salley Gardens.’“ Maeve replied immediately. Megan nodded slowly, but Logan frowned.
“Isn’t it a bit sad for tonight?”
“Aw, Logan. Don’t you like songs of unrequited love?” All five women seemed to be harboring soft laughter.
“All right, all right. ‘Down by the Salley Gardens’ it is.” He strummed a chord, and grinned as Megan quickly picked up the tune. Padraig played a quick trill on his flute, then jumped in. Logan almost missed the deep insistent beat of the bodhrán. Then Maeve began to sing. Her voice was as rich and honey smooth as Megan’s contralto, but slightly lower. Very similar in fact, Logan thought in dismay, to Nan’s. It touched him in places he didn’t know existed. Much to his credit, he almost made it to the end of the ballad, before he set down the mandolin, and rose without a word, walking out into the night.
Aileen gave Maeve a critical look. “Very good, Private.” Her sarcasm was heavy. “The one man we depend on to hold us together and get us through this alive, and you break his heart. Very good indeed.”
Maeve set down the bodhrán. “I had to get the answers to certain questions. That was the quickest way.” Her beautiful singing voice was hard as rock and cold as a glacier.
“So, did you get your answers?” The medic snapped in an angry voice.
“Yes.”
“You’re just as cold as Selene and Rhiannon.” Aileen hissed and Maeve blinked. “I thought that Rhiannon would at least see Logan off when we left, but she couldn’t even do that much. And now this...” She glared into the hard steely eyes. “I hope you get some satisfaction out of what you did, when people start to die because Logan can’t keep his mind on the job at hand.” She stood up and stormed out into the night, and missed the look of doubt that crossed the other woman’s face.