by Kate Elliott
“There is one strange thing,” said Jenny as he paused for breath. “About a third of the people in this hospital that we talked to thought he was je’jiri. They didn’t know about any human male with blue hair.”
“I don’t know what to make of that,” said the captain, sounding impatient. “What about the bounty hunter?”
“Hasn’t registered here,” Yehoshua replied. He shrugged. “For what it’s worth.”
“Hells,” muttered the captain.
The link seal peeled aside to reveal Deucalion. He held a slim com-slate in one hand and glanced up from reading it and saw the captain.
“Lily. Good. I was just coming to get you.”
“Yes?” The captain’s voice sounded ominously unwelcoming.
Deucalion seemed oblivious to her mood. “All casualties have been transferred to the Link’s main hospital. According to the reports from the liner that left Akan after us, there are enough injuries left that two carriers can accommodate them. The first ship has already gone back. The liner will return to pick up its passengers and continue its cruise and we’ll get the second load.”
“Deucalion.” The captain’s anger gave her voice a clipped tone. “Hawk is loose somewhere in this system, and for all we know he’s lost his memory entirely. We have to find him first. And whatever your respect for the legalities in League space, I am not turning myself back in to that bounty hunter, who is still doubtless stuck at Akan.”
Deucalion frowned and sighed. “Lily. You are upset.”
“Damn right I’m upset!”
“Wait a minute. I’m not saying that your concern is not legitimate. Quite the contrary. I agree that finding Hawk is our highest priority”—she began to relax—“after Akan’s disaster is relieved. There are people on that center who will die if they aren’t transferred to available medical care. That must come first with me, and unfortunately I have authority as an employee of the bureau to requisition this ship over your protests. That doesn’t mean I’m not sensitive to your feeling responsible for a member of your crew—”
Jenny laughed curtly.
“Did I say something wrong?” Deucalion asked.
“Never mind,” Jenny murmured.
“What if I refuse?” Lily demanded. “To take the ship back to Akan.”
“Refuse? How can you refuse?”
“Can you force me to go?”
“Force you? People’s lives are at stake. Do you seriously believe that Hawk’s life might be in danger?”
“It might be.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Perhaps not in danger immediately, but he’s—he needs us.”
“The fabled Hawk? Somehow I think he’ll land on his feet.”
“That’s all very well, Deucalion, but what if we lose his trail? By the time we get there and back he could be anywhere—in this system, or taken ship for somewhere else. How are we supposed to find him if we lose him here?”
Deucalion blinked, looking surprised. “You have a family of je’jiri on this ship. Tracking him down will be the least of your problems. I worry more about what you’ll be able to do with him once you find him again.”
“The je’jiri—” She shivered. “Just like calling out a hunt.”
“Not quite,” he replied with a wry grin. “But just as efficient. Lily.” Now he sounded conciliatory. “Help me with this. I’ll investigate the charges brought against you and take it upon myself to escort you personally to Concord.”
“I still haven’t agreed to go to Concord with you.”
“Lily—”
“After we find Hawk, we’ll discuss it.”
He sighed. “After we find Hawk.”
“Agreed,” she said, but she neither sounded nor looked pleased with the decision. “Yehoshua, get all crew back on board. I want us out of here as fast as possible. I’ve got two je’jiri to put on shift at com-tac. That ought to help our speed. The Mule will act as liaison to them.”
“Wait. Wait.” Deucalion raised a hand. “I’ve got a medical team coming on board, and a full complement of equipment and supplies for the relief effort.”
“Then get them on fast,” the captain snapped. “Yehoshua. Mule. Get moving. Jenny. I’ll need a guard on Pinto’s quarters until such time as I personally lift it.” Jenny’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to speak, shut it, and saluted. “Put everyone else on loading detail. Well?”
They disappeared quickly, leaving only Gregori and Deucalion.
Deucalion grinned. “Remind me not to cross you, sister.”
“You already have.” She gave him what was clearly meant to be a debilitating glare and then, waving Gregori along in front of her, headed for the bridge.
11 Die Kunst der Fuge
PAISLEY SAT VIGILANT ON the couch that graced the outer room of the captain’s suite. When the outer door shunted aside to admit Yehoshua, she greeted him with a look that was respectful but adamant. “Captain be sleeping. Be it ya important news you bring?”
Yehoshua smiled. “Have you appointed yourself guardian?”
“You may laugh,” said Paisley darkly, “but someone mun do it. Min Bach could do it, but he be ya busy and sure none of us can understand him in any round, not less he wants us to.”
Yehoshua came across the room and laid a hand on Paisley’s head, his fingers tangling in her dark mass of tight braids. “I’m not laughing at you, Paisley,” he said gently. “I think you’re the kindest person on this ship.”
“That may be. But I reckon it be min Seria you wish were ya kinder toward you.”
He removed his hand hastily. “What do you mean?” he asked, not a little stiffly.
Her grin gave her an impish look. “I reckon you know right well what I mean.”
“It’s none of your business, Paisley. I’ll thank you to keep your opinions and meddling to yourself.”
“Sure,” she agreed. “But min Seria be like everybody. She be mourning over Aliasing now, but she mun have ya”—she smiled again, seeing that she had embarrassed him—“ya kindness soon enough. You just got to be there when she be ready.”
“I thank you for the advice,” he said with a reserve quite at odds with the warmth with which he had originally greeted her. “Now I’m afraid that I have to wake the captain.”
“What be ya news?” she asked, returning immediately to her pose of the watchful guardian.
He shook his head. “We’ve got a problem with the bounty hunter. I can’t decide whether min Belsonn is completely evenhanded and compassionate or just totally gullible. He let them on the ship.”
“Let them on ya ship!” Paisley jumped up and ran over to the inner door, pressing the com.
After a moment a sleepy voice said, “Ransome here.”
“Lily,” said Yehoshua, not waiting for Paisley to reply, “you’d better get out here. Your brother—”
But the door slipped aside and Lily, looking rumpled, her hair still tousled from bed, appeared. She straightened her tunic as she spoke. “What’s wrong?”
“The bounty hunter got on board.”
Her sleepy expression vanished. “How?”
He sighed. “One of his companions got injured welding and somehow got on the list of casualties to be transferred to Turfan Link. Alien physiology, something like that. They aren’t equipped to handle it here at Akan.” He paused, expecting that she might reply, but she did not. “There was some argument over letting the other one go with him, but they are cousins or something, and when Administrator Iasi brought the matter to Deucalion he said it would be cruel to separate them under the circumstances. And we’re the last casualty ship to go to Turfan Link. So they got the clearance to come on.”
“What about Windsor?”
“He’s got first-aid skills. The medical team we brought is for Akan Hospital—they’re still running over capacity, but not so much that they can’t handle it for the short term, with the extra help. So he—Windsor—volunteered his first-aid skills for this trip.”
“And Deucalion, of course, wouldn’t refuse the help. Is the Ardakian’s injury serious?”
“I don’t know.”
“Get that information for me. Windsor could very well have faked the entire thing.”
“How could he have done that?”
“You said yourself they don’t have anyone qualified to medic alien physiology.”
“But wouldn’t Deucalion be suspicious? Wouldn’t he check?”
Lily combed her fingers through her hair with impatient disregard for the tangles catching in them. “Deucalion’s respect for other beings is clearly the model on which all civilized behavior ought to be based. But he’s forgotten that people like Windsor lie as easily as they breathe. Damn. Let me wash up and change first.”
As she turned, the outer door slipped open and Finch charged in.
“Lily!” Seeing Yehoshua and Paisley, he halted. “Ah, Captain. Some man has appeared on the bridge claiming he has right of access to monitor all your movements until you turn yourself in under his escort at Concord.”
“What the Hells does he think he’s doing?” Lily demanded. “He’s on our ship. We outnumber him thirty-five to—No. With the je’jiri, forty-five adults to three.”
The lights went out. Someone in the room gasped, but it was not clear who. Emergency power banked up, and lights glowed again at their lowest level: maintaining life support. The com clicked, clicked again, and a familiar voice came on.
“Captain,” Windsor sounded tired. “Stanford has just gone into your operating system and rearranged a few files to which only he has the key. In essence, captain, at the first vector you try to run without the proper override codes, the engines will blow, stranding you here or in vector space—wherever that is. Stanford has these codes. Therefore, this ship is now under my control. As long as you cooperate, there’ll be no problem. I’ll return control of the ship with all systems intact to your first officer once we’ve turned you in at Concord. All life support to any areas with casualties is unimpaired. Unfortunately, the rest of you are on minimum.”
“Thus keeping Deucalion pacified,” muttered Yehoshua.
“Do you copy?” His voice, over com, did not sound particularly triumphant.
Unexpectedly, Lily grinned. “So he’s going to play that game, is he? I don’t know how good Stanford is, but Windsor doesn’t know that I’ve got Bach. Yehoshua, back to the bridge—No, wait. Finch, who’s on the bridge now?”
“I was. Bach, Trey, the Mule, and Pinto, and one of Jenny’s mercenaries who seems to be following Pinto around.” He made the question implicit in the cadence with which he ended the phrase.
“Never mind that. Finch, return to the bridge. I don’t care how you do it, but get Bach out of there and back to me. Yehoshua, find Jenny. I want her, and everyone she can spare, armed and up in this room. Paisley, find Gregori and tell him to go to the Dai and ask her to send—” She had to pause, to think of their names. “Fleet Sister and Fleet Brother to me. I want to see if they can dig past whatever Stanford did. On no account are you to go into the je’jiri’s quarters. Absolutely. Then go to Medical and ask Flower to personally check on the other Ardakian’s injuries. Fred—Frederick—is one of his names.”
“Wouldn’t this all be faster to do on com?” Finch asked.
“If Windsor’s not bluffing, if Stanford really has gotten in to operating systems, then we can’t trust com to work for us. Yehoshua, you’ll be running the first window from the bridge. Give Windsor your full cooperation.”
“But min Ransome,” protested Paisley, “if we got so many, why can’t we just overpower them? They only be three.”
“Because I don’t think Windsor is bluffing. I’ll see what the je’jiri and Bach can make of the problem first.”
“Then what are you going to do?” asked Yehoshua.
She grinned as she went to the door into the inner room. “Make sure he’s sorry he ever tried it. Though I’ll give him credit for audacity.”
“But what are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure yet,” she admitted. “But remember, I got my training from Master Heredes. Just get Bach to me.”
In the dim light that was all that was left to her in the inner room, Lily stood motionless at the foot of her bed watching Deucalion pace and lecture. Bach, having come in with him, floated a handsbreadth above the bed.
“Weapons!” exclaimed Deucalion for the fourth time. “You have crew sitting out there with weapons!”
“Is there a law against it?” she asked quietly.
“Why would anyone need a law against it? Why would any civilized person want to carry a weapon anyway? Unless you’re a disciple of the martial arts and need it for a demonstration or for practice, I suppose. I’m disappointed in you, Lily.”
“I’m a practicing martial artist. I can’t resist sparring with my opponent.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
“Deucalion, considering how short a time we’ve known each other, there’s no need for you to come elder brother so strongly. I got enough of that growing up. This is our ship, after all. I’d like to know what gave you the right to authorize admitting three known hostiles aboard it?”
Deucalion stopped pacing. He settled into his most characteristic lecturing position: arms crossed on his chest, chin up, mouth turned down. It was, Lily reflected, almost a parody of his father’s gentle but stern teaching style. “They are not hostiles,” he began.
“Before you and Bach got here,” Lily interrupted, “I received a report from Paisley that the Ardakian who was admitted as a casualty was in fact faking it and has now barricaded himself and his cousin into our com-tac room, while Windsor sits up gloating on the bridge. I can’t even get my own personnel in to com to run the highroad—”
“You forget that we are already running out-system with one of the Ardakians on com and will reach the first window in one hour.”
“—or to find out if Windsor has actually damaged our operating system in some way.”
Deucalion uncrossed his arms to shake his hand at her. “Now let’s take these accusations one by one. First, they are not hostiles. They are citizens of League space.”
“Which I am not.”
“That’s not the point here. Second, they are not carrying weapons.”
“Hells, Deucalion, they don’t need to carry weapons. Those two Ardakians are weapons. They’re twice as strong”—she hesitated here, thinking of Yehoshua’s accidental blow with his artificial arm that had thrown Stanford across a small room—“as any human. It’s no wonder Windsor has kept them on as partners.”
“Did it ever occur to you that loyalty and a feeling of kinship might be a more powerful motivating force than expediency?” Deucalion asked primly.
Lily chose to ignore the comment. “What if I tell you now that I will go freely to Concord? As a free citizen of Reft space? But I’m not letting some bounty hunter bring me in. You have yet to explain to me how Concord Intelligence can have brought charges against a person who was never in League space until—what?—two months ago?”
“And third,” Deucalion went on, “there’s no guarantee that this ship belongs to you and your people in any case. That all has to be resolved at Concord.”
“You’re not answering my question.”
Deucalion looked uncomfortable. He glanced away from her, sweeping his gaze around the room as if its decoration suddenly interested him.
“You can’t tell me, can you?”
There was a long silence. He sighed abruptly and moved without asking permission to sit down on the bed. “I have no authority to countermand the bounty. I don’t work in that division.”
“Ah,” said Lily, sitting down next to him. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
The silence following this remark seemed almost companionable compared to the argument beforehand.
“It’s hard for me to believe he’s dead,” said Deucalion at random, but she knew he was speaking of
his father. He smoothed out the bedcovers with one hand, as if the action soothed him, and then looked up at her, thoughtful. “How was it you met Hawk?”
“A League ship somehow got into Reft space. He was on board.”
“Supposedly rehabilitated. Isn’t that what you said? I don’t understand why a trip like that could have been kept secret, but it must have been, or I certainly would have heard about it.”
“Exactly what division do you work in?”
“Human Services. My specialty is Disaster Relief. I got a lot of practice in my youth. But Lily, did you meet anyone else from that expedition? Do you remember names?”
“Yes. A woman called Maria and a man, Anjahar.”
“Anjahar—that’s such a common name these days. Can you describe either of them?”
“He was tall, well-built, quite light in complexion though he flushed a lot. And he had blond hair, which is unusual in the Reft. She was more common looking: dark skin, black hair.” She paused, trying to picture that long-ago scene in her mind. “I know what I remember best about her. The clothing she wore. It was sort of a—” She could not find words for it and turned to Bach. Bach, she whistled. Is there a term for it, do you remember?
Assuredly, patroness, he sang, ecstatic to be of service. The woman designated Maria wore the costume usually called a sari, which is the ancient indigenous dress of a people called Hindu, who in prespace times lived in a nation state designated as India in the common tongue.
“Thank you. I’m quite impressed, Bach-o.” And she smiled.
Bach acknowledged the compliment with a quiet but rather florid trill.
“Mother bless me,” breathed Deucalion, staring at this exchange. “You’ve bonded him. I just thought he was some old relic that you’d cobbled together to perform calculating functions on the bridge. Do you know how rare those are now? It’s a Bach, isn’t it?”
“Yes—”
“It has to be a Bach.” Deucalion continued to stare, rapt, at Bach’s gleaming surface. “They tried about six models on that AI program. The Meleps never achieved full function. The Mozarts all burned out quickly. The Beethovens proved too unstable to be reliable—they would always lose their input function but continue to output. The Annanas couldn’t interact with humans. Only the Hildegards and the Bachs had stability at all, and the Catholic Church eventually combined with the Church of Three Faiths to get a court order impounding what Hildegards were left for any but religious purposes. That ’bot is an invaluable relic.”
