by neetha Napew
A melodious chime rang through the launch and so did the verbal announcement that all docking procedures had been completed and the passengers might now disembark.
A cluster of people stood politely awaiting their arrival. ‘Bots, attached to grav floats, scurried on board to collect luggage - Bunny followed their progress with round eyes. Yana noticed her hands twitching at her sides as if she wanted to take one apart and see what its innards were like.
Bailey and Charmion were easy to pick out of the group: they were the youngest: the boy with long black hair in a clever clip and the girl with a head of very blond curls that framed a face appropriately enough as ‘charming’ as her name. They were also a very good-looking pair, fashionably clad in some of the very colours that Bunny had protested about. They also looked intelligent and welcoming, with no trace of the stylish boredom so many young aristocrats affected. Charmion was obviously fond of her aunt and called out a stream of greetings as Marmion disembarked her launch.
Beyond Charmion and tall Bailey, Yana saw the imposing figure of Millard Ephasios, one of the aides Marmion had had with her on Petaybee, and decided that the tall, attractive, grey-haired gentleman with the patient expression on his face was one of Marmion’s suitors and the older woman her social secretary. The woman was impeccably dressed and had an organizational air about her, like a rear echelon officer. Rentnor Bavistock was her secretary and Cynthia Grace was Marmion’s financial adviser. Marmion murmured that Cynthia would be a good person to talk to on how to set up small businesses on Petaybee so that people like Clodagh, who’d be gathering and processing Petay-bee’s pharmaceutical wealth, could set themselves up properly. Yana sighed, not really wanting to impose ‘modern’ anything on her friends. She also discovered that things weren’t really what they appeared to be on Gal-3.
Residence permits, in the form of metal bracelets’to be worn at all times’ said Rentnor firmly, were immediately clamped around each wrist.
‘Don’t even take them off when you shower,’
Marmion added, taking hers from Rentnor and noting that Sally was already wearing one. ‘Loss can cause the most remarkable problems in getting about the facility.’
‘You wouldn’t believe!’ Bailey said, rolling his eyes and grinning at Bunny and Diego.
The last member of the welcoming committee wore an official-looking outfit, tailored to his spare figure, with collar tabs Yana didn’t recognize but which were sufficiently intricate to denote high rank. He was swarthy, with a close-shaven pate of black hair, an oddly asymmetrical countenance which made his large nose seem to divide the disparate sides. His black eyes were patient and he had a slight lift to one corner of a wide mouth. Like a well-trained or very polite official, he waited until the initial exchange of introductions, news and urgent messages had been accomplished before he stepped forward to take and kiss the hand Marmion held out to him.
‘Oh, Commander, how good of you to take the time,’ Marmion said and then introduced Commander Nal an Hon. ‘I’ve told my friends to be very careful of their ID bracelets.’
‘Indeed, a caution worth repeating frequently,’ he said. Then, turning to the newcomers, ‘While the bracelets will admit you to every level but Nadir and Zenith, you would be wise not to explore or you may find yourself missing a hand.’
Bunny gasped and protectively clasped her braceleted hand to her chest.
‘Now, Nal, I won’t have you frightening my young friends simply because they’re dirtfoots,’ Marmion said with a little reassuring laugh.
‘It’s because they’re dirtfoots that I do,’ he said with no apology and caught Yana’s gaze, nodding to mean that his warning was for her as well. Yana raised an eyebrow at him. And to think, six months ago she might have said something similarly preposterous to someone like herself. ‘Having said that, I would be happy to escort your friends into Zenith Ring for The Tour.’
‘How kind of you, Nal. When we’ve had time to settle in, I’ll take you up on that offer,’ and Marmion twinkled flirtatiously at the Commander.
‘Then I shall await your call, madame,’ he said and with a courteous bow withdrew.
‘And you will tell me what that was all about, won’t you, Rentnor, Cynthia?’ Marmion said in an undertone and with no single sparkle of amusement.
‘Hmmm. But it will take an hour or so, Marmie,’ Cynthia said. ‘Meanwhile, let’s get to your suite.’ She gave a little convulsive shudder. ‘It’s so open out here.’
Bailey and his cousin Charmion immediately moved to bracket Diego and Bunny. ‘We’ll lead on, Aunt Marmie,’ Bailey said.
And Yana had Sally on one side and Millard on the other while Rentnor and Cynthia partnered Marmion as they made their way out of the docking bay. When the lock doors closed with a satisfactory clank, Cynthia uttered a little sigh of relief.
‘Agoraphobic?’ Yana asked Sally.
‘Definitely. Her launch only has a viewscreen in the pilot’s compartment,’ Sally said. ‘It can take you like that, you know.’
‘I thank the stars that I don’t,’ Yana replied. ‘You’ve been well, Millard?’
‘Tolerably, thank you, Colonel Maddock-Shongili.’
‘I’ve been Yana to you before, Millard,’ Yana said repressively.
‘I’m practising, Yana,’ Millard said with a mischievous grin that seemed out of place on his serious face.
‘For what?’
‘For making it very plain to even casual observers,’ and Millard paused significantly,’ that you are not just a transient or insignificant dirtfooter!’
‘Oh?’ Yana asked, amused that he too had noticed. ‘And what do you suppose gives anyone that impression? The Colonel or the hyphenated surname?’
‘Either,’ replied Millard imperturbably, idly glancing at those passing them in the corridor. Taking a long step, he got on the walkway - the- four young people were well ahead of them now on that transportation -and turned to hold out a hand for Yana.
She had a half-formed notion to remind him that she was scarcely infirm when a nudge from Sally behind her made her accept the proffer of courteous assistance. Feeling slightly regal, Yana accepted with a smile and a nod to Millard.
‘You’re doing just great, Yana,’ Sally murmured in her ear.
‘Will you be colonelling me, too?’ Yana whispered back.
‘No, but I’m another woman and patently your companion, while Millard has been booted into the role of escort.’
‘Oh!’
When they reached the main concourse, Yana was sorry that Bunny was in front of her. She would have liked to see the girl’s expression when she beheld the mechanical and commercial splendours of the Second Level. Not only was there a ceiling monorail in operation but four levels of shops on this part of the concourse and belt steps at regular intervals to get you easily from one level to another. Some of the shops were blasting passersby with their sounds, smells, and sensual outputs… assaults to which the residents were now immune but which would stun Bunny as they did Yana, who had only heard about such concourses. The lower-level facilities she had infrequently patronized as an officer were considerably more primitive than these.
‘You will notice, Colonel,’ Millard was saying,’ that there are location diagrams at convenient intervals by the belt-lifts.’ And he indicated the one they were passing. ‘Your quarters are located at Interface Three, that’s two circles right of our present position, Three-L-110. Please memorize that and record.’
Yana’s hand was halfway to her belt for the recording device which had so often been part of her basic equipment when she remembered Marmion’s gift. She had drilled herself on the position of the keys and now, with a brush of her hand, opened the recorder and spoke Three-L-110, Interface Three.
‘Handy gadget,’ she murmured, turning her head over her shoulder to Sally.
‘They are.’
They continued to the turn, the panels sliding open at the wave of a wrist to admit them and closing behind them, shutting
out the frenetic noise of the concourse.
‘The walkway is on the portside,’ Millard said, ‘or you can walk for the exercise.’
‘I need the walk. Oh, is it safe?’ Yana replied.
‘Safe enough, Colonel.’
‘That’s going to unnerve me,’ Yana said between her teeth.
‘It’s supposed to have the opposite effect,’ Millard murmured back, and she saw the glint of mischief in his eyes.
The living accommodations were on two levels, with belt-lifts again to take the upper-level residents to their doors. Obviously the second level was more secure. There was also an air of refined elegance in the floor covering, the discreet non-stimulating murals and decor. Brass territory, Yana thought to herself. And also thought she could stand a bit of this right now, especially with Petaybee’s winter on its way when she returned to the planet.
Marmion’s quarters were on the upper level and seemed to take over one whole quadrant of the circle. Each wristband had to be presented before the panel would admit another body. Yana had lost track of the luggage ‘bots, but when she arrived in her room everything was there, so she suspected a service access and wondered if the ‘bots got their IDs checked, too.
In a state of shocked bemusement, Bunny was peering around the sumptuous main lounge of Marmion’s quadrant. And it was a quadrant, Sally told her with a grin.
‘Marmion rents four of the five levels to Gal-Three,’ she added.
‘And the fifth?’
‘That’s environment and another company owns it and the equipment. Marmion does have a share in the company but only a small one.’
‘Oh!’
‘This way, Bunny, Diego,’ she added, taking the newcomers on a small tour while Marmion went off with her business colleagues, and Bailey and Charmion deliberated exactly how to entertain Bunny and Diego when they returned to the lounge.
‘We’re all on the guest side,’ Sally explained. ‘Marmion’s got a complete office here so she can keep up with her investments.’
4
Outside Kilcoole
Contents - Prev/Next
Youngling, you are troubled, the rumble of the clouded snow leopard’s concern brushed soothingly against the painful thoughts and feelings attacking Cita’s spirit.
‘Coaxtl,’ the girl reached up and put her arm around the neck of the great cat, burying her face in fur. ‘Oh, Coaxtl, I am nothing but trouble. I have been weak and foolish and now my new family, my sister and her mate and my beautiful new aunt, have left me behind and my kind uncle is so displeased with me he seldom speaks to me any more. I am indeed unworthy to be included in the activities here, too stupid to help, too needy, too…’
Too long dwelling in the false caves of men, Coaxtl said with a cough of disdain. Too long away from the clean cold snow. Come, let us go to the mountains together and chase each other’s tracks and find a rabbit who wants to die. It will be like the old days, before the men brought you here.
Goat-dung wailed and hugged the cat harder. ‘Oh, poor, poor Coaxtl, I know you have stayed here away from your home just because I am too stupid to look after myself and you are a very kind cat…’
Hush that! And stop thinking of yourself as Goat-dung, Youngling. The others have given you good names - the name of your dam, Aoifa, and the name of your sire and your litter-mate, which is Rrrrrourrrrke! Coaxtl took great pleasure in roaring the name. Or they call you Cita, which is a better name than La Pobrecita, the poor little one, or Goat-dung. This one would drop all of those kitten names and simply call oneself Rrrrrourrrrke!
‘I wish I were your kitten, Coaxtl.’
Well, you aren’t, but we can pretend. Come. Though you’ve gained some weight since you’ve been here, still you are not too large for one to carry on one’s back pan-way. One smell’s snow and one wants to rrrroll!
Goat-dung, no, Cita, no, The Rrourrke Youngling, climbed on to the back of her friend, and together they bounded away from the river and the town, from all the bustling people, away from the memories of the terrors of the SpaceBase, and out into the forest with its showers of rust-coloured needles and bright golden leaves. Rabbits, squirrels and birds scattered before them as Coaxtl raced through the red underbrush, her paws crackling on the carpet of old leaves which sent up a delicious, spicy smell with the cat’s every step.
Before they reached the edge of the forest, Coaxtl suddenly laid down and rolled over. Youngling Rrourrke tumbled into the leaves and laughed as Coaxtl mock-pounced her, all four paws landing clear of the girl while the furry face gazed into hers.
‘Your breath smells like dead meat!’ the girl cried.
Yours smells like you’ve lived among men too long! Coaxtl answered. What are you lying there for, lazy Youngling? It’s your turn to carry me!
‘And how should I do that, crazy cat?’ she asked, scrambling out from under the creature’s underbelly, where twigs and leaves dangled from the silky fur. The girl opened her mouth wide and pretended to go for the back of the cat’s neck. ‘Shall I carry you in my mouth, like a mama cat?’
Don’t be impertinent! Coaxtl said, and bounded off into the brush. Bet you can’t track me!
Goat-dung ,’ Pobrecita ,’ Cita ,’ Aoifa ,’ Youngling Rrrrrourrke roared her name and plunged through the brush after her friend. Every time she paused, bewildered when the cat seemed to be nowhere around, she heard a laughing thought just ahead of her and saw the quiver of a bush or the flash of silver fur which was not awfully good camouflage in the brightly coloured forest, and she was on the trail once more.
And then, without warning, she ran out of the forest onto the edge of the muskeg-humped plain, and there was no Coaxtl, not anywhere.
Hsst, the cat’s voice cautioned. Hide. A man-thing comes.
‘What? Where? Coaxtl, I can’t find you. Where are you?’ she asked, and rustled the brush trying to find sight of the cat. But while her back was turned, she suddenly smelt what must have alerted the cat long before, and saw a small flat vessel, not like the copters she had once known as Company Angels but what Bunny had referred to as a’shuttle’. It had letters on the side. Bunny had been showing her stupid sister letters before she left. She thought the names of those letters were P, like Petaybee or Pobrecita, which began with such a letter, and I - no, the table on top - that was it! Bunny had said that a ‘I had a table on top -PT… S like snake or serpent - PTS. That was what it said on it.
She was so proud of herself for puzzling this out that she didn’t think to hide. She had become somewhat easier among people since her move to Kilcoole, and more accustomed to what Coaxtl called man-things. The Shepherd Howling had not cared much for such things unless they were bringing supplies, so machinery played little part in the terror of her life among the Flock before she met Coaxtl.
So mostly she was curious and watched the shuttle land, despite many hissings from Coaxtl. She had no idea that such an important-looking craft or the people from it would take any notice of someone like her.
One by one they climbed out and sank promptly into the squooshy hillocks of muskeg. Their lower clothing and legs and feet would be very wet, she knew. Some of them carried long metal sticks and some of them had long white skirts, others wore short skirts and high fur boots and leaned on the arms of companions. Still others wore shiny pants. All of them were much too warmly dressed in layers and layers of fur and down, mittens, boots, coats, mufflers, and hats.
‘Aha!’ one of the ones in a skirt cried. ‘There’s one!’
‘One what?’ asked a woman’s bored voice.
‘An aboriginal Petaybean.’
‘There’s no such thing,’ another protested.
‘Ah, you sir, as a businessman, obviously do not understand the spiritual nature of the relationship between the Petaybean native and his or her Great Benefactor. It has been explained to me and my brethren, however, by an expert on the subject.’ And without waiting for further argument, the man in the white skirt slogged forward, squooshing up to his kne
es with every step. ‘You there?’
‘Brethren.’ He had said ‘Brethren’. Shepherd Howling talked that way, and Dr Luzon. They were not very nice but she had learnt to mind them. Half of her wanted to shrink back into the brush but she stood as if rooted while the man approached and waited for him to demand that she do something she didn’t want to.
‘Oh, little girl, yoo hoo!’ another white skirt, this one a woman, called.
‘Yes, you!’ the man said. ‘You are an indigenous native of this glorious being upon which we stand?’
‘Well,’ the girl began.
Youngling… Coaxtl’s voice whispered.
‘Well, yes, I guess so.’
‘Ah!’ the man’s nervous smile broadened into a wide grin and he beckoned to those waiting behind the shuttle. ‘She is! Come along, it’s all right then.’
The others surged forward as awkwardly as the first, carrying their bags and their metal sticks and baskets.
The woman in the white skirt was the first to arrive. ‘Brother Shale, you’ve been too hasty as usual and frightened her.’ The woman pulled back her hood to reveal a shaven head, and took off her mitten to stick out a hand. ‘Hello, honey. I’m Sister Igneous Rock. Take us to your leader.’
Ponopei II
Torkel Fiske had disguised himself before leaving his shuttle. He didn’t care to be recognized by any of his father’s cronies. A dark colourwash and a quick weave altered his hairstyle to shaggily long with a parting instead of his usual cropped red cut. A false dark moustache which looked utterly convincing, a pair of dark glasses well suited to the climate of the resort moon Ponopei II, a white synlin suit and a Caribbe seascape-designed shirt that were unlike anything he ever wore anywhere else, woven sandals, no socks and the sort of jewellery he normally wouldn’t be caught dead in at his wrists, fingers, neck and one ear completed his ensemble. He chemically altered his skin colour with the substance designed to keep shipsiders from feeling out of place where sun and sea worship were the norm. Running an allview holo to check his appearance, he didn’t recognize himself. He looked like a pirate on vacation himself.
