Farfetch tdt-2

by Jacqueline Lichtenberg

  Krinata’s head hurt. The rest of her body seemed to have been chewed on by something with sharp teeth.

  At last she gathered the strength to shove Imp aside. He promptly curled up by her left ear and began grooming her hair. She discovered she was lying on a sleeping bag. Then it all came back to her, and she levered herself up on one elbow, trying to sift reality from nightmare.

  Jindigar was propped against the wall beside her right shoulder, a white bandage wrapped around his forehead like the turban he often wore, and his napped skin was mottled with darker indigo patches, bruises and abrasions. He assured her, “Yes, you’re alive.”

  Relief was followed by awareness of a lonely, single feeling she’d suffered after the triad had been dissolved the first time, not the walled-away feeling that had come when Jindigar and Prey had joined to read this planet. So even the duad was gone. “Where’s Frey? What happened?”

  “He’s finally asleep.” He gestured to the other side of the fire. “I think he’ll live.”

  His tone bespoke an ordeal she didn’t dare ask about. Raising her head a bit, she could just see Prey’s indigo head outlined against a bright sleeping-bag liner. He was curled in a near-fetal position, shuddering with each breath.

  She looked back at Jindigar. “You’re all right?”

  “Banged my head when they finally fished the sled down.”

  “The triad—I shouldn’t have—I nearly killed us. Or– Desdinda did. I only meant—”

  “To help? I thought you understood that every time you balance triad, you evoke the Loop, and Desdinda died wanting nothing but to kill us all.” He hugged his knees and looked over them. “What do you remember after Desdinda hurled you into the Archive?”

  “Is mat what happened?” How could a ghost do that? She remembered the sled capsizing, a surge of heightened awareness as the triad bonded them, and a chance to right the sled—pain, Prey’s pain, then horror. “I dreamed I was out in space again, falling away from Truth into the galaxy.” There was a stray image, a pond and a huge, improbable figure.

  “The ephemeral mind is amazing.” There was a thread of his normal delight in that, but a pall hung over his spirit.

  She tried to raise herself, but her vision blurred and pain seized her. Against the noise of the storm, and in the semi-privacy of the heaps of goods, their voices had gone unnoticed. But when Krinata’s head poked up, Shorwh, the oldest of the Cassrian children, whistled. “She’s awake!”

  There was a stirring on the other side of the fire, and

  Storm came around, saying reproachfully, “Jindigar, you promised to call me when she woke.”

  “How’s Terab?” asked Jindigar, starting to get up.

  “She’s fine. Sleeping,” answered Storm, pushing him back down. “Sometimes I envy the Holot constitution more than the Dushau! Arlai would have you under sedation, you know.” He turned to inspect Krinata’s head.

  She realized her skull was swathed in bandages and explored them with a finger. “What happened to my head?”

  “You hit it when you fell.”

  Storm sported no bandages, and Krinata asked, “How did you get the sled down?”

  “When Terab grabbed the tether rope and Jindigar got his weight shifted to the side, we flipped it back over easily enough, but it barely missed crushing Jindigar, hit the ground, and dragged all of us a good way before we could stop it. I’m afraid that sled is done for.”

  “I suggest,” said Jindigar thoughtfully, “we leave it in the cave here. We might come back for spare parts one day.”

  Storm agreed, adding, “We won’t be traveling today, and you should be better tomorrow. Now, we’ve got some soup over here that the humans said wasn’t bad, and I’ve dug out some medication that should help you. Willing, Krinata?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she answered. As Storm rose to get it she asked, “What about Trassle?”

  “Trassle… died,” said Jindigar.

  Her breath caught. The children! Trassle’s spacemanship had saved their lives more than once. “Allel and her children?”

  The Lehiroh wilted. “She seems to be in shock, and the rest of us are helping the children. They’re trying to be brave, but… Trassle was a survivor. They’ll make it.”

  When he’d gone, Jindigar said, “That’s the highest compliment I’ve ever heard Storm pay to anyone not a licensed Outrider. And I agree. I’m going to miss Trassle, but– Allel—She married an officer with unlimited potential who was cashiered for an injury, then started a lucrative business, only to have it confiscated and their eldest son murdered by Imperials because they had a Dushau investor. She’s been snatched from a safe life, dumped on a wild planet, and widowed. Cassrians mate for life, you know. They live for their children.” He buried his face in his hands. They were bandaged. “I’ve got to convince her she’s not alone here. She’ll come out of it for the sake of her children.” He rolled to his feet, one hand against the wall, and moved carefully around to the Cassrian family as Storm brought Krinata the soup.

  The food was good, and the medicine put her to sleep before Jindigar returned, so she couldn’t ask how such a small group could survive alone on a marginal world. Certainly Jindigar knew it took more than seventeen to form a colony. Had he ever really used that word? Or was that only her impression of what he’d meant? She’d have to ask.

  She slept away a day, and the following morning, she woke to find bright sunlight spearing through the chinks in the wall of cargo at the mouth of the cave. They dug themselves out. The fresh air smelled marvelous, for the searing heat of the desert had not yet developed. In the long shadows of early morning the arroyo below them was decorated with clean new sand drifts and freshly sandblasted rocks, some of which gleamed as if they had precious gems embedded in them.

  The higher ground on which they stood was dotted with reddish-brown bushes covered with tiny russet-and-gold leaves. Her eyes seemed to be adjusting to the odd-colored sunlight, making things seem normal.

  The cliff that housed their cave meandered east, turning into slowly rising hills. The near ones seemed barren, but farther away, magenta, gold, and scarlet vegetation made an autumnal display that caught at the heart. “Jindigar, are you sure it’s spring here?” she asked as he walked by.

  He followed her gaze, staring wide-eyed into the rising sun as if it were the dimmest lightglobe, apparently calculating visual acuity ranges. “It must seem like fall to you. Will it bother you if the vegetation turns green in late summer? But I assure you, it is livable.”

  “I’m almost convinced of that, but—” He was called away before she could finish.

  She helped prepare food for everyone and coaxed the children to eat. But nothing could hold Allel’s attention long enough to convince her to eat.

  It took all morning to repack the sleds. As Jindigar and the Lehiroh decided which items to leave behind, they all pitched in to hide the broken sled and a few crates that could not fit onto the other sleds.

  Trassle was buried in a cairn at the front of the cave, disguised to look natural, and Allel had to be dragged away while Shorwh watched, clutching Imp to his chest. He had seen his older brother murdered, and now he’d buried his father.

  As the Lehiroh were settling Allel and the younger children atop one of the sleds, Krinata took the piol from Shorwh and sat him down on a boulder. She talked to him about his siblings and his mother, until she got him to admit that he was afraid. Then she explained, “I don’t know how it is with Cassrians, but human adults have to live with many fears. Sometimes it takes awhile and all our physical strength to overcome a new fear. It’s especially bad when someone who’s been part of our lives for many years is suddenly gone.”

  “You’re talking about my mother.”

  “Yes, I guess so. It’s terrible for you. It’s even worse for her right now. We’ve got to take care of her. And we’ve got to take care of the children, to keep her from worrying about them too. We’re all going to help you.”

  He
looked up at her. She was sure he’d grown even in the short time since they’d first met. “We’ve got to take care of the children,” he concurred, accepting her judgment that he wasn’t a child anymore. “But I don’t know what to do for Mama. My father didn’t tell me that.” His voice went reedy and uncontrolled.

  “Give her time,” said Krinata. She handed Imp to him. “Or maybe Imp can help. Do you ever tell him your troubles?”

  He gave her a sidelong glance, the sun sparkling off his dark exoskeleton. Then he looked down at the piol, seemingly embarrassed. “I didn’t think humans knew about things like that. I guess I have a lot to learn?”

  “Imp’s very understanding. I’ve told him a lot of my problems that I couldn’t talk to anyone about.”

  “Even Jindigar?”

  Oh, especially Jindigar! She sidestepped the issue. “Do you suppose your mama might be able to talk to Imp where she just can’t talk to you?”

  He held the piol up to look him in the eye. The long furred limbs dangled down ridiculously, and the piol’s tail flicked around for balance, but he wrinkled up his black nose, showing sharp teeth in a lopsided grin. “I will try.”

  When he’d gone, Krinata looked around for Jindigar and Frey, who’d recovered slowly but had not spoken to Krinata. Now there was no sign of either Dushau. The Lehiroh had formed them into a double line, for there would be no danger of being blown sideways today, and a more compact line was easier to defend. She found her sled near the middle of the line, next to Viradel’s.

  Krinata was checking the harness when a cold feeling came over her, as if a cloud had blocked the sun. But she was standing in warm sunlight. Probing inward, she found the feeling familiar, though more acute than ever. Frey and Jindigar had retempered their duad. Jindigar had warned her that they had to try it, but she must not attempt the triad or it might kill Frey.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Viradel sarcastically as she checked her sled. “They pack your sled too heavy?”

  Krinata bristled. “I presume it’s the same as it was.”

  “Oh. Too light, then,” she muttered, and walked off.

  Krinata straightened and stared after her, unbelieving.

  But there was nothing she could say. So, while the column was waiting for the two Holot to finish filling in the refuse• pit, Krinata wandered to the front where the Lehiroh were hunkered down over a map scratched in the loose sand.

  “… we get in under those trees, it’ll be cooler and we’ll consume less water—” Storm looked up. “Krinata! Did Arlai set your watch for this planet, too?”

  She looked at the field timepiece, strapped to her right wrist, and noticed that it stood at about noon, which was Indeed local time. ‘It seems so.” She blinked back a tear. She missed the Sentient computer. “Where’s Jindigar?”

  “They’ll be back in a little, and—”

  Just then the two Dushau came around an outcropping. “Krinata!” called Jindigar. “Would you gather everyone? I think we’ve found a good camping area.”

  Frey wouldn’t meet her eyes. She nodded and went to gather everyone. Jindigar made it brief, giving them an idea of the route they’d follow. The duad had been able to discern a confluence of waterways ahead of them, tucked into a sheltered valley that teemed with enough life to mask the refugees from orbital sensors. But they had to cross two ridges to get there, and that would take a couple of days.

  “One thing you must absorb now,” finished Jindigar. “The life on this planet is organized into hives. The hive tends to be paranoid and territorial but not aggressive. If we stay clear of marked territories, we won’t be attacked. So each of you must stay in line, follow the path we cut, and keep the pace. Straying could bring disaster. Don’t experiment with fruits from the bushes we pass–let Frey and I do the foraging. There’s a great deal we can eat, but we mustn’t compete with native creatures for the food.”

  With that, they got under way. The first few steps were an agony on Krinata’s shoulders, but after the sled was moving and the kinks worked out of her stiffened muscles, she was able to unclench her teeth and ease her breathing.

  As the day passed the land rose steadily and began to show signs of abundant, if sporadic, water supply: dry washes with the scum of flood wrack plastered high on their sides, foliage that stored moisture, dormant plants, and insect and small animal life. But the breath of the desert followed them until near sundown, when a freshening breeze stirred the brittle bushes mat had needlelike green leaves.

  Viradel had refused all of Krinata’s conversational gambits, taking her rest breaks with Gibson, Fenwick, and the other human woman, Adina. Krinata had sat alone, trying to come to terms with being a loner, but had only hatched a stronger determination to make at least some friends.

  When they re-formed, Jindigar placed the sled carrying Allel, the younger Cassrian children, and the piols right behind Viradel, where Krinata could see it, and assigned Shorwh to pull it. “Keep an eye on him, Krinata, and let us know when he tires,” said Jindigar with apparent effort. Though a wall shut her away from the duad, she felt Jindigar struggling with Prey’s inability to hold to the duad.

  Viradel said, “I’ll take the youngster’s sled, Jindigar.

  With riders like that—a child”

  Jindigar’s eyes closed as he summoned the strength to deal with the objection. Krinata said, “Jindigar knows Cassrians. The responsibility is probably good for Shorwh right now, and when he tires—”

  “I didn’t ask you!” spat Viradel.

  Gibson had come to see what the fuss was and jumped into the argument. “You can trust Viradel, Jindigar—”

  “I know,” assured the Dushau. “Later—we’ll shift again.” Even those few words cost him a tremendous effort Viradel seemed not to notice. He went to murmur a few words to Frey and then take up his place at the head of the line beside Storm. Gibson calmed Viradel and left. Krinata spent the next several hours trying to find words to explain to Viradel that Jindigar was a proficient Emulator, capable of manifesting within himself the imperatives of many species.

  When they finally entered the cover of taller, riotously colored trees, loaded with fruits and inhabited by busy flying creatures, Krinata commented to Viradel, “Jindigar said the green plants, like those over there, produce edible fruits.” She pointed to a stand of trees with long, needlelike leaves and luscious yellow fruits.

  Viradel looked around and muttered, “He did?”

  The woods was relatively clear of underbrush, dead needles heaped in places as if a gardening team had been interrupted. “If we can camp here, Frey and Jindigar will pick our spot very carefully and maybe forage some fruit.”

  Viradel looked at her sharply and offered a woman-to-woman comment. “You toady to them too much. What you think it’ll get you? Dushau make good business partners, but lousy friends, and worse bosses ‘cause they can’t care how we feel. Those two ain’t an Oliat. They was wrong on the sandstorm, could be wrong on anything.”

  Viradel and her friends had transferred to Truth from another refugee ship and had not known Jindigar before. “I’ve never heard Jindigar issue an order,” she protested.

  “But he’s controllin’ what we do that oughta be decided by vote. Otherwise, you got a boss. If that’s what them two wanna be, they ain’t gonna share it with you. You oughta join the right side o’ this, afore it’s too late.”

  Side!? She knew Jindigar had no personal interest in how ephemerals governed themselves. “With the Squadron after us we can’t discuss every decision. The Dushau and the Lehiroh are professionals weighing hundreds of factors—”

  “We don’t think as good as them? Where I come from, a person don’t let nobody do their thinkin’ for ‘em.”

  Krinata gestured at the shade all around them now, as if it made her argument self-evident. “They found this for us.”

  “Yeh,” Viradel agreed, surveying a stand of saplings surrounding a taller tree drooping under the weight of a crop of globular yello
w fruit buried in gorgeous sprays of green needles. “And then he forbids us to touch anything! As if we had no wilderness sense. Now, where I was raised, fruit like that was fer pickin’! There’s so much—we wouldn’t be competin’ with no animal—”

  As Krinata took a routine glance at Shorwh she said, “But Jindigar knows what he’s talking about!” Turning back to Viradel, she found her shrugging out of her harness, eyes fixed on the ripe fruit. “Viradel, no! Don’t be a fool!” It came out as a command of Lady Zavaronne.

  Viradel flashed her a defiant grin, and before Krinata could move, she darted to the saplings where she picked two of the fruits. She was back in line with her treasure, shrugging into her harness when a liquid, wailing ululation filled the peaceful woods. Oonnoolloolloolloolllloooo!

  Krinata heard a thud and whirled to see a creature on top of Shorwh’s sled. It was a bipedal, brown hairy ape with an extra joint in each arm and leg. Its most splendid feature was a pair of gleaming black horns growing from its forehead over its skull. Its tail was curled up over its back and hooked around the horns as it stood on top of the sled and issued a splashing stream of yellow urine toward Allel and the children who huddled, clutching the piols.

  Krinata yelled, “Shorwh, get out of, your harness!” She smacked the brake on her own sled. Turning to comply, Shorwh saw the creature and froze. The sled plowed straight over him, and at the last second Shorwh had to dive under it. It bobbed with the weight of the creature, almost flattening Shorwh. The beast emitted another Onnoolloo! and ‘ bent to rip at the cargo tarp with its horns.

  Krinata threw herself flat to fish Shorwh out from under the dangerously low sled while Viradel went for the sled’s controls. She got Shorwh clear just in time to see the creature, frustrated by the tough fabric, stomping and hopping about chasing after the two Cassrian children. Both piols leapt at the creature’s back and, clinging to its horns, began savaging its eyes with their long fishing claws.