Direct Descent

by Direct Descent (lit)

  "Fifty meters, right." Sil-Chan tuned his altimeter.

  The feminine voice continued: "Just over that hill we've mowed an east-west landing strip for you. If you line up over the white buildings and stay low, you should . . ."

  "Mowed?" Sil-Chan blurted the word with his finger pressed hard on transmit.

  The feminine voice paused, then: "Yes, mowed. You should've taken a copter instead of that hot jobby. I was about to suggest it when the PN said he would like to see one of the new jetters."

  Sil-Chan tried to swallow past a thickness in his throat. "I see the white buildings. There are three of them. I am turning."

  "Fifty meters, no more."

  Sil-Chan checked his crash harness. "Right."

  "Do you see one taller tree on the hill?"

  "Yes."

  "As low as possible over that tree. Dip into the valley beyond. Line up with the flagpole at the far end of the mowed field. Stay right down the middle and you'll miss the tall grass. I sure hope the strip's long enough."

  So do I, Sil-Chan thought.

  The tall tree loomed ahead. He lifted slightly, then dipped and gasped as he saw the tiny field. There was time only for a blurred glimpse of flagpole, trees beyond and a mist-colored cliff rising abruptly right behind the trees. No time to swerve or climb out. He kicked on full flaps, fired the rocket idiot-brakes in the nose and fought to hold control as the ship bucked down into dangerous low speed.

  A path of darker green lay down the middle of the lighter green field. He aimed into the center, slammed on the wheel brakes when he felt the ground. The jetter bounced up onto its nose wheel, skidded in the slippery grass, crabbed sideways into tall grass. One wing dipped. The ship cartwheeled -- once, twice.

  It came to rest upside down.

  Sil-Chan hung in his harness trying to breathe deeply while his mind replayed the whirling madcap landscape through which he had just dervished. He felt his heart pounding. His left shoulder ached.

  That cost me half my longevity.

  The adrenaline reaction began to set in. His hands trembled uncontrollably. He knew he would have to find a supply of anti-S soon. That dive had taken him through months of normal life.

  The jetter creaked and settled slightly. A strange quiet intruded upon Sil-Chan's awareness. The quiet bothered him. Faint swishing grew discernible. A masculine voice intruded on the quiet.

  "Hey in there! You all right?"

  Sil-Chan could imagine the racing stream of robot emergency equipment which would have greeted such a landing on a regular field. He shuddered. All of the quiet, single-purposed reserve which had marked his life to this point dissolved like the mists around the island. It was as though he had passed through an invisible barrier to become an unexpected person on the other side.

  "You funnel-mouthed, vacuum-headed idiots!" he bellowed.

  The jetter trembled as someone forced open the door beside him. He turned his head, looked upside down into the face of a man who reminded him of a younger Director Tchung. It was the set of the eyes and the reserved look in a narrow face.

  "You sound healthy enough," the man said. "Did you break anything?"

  "No thanks to you!" Sil-Chan raged.

  "Here, let me help you out of the harness," the man said. He knelt and gently helped Sil-Chan remove the crash harness. The man's hands were rough and there was unexpected strength in his arms. He smelled of some odd spice.

  Sil-Chan winced as the straps were eased over his left shoulder.

  "Bit of a bruise there," the man said. "Doesn't feel like anything's broken. How about your legs and back?"

  "They're fine. Get me out of this stupid . . ."

  "Easy there. Easy does it."

  The man gentled Sil-Chan out the door and onto the grassy ground, helped Sil-Chan to sit up. There was an acrid fuel smell mixed with the odors of crushed grass. The sky swayed a bit above his rescuer.

  "Just sit there a bit until you feel better," the man said. "You seem to be all in one piece."

  Sil-Chan studied this first Dornbaker he had seen. The man was a loosely hung figure in a brown fringed jacket, tight pants. The jacket was open almost to his navel and exposed a smooth, almost hairless chest. The same could not be said of his head -- which was a tangle of black hair, some of which straggled over his forehead, He looked as primitive and wild as this island.

  "David! David! Is he all right?"

  It was the voice of the young woman at Free Island Control. She came panting around the end of the wrecked jetter, bare legs swishing in the long grass. At sight of Sil-Chan, she came to a stop and leaned against the jetter, gasping for breath. "Thank the Stone you weren't killed," she panted. "I ran all the way from Control."

  Sil-Chan stared up at her: skin as dark as Tchung's but her hair was a golden cloud and her eyes were the blue of the misty sea, full of lurking merriment that even her obvious worry could not conceal. She, too, wore the oddly fringed clothing, but a curve of bright red blouse filled the wedge of her jacket. It came to Sil-Chan that she was the most delicately beautiful creature he had ever seen. He found himself unable to look away from that lovely face, the soft mouth, the tiny nose, the smooth rounding of chin and cheeks. All of the careful repression that had kept him grinning upward in the Archival hierarchy, everything of his past peeled away. It was an effort to wrench himself back to duty. He cleared his throat.

  Before he could speak, she said: "I told them that runway was too short. But no! They had to get off right away on the hunt!"

  "Easy, Hep," the man said. His voice floated out in an effortless baritone.

  Sil-Chan shook his head to clear it of that lovely female vision. "Would you direct me to the Paternomer, please?" he asked.

  "He won't be back for two days," the man aid. "I'm David. This is Hepzebah." He spoke the names as though they should convey important information. "We're to take care of you until the PN returns."

  Stiffly, painfully, Sil-Chan levered himself to his feet, waving away David's profered help. "I have to see the Paternomer as soon as possible. Can you take me to him?" He glanced at the wreck. "This hardly seems the way to get to him anymore."

  "We're very sorry about that," Hepzebah said. "Really, we had nothing to do with the arrangements."

  "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the PN's return," David said. "No way to get to him when he's on a hunt."

  "But it's urgent and I . . ."

  "You sure aren't going back mainland in that." Hepzebah indicated the wreck. "Best you stay. My brother here has tight quarters and he's a good host when he wants to be."

  Brother!

  Once more, Sil-Chan found himself staring at Hepzebah. Lovely. Lovely. And such a charming name. There was a painful constriction in his chest where the crash harness could not have touched him. Brother. Sil-Chan had feared they might be a mated pair. She still might have a mate somewhere.

  She blushed under the steadiness of his stare.

  I mustn't stare. I must say something.

  "It's a very nice day," he said.

  "Yes, it is," she agreed. "Let's go over to David's." She waved at a low structure in the trees at the side of the field. Sil-Chan had not noticed it until she pointed, as though she had created the structure by some wild magic -- red-brown logs, rock chimney, small windows. It nestled among the trees as though it has grown there.

  "You're favoring your left arm," David said. "We'd best go in and have a look at it." He turned and led the way across the tall grass.

  Sil-Chan kept pace behind with Hepzebah walking close beside, studying him. There was a penetrating quality to her stare which made Sil-Chan uncomfortable but he would not have had her look away for anything. Lovely! "I'm sorry I blew up back there," he said.

  "You had a perfect right," she said. "I'd have never permitted it, but the PN makes all his own rules. He sent us in from Big North Cape to greet you and didn't give us enough help. They wouldn't make other arrangements -- only what the PN ordered."

  "The
re was the hunt," David said. He spoke without turning.

  "The hunt!" she flared. "You're here because you're the Aitch/Aye." She turned to Sil-Chan. "David has to do all the official work that the PN doesn't want to do. The PN made me come because I wouldn't take the trothing. He thinks he's punishing me."

  Sil-Chan shook his head. What were they talking about? He said: "I'm afraid I don't understand."

  "He's from far mainland," David said. "You're making no sense to him." David slowed his pace and walked beside Hepzebah, speaking across her to explain. "Hep wouldn't accept the mate the brothers picked for her. Made the PN angry. She really doesn't have to accept, but the PN's K-cousins are expected to obey. Things are different with H- and B-cousins."

  Sil-Chan stared back at David without comprehension.

  "No sense yourself!" Hepzebah laughed.

  "Is it some special language?" Sil-Chan asked.

  David grinned. They were into the trees now, within only a few steps of a wide split-wood door into the house.

  "It's Dornbakerish, I guess," David said. I'll try again. I was tolled off to greet you because the PN wouldn't miss the hunt. He's getting old and he figures he doesn't have many more. They're running fallow deer on Big Plain. That's why I'm here. I'm the Aitch Aye. That means I'll be PN when the present PN goes upStone. Hep's of the same line, a K-cousin. She . . ."

  "What is a K-cousin?" Sil-Chan asked.

  They stopped just outside the wide door of the house.

  David looked at Hepzebah. She looked at David. Presently, she looked at Sil-Chan. "Just K-cousin," she said. "It's close. I'm of the PN's line. One of my boy-children will be picked to succeed David."

  "You . . . have children?" Sil-Chan asked.

  "Oh, no. I don't even have a mate. And the PN's angry at me, punishing . . ."

  "The PN isn't that petty," David said. He opened the door, exposed a dim interior into which he motioned Sil-Chan. "My honored guest, Sooma Sil-Chan. Enter my abode and call it your own."

  "You know my name?"

  "David signed the clearance for the PN," Hepzebah said. She followed Sil-Chan into the house.

  David brought up the rear and closed the door.

  Sil-Chan stared at the room -- long with a ceiling which reached away to dim rafters. Windows looked out onto the landing field and the wrecked jetter . . . more windows peered into shadowy woods . . . gigantic rock fireplace at one end, smoke blackened. There was a smell of smoke in the room. Odd projections on the walls. Sil-Chan peered at them, realized they were the mounted heads of horned animals. There was a small fire in the fireplace. David crossed to it, stirred up the flame and added more logs.

  Hepzebah touched Sil-Chan's arm, said: "Come over by the fire and let me look at your shoulder. David, get a refresher, a good stiff one."

  "Right." David walked off toward a door opposite the fireplace.

  Sil-Chan's mind reeled. This entrancing woman was not wed! David was Aitch Aye. What was that? Sil-Chan felt that he had read of such a relationship somewhere in the Library. Heir Apparent! Yes, of course. And Hepzebah was 'of the same line.' Gods of the universe! This pair was royalty!

  "Come along," Hepzebah said.

  Sil-Chan allowed himself to be led to a low-backed divan beside the fireplace. Flames murmured in the logs. The smell of smoke was stronger here. He stumbled over something that rang musically.

  "One of the children left a toy," Hepzebah said. "David's so easy with them." She indicated the divan. "Sit down and take off your jacket. I'll . . ."

  "No, really. It's all right," Sil-Chan said. Again, he found himself trapped in her eyes -- the soft look of them here in the shadowed room . . . like some forest animal. She's not wedded. She's not wedded.

  "I'll have a look all the same," she said. She put a light pressure on his shoulder and he sank to the divan. It was soft, absorbing and smelled of animal.

  Hepzebah bent over him, and Sil-Chan inhaled a mind-rolling musk of perfumed hair. He allowed her to help him out of his jacket and shirt. The jacket was torn at the elbow and he had not even noticed. His flesh tingled where Hepzebah touched him.

  "Bad bruise on your shoulder and a scratch above your left elbow," she said. She went to a door beside the fireplace, returned in a moment with a cloth which smelled of unguent. The cloth felt cool and soothing where she pressed it to his shoulder.

  "What's a trothing?" Sil-Chan asked.

  "The trothers are the clan elders. They decide if a joining will be good for the clan."

  He swallowed. "Do you ever . . . wed outside your clan?"

  She lowered her eyes. "Sometimes."

  Sil-Chan studied the soft oval of her face, imagined that face pillowed beside him. His mission, the Archive's problems, Tchung -- all melted into the distance . . . another planet.

  "Drink this."

  It was David suddenly standing behind him, preferring an earthen mug that swirled with pungent brown liquid and a biting aroma. Sil-Chan tasted it: hot, tangy and sharp on the tongue. He downed the drink. Warmth filled him. He re-experienced the inner release he had felt after crashing the jetter -- another person. He stood up.

  "How does one arrange a troth?" he asked.

  She peered up at him, a smile touching her lips. Something smokey and wondering drifted in her eyes. "We have several ways. The PN's K-cousins can take the initiative if the couple ask it."

  "What's all this talk of trothing?" David asked. He came around the divan and stood with his back to the fire.

  Hepzebah waved a hand in front of Sil-Chan's eyes, leaned close to stare at him.

  Sil-Chan said: "What're you. . . ."

  "I have the inward eye," she said. "You go very deep. It's Warm and nice in there."

  David said: "I asked you . . ."

  "If he'll have me, David, I'm going to open the troth," she said.

  David looked at Sil-Chan, at Hepzebah. "I haven't been out of the room that long, have I? I just went for a drink."

  She touched Sil-Chan tentatively on the wrist. Again, he felt his flesh tingle.

  "This is nonsense," David said.

  Her hand stole into Sil-Chan's. He felt the perfect fit of her there, the perfection of her beside him.

  "Will you wed me, Sooma Sil-Chan?" she asked.

  "Hep, you stop this!" David said.

  "Be quiet, David," she said, "or I will tell stories about a young man's secret visits to the mainland."

  "Now, Hep! You . . ."

  "Quiet, I said."

  Sil-Chan felt himself bathed in a warm glow -- the drink inside him, Hepzebah's hand in his. Wed her?

  "I'd go to the ends of the universe to wed you," he whispered.

  "Is that a yes?" she asked.

  "Yes. Yes."

  "But you've only just met!" David protested.

  "The trothers will agree with me," she said. "But I already know. The inward eye never fails." She tipped her head, looked up at Sil-Chan from the corners of her eyes. "I find him very attractive."

  David appeared angry. "He's just different."

  "I'm already certain," she said. "And you heard the question and you heard his response."

  "This is too much!" David raged. "You're always doing things like this!"

  Sil-Chan experienced a crawling of goose flesh. He felt delirious. All those years of celibacy and devotion to duty and career had melted away.

  "He'll never take the name!" David said. "Just to look at him you can tell. You'd best accept Martin as the trothers . . ."

  "Gun the trothers!" Steel in her voice. "So if he won't take the name, I'll go with him . . . as is right. We'll cross that river when it cuts our trail."

  "This is much too quick," David said. "The PN will blast the roof off when he . . ."

  "His sister's son and your sister's son -- that's the way of the PN," she said. "Let us never forget it."

  When he responded, David's voice was lower. "Still too quick."

  Sil-Chan looked from one to the other. He took strength
from the feeling of Hepzebah's hand in his. There was no need for logic or reason.

  "I've always been a quick one," Hepzebah said. "I make decisions the way the ice breaks from the glacier."