Mahree ran up, her blaster raised to cover the open lock. "You hurt?" she yelled at Etsane.
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"No!" Etsane watched as Mahree just stood by the corral gate, not firing.
"Shoot the ship! Keep it from taking off!"
"No!" Mahree kept her blaster aimed, but did not fire. "Let them escape. If they're cornered, they'll use their blasters. Or worse."
As Etsane watched, trembling with rage and hatred, the gray tube of the transport shuddered, then rose on its a- gravs, its main drive tubes glowing as the pilot prepared to push the craft away from the grassy valley.
With a rush, the ship was gone, nothing but a shrinking dot in the pale sky of Ancestor's World.
Etsane felt her legs go weak. She looked up as Mahree unlatched the corral gate and came up to her. "They deserved to die," Etsane said bitterly. "You should have fired that blaster at the ship. You could have disabled them, so we could have gone in after them."
Mahree looked upset by her words. "Etsane ... if we'd disabled the ship, they could have fired their main drives here on the ground and vaporized all of us!
Did you think of that?"
Etsane felt her mouth drop open in horror as she pictured what could have happened. No, she hadn't thought of that. "You're right," she whispered to Mahree. "Oh, God, you're right."
"Actually, it was Gordon who warned me," Mahree said, smiling at the archaeologist as he came over to see how they were. "I wouldn't have thought of it, but he did."
Etsane gazed at Mitchell. "You were wise, astamari."
Later, she sat in the shade of the stone house, exhausted, sick and trembling with reaction, and watched the mopping- up operation by the Guard Sisters.
Pokeel whistle-clicked rapid-fire orders, setting up a defensive line around the stone hut and corrals, just in case the slavers tried to return with reinforcements. Doctor Mitchell went up to the ridge to move the shuttle down, so they could bring the freed slaves aboard.
Doctor Strongheart and one of Pokeel's field medics treated the wounded, including the groggy Heeyoon prisoner.
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Bites-Hard, it turned out, had been badly burned when the Anuran had fired his blaster at her, just as she ducked behind a boulder for cover. No one was sure whether she would survive. Etsane fervently hoped so. She was still amazed by the Guard Sister's courage at walking right into the slaver camp.
One of the captives, the Vardi, had perished from heat prostration. But sixty-one of the captives had survived, with only minor injuries.
Natual, Ttalatha, Professor Greyshine, and Mahree were ministering to the captives, comforting them, offering water and salt tablets, and helping them realize that they were finally free after their ordeal.
Khuharkk' came over to sit down beside Etsane. The Simiu's feet and hands were scraped raw from the run over the rocky ground. Violet-hued eyes inspected her. "You earned great Honor today, Etsane."
She laid her head back against the door post and fought back hysterical tears. "I don't feel very well, Khuharkk'." She mustered a quivery laugh. "I've got the shakes so bad that I can't even stand up."
"Battle is never easy," he said, "and the aftermath is often even worse than the actual event."
"No kidding," she said. "But, Khuharkk'... you fought well, also. You earned great honor."
It helped to remember that he was her friend, and someone she could lean on, as she had the other night.
"We earned Honor together," he said solemnly. "I would like to share our Honor always. If you agree, I would consider us Honor-Bound from this day on."
"What does that mean?" she asked. "Tell me, so I'll understand what an honor I'm being given."
"It means that from now on, your Honor is my Honor, and my honor is yours.
We will fight for each other when necessary, and be friends until we are no more. Together or apart, we will always have this bond of shared honor."
Etsane nodded. "I understand. And I accept. Nothing would please me more.
I will be honored to become Honor- Bound with you, Khuharkk'!"
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Joy filled his eyes, and he put out his hand, gripped hers tightly. "This gives me great happiness, as well as Honor, Etsane."
They sat there together, and Etsane realized she was no longer trembling.
When the shuttle carrying the rescuers landed at Base Camp, Mahree let the others exit first. Only then did she step out onto the top of the stair ramp. She looked up, unbelieving, at the bright stars of night and the white glow of Mother's Daughter low on the western horizon. There was still an hour to go before sunrise, despite the extra time spent in shuttling the captives to Spirit and transferring them onto the Emerald Scales with the assistance of Captain Salzeess. When they were finally safe, she'd sent off a call for help to the CLS Irenics, and, finally, met with Krillen to turn over the Heeyoon prisoner and explain what had happened.
Had it only been eighteen hours or so ago that she and Gordon had spoken to the Council of Elders? Incredible. It felt like eighteen days. She was beyond exhaustion, beyond mere weariness, running as she was on adrenaline, coffee, and a warm feeling in her heart as she recalled the joy in the faces of the people they'd freed.
Gordon followed her out onto the top of the ramp, then waved at the retreating figures of Pokeel, the Guard Sisters, Greyshine, and all the others.
"A good night's work, Ambassador. We have some brave friends, don't we?"
She nodded, sharing his exultation at their victory. "Yes, they're the best.
They risked their lives for others, and, thank God, we won!"
He put his arm around her waist. "I'm too wound up to go to sleep. How about a swim in the creek? Flat Rock will be deserted at this time of day--or should I say night?" Mahree hesitated. Instinctively, she knew that if she went with him now, their relationship would change forever. Did she want that?
He was gazing down at her, his expression suddenly anxious. She could feel how much he wanted to be with her,
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and discovered that she felt the same. "Okay," she said.
Together, they walked through the last of the moonlight toward the swimming hole favored by most of the camp. The night was unusually warm for Ancestor's World, as though the spirits of the Revered Ancestors were smiling upon them, pleased with their night's labors.
When they reached Flat Rock, Gordon was already unbuttoning his shirt. He tossed it aside, and then, unselfconsciously, kicked off his boots and unfastened his belt buckle. Struck by a sudden attack of shyness, Mahree primly turned her back, and heard him laugh.
"Last one in is a rotten egg!" he said, and then came the sound of a great splash.
She turned back to find him treading water in the deepest of the pools, obviously waiting for her to do the same. For a moment she considered jumping in with her clothes on, but, dammit, she was an adult, she knew where this was going, and getting her clothes soaked wouldn't stop it. Nor, she discovered, did she want to.
But she did step behind a huge boulder to shuck off her clothes, then she ran full tilt toward the pool and jumped.
It was cold, and she came up gasping, feeling it wash away all the weariness, all the stress of the day. The cleansing touch of the water was like a benediction. She tossed her mane of hair back over her shoulder, realizing she was grinning crazily. "Whooooo!"
She swam a few strokes, until her feet hit the sandy creek bottom. Then she lifted her feet and floated, gazing up at the stars. They were still bright, but Mother's Daughter was far down, and the faintest of glows was brightening in the east.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she floundered to her feet, finding herself facing Gordon. The expression on his face was intent, yet oddly serene. His body shone wet in the moonlight, the hair on his chest dark against the lighter skin. He stood there, not attempting to touch her further, only letting his hand rest on her shoulder.
Her nipples tightened painfully. "Gordon ..."
"I want you," he w
hispered. "I care about you so much 227
... Mahree ... I thought I couldn't feel this way anymore. I haven't loved anyone in so long ..."
She swallowed, knowing how much that admission must have cost him.
Then, slowly, she raised her hand and touched his chest, let her fingers sift through the wet hair. Rob's chest was nearly hairless, and for a moment, she felt a wave of guilt at what she was about to do.
Then he pulled her to him, not gently, and kissed her, and she forgot everything else except how much she wanted him, too ...
They made love on Flat Rock, shivering in the night air, warming each other with the heat of their joined bodies.
Their first time was urgent, their mutual arousal too great to allow them to prolong their pleasure.
But then, as Mother's Eye crept over the eastern horizon, turning Ancestor's World and Flat Rock shades of pale crimson and rose, they made love again, slowly this time, sensuously ... each delaying their release until they could hold back no more....
And afterward ...
I love him, Mahree realized, as she lay snuggled against his shoulder while he slept. She watched Mother's Eye ascend, and felt as though she were being tom in two. May the Revered Ancestors help me... may they help us both....
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CHAPTER I 3 The Chambers of Father Earth
Early in the afternoon of the same day, Krillen of the Law arrived at Base Camp aboard the jumpjet that Khuharkk' had piloted through Mother Sky.
The Investigator was slowly losing his fear of hurtling through thin air, and he wondered whether that constituted blasphemy.
His friend Mahree had relayed a call to him via Nordlund's com unit when she'd awakened mid-morning. She'd told him that Khuharkk' was on his way to Spirit to bring Krillen out to the Base Camp immediately. Axum, she'd said, had something important to show all of them.
The moment he saw Philosopher Mitchell and Ambassador Burroughs, Krillen sensed that something had changed between them. They did not touch, but the look on their soft faces reminded him of when he had been newly wed.
After they exchanged greetings, Krillen asked, "So what has Axum found, Doctor Mitchell?"
"We'll show you." Together, Krillen, Gordon, and Mahree headed out of camp, down toward the landing field. "Axum was using some of our off-world equipment to scan
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for buried artifacts when she came across this," the archaeologist said, stopping beside a place where the sandy earth was newly turned.
"We didn't disturb it," Mahree was quick to add, as Gordon produced a shovel. "We just covered it up again and called you. I'm sure this must be connected with Bill's murder, though I can't imagine how yet."
Krillen watched as Gordon Mitchell carefully dug into the ground, moving the soil spadeful by careful spadeful. The Investigator moved forward as he saw the edge of something white that appeared to be fabric. "What can it be?" he asked.
"Wait," said Mahree. "You'll see."
Kril en stared, fascinated, as Mitchel uncovered a bundled pile of hol ow metal and wood tubes and struts, and many meters of cloth. The cloth shone dully in the light of Mother's Eye, and he realized it had been treated to make it watertight. He looked at it, totally at a loss to explain what the thing could be, when suddenly, he realized what it was. "A glider!"
"Right," Gordon said. "We call them paragliders or parasails back where I come from. I used to fly one, years ago. But this one was never made on Earth. It was made here, Krillen. By a Na-Dina."
Krillen was down on his knees by this time, poking carefully at the broken glider. It had obviously been buried in haste, its struts and supports snapped so it could fit into the smallest space possible. "There are legends of the days when my people flew through Mother Sky in these," he said. "But then the Temple declared it sacrilege, and no more were built."
"The fact that Axum found this and told me about it exonerates her from suspicion, in my book," Gordon said. "She'd have no reason to show it to me unless she was innocent."
Krillen was forced to agree.
"Who among the Na-Dina would know how to build one of these, Krillen?"
Mahree asked.
The Investigator blinked at her. "Only someone who was
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familiar with old records," he said slowly. "Familiar with traditions from long ago. A scholar."
All of them looked at each other, and a name hung in the air, unspoken.
Beloran.
"Has anyone seen him lately?" Gordon asked.
"I haven't," Mahree said. "But he's been keeping pretty much to himself since Marshal Pokeel arrived."
"My friends," Krillen said, levering himself back up, "we must not race ahead of ourselves. If Liaison Beloran built and flew this glider, and then thought better of it and buried it here, that is suspicious, yes, but it does not prove anything beyond the fact that he was guilty of sacrilege against Mother Sky."
"But this glider... I'm sure it ties in with Bill's death!" Mahree insisted. "Why else would he hide it like this?"
"We cannot be sure that the Liaison built it," Krillen reminded her. "Although he must be questioned about this discovery. If I do not like his answers--and I suspect that I will not--then I will take him into custody."
"Do you think he might be working with Ortega?" Mahree asked. Then she looked at the timepiece on her wrist and cursed softly. "Damnation, I forgot!
We have an appointment with Project Engineer Mohapatra today! The raid drove it clear out of my mind!"
Krillen looked once more at the broken glider. "Bury it again, please," he said to Gordon. "I must think about this. I believe it is indeed time to speak with both Infidel Ortega and Project Engineer Mohapatra. "
"We're leaving right away," Mahree said. "The jumpjet should be here to fetch us any minute."
Beloran stood behind the Refectory wall and watched as the Nordlund craft lifted into the blue sky of midday, a silvery tube balancing on a yellow-orange belly flame. Inside it were Infidel Burroughs and Krillen of the Law.
He'd listened to them speaking to the Nordlund pilot, expressing their wish to speak with Infidel Ortega as well as Project Engineer Mohapatra.
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Well, they would still be able to see the Project Engineer. Mario Gonzales Ortega was a different matter.
The Liaison wondered what the three had been doing out at the landing field. Was it possible they suspected him of something? He'd hidden his tracks so carefully ...
He needed to think of new ways to arrange an accident for the Burroughs Infidel--and for Krillen of the Law. Moving around the Base Camp unhindered was far more difficult since Marshal Pokeel had arrived with her troops.
No longer could the Liaison move through the night unseen. The Sisters saw through shadows as well as he. And the off-worlders now wore scanner eyeshades at night.
Not to mention the deadly pulse-guns always worn by Burroughs and her new mate, Mitchell. May the Revered Ancestors curse any spawn that they might have... Beloran thought, feeling frustrated rage trying to break free within him.
With an effort he fought it back down, though it was growing harder to keep his anger bottled up. Beloran looked down, sighed, then headed off for the tombs, where he kept watch over the doings of the black-skinned Infidel female, the one called Etsane. She was trying to translate the ancient glyphs, and Beloran feared that she might actually succeed--and what she might discover if she did.
It was bad enough that the Sky Infidels had come to his world, shaking the self-confidence of even their greatest scientists. Now the Infidels were causing the People to doubt their ancient history, their heritage. They were out to prove that all the Na-Dina glory had come from the visit of the snakelike Sky Infidels they called Mizari.
Beloran knew better. Like everyone, the Infidels were motivated by profit.
They sought to influence his world, to control, to take economic advantage.
Already, the Guard Sisters clicked excitedly over the long-
viewing eyeshades given them by the Burroughs female. For all their noble, altruistic words, the Soft Faces would take control of his world. Take control as the People slept in the embrace of their Ponds, ignorant of the danger.
The People must become as powerful as the Sky Infidels.
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They must fly once more through Mother Sky, as the ancient records said they had done. The need to control their own world had been shown by the astounding presence of slave-raiders on the far side of Halish meg a-tum.
That had shocked even the Traditionalists on the Council. Beloran stopped on the sandy path, thinking about that.
Perhaps the Council would listen closer when he and his Modernist allies warned of the flood of Soft Faces that were sure to come, when the diggers of the past found definitive proof of a connection with the Mizari snake-people. What did it matter if Sky Infidels had visited before? They had left, and the People had flourished for six millennia, proud of their Royal House, proud of their devotion to Father Earth and Mother Sky, and in control of their destiny.
But now the Infidel called Etsane threatened to uncover the language of the ancients. That threatened the People with an even greater disaster than that already caused by the finding of Mizari relics beside the Barge of King A-Um Rakt. Infidel Etsane bore watching.
Perhaps more...
Mahree enjoyed the lush comfort of the Project Engineer's personal jumpjet.
Too bad the blond hunk Captain McAllister was piloting again. The man's admiring glances at her figure were so blatant as to be insulting.
Mahree looked at Krillen as the alien squatted on the carpeted floor, the recliner seat pushed back so he could enjoy the trip Na-Dina style. The set of his fan-ears showed a mix of concern for her and distraction.
"Well?" she said in High Na-Dina, prodding at him. "Where is this drill-site we're going to see?"
Krillen curled his long tail around taloned feet, a fastidious gesture. "Not far from Base Camp, actually. About two hundred kilometers to the southwest, and deep within the Mountains of Faith. The drilling crew is doing mineral extraction not far from the Lake of Stars."
Mahree smiled to herself. "How did it get that name? The lake, I mean?"
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