Acorna’s Quest

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Then one of the envoys must stay.” Her pupils narrowed. “I wish it were not Neeva…but we Linyaari cannot all leave.”

  “I don’t see why!” How quickly she had identified herself with them: “we Linyaari” indeed!

  “Yuu would not,” drawled Thariinye. “We haff skills yuu know nothinn of…anny one of us cann keep these beings calm in ways yuu do not unnerstan. Eeven little ’Khornya could do it!” He put his arm around Acorna’s shoulders and patted her arm patronizingly.

  “It is true, Calum,” Acorna said. “They…we…can put forth an aura of peace and calm that will keep the settlers from panicking. But if we all go, and the Acadecki as well, they will surely think we are abandoning them.”

  Calum thought grimly that this might well be true, unless the Linyaari and the humans on board the Haven could come up with some way to protect an entire continent full of far-flung, scattered settlements from imminent invasion. Right now, he’d kill for the secret to Uncle Hafiz’s planetary shield. But with the only man capable of installing it and making it work buried six feet under on some distant planet, the Rushimese—and anybody else on the surface of Rushima—were dangerously, potentially fatally, exposed.

  But he did not wish to say this to Acorna, nor to confess that his own immediate objective was to get her to the relative safety of the Haven. Rushima was virtually without defenses, and the Acadecki didn’t have top-flight weaponry and defenses owing to his and Acorna’s eagerness in leaving before the retrofit of the weapon systems was complete.

  He began to forgive Rafik for his reticence about the Khleevi invasion. It was not the sort of news one wished to broadcast to an already unhappy crowd.

  Nor did he care much, himself, for the idea of abandoning the Rushimese to their fate. He would bring Acorna and the Linyaari back to the Haven, but after that he would be free to use the Acadecki up to the last minute in ferrying the Rushimese…where? The Haven could hardly provide space, let alone life support, for all the farmers in this and other settlements. Perhaps there were caves where the people could hide.

  He would worry about it later, Calum decided, as he broke all records and several safety regs in his eagerness to blast away from Rushima and get Acorna to safety…and, as a minor objective, to get her out from between Pal and Thariinye, who had strapped in on opposite sides of her with the evident intention of glaring at one another and exchanging barely veiled insults all the way back.

  Fortunately, it took only a matter of minutes to reach the Haven and dock, and once on board, Calum discovered that a solution to the problem of the Rushimese settlers had already been found…if the Red Bracelets would go along with it. Already a harsh Kilumbembese voice crackled from the spurt decoder.

  “Admiral Ikwaskwan to Haven, regarding your request: Denied. My men came to fight the enemy, not to baby-sit civilians. It is not in our contract to perform transport services for these…farmers!”

  Rafik spoke into the recorder. “With respect, Admiral, we believe you will find that Section 19, Subsection iii, Paragraph (b) of your contract requires you to operate under my direct command in all matters not specifically military. I do hope we can resolve this matter amicably; penalties for forfeiture are explicit and…ah…rather steep. I fear my uncle is not at all of a forgiving nature in such matters.” He hit the code and transmit buttons and sat back with a sigh as the response was compressed for spurt to the lead ship of the Red Bracelets.

  Seconds later, another transmission was received, this time accompanied by vid. Ikwaskwan’s harsh, high-boned face stared out from a gray background slashed by a single curving red line. “We shall reach Rushima orbiting range within the hour, at which time we will discuss this in person,” he snapped. The screen went blank with no parting formalities from Ikwaskwan.

  “Dear, dear,” Gill said, “seems the wee mannie is just a tad annoyed with us, Rafik. You had better take me along for this personal discussion he wants.”

  “And me,” said Nadhari Kando in her low, gravelly voice.

  “You’re going nowhere,” Rafik said briefly, “and neither am I. Really, Gill, one would think you had learned nothing of the art of negotiating from all those years of watching me in action! Uncle Hafiz would not have chosen an heir so stupid as to conduct difficult bargaining sessions on the opponent’s home turf.” He thought that over briefly. “Well, Tapha probably would’ve,” he conceded, “but Uncle didn’t exactly choose Tapha.” Hafiz had expressed no particular grief when his dim-witted, conceited son had died in an attempt to assassinate Rafik before he could be disinherited in Rafik’s favor, and none of his friends believed this was because of his iron control of his feelings…. He had, in fact, been heard to comment that Tapha’s untimely death saved him a fortune in legal fees.

  “Nothing difficult about it,” Gill said. “It’s in the contract, isn’t it? He has to do whatever you say, apart from direct battlefront decisions.”

  Rafik regarded his erstwhile partner with amusement. “And just who,” he inquired lightly, “is going to enforce said contract at this distance when they’re heavily armed and outnumber us by a factor of thousands? As for later…Ikwaskwan is, I’m sure, quite as well aware as I am that time, distance, dead witnesses, and lies can blur the definition of just what was or was not a direct battlefront decision. No, we will have to find other methods of persuading him.”

  “To do what?” Calum, a latecomer to this discussion, demanded.

  Rafik briefly explained to him that on the nearest star system to Rushima, but well out of the current sweep of the Khleevi fleet, they had identified a planet with acceptable gravity, atmosphere, and water where the Rushimese could take refuge until the battle was over…if the Kilumbembese mercenary fleet could be pressed into service to transport them there.

  “Will we have time?”

  “That,” said Rafik, “depends to some extent on exactly how long it takes to persuade Ikwaskwan to accept our views.”

  Although he was present for the subsequent discussion, opened as soon as the Red Bracelet flagship Ta’anisi was within hailing range, Calum was never quite clear on just how Rafik managed to persuade “Admiral” Ikwaskwan to come aboard the Haven rather than the other way round. All he could say was that there had been an exchange of compliments in which Rafik so carefully veiled whatever threats or bribes he was offering that it would take the twisty mind of a Harakamian…or a Kilumbembese mercenary…to figure out what was going on. All he knew was that Rafik sighed when the exchange was over and commented that this could be expensive, and he hoped Uncle Hafiz and Delszaki Li were prepared to pay for cost overruns beyond the scope of the original contract.

  “You’re bribing him to move the Rushimese?”

  “I am hinting that cooperation will not go unrewarded,” Rafik corrected Calum’s surmise. He sighed again. “We’ll doubtless have to commit ourselves to explicit promises and named sums before he agrees; I just hope I can keep his demands down within reason.”

  Nadhari Kando broke her customary silence. “I may be able to help persuade him.”

  “Any help you can give would be most appreciated,” Rafik said with a courtly bow. He started to ask whether it was true, then, that Nadhari had once served with the Red Bracelets; but something in her cold, expressionless stare put him off. He had heard that Li’s bodyguard did not discuss her past; it would be impolite to bring it up now. Risky, too. Decidedly risky.

  Acorna turned and looked up at Thariinye. “Cannot we help, too? If it is a matter of persuading…you were so good at calming the Rushimese!”

  “Calum tells me you did pretty well at that yourself!” Pal exclaimed.

  Thariinye smiled and patted Acorna’s shoulder. “Little ’Khornya will learn, but she is unpracticed. Best to leave this to those with the experience to be tactful and diplomatic.”

  (Well, that leaves you out, Thariinye! I’d sooner have ’Khornya handle it; at least she knows how to be nice to people!)

  (Will you just get off my
case, Khaari?)

  Acorna’s pupils narrowed to slits, and she looked back and forth between the Linyaari while the others wondered just what was going on.

  (Please, Khaari, don’t be angry on my account. What Thariinye says is true, you know; I have not practiced your…our…arts and I would likely be only a hindrance to you.)

  (Never a hindrance, dear child, but we do not wish you to exhaust yourself. Thariinye, Khaari, save your energies for this visitor; do not waste yourselves in quarreling.) Melireenya’s firm intervention quashed the momentary altercation and brought the four Linyaari together in at least superficial unity—for Acorna unconsciously moved to stand with her kinsfolk as they drew closer together.

  When “Admiral” Ikwaskwan boarded the Haven, Calum understood why he had not been afraid to negotiate on Rafik’s turf. He was accompanied by a squad of mercenaries in dark gray uniforms, each man visibly armed and alert. Calum noticed that some of them wore one red bangle on the left wrist, others two or even three, while Ikwaskwan himself was bare-armed. Some kind of rank symbol? Nadhari would know; he wished he had asked her before the Red Bracelets came aboard. Perhaps Rafik already knew.

  Nor was the bodyguard Ikwaskwan’s only protection; his first words—he dispensed with the time-wasting formalities of greetings and introductions—made it clear that his flagship had weapons trained on the Haven and that at least one member of his bodyguard carried a fully armed tungsten bomb.

  Rafik smoothly agreed that it was desirable to take all possible precautions when visiting, mentioned with a deprecating smile that the Haven was itself not without weaponry both offensive and defensive, and said that he personally would deeply deplore any dissension which should cause injury to their honored ally.

  (Meli, are you sure these “humans” are on our side?)

  (No…but at least they are not Khleevi.)

  (That is beginning to seem less and less of a recommendation. Like us in form, perhaps, but hardly in ethics.)

  (That may not be entirely a bad thing. If they meet their friends with weapons in both hands, what do you suppose they do to their enemies?)

  (Thariinye, you have abominable taste. Besides, if they are so suspicious, they will likely destroy one another before the Khleevi even arrive.)

  The Linyaari continued their internal debate. Acorna listened, wanting to cry out in defense of her friends, but also concerned that her newfound kinfolk would think her, too, a warlike barbarian. If only Neeva were there! Acorna longed for her aunt’s wisdom and acceptance.

  Once the opening dance of establishing ascendance was over, with neither side a clear winner, Ikwaskwan demanded to know exactly what additional compensation would be granted his troops for the service of ferrying dirt farmers from one planet to another.

  Rafik cleared his throat and prepared to equivocate to the best of his not inconsiderable ability; but before he could speak, Nadhari Kando sauntered out from her semiconcealed position behind the group of tall Linyaari.

  “Hi, there, Ikki,” she said, her usual gravelly drawl muted to an almost husky tone, “it’s been a long time.”

  Not long enough! was written on Ikwaskwan’s bony face at sight of Nadhari, but he had too much self-control to voice the feelings. “Nadhari Kando. I had heard you were dead.”

  “The rumors were gravely exaggerated,” replied Nadhari without cracking a smile. “But since we appear to be on the same side again, Ikki, I hope you are a little better at carrying through your plans now than you were then.”

  “I could hardly be worse,” Ikwaskwan muttered, as if to himself. “How did you…never mind. So you’re doing security-guard work now, Nadhi?” His scornful tone made it clear he thought she had come down in the world.

  “I am under contract to the House of Li,” Nadhari said without blinking, “as are you and your troops, Ikki. Tell me, did M’on Na’ntaw ever hear what became of that credit exchange from Theloi?”

  Ikwaskwan licked suddenly dry lips. Nadhari waited patiently, thumbs hooked into her belt, one knee slightly bent toward the man she called “Ikki.”

  “Or did the data get lost when his second-in-command was assassinated?” Nadhari prodded. “Remember? Everybody thought it was counter-revolutionaries, but no one could explain how they’d gotten hold of the plans for our camp. Very clever of them to go straight to Skomitin’s tent and back out again without getting caught, wasn’t it?”

  “So delightful to talk over old times,” Ikwaskwan said with a tight-lipped smile that did not reach his eyes. “We must have another little chat some time, Nadhi dear, but just now I am needed at my own bridge. Rafik Nadezda has indicated that there is some urgency about this little population transfer, and you know my feelings on honoring the wishes of the client.”

  “I certainly do,” Nadhari agreed. Her own smile was echoed in her wickedly glinting dark eyes. “So does E’kosi Tahka’yaw…oh, no, I should say, he did know, did he not?”

  “Later, later,” Ikwaskwan mumbled. “Must return to the Ta’anisi now. Nadezda, have the goodness to transmit orders and location of the targeted system, also a map of the settlements to be evacuated here on Rushima.”

  Rafik nodded, stern and unsmiling. “All necessary data shall be at your disposal…Admiral.”

  Not until the closing of the outer ports indicated that Ikwaskwan and his bodyguard were physically off the Haven and on their way by shuttle back to the flagship did he allow himself a long sigh of relief.

  “Nadhari—” he began, but the quiet woman had vanished.

  “Who were those people she was talking about?” Gill asked.

  Calum shook his head. “Never heard of ’em. Meant something to Ikwaskwan, though. Ikki?”

  “I don’t,” Rafik said gravely, “believe I want to ask. We owe her, though…and I’d better get busy transmitting those orders!”

  (See, Khaari? These humans aren’t so bad after all. They settled everything quite amicably.)

  (It must be that a pretense of force is part of their greeting ritual,) Thariinye suggested. (You know, like a singing-fuzzy erecting his tail spines when he’s courting.)

  (Isn’t it nice that the Admiral met an old friend on board this ship?)

  (But who’d have guessed it? Nadhari is such a sweet, gentle girl, how do you suppose she got to be friends with a professional fighter?)

  Acorna listened to this exchange and once again decided not to say anything, either out loud or mentally. Her kinfolk seemed to have totally missed the point of that tense, threatening conversation; but why disturb them, if they were happy with their own interpretation?

  Fourteen

  Rushima, Unified Federation Date 334.05.26

  If some of the Red Bracelets were offended at being assigned to evacuate settlers rather than to strictly military tasks, two of the newest officers were complacent at the prospect. Ed Minkus and Des Smirnoff joined in the grumbles of their unit but then Smirnoff, in a surprising volte-face, volunteered himself and Minkus to pilot one of the shuttles that was to be sent to outlying areas. Although most of the small settlements on Rushima consisted of clusters of homes and storage sheds along the single primitive road that snaked through the eastern part of the main continent, there were always those individualists who desired privacy, unspoiled territory, or simply the chance to acquire a larger grant of land in compensation for developing areas far from existing transport. Some of these settlers might not be able to get to the collection points currently being specified by continent-wide emergency broadcasts on the hastily replaced com-sat equipment. Others might not even hear the ’casts since their equipment might be down or damaged. Some individualists were prone to turning off their com systems for weeks at a time. Ikwaskwan reluctantly agreed to send a few low-flying shuttles to seek out stragglers, although he was adamant that all his people should be back at their stations well before the ETA of the Khleevi force.

  “You crazy, Des?” Ed Minkus grumbled as they prepared to board the shuttle assigned them. “Never v
olunteer for anything, that’s what you told me was the first principle of surviving in this outfit.”

  Des Smirnoff laid one finger to the side of his bulbous nose and winked, while saying in a loud voice that echoed through the hangar, “Why, Ed, didn’t we swear an oath of loyalty to the Red Bracelets? And doesn’t a loyal comrade enthusiastically support whatever his superiors order? Duty and honor, Ed!”

  Captain Ce’skwa, their Unit Leader, heard the speech and gave Des a long, disbelieving look. “Suck-up,” murmured one of the Red Bracelets working on the next shuttle.

  Des gave the man a wide, brilliant smile and a thumbs-up sign before clambering into the pilot’s seat of his own shuttle.

  Ed started to ask what all that nonsense had been about, but Des silenced him with a sign. The chatter of takeoff instructions filled the cabin; Des went through his checklist and said nothing that was not strictly business until their craft was well on its way to a landing on Rushima. Then he slapped the com unit off, turned to Ed, and grinned.

  “You always were thick between the ears, Minkus.”

  “Not thick enough to put myself out for work I don’t have to do,” Minkus grumbled. “Ikwaskwan’s not fool enough to send all of us on transport duty. Some lucky sods will get to stay behind, manning the battle stations and polishing command chairs with their rears, and we could’ve been among them.”

  Des snorted. “Not bloody likely, with us so new there as to’ve accumulated no seniority and no friends with strings to pull! We were for this duty, my friend.”

  “So you thought volunteering would make you look good?”

  Des winked again. “I thought, Ed me boy, him as volunteers first gets the pick of the assignments. Now which would you rather be doing for the next six hours—commanding a troop of slogs to ferry the dirt farmers back and forth, with some two-bracelet type watching your every move, or taking your pick of what the evacuees left behind in their hurry?”

  “But we’re supposed to…oh,” Ed said as understanding belatedly dawned. “You aren’t going to look for settlers at all, are you? You’re going to look for places they’ve already left!” He guffawed. “Neat trick, Des. Okay, we’ll take it easy and say too bad, couldn’t find no stragglers, Captain Ce’skwa, ma’am!”