But she had stopped listening to him to pay attention to the thoughts suddenly bombarding her as thickly as the acid had fallen upon Rafik’s shuttle. She opened her mouth and allowed the phrases to flow out so Mac could hear them. She was thankful that, because of her unconventional upbringing, her vocalizations were not as limited in range as were those of her fellow Linyaari. In fact, she was quite a good mimic.
Mac recorded and translated them. While he did so, Becker kept watch on his monitors.
The captain said, “They’re not spraying, and it looks to me like some of the things surrounding the ship have melted away from it. He’s got a moat of them around him now.”
Mac said, “They say they are reasonable beings. They did not intend to kill Rafik—yet. They were going to cause him extreme suffering such as their people experienced. But if we are the enemies of the Solid who massacred them, they are willing to parley with us.”
Becker’s eyes flicked from Mac to Acorna and back again as he listened. “How do we know it’s not a trap?” he asked.
Acorna got her revenge for the carbon copy pun. “We’ll just have to take the acid test, Captain.”
The little joke did nothing to ease Becker’s reluctance or her misgivings. They weren’t the only beings on the ship who had reservations. RK sat on the back of the command chair, growling low in his throat and whipping his tail back and forth.
Only Mac appeared untroubled by their present course of action.
“See there, Captain? They are backing away, clearing a place for us to land near Rafik.”
“Sure, so they can close in and spray us, too,” Becker said.
“Oh, I think not.”
“Well, you’re betting your circuitry on this one, pal. Since you understand the language and are the most easily repaired, you go down and parley with them.”
“I think I should go, too, Captain,” Acorna said. “While Mac understands their words, he is unable to read their thoughts—or Rafik’s. If you remain on the Condor, you can use the tractor beam on the shuttle in case we run into problems. We will try first of all to rescue Rafik, so he will be with us if we need to be pulled back to the Condor.”
She heard a thousand protests go through Becker’s mind, but he lost the argument with himself and had to agree it was the best plan they had. Huffing unhappily through his mustache, he said, “Oh, well, go ahead then. Like I could stop you.”
She laid her hand gently on his forearm. “Captain, besides the logic of my arguments—Rafik is my father, or one of them.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’d feel the same way if it was old Theophilus. Get cracking before they change their minds.”
She suited up, donning her Linyaari-engineered protective outer garment designed for nonoxygen atmospheres. Hafiz’s people had invented a fabric similar to that of the Linyaari garment and called it Ecoderm, a second skin that could open its fibers to admit oxygenated air, but automatically sealed itself in a less congenial environment. It was constructed much like her shipsuit, but fit more loosely, providing air pockets to help maintain ambient temperature. It also featured built-in gloves and grav/antigrav boots the wearer could adjust with a twist of the tiny dial contained with other controls on the inside of the gauntlets. A spacious hood attached to the back collar of the suit flipped up over the user’s horn, coming to a V in the middle of her forehead. The front of the headdress was a smooth, masklike, transparent covering that allowed the wearer’s features to be easily identified and her expressions easily read, and also allowed a broad visual sweep with the fullest possible peripheral sight lines.
Acorna and Mac strapped themselves into the Crow, as Becker had named the Condor’s current shuttle, and launched. As they neared the surface and the space the sulfur beings had cleared for them to land beside Rafik’s shuttle, they saw that the hull was covered with a thick trellis of solid yellow runners. Acorna realized they were crystallized sulfuric acid, which explained why the visible portion of the hull blurred out of shape, as if melted.
Acorna sent a message to Rafik, “We’re here now. We can talk to these people. They attacked you mistaking you for Smythe-Wesson. It will be all right.”
She felt Rafik’s relief, mingled with his worry that she, too, would be attacked. She also felt his pain, which had increased since she last checked. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m burned,” he told her. “Something sprayed through the hull. I deflected some of it with my hands and arms, but they’re burned badly. The suit resealed itself, and I managed to get my helmet on before the ship’s oxygen dissipated, but my lungs may be affected, too.”
She turned to Mac. “We must convince them to let us free Rafik now. He’s injured.”
She flipped up her hood, adjusted and attached the mask to the collar of the suit, and nodded to Mac, who opened the hatch.
Mac clapped his hand over his nose and mouth. “My olfactory sensors are overloaded, Acorna. You are fortunate that your horn purifies and recycles the air inside your hood and suit.”
“I’m experiencing sensory overload myself, Mac,” she told him. “These are very emotional beings, but their emotions seem to run the gamut from highly irritated to furiously enraged. They are curious about us, and do not view the Condor as a threat, or they would not have allowed us to land, but I am at a loss at the moment how to appeal to their better instincts.”
“You must consider the possibility that they have none,” Mac said.
“Perhaps, but that seems so harsh. Surely the couple who were being bonded, the relatives who watched, they all must have experienced other, more tender feelings.”
Mac cocked his head as if he needed to put himself at a slightly skewed angle to process her odd notion. “Not necessarily. Perhaps their bondings are matters of mathematical or chemical imperative, or for convenience, economic advantage, or even spite. All such motives have precedents in human society.”
“I suppose so, but that isn’t helpful in getting them to release Rafik and allow us to take him with us, not to mention the catseyes.”
“Perhaps the logical thing to do would be to appeal to the emotions you do feel coming from them, Acorna.”
“Anger and malice?” she asked. “Oh, I couldn’t do that, Mac. That would be unethical. And besides, how could I make it work? Hmmmm.”
As they quietly conversed, the sulfur people moved and flowed in around them again, circling them and their shuttle and cutting them off from Rafik’s shuttle.
The front row of attackers assumed a vaguely humanoid form—extruding arm- and leglike limbs, gathering the bulk of their mass into a torso and lastly popping a round head out of the top of the trunk. The liquids flowed toward Acorna and Mac, keeping a deferential distance between themselves and the mutating front row. From time to time, the pools in the back nudged the pools in the front into miniature tidal waves that humped up, seemed to examine the visitors from first one angle, then another, before subsiding again into a puddle.
Behind the puddles and pools, solid forms resembling large oddly shaped yellow trees with some fatal disease slid forward on rootlike lower limbs.
“Tell them it is very urgent that we reach my father, since their mistaken attack has injured him and endangered his life,” Acorna told Mac.
“They know that, Acorna,” Mac reminded her. “They don’t care.”
“No, of course they don’t. Well, try this. Tell them that the rocks that form the jettisoned cargo are very valuable. Tell them that House Harakamian would be happy to pay them a reward for the return of its property as well as reparations for the loss of their citizens, but first we must have Rafik back.”
“Appealing to their greed—yes. That is a good start, Acorna. And I have a plan. I will tell them that the fee will be paid only to the Solids, whose people were the ones injured,” Mac said.
He relayed the message.
At once the first row of attackers began thrashing their arms around and speaking loudly. Angrily, they gestured toward their
own trunks, then flattened the ends of their extended arm extrusions in a negative way as they pointed toward the Solids in the back ranks.
“My plan worked. The Mutables say they are the only ones who should receive a reward, as they are the most sentient beings on this planet, the true leaders. The Solids are so stupid and inflexible they have no idea what to do with valuable items. They have no authority to release Rafik. They are limited to one form and not until their forms break down into their molecular structure for rebuilding are they of any use.”
As Mac was speaking the Solids from the back ranks zipped toward the front, their roots invading the area occupied by the Liquids.
The Liquids began sloshing back and forth, up and down, in an agitated fashion.
Acorna heard their glubbish thoughts clearly, but they were not able to vocalize. She told Mac, “The Liquids feel that had it not been for their ability to combine themselves with the atmosphere to make the acid, the Mutables, who will not waste any of their own precious molecules, would have had no weapon with which to attack Rafik. The reward would not have been offered. Therefore, the Liquids should share in the reward.”
The Mutables turned to refute the Liquids and Solids. Those Mutables who had turned some of their Liquid essence into the crystallized net holding Rafik’s shuttle withdrew the runners back into themselves so that their energies were not divided. The beings between the shuttle and Rafik’s craft joined in the battle, surging out into the crowd to express their views. In the ensuing confusion, Acorna and Mac slipped between the ships. Mac used his laser saw attachment to cut through the melted hatch, allowing them to barge through it. Fortunately, the airlock was not damaged, so they were able to enter without subjecting Rafik further to the sulfurous atmosphere.
Rafik was sprawled on the center of the deck of the small craft. He was in shipsuit and helmet, but his suit was pocked with places where the acid had corroded it, despite its miraculous fibers.
Mac picked Rafik up by the scruff of the neck, carrying him back through the hatch in one hand, just as one might carry a cat. In a moment Acorna, who had stayed behind to make some adjustments to the shuttle’s instrument panel, joined him. Together, they sprinted for the Crow.
“I’d rather not heal Rafik out here,” she told Mac. “We might have some unfortunate interruptions if these beings stop fighting long enough to notice what I’m doing. I’d like to get him back into the Crow and away from his attackers.”
Mac nodded agreement. But before they could open the Crow’s hatch, the angry noises ceased and one of the Mutables pointed an extrusion at them. With that gesture, the creature returned the indignant attention of all of his fellows to the interlopers.
Mac asked blandly, quite as if he were not burdened with Rafik, “Have you decided then who will receive the reward?”
“What good is a reward to us?” One of the more sentient Mutables demanded. “We use no currency and we have no need of alien rocks. We only wish vengeance.”
The others took up the cry with the same guttural word, or their own version of it. The force of their homicidal enthusiasm gave Acorna a horrible headache.
Mac said, “You shall have it. But this man is an enemy of your enemy, as are we. Therefore, we are your friends.”
The sulfur people turned to each other inquiringly, asking each other, “Friends? What is friends?”
“Those who are not your enemies, nor your inferiors, but equals who—wish for you to have what you wish for yourself,” Acorna answered, showing the Mutables two Mutables in an amiable pose, the Solids two Solids likewise engaged, and the Liquids peacefully puddling along beside each other. “Let me heal my father and allow us to leave.”
They were still getting used to the “friend” concept, so Mac deposited Rafik in the Crow, though he himself remained outside. Acorna left Mac to deal with the natives while she took care of the most urgent problem facing them at that instant—healing her foster father. When the airlock closed behind Acorna and Rafik and they could once more breathe oxygen, she removed Rafik’s helmet and her own hood. He had injuries to his hands and arms, a few to his face, and some to his throat and lungs. She tenderly applied her horn to all of the exterior wounds, and to the skin over Rafik’s interior injuries for a longer time.
Outside the shuttle, Mac ranted on to the sulfur people. She could not read Mac’s mind, of course, since he did not generate thoughts in the same way that wholly organic species did. Still, as she moved from wound to wound on Rafik, during the slight breaks in her concentration she could sense a swell of agreement among the sulfur people and a gradual dwindling of their rage and sorrow—or at least a dwindling of the rage and sorrow they were directing toward Acorna, Mac, and Rafik.
A short time later, Mac joined Acorna and Rafik inside the shuttle.
“They allow us to leave and insincerely express regret over the loss of the Sinbad’s shuttle, Mr. Nadezda,” Mac said.
“Never mind the shuttle, just get us out of this hell-hole,” Rafik said with a force that showed he was back to his normal state of good health and wished to remain that way.
“No, no,” Becker protested through the com line, which had been kept open between the Crow and Condor. “That’s great salvage. I’ll pull it up in a jiffy. And let’s grab those catseyes while we’re at it. I’m sure Hafiz wants ’em back just as much as those sulfur critters want them gone.”
“I have another plan, “ Acorna said. “Before leaving the Sinbad’s shuttle, I reset the damaged com unit’s controls. Though, thanks to the damage it suffered, it cannot transmit and receive as it should, it can still emit a high-frequency signal if its scanner sensor is tripped. When Smythe-Wesson returns for the stones, he’ll need to scan the area to find his loot’s exact location. I have left the controls set to trip the shuttle’s alarm when the craft is scanned, and thus it will notify us when he returns.”
“It should at that,” Becker agreed. “We’ll just have to rig up a few subspace amplifiers and sprinkle them in our path like bread crumbs as a relay between here and MOO. That should do it for the time being. Hafiz can dispatch his security people to patrol the area and intercept Smythe-Wesson when things get noisy. That way he gets his stones back—and the thief who double-crossed him.”
Since they now knew that the majority of the cats-eyes were buried beneath the remains of the fallen sulfur beings, there was no need for the Sinbad to return to Kezdet to search for the stones, so both ships returned to MOO. Rafik remained aboard the Condor while his crew guided the Sinbad to her destination.
As they set down, the viewport showed the black-clad senior officers of MOO’s security force gliding through the transparent-bubbled terminal like a murder of particularly lively crows.
“Good thing Acorna got you all healed up and purty again, Nadezda,” Becker said. “Your harem would have been disappointed if you came back mussed up.”
Rafik grinned. “Personally, I am happy that Acorna was there to heal me because those burns hurt like the seven pits of the seven hells of the seven devils, but as for my appearance, Becker, you seem to have learned very little about women.”
“How’s that?” Becker asked through a bristling mustache.
“They consider wounds in the line of duty rugged and manly. My great personal charm and animal magnetism for the ladies would only have been increased by evidence of my wounds. Probably even your own beloved Andina would have forsaken you for love of me had she seen me in my alluringly damaged condition. Hmmm, maybe I should wear the damaged Ecoderm suit when we dock. What do you think, Acorna?”
“I think you are both—what is the word I’m looking for?”
“Studly?” Becker suggested.
“Charismatic?” Rafik asked.
“Buffoons,” Acorna said with some satisfaction. “It’s an old-fashioned word, but it exactly describes you. You are a pair of buffoons.”
“You need to lay off the Shakespeare vids, kiddo,” Becker said.
Acorna’s smi
le faltered a little. Rafik had only been teasing, of course, but was there some truth in what he claimed? It was so close to what Aari had accused her of—did she care more for her Aari because he had been damaged?
Whatever the state of Rafik’s charms, they were largely ignored as the security officers swept past with little more than a wink and a wave.
“Wait!” he called after them. “Aziza, where are you going?”
“To catch that demon spawn when he returns for the stones of course. The master allows me this revenge. Saida and Naima will go with me. Fatima is in charge while I am away, along with ZuZu, Jamila, and Aisha. And Layla, of course. So there will be plenty of us still here to protect you, young master.” And she blew him a kiss and disappeared into the loading chute.
Rafik was still looking vaguely stunned as he, Acorna, and Becker were met by Hafiz and Karina. Hafiz embraced Rafik, followed by Karina, who allowed her embrace to linger longer than was strictly necessary. She gave a deep sigh that caused her draperies to shimmy. “Did I not foretell it, Haffy? Did I not say that your gorgeous nephew would return to us even before we expected, and bring with him good tidings?”
“I believe so, my flower,” Hafiz said. “And it was very clever of you to divine our reunion and the news he brings only moments after my heir appeared on our com unit telling us he had found our stones. I confess I am sometimes confused between your predictions of events and the inevitability of the events themselves once you have predicted them, so dizzying do I find your powers.”
More feasting followed their arrival, and Zuzu and Jamila, who were off duty, insisted on entertaining again. As the dancers gyrated around her, Acorna sat next to Maati and chewed thoughtfully on a grass stem. The smell of sulfur had been clinging to her suit when she removed it on the Condor, and the odor was so pervasive that it was in her nostrils even as she sat toying with her marigold petals on MOO. The scent brought back memories of her short time on the sulfur planet, along with images of its inhabitants. She remembered how the front lines of sulfur beings changed themselves from trees and puddles into what seemed to be, if not human, at least bipeds. Each time she’d looked, they had seemed to resemble herself or Mac more closely. Imagine being able to change like that, she thought. On the whole, of course, she’d rather be able to heal people but still, what a talent…She wondered why the Linyaari hadn’t received that ability from the Ancestral Hosts as they had received the ability to heal from the Ancestors themselves.
Acorna's Triumph Page 10
