Soldier's Duty

by Patty Jansen

  She swung the bat with all her pent-up anger. The ball connected with the wood with a loud thwack! and it flew high. And flew and flew, into the bright sky above the roof, all the way over the house.

  Everyone stared.

  "Wow!" Miruhan said into the silence when the ball had disappeared from sight.

  "I think that's worth twelve points," Braedon said.

  Taerzo grinned, and added, in a more serious voice, "Let's hope it hit none of the aircraft."

  Crap. She had completely forgotten about those. "Uhm. Sorry."

  "I think we'll declare that a win for us," Braedon said. "Let's go and get the ball."

  Izramith put the bat down, feeling stupid. She shouldn't have done that. She was reminded of how Commander Blue said that showing off was never a good thing. "If there is any damage, I'd—"

  "There won't be. Those craft can take micrometeorite impacts. A ball is not going to do anything to them."

  She followed him past the side of the house anyway, into the long shadows of trees where the air was humid and cool and there was a path of smooth sandstone.

  The path opened out to an area with low vegetation that sloped down. The house was at their backs, with balconies and huge windows. By now, both suns were very low over the horizon, bathing the back of the house in golden light.

  The water of the marshlands looked like silver. A couple of boats moved in the cleared channels, with someone standing in the back with a long stick to push the boat forward.

  Braedon continued downhill to the paved area where the three aircraft stood. The ball had rolled under the Asto-built craft.

  Braedon ducked to get it, while Izramith admired the gleaming surface of the Gazion. It was a newer model, slightly larger than the standard build, and would have been made to order not long ago. The panel near the door displayed the Andrahar family crest and licence number.

  "It's Rehan's," Braedon said, while coming to stand behind her. "Very nice. Amazing craft."

  Amazing price tag, too.

  He jerked his head at the Asto-built craft. "This workhorse is Taerzo's. He does all his own maintenance." And she'd heard pilots say that the Asto craft were easy to maintain.

  That left the Mirani-built craft as his, an older model with a few scratches where the ramp had retracted into the recess and the panel that covered it had scraped over the outside.

  "Yeah, I know," he said. "I should replace it. There's hardly a place to service it here, and most technicians do a poor job. It's hard to get the fuel, too."

  "But?"

  He shrugged, sighed, and shrugged again. "We're here under sufferance. If Miran could just get rid of the tyrants that run the council, we should go back. Re-build the house."

  She eyed him sideways. Homesick?

  "I had a successful business and was respected. I traded medicines to the hospitals. The surgeons liked me, I liked them and we had good and interesting relationships. Here…" He signed again. "I have to start all over again. It's not easy. There are few services. The hospital is in a mess. Unlike my brothers, I've retained my Mirani citizenship, but a lot of my contacts still don't want to have anything to do with me out of fear of being labelled a sympathiser of rebellion. Anyway." He tossed the ball up and caught it again. "I shouldn't complain. Daya has done his very best to help us, but there are a lot of other things that he has to look after. I can't blame the local families for demanding his attention. It's just…" He shrugged again. "Not easy."

  He let a silence lapse.

  Then she asked, "I'm wondering, do you know of any local families who have a problem with your presence here? Like some of the older keihu families may feel that your presence threatens them. I mean, you're successful, have a lot more money than they do, have more power outside Barresh—"

  "Not openly, no, but I wouldn't be surprised if some said these things in private. I know Rehan carries on about our successful business and that Barresh should be grateful to have us, but that's just… Rehan. There are people in Barresh who don't want us here. He knows that."

  "Do you think these people could possibly plan to disturb the wedding?"

  "Possibly, yes, but likely, not at all. Many of them hire out services. Never underestimate the capacity of a Barresh merchant to be swayed by the language of money."

  An animal produced a loud screech and a black winged shape flew over the yard, up to the balcony of Daya's house nextdoor where the creature latched onto the railing. It dangled by its feet before hauling itself on the top bar of the railing with much flapping of wings. Its fur was dark brown, with light brown wings that folded on its back.

  A door opened on the veranda and Daya came out, carrying a bowl. With loud squawks, at least twenty more of the creatures came from nearby trees. They landed on the railing, on Daya's arm, in his hair. One clung to his back.

  Daya scratched furry backs and between ears. A creature climbed up his shoulder and licked his face. Daya's laughter drifted on the evening air.

  It was a strange, unguarded private moment, and not at all Daya as she knew him: distant, aloof and cool. A breath of warm air made her shiver.

  Daya's arm was completely invisible under the crawl of furry bodies that occasionally flapped a wing to stop falling off while trying to get to the food bowl.

  "What are those things?" Izramith asked, her voice low.

  "They're called meili. Usually, a whole horde of them hangs around here until he comes out. I've no idea how he's been able to tame them. They're quite wild and I swear every local has warned us at least once that they bite."

  This was the third time she had seen this now: when Daya spoke, people were quiet and animals were tame. When he was angry, the air was cold. When he was happy, this place seemed like to best place to live.

  Manipulative, smart, controlling, temperamental, was it all part of the zhadya-born plan?

  In her mind, a white flash blinded the screen and slowly the outlines of the valley near the Hedron airport returned. A shiver of goosebumps went up her arms.

  "Can I ask a question, are there any more zhadya-born in this town?"

  Braedon turned to her, his expression serious. "Before you say anything else, try not to use that term here. It's offensive to them. The proper name is Aghyrian. They are survivors of an ancient race that used to live on Asto before the meteorite strike."

  "I'm not talking about a race, I'm talking about the unusual people sometimes born from Coldi parents. They…" She'd been going to say They're mad, or They usually end up in jail, but she couldn't very well say that about Daya, who was considered the hero of this town. "Daya is one of them."

  "I know. They're Aghyrian. Yes, there are others in Barresh."

  "Where are they?" Her heart thudded.

  "Daya's wife is one of them, and all four of their boys."

  "Their children? I thought the…" She almost said zhadya-born again. "… They didn't have children?"

  "You've been told that they are defective, mad people." His eyes met hers, intense.

  Izramith didn't reply.

  "Aghyrians lived on Asto before the Coldi existed, before the meteorite. If a person combines enough of the original genetics, he or she will have the distinct Aghyrian look. They're tall, often very pale with usually vivid hair and eyes, very black, or vivid green or vivid blue. The Aghyrians were the root stock of all humans and all of us have some of the blood in our veins You'll probably have heard about the claims they make about the history of the Coldi."

  "You're talking about the people who say that the Coldi are an artificial race?" That was one of the weird stories that circulated at Hedron, and apparently there were people on Asto who believed this.

  "It's a bit more than people talking and making claims. Daya has gathered a big group of people to work on this. He has collected the best researchers in genetics from all over the settled worlds. There are very clear answers coming out of that work right now. The Aghyrians are the original people. Distinctly different races, like Pengali,
split off a long time ago, Kedrasi and Damarcians much later. The Coldi and the Mirani Endri and much more recent. If you want, I can take you to the labs. They're in Sunrise Street. That's where you will also find the other Aghyrians. Daya is putting as many people as possible through the testing procedures to see if they have any Aghyrian blood.

  "Whether you believe the part about the artificial race or not, Coldi do have a strong Aghyrian line. It comes out in the people you call zhadya-born, but the line also exists in other modern races. In some, the blood is buried very deep, but it can be traced and bred out. Daya has developed a quick test for Aghyrian blood, and any people who test positive are invited to come to Barresh. He wants to resurrect his people."

  "Are there any from Hedron?"

  "I wouldn't know, honestly, but there might be. Rehan might know. He's quite involved with them. Or ask Daya."

  A door opened at the back of the house and someone yelled into the yard.

  "Come, let's go. It's dinner time."

  "I guess I better leave."

  "No, you're staying. Everyone is in the kitchen already. Anyone who is at our house at dinner time eats with us. That's Mother's rule." One corner of his mouth curved up. "We have plenty of food, and our house is always one big noisy chaos anyway."

  "Thank you." Izramith was at a loss for something to say. She sometimes went out to one of the eating houses with her father, but she'd never been invited to dinner at anyone's house. Braedon led her up a set of stairs at the back of the house into a light and airy kitchen, with benches and basins around the side and in the middle a huge table set out for at least twenty people. Some were already there. The family matriarch Isandra sat at the head of the table, Rehan and Mikandra next to her. Loxa and Dashu were on the other side of the table with Wairin and Eris. The twins were running around the table, and Taerzo with his woman and little daughter came in after Izramith. She and Braedon ended up across the table from a boy she hadn't seen before: with golden hair much darker than the near-white hair of the family. The boy's eyes had a very unusual sandy colour.

  Isandra nodded at her when she took her seat. "Here we are again. I believe you have met everyone here except my grandson, Vayra."

  "Nice to meet you," the boy said, in Hedron Coldi complete with the Hedron micha pronoun form. The tone of his voice was not Mirani.

  What the?

  "Vayra is the son of my oldest son, who's not here."

  Everyone sat down and the big-bosomed Mirani woman came around the table with plates. Mirani food was said to be bland, but Izramith didn't mind the thick soup she served and the bread that came with it was quite nice. She didn't feel quite so dizzy anymore and her stomach had settled. The twins wolfed their food down, scolded by their mother, and the boy opposite her was much more reserved.

  She kept meeting his eyes across the table. From what she understood of Mirani law, the oldest son of the oldest son was the family's main heir. Rehan had spoken of the people who had the rights to claim the foundation stone's powers. She bet that this boy was high on that list. Why had no one mentioned him to her before? Why was he not listed as an inhabitant of the house? Where were his parents?

  "How was the council meeting, Mother?" Rehan asked. No doubt they spoke Trader Coldi for her benefit, because the conversation at the other end of the table went on in Mirani.

  Isandra snorted. "That was the most useless meeting ever. Spent the entire afternoon fighting over ridiculous and pointless details. I don't understand why those old fat idiots are trying to obstruct all decision making. For the sake of what?"

  "Mother, I don't think you can call them fat in front of our guests," Braedon said.

  "I can call them whatever I want in my own house. Most of our guests have been at our table before and the ones who haven't." She met Izramith's eyes. "Are no doubt used to much worse language."

  "I was at the council meeting," Izramith said. "Although I didn't understand much of it. What were you discussing?"

  "Hah! Because Barresh has applied for gamra membership, they have to do away with the ridiculous laws that guarantee the lazy keihu heads of families an easy life in return for doing nothing. So they're upset now that they can't have more than one woman. Heaven knows they should never have had that many in the first place. A woman is not some thing of ownership. We want them to appoint women to the council as members of the keihu faction and they will not. It's like they made a point of being stubborn and holding onto their precious way of life that denies most of the population an existence."

  "They're afraid," Braedon said. "People don't like change, especially when it's being forced on them from outside."

  * * *

  After dinner, there was tea, and much talk and silly games by the twins. By the time Izramith and her team left, it was too late to go swimming. She pretended to be sad about that.

  Dashu and Loxa walked off to their home. Apparently they rented rooms in the same house from a local family. Eris went to his family and Izramith and Wairin walked together into Market Street. The presence of his silent form next to her brought memories of the smell of dry grass, of sitting in the sun all day, clutching a gun and staring at the haze at the horizon. And knowing that somewhere in the hideout behind her was another fighter with a gun whose body would keep her warm when the sunlight faded.

  "Big family, hah?" he said, and even his accent reminded her of Abassi.

  Izramith nodded. A big, funny, bickering, slightly crazy but warm and protective family. Maybe that was why Hedron people who weren't on the Mines board hardly ever made a name for themselves. Many at Hedron didn't have supportive families. Edyamor had a large family, and he was successful. Ydana had made his own family and he was successful.

  Wairin said, "I don't have much family. You?"

  "Same."

  "I grew up with aunt. She never want me, but my father was gone to war and my mother die. Aunt is annoyed with me. I become a mercenary. Can look after myself."

  Izramith turned to him. "Why did Daya hire you?"

  "He wanted explosives man, so got one."

  "You did mostly explosives detection?"

  "No. I blow things up. But can also find explosives. I do a lot of checking before big day."

  "Doesn't it bother you that we seem to be here for political purposes?"

  Wairin shrugged. "I'm a mercenary. I do job. They say blow up, so I blow up. Don't ask questions. It's tiring. You got to be in it for yourself."

  Yes, a mercenary would. And that was why she'd never make a good one. She asked too many questions about inconvenient things like right or wrong. And procedures, and accountability.

  Damn it, what was she going to do when this contract finished?

  Wairin was staying in the large guesthouse at Market Street, so Izramith continued her walk alone past the shops and big houses, where there were still a lot of lights on.

  Even the outside lights at the council building were still ablaze.

  And the door was still open, too. Hey, what if she went back to the register to check on that place in Sunrise Street that Braedon had mentioned?

  Izramith turned into the street at the back of the building to the main entrance of the council section. All lights were on here, too, even though she had no idea why. The corridors in the building were deserted. On her entire way from the guard at the door to the register, she saw only one other person, a keihu woman, walking the other way and paying her little attention.

  The register room was quiet and looked exactly the same as it had earlier in the day. Of course it had no windows.

  She sat down and activated the display.

  Trying out a few of the buttons on the panel in front of her brought up the query field. Ah, that was useful.

  She found Sunrise Street. As Braedon had said, it was on the other side of the island, and quite a trek. She would have to plan an expedition there for a time that she had nothing planned after her work in the security room.

  The street ran right along the e
dge of the island, like Sunset Street, only on the opposite side. Most of the buildings lining the street were keihu family houses. There were parts where houses stood on both sides of the street, and sections where only one side of the street was built on.

  In one such place, the land sloped gently to the marshland. There was a low hill and on top stood a group of interlinked buildings surrounded by a wall. This had to be the complex Braedon was talking about.

  The info field for this group of buildings mentioned that it was an educational building, and brought up a list of names, none of which meant anything to her. There wasn't even the usual supply of Emirus and Semisus. A lot of the names looked Pengali.

  There was no mention of Reyar.

  "You seem to have a special interest in who lives where in this city," said a male voice behind her.

  Izramith gasped and turned around.

  Daya stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest. How had he known she was here?

  "There are cameras everywhere in this building," he said.

  Shit, it was like he knew what she was thinking.

  She forced her voice into a professional tone. "I'm still trying to assess risks posed by every building along the route."

  He looked pointedly at the building displayed in the projection. "The parade won't go past that street."

  "I got distracted." In the horrible silence that followed, she shifted the projection's focus elsewhere. "You have a lot of information stored here."

  She'd been snooping and he knew it. Moreover, the nature of the building in Sunrise Street was none of her business.

  "We try to be open about who we are and what we do."

  Really?

  He crossed the room silently and sat down on the bench next to her. Crap, every time Izramith forgot just how tall he was.