“You might be surprised.”
Perhaps he would, but as long as she was talking to him now, he wanted to encourage her, to learn as much as he possibly could. “Tell me.”
A small sigh escaped her lips, even as she stepped over a patch of scree and continued their downward progress. “I’ll probably regret this in the morning.”
“Is telling the truth ever something we should regret?”
“You might be surprised.”
He did not reply, but waited for her to go on. Speaking again would only interrupt her, and he didn’t want to do anything to prevent her from continuing.
She seemed to sense that, and said, “I’ll let you in on a dirty little secret. Everyone knows that the Consortium expects colonists to put in ‘X’ number of years to work off their passage and earn their homesteads. What they don’t know is that they charge you for every member of your family, no matter how young they might be.”
Lirzhan’s eyebrows lifted, and she essayed a bitter little smile.
“Oh, yes, that’s how I got thrown on the foster care system. My mother wanted off Gaia — I really don’t know why she even had me. Probably one of those ‘oops’ things, even though our methods of contraception are extremely effective…when used properly. Anyway, she met someone new when I was a little over a year old, and ended up marrying him. Neither she nor her husband had any substantial prospects, and they fell for the GEC’s propaganda hook, line, and sinker. Problem was, declaring me as their child would add another five years to their homestead mortgage.”
Someone else might have thought she kept her gaze downcast merely because she was focusing on the downward slope of the ground beneath her feet, on navigating around the outcroppings of native blue-gray rock or the low shrubby bushes that had begun to supplant the trees in these lower elevations. Lirzhan knew better, however.
Still not looking at him, still picking her way between the various obstacles in her path, she went on, “Anyway, neither of them was from a family with any money or any position. The most they could look forward to was living in a dingy high-rise and working in a factory or low-level service job. The robot labor force that generations past expected would create utopia still hasn’t materialized, and it’s people like my mother and her husband who do most of the dirty work.”
Lirzhan hadn’t really thought about that aspect of Gaia’s technological development. His own world had always focused on sustainable technologies, and never had much in the way of heavy industry. No greater status was assigned to, say, a university professor than someone who helped in the manufacture of starship parts. All these tasks were useful and necessary, and so no one’s status was elevated over another’s. But he decided to keep these facts to himself for now, partly from fear of interrupting her, and partly because he certainly did not want her to think he believed his people were superior simply because their ways were so different.
She glanced up at him, as if expecting some sort of comment, so he nodded in what he hoped was an encouraging way. Apparently it worked, for she went on, “When my mother realized she’d have to give the majority of the earnings from the homestead to the Consortium for fifteen years instead of ten, she and her husband decided it would be best if they left me behind. After all, they could always have another child — a child that was both of theirs — once they were settled on the homestead.” A pause. Lirzhan could see the muscles working in her fine jaw. “So they went, and I was placed in foster care, because by that point I was almost two, and most people who are looking to adopt want infants. The government pays the foster parents, so while I’m sure some of them do it out of the kindness of their hearts, not all do. The ones I had certainly didn’t.”
“And you had no relatives who could step in?”
“None that I was aware of. My mother had left her family when she was young. They probably didn’t even know I existed. I must have some relatives, but I never bothered to find them. Why should I? If they knew anything of what had happened to me, they certainly didn’t do anything to change it.” She gave a shrug, and in that one small gesture Lirzhan read all the years of anger, of doubt, of wondering why she should be thrown out like a piece of rubbish.
He said softly, “But you’ve done very well for yourself, despite them.”
Another lift of her shoulders. “I suppose so. ‘Compensating by overachieving,’ as one psychologist put it. It’s done. I survived. I just told you that story so you’d understand why sometimes it’s hard for me to be too gung-ho about the Consortium’s policies when it’s those very policies that ruined my childhood. Anyway, that’s enough story hour for now.”
She picked up her pace and he followed, watching her with sorrowful eyes. How different from his own world, where every child was a blessing, especially these days, when a birth was an increasingly rare event. But he sensed that what she wanted now was silence, and he would honor her wishes in that.
He knew he could do no less for her.
Eight
What the hell had possessed her to go and dump the sob story about her childhood on Lirzhan like that? All right, she’d begun by simply trying to explain herself, but that didn’t mean she had to go into all the gory details. She’d told the Zhore things she hadn’t even revealed to Trin, and he’d gotten closer to her than anyone else. Yes, all the dry facts of the matter were contained in her personnel file, along with her psych evaluations and aptitude tests and all the other mumbo jumbo the Gaian bureaucracy just loved to accumulate on all its citizens, so she knew her superiors had access to all those details. But otherwise her history was supposed to be confidential, and it would’ve stayed that way…if she’d only kept her mouth shut.
She couldn’t begin to figure out what it was about Lirzhan that made her want to confide in him. All right, so something in his eyes was downright sympathetic, and he was a good and quiet listener, not the type to interrupt every sentence with his own input and opinions, but still….
Well, she couldn’t do anything about it now. She thought she trusted him not to say anything to anyone else about what she’d told him, but that didn’t change the fact that now he knew one of the Consortium’s dirty little secrets, something she doubted its officials would really like to have spread around the galaxy. All colonists were required to sign confidentiality agreements, and the penalties for revealing the details of a homestead contract were painfully high. They had every reason in the world to keep their mouths shut.
But she didn’t. She hadn’t signed any damn agreement, that was for sure. Maybe one could argue that as an official of the Consortium government, she had a fiduciary responsibility to maintain its secrets as well, but the hell with that. It wasn’t as if she’d granted an interview to a news agency or written a tell-all book. No, she’d only told one person, someone who wouldn’t betray her confidence. At least, she was fairly certain he wouldn’t.
He remained silent as they finished the last leg of their descent from the mountain pass. The ground began to level out, and even the low shrubby bushes began to disappear, giving way to a wide plain of billowing pale blue grass, broken only occasionally by a lone, wide-limbed tree here and there. She didn’t want to acknowledge the way the sun kept dipping lower and lower to her left, how the light was beginning to fail. No, they would make it to that science station tonight, damn it.
Lirzhan came up beside her. For the last few kilometers he had kept back a pace or two, as if realizing that she needed her space, but now he held her tablet, clearly indicating that she needed to stop and look at it. So she took it from him and gave a quick glance at the display. “Seven kilometers to go. That’s not much.”
“True, but night is falling.”
She knew that already. Somehow, though, hearing the words spoken out loud made her even more irritated by the fact. “Yes, but there isn’t much out here in terms of decent places to camp. It’s flat ground, easy to navigate. I think it would be better to keep going after dark. We have the lanterns, after all.”
For a second or two he didn’t reply, but lifted his head and appeared to survey the plain on which they stood. No analogue of the old American West here — they hadn’t seen anything bigger than some small furry creatures that dashed away through the high grass as soon as they approached. This savannah might look like an alien version of the great plains, but there definitely weren’t any Mandala versions of the bison here.
“All right,” Lirzhan said at last, and reached into the emergency kit and pulled out one of the lanterns. “Shall I hold this while you navigate?”
“That should work,” she replied. They didn’t need the light quite yet, but she’d noticed that dusk didn’t seem to linger for very long on this world. She was also noticing the way the brisk wind was playing with the ends of his long black hair, the way a few loose strands blew around his face. The fine profile was outlined against the dimming light, looking like one of those old reverse cameos, with the silhouette cut out of ebony or jet.
Then she told herself that she really shouldn’t be paying attention to those sorts of things. All right, the unthinkable had happened, and she’d realized a Zhore could be attractive…handsome, even. Time to worry about what that meant later, after they were safely to the science station.
Then again, being stuck in confined quarters with him, waiting for help to come….
She shook her head and started walking, not bothering to look to see if he was following. Of course he would be. He’d stuck to her side this long, so she knew he wasn’t about to let her get more than a few paces away.
The thought did cross her mind that they were awfully exposed out here, and waving a lantern around in the gathering darkness might be the best way to attract attention, but they were so close…. Besides, there’d been no sign of pursuit since they emerged from the cave. Whoever was gunning for them seemed to have decamped after losing their trail for the greater part of two days. And seven kilometers was nothing after all the ground they’d already covered.
With that thought in mind, she increased her pace, knowing that Lirzhan would match his strides to hers. She glanced down at the tablet, looked at the numbers on the screen gradually counting down as they walked, and watched the glowing green symbol for the science station grow brighter and brighter.
At some point she realized the sun had truly gone down, but with the Zhore holding the lantern before him, the way was illuminated almost as brightly as it would have been during the day. She jogged slightly to avoid one of those large spreading trees, then course-corrected once they were on the other side. Five kilometers to go…four kilometers…three….
A dark mass appeared before them, and she slowed down. Lirzhan lifted his lantern higher and stared forward. “Another forest, it seems,” he said. “The station must be within its borders.”
“I’ll back off a little, then,” she said, although with some reluctance. “I’m not really in the mood to blunder into one of those webs.”
“If they’re even in this wood at all. But yes, it’s probably better to exercise caution.”
The grass gave way to low shrubs, and then small trees clustered together. They increased in size as Alexa and Lirzhan moved forward, and within another half hour they were truly within the borders of the forest. It closed around them, dark and still, even the insects apparently going silent at the sound of the two off-world intruders moving through the trees.
And then she saw the building, a dark shape in a clearing, one that glowed pale once Lirzhan turned the lantern fully on it. It looked like the sort of standard prefab structure the GEC preferred — walls of extruded composite, flat roof with solar panels that glittered suddenly as the light struck them. The door was closed, the metal shutters on the windows locked down. In short, it looked exactly the way it should have: closed down and waiting for the next team who had need of it.
Something like a little sob of relief left her throat, and Alexa surged forward, only to have Lirzhan say,
“Wait.”
“What?” she demanded. All she wanted was to be inside, to take off these damn boots and get a real shower and some food in her that wasn’t a ration bar.
“We should look around first. Just because it appears undisturbed doesn’t mean someone hasn’t been here looking for us — or isn’t still in the area, waiting for us to show up.”
Of course he was right. She swallowed her disappointment and said, “Okay…which way?”
“Around to the left and behind, and then we’ll circle back to the front.” As he spoke he handed her the lantern, and reached to pull the pulse pistol from his belt.
She shifted the tablet to her left hand so she could hold the lantern with her right. Not much need for the tablet at the moment, anyway; it had gotten them where they needed to be.
They’d only taken a few steps before Lirzhan pointed at the ground. “Look.”
There in the mud and trampled bluish grass were the outlines of several pairs of large booted feet. She wanted to say that maybe they’d been left behind by the GEC team before they cleared out, but she knew that wasn’t very likely. The time stamp on the last report filed by the team was more than two standard years ago. No way a set of footprints could last that long, even in a more or less sheltered spot like this one.
She nodded, and followed him as he crept around the back of the station, pausing every few seconds to listen or smell or whatever it was that he was doing. It had become clear to her several days ago that his senses were sharper than hers, and that he had a lot more experience dealing with the great outdoors, so she was going to let him handle this, even if it meant yet another instance where she was relegated to sidekick status. But better a sidekick than dead.
He didn’t seem to find anything, or hear anything, and so continued his progress around the building until they were back at the entrance.
“They were here approximately thirty hours ago, I think,” he told her. “It was logical for this to be our destination. Luckily for us, they came here while we were still in the caves and their instruments were unable to detect us. I suppose there is always the chance they might come back, but it seems safe enough for now.”
“Thank God,” she replied, and reached out to open the door. From what she’d heard, it would be latched but not locked. Oftentimes these stations were abandoned completely, but if not, they were intended to be easily accessible.
The door swung open, the lights going on automatically overhead. On the laminate floor she saw at once evidence of more footprints, although nothing seemed to have been disturbed. “They searched the whole place, looks like.”
“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” He came in after her and gazed around the room with obvious interest.
Not that there was all that much to look at. As with most of these stations, the main room was a square, with a short hallway at one end that led to a bathroom and one or two bedrooms, depending on how big the team stationed here had been. The counters and tables were bare, since any valuable equipment would have been packed up and removed by the GEC team when they left. At one end was a small kitchen with a heating element, refrigeration unit, and sink.
She went to the cupboards above the heating element and wanted to cry with relief when she saw stacks of SRPs in there. “There’s a good supply of standard ration packs, so we can say goodbye to the protein bars.” Before he could ask the question, she added, “And there are some marked as vegan, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
“Excellent.” He set the emergency kit down on one of the tables. “I’ll admit that after that trek across the plains, I am a bit hungry.”
“Just a bit?” she teased, and was rewarded with a flash of white teeth. Damn, he did have a nice smile.
“Actually, I am very hungry.” He came to her and took the SRP she handed him. “How does it work?”
“Just pull the tab, and it’ll self-heat.”
A puzzled expression crossed his face. “Then why the heating unit?”
“For b
oiling water, that sort of thing.” She selected a package that advertised itself as chicken marsala, then pulled out a couple of plates from the cupboard and heavy-duty plastic flatware from the drawer immediately beneath. After she’d set those items down on the table, she pulled the tab on her SRP. As she waited for the requisite thirty seconds to pass, she said, “Check to see if the water supply is still working.”
He went to the tap and turned it. Water came out immediately, and she let out an audible sigh of relief.
“Should I test it?” he inquired.
“You can if you want, but it should be quadruple filtered. These GEC teams don’t take chances.” Not like we did down in the caves, or before that, drinking from the streams…but beggars can’t be choosers.
Appearing to accept this explanation, he returned to the cupboard and found some plastic tumblers, then filled them almost to the top. He handed one to her, and she drank deeply. It did taste better than what they’d taken from the streams, probably because of the multiple filtration processes it had undergone.
The tab on her SRP turned red, indicating that it was ready. She tore open the pouch and dumped it on her plate, inhaling the rich scent. All right, it probably smelled better than it tasted, but after four days of protein bars, it was going to be ambrosia.
On the other side of the table, Lirzhan had performed a similar procedure with his own meal, which looked to be some sort of roasted vegetables on rice. He sniffed appreciatively before picking up his fork and taking a few bites. After chewing for a few seconds, he swallowed, then nodded. “It is not bad.”
“Gourmet it’s not, but it’ll keep us going until help arrives.” She helped herself to some of her own dish, judging it a little too salty but otherwise just what the doctor ordered. “Speaking of which, we’ll need to find the beacon.”
Lirzhan scanned the room briefly, then turned back to her, his expression troubled. “I don’t see anything that looks like any sort of computer or automated device.”
The Mandala Maneuver Page 10
