by Ben Bova
She reminds me so much of Adela, Billy thought as he watched Cathay playing with the group of Aborigine children. The youngsters had been engaged in playabout, shrieking with joy at simple games of tag or toss. But when she joined them she taught them several more games from her own childhood, even though she shared not a single word of common language with many of these children. Indeed, the children were from different parts of the continent and spoke several languages, but all of them shared one language in common: the language of laughter.
She had been waiting to meet him here but he had come early, and stood now at the top of a slope watching her cavort with the children below. The children were a disparate mixture of colors and sizes—their skin ranging from golden brown to dark chocolate, their hair from shaggy blonde to jet black—and still, they shared this common bond. But it was Cathay who had brought this bond about. The children had been wary of one another, at first, as had their parents and families when the tribes first began coming together here. But while the adults of the tribes worked hard day and night to form a common relationship with Billy and the others, it was Cathay who had taken the many confused and frightened children and given them a reason to be friends.
There were seventeen tribes represented here so far, their hut-like wurlies scattered randomly around the valley floor at the spot that had been selected for the corroboree. When the day arrived for the celebration, however, there would be hundreds.
“Billy! Hello!”
He turned his attention to the playabout, and saw Cathay waving excitedly up to him. She had arranged the children in two lines facing each other, their hands joined. From time to time there was a gleeful shout and a child would break away from one line and run at top speed to the other, trying to burst through. More often than not the attempt ended in a wrestling free-for-all of children piling on top of the running child before he or she joined their line and the game repeated in the other direction.
“Watch this!” Cathay called up to him. “And pay attention, because your turn is next!” She laughed in delight and ran from her line to the other, trying to burst through. As before, the effort ended in a giggling, squealing mass of brown and black that kicked up a massive cloud of dust. The tussle over, the children jumped up and ran back to their lines, leaving Cathay sitting in the dirt, exhausted, her hair tumbling over her face. “All right, Billy!” she shouted. “Your turn to get trampled!”
“Nah, not bloody likely!”
“Oh, yeah?” She stood and slapped at her clothes, sending clouds of reddish dust flying. “We’ll see about that!” And with that she sprinted up the slope, tackling him to the ground—much to the delight of the watching children below. They all called up to her in a cacophony of different tongues, waving for the two of them to come down. She untangled herself from Billy as they sat up on the dirt and waved back, sending the children returning to their playabout.
“I don’t think … I’ll ever … walk again,” she said, trying to catch her breath. She lay back on the ground, supporting herself by her elbows, and turned to him. Her face was smeared with dust and grime, and the filth on her sweat-soaked shirt and bush shorts was indescribable.
“Have I thanked you for what you’re doin’ with the children?” he asked. “Keepin’ them occupied and happy is a big worry off their families.”
“You mean,” she asked in mock seriousness, “that what I’m doing is work?” She let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, well. I guess I’ll have to stop having fun, then, ay?” She blinked her eyes several times, then broke into a smile. And as she did, somehow, even the dirt on her face failed to diminish the beauty she had gotten from Adela.
Billy returned her smile and leaned over to retrieve the object he’d dropped when she tackled him. “I wanted to show you something,” he said, handing it to her. It was a length of wood not quite a meter long, its dark surface intricately carved with cryptic markings.
“Is this the letter stick you told me about?”
He nodded. “There are more than seven hundred languages among the Aborigine. Seven hundred! And yet, the headman of each tribe can read this.” He ran his hand respectfully along the carved surface as she held it, his delicate touch clearly showing the respect he felt not only for the artisan who did the work, but for the tradition and importance that lay behind it. “It tells of what we’re doin’ here, and asks for representatives to come to corroboree.”
Cathay looked at him oddly, her head tilted as she regarded him.
“What?” he asked, noticing her expression.
“You’ve changed.” She sat upright, cross-legged with the letter stick across her lap, and turned to him. “You’re happy again.”
“I’m pleased that things seem to be workin’ out, yes.”
She looked out over the valley floor at the smoke curling from one of the previous night’s bonfires. “It’s all coming together here, Billy. You’ve infused them all with the same feeling you have for keeping in touch with your heritage. It was always there, all along; but it was you who awakened it in them.”
“You’re right, I am happy.” He reached out to her and brushed some loose sand from her cheek and chin. “And I’m happy that you’re here.”
Her smile broadened, and she took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly.
“Cathay! Cathay!” They looked below to where the calling children were, and saw that their numbers had swelled by another dozen. Apparently another tribe had arrived. They squealed and jumped, calling for her to come down and show her games to the newcomers.
“Would you take me to your special place?” she asked abruptly, lowering her eyes almost bashfully. “The hidden pool in the gorge? I’d like some time for just the two of us, to talk and to enjoy the quiet.”
“Of course. I’ve been wantin’ to show it to you, but there just hasn’t been—”
“Cathay! Cathay!”
“Tomorrow,” he finished, helping her to her feet. “I need to see that these letter sticks go out, and …” He gazed down at the valley and saw several Aborigine milling about the new arrivals. “ … it looks like there’s more to welcome.”
She grinned at him, delighted at their plans, and sprinted down the slope to the jumping children.
Billy watched her go, the warm smile still on his face.
The Imperial landing bay on Luna had changed little in two centuries. The rational part of Adela’s mind knew that every aspect of the operations here had certainly been updated over the years, every component and mechanical system replaced countless times to handle the constant comings and goings of official traffic. But visually, as she walked across the enormous landing grid toward the waiting spacecraft, the huge dome looked exactly as she remembered it.
The ceiling was fully four hundred meters above her, and it was necessary to look closely to make out the separation lines between the movable doors at the top of the dome and the gently curving walls that swept upward to meet them. There were several catwalks regularly spaced on the walls and the lighted windows of numerous workstations, viewing rooms and technical facilities glowed brightly on the various levels.
Below the lowest of the catwalks were the spectator galleries, used only occasionally to view the arrival or departure of important Imperial visitors or dignitaries. The galleries were all empty now, her departure for Tsing unannounced and, hopefully, unnoticed. Not that anyone seated in the darkened galleries would be able to tell one member of her party from another as they walked—the landing grid was so large that she was still unable to read the name or designation on the side of the big Imperial jump ship waiting for her at its center.
Adela distastefully regarded the other four people who walked silently at her side. There were two men and two women, each dressed in nondescript utilitarian coveralls that looked more like government issue than personal choice. Similar to her own, the only differences that set their outfits apart from hers were the coloring and the high collars covering their throats. Although they walked casually, hand
bags or jackets slung nonchalantly over a shoulder or tucked under an arm, she knew the four were scrutinizing the surroundings with the utmost care. She did not know their names, nor would they have identified themselves had she asked. Each wore clothing accessories and hairstyles that might or might not be concealing their true appearances. Meeting them only moments earlier, she didn’t even know what their voices sounded like.
These four were among the Emperor’s most elite division of the Imperial Protection Corps. Ready to die instantly to protect her, they would also just as quickly kill anyone they felt presented a threat to her. Eric had not even discussed their inclusion among the members of the mission headed to Tsing; he had, instead, merely told her of their presence in such a way that left little doubt his decision was irrevocable. Boarding the ship last, they would surreptitiously take their places among the hundred other Imperial and scientific personnel already on board. Although she suspected she would never be able to recognize them again, she knew that at least one of them would be near her at all times.
She had bristled when Eric informed her of their presence, saying she had no need or desire to have personal bodyguards. Eric had smiled at that, maintaining that their role was closer to that of lifeguards, before immediately changing the subject to another aspect of the mission and permitting no further discussion on the matter.
Billy had called them “deathguards.”
I wish you were going with me, Billy, she thought, remembering their conversation of the day before. I know you have a lot to do, and I understand why you have to do it. But …
Adela stopped, ignoring the four as they each overreacted to her sudden movement. But what … ? she asked herself again. What is it I’m afraid of?
Regaining his composure, the man nearest her smiled warmly and gently took her arm.
“Are you all right, Doctor?” he asked, his voice certainly disguised by the electronics she knew were installed in the specialized collar of his coveralls. The next time she spoke to him, in whatever capacity, she was confident his voice would be different.
“I’m fine,” she said, and resumed walking. “I just thought for a moment that I’d forgotten something.” He nodded politely, but said nothing else. The other three, having paid what seemed little heed to their brief chat, fell smoothly into step.
Her thoughts turned again to the deep trepidation she felt about this trip. Was it because Billy, upon whom she had relied so heavily in the past, would remain behind? A part of her was torn between helping her son by going to Tsing, and staying here to help her friend. Then, too, there was the fact that at Tsing she would meet her grandchildren for the first time. Despite the seriousness of the mission to investigate the discovery on that faraway world, Eric had admitted how pleased he was that they would be together. Adela, on the other hand, was uneasy with whatever expectation Eric’s sons—and Eric himself, for that matter—had of this imminent “family reunion.”
But what bothered her most was that once this mission was completed, she would return to Earth, would return to … what? No loving Javas would be waiting for her this time, as he had when she and Billy had been sent to Pallatin. Instead, she would return to a world she barely recognized, and a society where half the population hated the very mention of her name. And what did she have to show for it? If only she had stayed with Javas when she had the chance, instead of …
“Watch your step, Doctor.” The attendant standing at the foot of the entrance ramp held out her hand for the carry-on bag over Adela’s shoulder. She handed it over absently, gazing up at the huge spherical jump ship looming above her. She had paid no heed to it as she walked, completely absorbed in her thoughts, and realized she had never even gotten a good look at it.
Two of her gloomy IPC companions were already at the top of the short ramp and disappeared quickly inside, while the other two went up with her and the attendant. It was likely these two would be with her at least until the ship lifted off.
A man in uniform, the markings identifying him as a high-ranking crew member, greeted her warmly at the top of the ramp. “Dr. Montgarde! It’s indeed an honor to have you aboard the Kiska. My name is Darrly, Second Officer.”
“It’s good to meet you,” she replied. Her two shadows remained silent, and Darrly pointedly avoided making eye contact with them. The man was clearly under very strict orders as far as the two IPC operatives were concerned.
“I’ll have your bag sent along to your quarters, if that’s all right.” Without waiting for a reply, he nodded to the woman, who disappeared down the corridor. “We’ll depart within the hour, but once we break orbit the captain has arranged a tour of the ship for you before you enter cryosleep.”
“I won’t be going into cryo this trip,” she said suddenly, the words coming out without thinking. Until this very moment her plans had, in fact, called for riding most of the trip out in the tank, but she suddenly changed her mind. “I’ve slept enough of my life away.”
The two Imperial protectors looked instantly nervous; obviously, her sudden reconsideration changed their plans, too.
“But … but the captain led me to understand that you would …”
“It’s all right, Mr. Darrly. I’ll speak to the captain directly about it.” The sudden decision felt good, and the apprehension nagging at her only minutes earlier had been somewhat subdued by it. “Now, if you’d be so kind as to show me to my quarters. I’d like to unpack a few things before my tour of the Kiska.”
Rihana Valtane was as furious at this moment as she had ever been in her life.
“Are you saying, even hinting, that I am not permitted to leave my own ship?” She felt a wave of angry fire spread slowly across her face, down her neck. The very thought that another person could make her react this way would certainly cause her to become angrier still, she knew, and she fought against the distasteful feeling as she sat in one of the room’s two viewing chairs. “Is this what you are saying to me, Krowek?” Rihana Valtane, used to controlling others, did not like being controlled by something so mundane as ordinary emotion. But to be controlled by this man! The words came out in a veritable hiss through gritted teeth.
“Not at all, Mistress Valtane.” He smiled, his features composed and businesslike. Like Rapson’s at its most persuasive, the man’s smooth, self-assured voice seemed to radiate confidence and authority. “I’m merely reminding you of your role in things at the present time. Until Mr. Rapson returns, or until either of us receives updated instructions from him, you are to keep your two guests safe and secure.”
“I see. And just what is your role in things ‘at the present time,’ Mr. Krowek?”
His smile broadened, subtly transforming his demeanor from confidence to indifference. “My job, Mistress, is to see to it that you do your job.”
It was a testament to her strength of will that she managed to keep from strangling the person nearest her—which would certainly have been the hapless aide, Poser—much less keep her voice calm. But instead of allowing herself to succumb to the vehemence welling up within her, she crossed her legs calmly and concentrated on the look of approval that passed fleetingly over the face staring back at her from the holoframe. The single look told her what she wanted to know: that the man she was speaking with was weak, which reaffirmed that she was better than he. She took pleasure in the fact, then used that pleasure to further mollify her anger.
Who is this man, she wondered, and why didn’t that damned Rapson tell me about him before now? Just how much does he know about what we’re doing here and about our ties to Jephthah? For that matter, just how close to Jephthah is this fool?
She leaned slightly in her chair, purposely allowing the skirt of her outfit to hike moderately higher, showing off her legs to their best advantage. His reaction was the same as before: a look of lecherous approval. To her mind the man had just proven himself to be so far beneath her that he was barely worthy of her contempt and, as such, he might be easily manipulated. All it would take is a bit o
f effort on her part, and a little time.
“Very well, then,” she concluded. “I suggest that we both set about doing our jobs.”
Rihana thumbed the armrest of her chair and Krowek’s image faded, to be replaced with an exterior view showing his tiny ship. Not even a ship, really; it was merely one of Rapson’s shuttles, the same one he had used for their rendezvous, left behind after he had departed in his own yacht.
The small craft remained oriented on her ship, its laughably minimal weaponry—verified several times by her crew’s scans—trained on the yacht. Krowek had made no threat, and there was no indication that the weaponry was powered up, but it was clear that he fully intended her to remain on her vessel. The little shuttle couldn’t hurt them, could not even inflict much damage, in fact; but it could do enough to keep them from moving freely at maximum speed and efficiency.
“Bastard!” she spat. “Poser!”
“Yes, Mistress?” The aide came from his usual place near the door.
Rihana stood, hands on hips, and stared at the diminutive shuttle. “Wait a few minutes, then contact our Mr. Krowek and invite him to dinner. And inform the crew in the lower bay that the shuttle will be redocking.”
Poser nodded, then disappeared from the room. Scarcely ten minutes had passed, however, before he returned, an uneasy she’s-not-going-to-like-this look easily readable on his mousy face.
“Well?” she demanded before he could speak. “What is it? What did he say to you that has you so obviously on edge?”
“Mistress, I … am afraid I did not speak to him. Not exactly.” He tried to smile when he saw her look of disapproval, but failed miserably. “I was only able to reach an interactive message retrieval system. I tried several frequencies, but the automated message was the same each time.”
“And what was the message?”
“He said that, ah, he would only receive your call if it was made by you. Directly.” Poser shrank back, but it wasn’t clear if the move was intended to put himself out of striking range or to put him closer to the door in the slim hope of being dismissed. He need not have bothered, as her surprising reaction led to neither.
