Amid the Crowd of Stars
Page 9
They filled Johnny’s cart, then the second. Saoirse listened to Angus haggle with Doireann (“I still haven’t sold all the bluefins yeh brought in the other cycle, Angus, so I can’t possibly give yeh the same price . . .”) and settle on 8p per bluefin. It still came to a hefty pile of coins, and Angus gave a pound coin to Gráinne and two pounds to Saoirse. Angus looked significantly at the flitter sitting on the far end of the quay. “Why don’t you show Gráinne where she can spend her money if she wants? Liam and I will get the hardware and lumber that we’re needing. We’ll meet at Low Ninth at Murphy’s before we head back—the weather will stay clear enough. That gives you a few free bells.”
“Thanks, Uncle Angus,” Saoirse said with a nod. “Gráinne, let’s go look at a few of those shops I mentioned . . .”
* * *
Ichiko knew from her past experience in Dulcia that it was difficult not to draw attention from the locals. For two Terrans strolling through the town in their bio-shields and pale blue Odysseus uniforms, it was simply impossible.
They’d been walking the lanes through the town for a few ship-hours already, stopping occasionally to talk to people. They were followed by a shifting pack of chattering children, while the adults working on the repairs were willing to stop a few minutes and talk even though Ichiko was certain they were being extremely careful about what they said and, afterward, would stare at them until they were out of sight. Ichiko also noted that the young adults pressed into service by their elders were much the same as those on Earth: self-absorbed and pretending they didn’t care one way or the other about anything.
“My God, is that another pub?” Chava asked as they walked along High Street, the sounds of hammering and sawing loud around them. “How many places to drink does a town this small need? Though if I were living here, I’d probably drink more, too. In fact, I am living here at the moment and I do drink more, so forget what I just said. It all makes perfect sense. Honestly, I wish we could stop and have something.”
“You can have the beer and whiskey. Me, I’ve always loved seafood and here we are right by the sea,” Ichiko told her. “My dream is to someday find out what bluefin tastes like.”
“Well, neither the drinks nor the food seem to be killing off the . . .” Her voice trailed off for a moment. “. . . Lupusians,” she said with a heavy and obvious emphasis that caused Ichiko to grin. “So how dangerous can the food here be? We should just grab some food from one of these pubs, take it back to First Base, and try it. Deep-fried and battered bluefin with seaflower salad.” Chava laughed then. “Just kidding,” she said. “You should have seen your face. Hey, I’m not going to risk being stuck here forever. God, what an awful fate that would be.”
Ichiko smiled at that, but the effort was half-hearted. I don’t know—a simpler and quieter life doesn’t sound so bad . . . But then she thought of Saoirse and the way the Inish and Mainlanders regarded each other; she wasn’t so certain that life here was actually simple at all. They were passing the intersection with Green Street, a steeply inclined lane running between Strand Street by the quay and High Street. Ichiko glanced down toward the bay. She could see one of the Inish boats now docked near the fishmongers; she wondered if Saoirse were here.
I really need to get that contact fixed. Ichiko sighed, then nodded and pointed toward the intersection. “Let’s head down to the quay,” she said to Chava. “That’s the Rí’s boat down there now, so you might be able to meet some of the archipelago people.”
Chava shrugged, and they turned down Green, most of the cluster of kids following them. Green Street was dominated on the right side by the Bancroft clan compound and on the left by the Plunkett compound. They walked between high stone walls punctuated with heavy wooden gates shielding the compounds from easy sight, though Minister Plunkett had shown Ichiko his clan’s compound on her first visit. She assumed that other compounds were similar: a compact collection of houses and buildings designed for clan business and needs. Ichiko was fairly certain that the bio-shield stopped them from smelling the fruity odor of mashed hops, barley, and boiling wort that must be emanating from the Plunkett compound, though from behind the Bancroft walls they could hear the clacking of wooden machinery carding, gilling, combing, drafting, spinning, and twisting wool into fabric for their shop up on High Street. The Bancrofts, Minister Plunkett had told her, also had farms outside Dulcia where they raised sheepers for their wool.
Ichiko relayed some of this to Chava as they walked. “Minister Plunkett told me that his clan also has farms close by where they plant and harvest the grains for their brewery inside the compound, though they also buy from other local farms,” she said. “Supposedly, the smell isn’t horrible. He also took me by the Hearn compound, which is further out along the bay. They’re the local butchers and renderers. According to the Minister, the stench of that is why they made them build their compound out so far and where the prevailing winds don’t generally blow toward Dulcia.” Ichiko stopped. “Saoirse!” she called, waving to two figures who had just turned the corner on Strand.
The larger of the two figures waved back. “Musha! Ichiko, I was hoping yeh’d be around so we could talk.” They started walking up the street toward Ichiko and Chava. Ichiko could see that the person with Saoirse was a younger girl, dressed much as Saoirse though without glasses.
“Is this . . . ?” Chava asked, and Ichiko nodded.
“Yes. That’s Saoirse Mullin. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”
They moved toward the Inishers. Saoirse had a smile on her face, and as they approached, they could see the Inishers’ clothing was stained—from handling bluefins, Ichiko presumed—as Saoirse’s clothes had been the last time they’d met. Ichiko also noticed that much of the face of the young girl with Saoirse was marred with patches of marbled green-and-purple plotch. She forced herself not to stare (wondering if Saoirse’s body might be similarly marked under her clothing). She knew that Chava must have also seen the blemishes, and certainly the children who still accompanied them had. She heard one of them loudly proclaim, “Ugh! Look, she has the filthy plotch! Quick, let’s go before we get it!” The group vanished as if afraid of contamination. The girl scowled at the pack, and Ichiko saw Saoirse’s hand tighten on the girl’s and give her a slight, warning head shake.
“Saoirse,” Ichiko said quickly, “this is my friend, Lieutenant Chava Bishara.” At that, Chava’s stare was torn away from the girl. Ichiko saw her gaze searching Saoirse’s face and arms for the same markings. “The lieutenant’s stationed at First Base and wanted to see Dulcia. Chava, this is Saoirse of Clan Mullin, the Banríon’s daughter.”
“Dia duit, Lieutenant,” Saoirse answered. “And this is my sister Gráinne—she’s just turned 240 this year.”
Ichiko looked at Chava, who shrugged. “Why not?” Ichiko answered.
As they started back up the street, Chava spoke a single word. “Plotch?”
Ichiko grimaced, but Saoirse only shrugged. “Nearly all the Inish have the plotch fungus on their skin. I do as well, just not where yeh can easily see the markings.”
Chava seemed to be listening to the air as well as Saoirse, and Ichiko knew her AMI was talking to her. “Does the fungus really come from touching those arracht creatures?”
“They’re not creatures—” Gráinne began, but Saoirse interrupted, and the gir
l fell silent.
“The arracht carry the fungus, too, aye, and we get it when they touch us, but beyond the plotch markings, it ain’t harmful. Just gives us a bit of interesting extra color to our skin—though lots of the Mainlanders, like those kids, avoid us because they’re afraid they’ll get it, too. They can’t, of course. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore?” Ichiko asked.
Saoirse shook her head. “Not since we stopped the Mainlanders from hunting the arracht, five thousand years or so ago.”
They’d reached the top of the street, and Ichiko could see the stares from those who were out once again, redoubled this time by the addition of the Inishers to their group. Saoirse, who seemed to be working hard pretending to ignore the attention they were getting, pointed left. “The Stuart’s candy shop is just up there. Can yeh see the sign, Gráinne?”
“I don’t need glasses, Saoirse,” Gráinne answered with a haughty emphasis. “I can see just fine.”
Saoirse laughed at that. “When I was yer age, I didn’t need glasses, either, so be careful what yeh brag about. But why don’t yeh go on and run ahead, since yeh know where yer going. Just be careful if they’re working there, fixing storm damage, and don’t bother ’em.” She released Gráinne’s hand and the girl took off running down the street, people moving aside to let her pass. The three adults followed more slowly.
“I have something for yeh, Ichiko,” Saoirse said. “My mam asked me to give yeh this.” She took a packet of folded paper from her pocket and gave it to Ichiko. Ichiko held it, though her bio-shield prevented her from actually feeling the paper. It was sealed with wax with a simple handwritten address to “Captain Keshmiri, Odysseus.”
Ichiko realized that it must be a reply to the communique that Luciano had mentioned the captain sending to the Banríon. She tucked the letter into one of her belt pouches.
Ichiko saw Chava watching the exchange.
“I also talked to me mam about yeh wanting to come out to Great Inish,” Saoirse was saying to Ichiko. “She said if yer willing to come out to the archipelago in a currach and not yer flitter, yeh’d be welcome. Yeh could stay in our compound, and I could show yeh around. If yeh’d like that.”
“I would very much like that,” Ichiko answered quickly. “It sounds like a wonderful opportunity. But I can’t take it. Not at the moment.”
Saoirse glanced at Chava. “Can’t the lieutenant take the flitter back to First Base?”
“She can. But that’s not the reason.”
“Ah,” Saoirse responded, her voice laden with obvious disappointment. “Does it have to do with the letter Mam got from yer captain?”
“I’ll be delivering it to the captain,” Ichiko told her. “But I also have business I need to take care of back on Odysseus. But I hope I can come back soon. Thank the Banríon for her offer, and hopefully I can take her up on it when I’m back downworld.”
A Fate Somewhere Among The Clouds Above
ICHIKO HANDED the metal container to Luciano, waiting for her in the corridor outside the shuttle bay door on Odysseus with an ensign at his side. The red label on the sealed tube was inscribed with the white skull of planetary contamination with bold letters underneath proclaiming OPEN ONLY UNDER FULL QUARANTINE PROTOCOLS.
“This is the letter you received from Banríon Mullin, Dr. Aguilar?” Luciano asked.
Ichiko nodded. “It is, Commander.” She glanced at the ensign. It might be common gossip that she and Luciano were lovers, but among the crew they still needed to keep up the pretense even if it fooled no one.
Luciano hefted the container in his hand. “Has anyone else read this?”
“None of our people have, sir,” Ichiko answered. “It’s certainly possible some of the Inish might have read it before Saoirse Mullin gave it to me, but it was sealed with wax when I received it and addressed to the captain. It’s still sealed.”
Luciano grunted. He gestured to the ensign who had accompanied him, handing him the tube. “Take this to Lieutenant Commander Barrett in Security. Tell him to have it opened in quarantine, the letter scanned but not destroyed, then to send the scan to the captain as ‘Eyes Only.’ Understood?”
“Understood, Commander.” The ensign saluted and hurried off down the corridor, leaving them alone. The door to the shuttle bay was closed, the pilot and service technicians still in the bay tending to the shuttle’s decontamination and refueling. Ichiko saw Luciano glance up and down the corridor to make certain there was no one else watching, then reach out to stroke her cheek. “I’ve really missed you,” he said.
“Me, too,” Ichiko answered, smiling at him though the words sounded empty to her ears.
“Dinner tonight in my quarters? I’m off duty at 1800, so maybe around 1900?”
Ichiko nodded. “See you then,” Luciano told her. “Good to finally have you back aboard.” He hugged her quickly, then stepped away, walking quickly toward the lifts at the end of the corridor. He didn’t look back.
Almost six hours before she needed to meet Luciano, then.
“Tell Nagasi I’m on my way now.”
Ichiko stood there for several moments. The air aboard the ship smelled much like that at First Base: heavily filtered, with an antiseptic hint underneath, though lacking First Base’s additional tang of oil and steel welds, or her bio-shield’s faint scent of sweat and the shampoo that Ichiko used. She found herself wondering, again, what Dulcia would smell like if she could safely breathe the air there. Would it smell like home, like the seaside village she grew up in? Or would it be something far more alien and indescribable?
But that was something she could never know. Ichiko sighed. She went toward the lifts herself, to go up to the science deck and report in.
* * *
“Ichiko! So good to see you again!”
The call came from across the room as she stepped off the lift. She saw the lieutenant commander waving to her from the open door of his office, his blue uniform shirt covered by his ubiquitous white lab coat, against which his dark skin stood out in decided contrast. “Hey, Nagasi,” she called back—Dr. Nagasi Tinubu never stood on protocol, at least not in his domain, and everyone used first names with him as long as no other officers were around—“the feeling’s mutual.” That was the truth; Nagasi was someone whose company she genuinely enjoyed: a smart, empathetic, and genuine person. And she loved the sonorous Nigerian accent that had never left him.
“Come in and have a seat. I want to hear all about your adventures on Canis Lupus.” As Ichiko entered the acrylic-walled office, he waved to the chair in front of his desk. “Can I get some coffee for you? Or tea?”
“Tea would be nice.”
“Black, green, or herbal?”
“Green would be good. No milk, maybe just a hint of sweetener.”
Nagasi nodded and swiveled in his office chair to the small servette on the c
abinet behind him. He tapped a few buttons, then placed two ceramic mugs underneath the spouts. “I’ve read all your reports, of course,” he said, with his back to her. She could hear water heating up, then the hiss of the dispensers. “But I’m very interested in hearing what you didn’t say in them.” He turned back around with a mug in each hand, setting one in front of her, holding the other. “Tea for you, coffee for me,” he said. He took a sip and frowned. “It’s never as good as I remember it being back home. Ah, the wonderful coffee I could get in Abuja . . .” He sighed and shook his head, putting the mug down on a coaster on his desk.
“When you get home, you’ll just be complaining that the coffee there isn’t as good as it was on Odysseus.”
Nagasi chuckled at that. “Oh, I suppose that’s possible. Things always taste better in memory. But . . . talk to me about Dulcia. Speaking of memory warping perceptions, do you think these people really want to go back to Earth?”
“All they know of Earth is stories and tales that were passed down to them,” Ichiko told him. “Earth is, to them, a place twelve or thirteen generations removed. There’s no direct memory involved, only legends and what they’ve read in the transcripts they still have from the original settlers.”
“Legends are strong but unreliable drivers of emotion,” Nagasi commented. “But I notice you’re not answering the question. Do you have a sense if many of the Lupusians would actually go back if they could?”
Ichiko took a sip of her tea before she replied. “It’s not like I’ve taken an official poll—though if you really need an answer to that, that’s what I’d suggest we might do. But yes, I think some at least would be interested in returning at some point, if only to visit their ancestral home world.” Japan sounds wonderful. I want to go there someday. Ichiko could still hear the longing in Saoirse’s voice when she’d said that. “In fact, I know for certain that a few of them are very interested. Why are you asking, Nagasi? Has the decision been made already? What’s been going on here?”