After Speaker Seward called upon every clan head, Iswander had received only a single vote, the one he had cast for himself.
TWENTY-NINE
JESS TAMBLYN
Parked in orbit next to Newstation, the hollow comet of Academ was a sheltered school complex for Roamer children, but its exotic internal waterfalls made it seem more like a playground—at least that was how Jess and Cesca tried to portray it for the kids.
Roamers needed to solve problems on the fly more than they needed the drudgery of book learning. Computers and compies could do the brute-force calculations and implementation, but Roamers had to have the ideas. Jess’s greatest wisdom came from his personal experiences, desperate problems he fixed, crises he endured. Survival, he had found, was an excellent teaching tool.
Now, drifting in the comet’s zero-gravity central grotto, he used a squirt of compressed air to meet up with Cesca Peroni. They both hung in the open watching a group of children, eight or nine years old, being instructed by the Teacher compy BO. With her deep female voice, BO was programmed to sound matronly and protective. Male-voiced Teacher compies sounded more erudite and professorial, and Jess had found that the students listened better when BO spoke.
Drifting, Cesca snagged Jess’s waistband and gave him a kiss, which naturally made the children laugh. Jess gave the class a mock glare. “This isn’t funny. You should learn from it. Here, let me demonstrate again . . . like so.”
He gave Cesca a longer kiss this time, slow, but not too passionate, before she pushed him away, saying, “Good to see you’ve still got it after twenty years.”
“Oh, we started before that,” Jess teased. “Even without the wentals inside us anymore, I feel energized.”
When he mentioned the water elementals, Jess saw the faint illumination in the ice walls brighten. The controlled wental presence within the comet made Academ come alive, and the sparkle was ubiquitous. The lingering wentals could be felt, not just by Jess and Cesca who were all too familiar with the energy touch, but by the young students as well. It made Academ a magical place.
Cesca was the former Speaker of the clans, before Del Kellum, before Isha Seward. During the height of the Elemental War, Jess had become infused with wentals, his cells filled with such deadly energy that he was unable to touch another person, not even Cesca, whom he loved—until she also took the water elementals into herself. She and Jess had exhausted all their powers in the final battles against the faeros, leaving both of them normal again—although not quite. They longed for a family of their own, but the wental possession had transformed them, rendering them unable to have children.
When Roamers established Newstation to replace the rubble of Rendezvous, Jess and Cesca had proposed creating a school for clan children. A group of ambitious clan engineers had captured a wandering comet as it passed the planet Auridia, then towed it into orbit next to Newstation to provide water, fuel, and air resources. Excavations hollowed out the comet’s core, leaving a huge empty grotto. Administrative offices, classrooms, labs, and dwelling units were drilled into the walls.
When the structure was ready, Jess and Cesca had released the tamed wentals into the ice. The water elementals had learned how not to contaminate others who came in contact with their energy. Now, waterfalls sprang from floor to ceiling and side to side, flowing in the zero gravity and guided by controlled elemental force. A spherical lake tumbled and rotated at the heart of Academ.
Hundreds of students attended classes to learn about life in harsh environments, to train on high-tech equipment, and to study politics and Roamer history. The classes were led by dozens of Teacher compies, as well as guest speakers from various Roamer clans who volunteered their time during temporary assignments at Newstation.
After Jess’s interruption, BO continued teaching. “We were talking about the original construction of Rendezvous as a stopping-off point for the generation ship Kanaka. That was the start of the Roamer way of life.” The students stared up at the central spherical lake, restless. BO said in a scolding tone, “Pay attention, children. It is important for you to have the basics of your history.”
Cesca gave Jess an indulgent smile, explaining, “They’re distracted. I told the kids they could go swimming after the lecture.”
The class cheered, but Jess responded with an exaggerated frown. “Swimming? What could be more fun than a lecture?”
He and Cesca loved watching the boys and girls from different clans gathered here to learn about their varied homes: space stations, asteroid mines, nebula skimmers, greenhouse domes, skymines on gas giants, rugged planetary settlements, even a rare few on worlds that were actually pleasant.
Jess wondered why Roamers always chose to do the most difficult thing. It seemed to be a genetic stubbornness. The clans had lived in the shadows for a long time, driven to settle in places no one else wanted—first because they were forced to, and then by choice, because Roamers were proud and wanted to show that they didn’t need pampering. Now, with the Spiral Arm at peace and more planets available than could ever accommodate the Confederation’s population, the necessity was gone. But Jess didn’t think Roamers would abandon their risky ways—even after the recent disaster on Sheol.
When BO finished her historical lecture, the children remained silent and attentive, though it was clearly an act. Ending her lesson, BO said, “Now it is time for us to begin our aquatic instruction. You will learn about fluid dynamics, parabolic arcs, surface tension, and hydrostatics—”
The children cried out, “Swimming!”
The Teacher compy took the students to the suspended body of water, while Cesca remained with Jess. “To answer your question,” Cesca said, “no I don’t regret retiring as Speaker for the clans.”
“I never asked that question. I always knew the answer.”
“I’m just reminding myself after the recent election.”
“Does it bother you that you’re not doing important things anymore?”
Her dark-eyed gaze flashed him a question. “This is just as important.”
On his comm, Jess received a summons to the offices. He and Cesca kicked off toward the near wall, wondering what business had called them now. When they arrived in the network of chambers carved out of the comet wall, they found a stern-looking Olaf Reeves, his son Dale, and several other Roamers waiting for them. They all wore the same clan embroidery on their old-fashioned jumpsuits.
“We’ve come to take our children back,” Olaf said. “Per our agreement.”
Cesca was alarmed. “Is something wrong with the instruction?”
Dale started to speak, glanced at his father, then fell silent. Olaf said, “We can teach them what they need to know. Clan Reeves is going to pack up from Rendezvous and head out to a new home.” He seemed defiant.
Dale Reeves added in a low voice, “We want to be like the old clans, the families that came off the Kanaka. We’re self-sufficient, and we won’t be beholden to anyone.”
Cesca let out a slow sigh and turned to Jess. “How many Reeves children are at Academ?” Even he didn’t know offhand.
Olaf glanced at Dale, who answered, “My two sons Jamie and Scott and seven others, total. When we agreed to let you teach our children, it was on the condition that any parent could take their child away for whatever reason.”
“Yes, that was the agreement—I wasn’t arguing,” Jess said. “Academ is for all Roamers, but they have to come here by choice.”
They called the clan Reeves children to the headquarters office. The waiting felt awkward, and Dale looked as if he didn’t want to be there.
Cesca was troubled. “We’re sad to see them go. I wish you’d reconsider.”
Olaf’s ire was clearly directed elsewhere. “It’s not either of you. You aren’t those new self-centered Roamers, the ones who attend meetings and run for office rather than feel the joy of building something, strengthening a clan, and remembering who we are.”
“Where will you go?” Cesca asked.
>
“Rendezvous for a while, until we finish our preparations,” Olaf said. “Then we’ll go far away.”
Dale added, “It’s a secret, but once our settlement is established, we may make contact again.”
“Or not,” Olaf said. “If we need extra supplies, we have an agreement with Kett Shipping.”
Teacher compies entered the office chamber leading nine children, some of them dripping wet from swimming. The boys and girls looked confused. When Dale’s two sons saw their father, they bounced forward, happy. “Are we going home?” asked the younger of the two.
BO presented herself. “Could we please know what is happening? This interrupts my class activities.”
Cesca hugged the nine Reeves children, one by one. “You’re going back with your clan. We’ll miss you.” Her eyes were sparkling. “Go pack your things.”
Jess turned to the clan leader. “Do you have instructors where you’re going? I know clan Reeves doesn’t have many compies, but . . . I could offer you a Teacher model if that would help. BO, would you like to continue instructing this group of children?”
“Yes,” the compy said. “That is my reason for existence.”
Skeptical, Olaf stroked his bushy beard and then conceded. “As long as she knows Roamer history.”
“I am an expert in Roamer history,” BO said.
“Good enough, then. Come with us.”
THIRTY
PATRICK FITZPATRICK III
When Del Kellum showed up at the Golgen skymine for a surprise—and probably extended—visit, Patrick Fitzpatrick made the best of it.
He got along well enough with his father-in-law, considering. After all, Zhett had put up with Patrick’s grandmother, the Old Battleaxe, who had threatened to disown him and call down the authorities on the Roamer girl he’d fallen in love with. Ah, romance had its charms!
Del Kellum arrived without making any prior arrangements, expecting the skymine operators to drop everything and accommodate him. He flew across the gas giant’s high wisps of cloud and called for a landing spot in the skymine’s main industrial bay. “And what is your business here, sir?” asked a young man at the comm station, newly assigned to the task. Too young, Patrick thought.
“I’m Del Kellum, by damn! Just clear a spot for me. I know that skymine like the back of my hand—and I am very familiar with the back of my hand.”
Patrick had been in the upper control dome, inspecting the flow readings from the station’s numerous process lines. The crew chiefs sent him regular updates. Even though everything was nominal, Del Kellum would probably have plenty of suggestions on how to “fix” things.
Zhett hurried in from their quarters with Rex propped on her hip, connecting the toddler’s harness to a small antigrav battery; when she released him, Rex bobbed along at her side like a tethered balloon. Her face was flushed. “It’s always good to see my father.” Her tone sounded weary rather than excited.
“From a distance,” Patrick said. Zhett elbowed him.
Because it was a big shipping day for ekti, the skymine’s industrial bay didn’t have a berth for an unscheduled ship. Zhett got on the comm and instructed her father to land on one of the upper skydecks. “If you can handle it, Dad—it’ll take some careful flying.”
He made a rude noise and clicked off.
His ship took up two-thirds of the cramped skydeck, but he landed in perfect position. As soon as the big man descended from the ramp, Zhett ran forward to give her father a hug with a bobbing Rex in tow. Patrick shook the older man’s hand. “Good to see you, sir.”
Del clapped him on the back, but was more interested in scooping up his grandson. “Just came from Newstation and the election of the new Speaker. I had to be there for appearances, but what a cluster-fart!”
“Sam Ricks won, we heard,” Zhett said.
“Lee Iswander lost. Nobody imagines Ricks is qualified, but after the Sheol disaster . . .” Del made a silly noise at Rex, which caused the boy to giggle. He handed the toddler off to Zhett, who passed him to Patrick. “I needed an excuse to clear my brain, and what better excuse than to come see all my grandchildren?”
“Two of your grandchildren,” Zhett said. “Shareen won’t be back from Earth for a couple of days yet.”
“Then I’ll just have to stay long enough to see my favorite granddaughter. If the invitation stands?”
Patrick gave Zhett a What can you do? look. “Of course it stands.”
“Don’t know why you sent her to Earth, though. That girl needs
Roamer training, not fancy impractical academics.”
“She needs both,” Patrick said. “But I agree she’ll do better in a Roamer environment. A formalized class curriculum isn’t Shareen’s strong point.”
“She belongs at Fireheart Station,” Del announced. “Have her spend a year with Kotto Okiah—let her thrive. She has so much potential.”
Zhett smiled as they made their way to the top of the skymine, because Del would want to inspect the skymine’s activity. “Knowing Shareen, I think she’d end up teaching Kotto a few things.”
Inside the control dome, the shift crew studied the ekti-reactor output and the gas densities in Golgen’s cloud layers, as detected by dangling probe antennas. Pilots adjusted the directional output from the exhaust stacks to keep the big facility wandering along.
Del marched to one of the embedded screens to call up a summary and frowned when his old password didn’t work. Without hesitation, he nudged aside one of the techs, accessed the system, then raised his eyebrows at Zhett. “That’s an impressive production num-ber, by damn. Up fifteen percent from my day. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the drogues aren’t harassing you anymore.”
“Shareen designed several of our engineering upgrades herself,” Patrick said with understandable pride. “She’s got a good feel for the operations.”
Del eyed his son-in-law. “And have you figured out all the processes yet? Every skyminer needs to know every system.”
“I’ve picked up quite a bit over the years. Zhett and I manage the skymine together.”
“Of course she manages the skymine—she’s my daughter.”
“Fitzy and I do it together, Dad,” Zhett corrected. Del had never resolved that in his mind. “I cured him of a life of luxury long ago. You should be glad he didn’t go into Confederation politics.”
Del gave a grudging nod. “He’s better off here on the skymine. Or maybe I should take you to my distillery on Kuivahr—then you’d re-ally get your hands dirty.”
Patrick pulled Rex closer in his antigrav harness and gave his son a playful bounce. “As exciting as you make that sound, I think I’ll stay here. We still have a family to raise.”
Coming from a blue-blood family, not to mention being the grandson of a former Hansa chairman, Patrick had absolutely no interest in politics, though he could have had any number of ambassadorial positions or government posts. Patrick decided he preferred the Roamer way of life, and he was perfectly content with his spirited and beautiful wife.
“And where’s my other grandson?” Del looked around the control dome as if he expected Toff to be working one of the stations. “Hope he’s studying hard. His sister left some big shoes for him to fill.”
“Toff is reminded of that every day,” Patrick said. “We’ll find him down on the loading dock. Busy day today. Four big shipments going out, open-grid cargo frameworks lined up and waiting to be loaded with ekti canisters.”
“Let’s go see the boy. Once I review how you do things, maybe I can offer suggestions for improvement. I have plenty of experience in industrial operations, you know—not to mention leading all the Roamer clans.”
“We’ll be happy to hear your suggestions,” Patrick said. This time
Zhett gave him the What can you do? look.
The skymine was a satisfying flurry of activity. Down on the cargo deck, the air was filled with fumes and stardrive exhaust, the smell of hot engines and cold chemical breezes. The b
ay rang with the clamor of tanks being loaded onto pallets, adjustment jets maneuvering cargo frames into place where their open grids were loaded with hundreds of ekti canisters for transport. Two empty cargo frames hovered outside in the sky, waiting to enter the big bay.
“You should have a subsidiary storage raft where you can keep surplus silos of ekti,” Del announced. “You’re producing faster than you can distribute.”
Zhett pointed out the cargo doors. Not far off, a storage raft floated above the clouds, loaded with excess ekti tanks. “Like that one you mean?”
“Exactly like that, by damn. But you should really have two of them.”
They did, in fact, have a second one under construction. Rather than point that out, Patrick said, “We’ll run the numbers and see if it makes sense.”
Outside, workers with safety jetpacks rode on slender swoopers, zooming around the skymine like wasps as they guided the waiting ships. The swoopers rode up to intercept a cargo hopper, while inspectors wearing helmets and insulated suits dove deeper to follow the probe lines.
Near one wall, Kristof was using antigrav handles to stack empty crates. Seeing his grandfather, he bounded over to them. Del Kellum sized up his grandson. “You must be five centimeters taller than last time, but there’s not a speck of meat on your bones! Zhett, don’t you ever feed this boy?”
Toff said, “I burn it off. There’ll be enough time for me to fill out later.” He playfully jabbed his grandfather’s significant gut. “I hear it happens to everyone when they get older.”
A loud crash outside the loading area startled them, and two jumpsuited loaders leaped out of the way. An incoming ship flown by an impatient pilot struck a glancing blow against a cargo frame, which jarred one of the racks loose. Trying to avert disaster, workers ran yelling and waving toward the open bay doors and the long drop into the sky, but they couldn’t stop the collision.
The Dark Between the Stars Page 17
