In the dim light she could see him blush. “Thank you. Her father granted his permission for me to ask her two days ago, and it seemed like a good moment. I’m sorry if I upstaged you, Rigi.”
She giggled. “You didn’t upstage me. Uncle Eb and Aunt Kay did that just by dancing.”
Her father laughed. “Yes. I’m told that several tens of credits changed hands among those who had wagered that Ebenezer would never be seen on the floor again after the little incident on Eta Tolima twenty years ago or so. He had dreadfully bad luck at three dances in a row and since then found excuses to avoid them if at all possible.”
Mrs. DeStella-Bernardi sighed. “I would be wary as well, Timothy, after the second one. Intoxicants are regulated for a reason.”
“Especially psychoactives, yes, and that was a graphic demonstration of why.” Her father shook his head. “She had such a brilliant future, too. And the young man could have done so much, but no, he was foolish.”
Rigi and Cy looked at each other. “Ask what?” she mouthed.
“No,” he mouthed back.
She closed her eyes and settled against the seat. She had not stepped on Tomás’s foot, had not spilled anything, and to her knowledge no one had been sent home in pieces. Rigi counted the evening as a success and drifted into a light doze.
7
A Voice in the Dark?
Two weeks later, Rigi added “obtain a flitter license” to her to-do list, at least once she completed everything else, including any modifications to the illustrations she’d finally turned in for approval. The wombows in the dairy had not been round enough, according to the author. Rigi leaned back against the flitter’s seat and closed her eyes for the moment, glad to be out of the house and away from her work table and drawing pads for a few hours. And away from her mother, who had been a bit taken aback when she discovered Nahla, to say the least. Jaihu grunted quietly and she felt the aircraft bank to the right, then level out once more.
“Cargo flitter, same level,” he said, pointing to the traffic display holo with one forefoot. Rigi sensed Makana leaning forward to see, and she noted the flashing red symbol as well. Passenger flitters were supposed to have priority, but the laws of physics and gravity overrode mere human traffic regulations.
Rigi looked outside, squinting against the glare from the high clouds. Another storm line seemed to be massing to the east, coming in from the sea. She spotted the dark shape. “Traffic in sight, slightly lower, two o’clock.” Why did they keep such archaic terms for where objects were? Because they worked, and after this long had become unbreakable tradition, at least within the atmosphere. She vaguely recalled Cyril saying that they used something different in space, since “up” and “down” varied so much between ships. “Traffic clear.” Jaihu’s forefeet moved and the flitter tilted to the side, then leveled once more. He flew more smoothly than most humans Rigi had travelled with.
The capital control sector light flashed, and Rigi activated the comm. “NovMerv approach Lima Five Eight Three with beacon Mike.”
“Lima Five Eight Three confirm pad five?”
Rigi looked at Jaihu. He puffed an affirmative. “Pad five affirmative, Lima Five Eight Three.”
“Cleared to land.”
Makana leaned back again and she heard the sound of the safety harness ratcheting tighter. He did not enjoy leaving the ground. Most Staré preferred to avoid air vehicles, even hovers, something Rigi thought odd given how much time they spent in the air when they hopped at full speed. Oh well, not all humans cared to fly. Rigi preferred it for long distances. And then there was Uncle Eb, who apparently remained on the “may not rent list” for high-performance flitters. Rigi had a few suspicions as to why, based on what she’d heard Tomás’s father say once. Rental agencies did not approve of their vehicles being flown inverted, or discovering that the speed limiters had been removed or reprogrammed. Rigi wondered yet again if Uncle Eb would ever stop looking at safety features as “personal challenges to be overcome,” as Lexi had phrased it. It did explain why Lexi seemed to be going prematurely white on the ear-tips.
The traffic alert screen blurred and changed scale to show the closest arrivals and departures. Nothing appeared in their arrival path, and Jaihu grunted, then engaged the beacon tracking system, taking his forefeet off the controls. However, he kept one forefoot very close to the override switch, Rigi noticed. She approved. She looked outside, counted two more cargo movers and several small flitters, and a larger military transport. How did the military deal with Staré and humans in the same vehicle, she wondered? Did they have technicians of both species to remove and replace seats and harnesses? “Large bird, three o’clock.”
Jaihu peered around her. “I see it.” After it passed, he added, “very large bird.”
What was it? Rigi tried to think of something that large but nothing leaped to mind. She’d ask Aunt Kay. It had a dark sheen, almost metallic, to its feathers. She’d most certainly ask Aunt Kay. Jaihu adjusted the thrust a touch, then extended the landing wheels. They touched down smoothly, rolled a few tens of meters, and followed the dots on the display to their assigned parking slot. The Company paid by the month for the flitter parking, and her father and others simply repaid what time they used. It seemed to work well. Jaihu shut everything down, then opening the locks as Rigi undid her harness. She stepped out and hurried around to open the cargo area and let Martinus out. She retrieved her bag as well. Martinus moved as if he felt as stiff as she did. Or was he just careful? “Wooeef.” It sounded like a statement.
“Wooeef to you too.” She patted his head. They turned so they wouldn’t see Jaihu climbing out. He’d been crippled in an accident and remained sensitive about his difficulty with some things. Instead Rigi counted flitters and noticed several with the royal insignia, including one with a bored-looking human guard standing beside it. Once Makana emerged and shook, scattering a bit of fur in the breeze, Rigi turned back and found Jaihu standing beside the hull. “I’ve been assured this will not take more than three hours.”
His ears twitched, and she caught a whiff of //doubt/resignation//. “Very good, Miss Rigi. I shall wait in the lounge until you send word of your return.” NovMerv had a very nice Staré waiting area, staffed by Staré, so she didn’t feel as bad about leaving him for so long. He ear-bowed and she and Makana set off, following the markings for the pedestrian safety lane.
They tried the new open-air transport from the landing port into the main government section of NovMerv. Rigi was not entirely pleased with the arrangements, in part because it appeared that the designers failed to make allowances for Staré tails. The Staré sat with their backs to the outside, tails extended beyond the side of the cars. That would never do in bad weather, she knew, and it was a safety hazard. And how did they sort out the Stamme, or did they? It was a human conveyance, after all, and some human-made things fell outside of Stamm rules. Rigi counted stops and got off three blocks from the museum. Makana and Martinus followed, and she heard someone from behind her hiss, “Who does she think she is, bringing a dangerous bot on the trolley?”
Rigi concentrated on not being run over by an automated goods transport. Makana helped her up onto the walkway and they went the rest of the way without difficulty. She noticed two other m-dogs, one in the colors of municipal security, and quite a number of Staré. As they stopped for traffic, Makana stated, “Miss Rigi, I do not believe that the latest fashion will find many followers in Sogdia,” //disbelief/resignation/mild dislike//.
“It strikes me that you are quite correct, or so I hope.”
“Woo?”
“Precisely, Master Martinus,” Makana said as Rigi caressed the m-dog’s head.
Ornately beaded and embroidered modesty aprons appeared every year, Rigi knew, and some of them ended up in art collections. Likewise the vests many Staré males wore. But beaded and studded modesty aprons with matching vests, in pastel colors with painfully bright trim? One low-Stamm male walked past wearing black with m
etal studding, and a black bow on his tail. Rigi made herself keep her eyes on the pedestrian path so she would not stare. Martinus’s fur tail-cover was one thing, but for a male Staré to have a bow on his tail? Only hoplings wore those. Rigi wondered who had started the fashion, humans or Staré? She smelled strong dislike from behind her and knew Makana’s thoughts on the matter.
Happily for her self-control, the Staré in the museum and university building wore tasteful, practical uniform aprons and vests. “Miss Auriga Bernardi, Makana, and Martinus,” she informed the human at the discreet check-in podium for those going to one of the offices.
“May I see your identification, please?” Since she did not have any transport qualifications, Rigi gave the woman her shooter permit. Makana did likewise. Martinus just wagged. “You are expected Miss Bernardi. Ah,” the clerk shifted from side to side as if her feet hurt. “Your escorts were not expected. I will need to contact Dr. De Groet and Dr. Martinez for permission.”
“Please do so.”
Rigi moved away from the podium to give the woman a little space and so she did not block other people’s way. The lower level had been refurbished since her first visit almost eight years before, with Uncle Eb and Tomás. Carved wooden panels showing different places on Shikhari had replaced the dark faux-marble, and bits of contrasting gilding and silverwork now called attention to the details on the broad staircases’ railings. Rigi studied a panel purporting to show the Indria Plateau. It seemed too rolling compared to her memory, but she’d not seen the entire continent-sized plateau, just two-thirds of it. The carver had done beautiful work, using the dark wood’s grain to enhance the topography. Makana made a coughing sound, drawing her attention.
A vaguely familiar man stood near the guard. “Miss Bernardi? I’m Dr. Martinez.”
Thad Martinez had filled out a little in the shoulders, Rigi decided. She thought he looked better, less like a starving student. “Good morning, sir, it is a pleasure to see you.”
His shoulders sagged and he seemed to relax. “Likewise. I understand you brought an escort?”
“Yes. Makana is my escort and chaperone, and you’ve met Martinus.”
“Chaperone? Oh, yes, I’m sorry, Miss Bernardi,” he smiled and gestured for them to come with him. “I forgot that neither Dr. De Groet nor Mr. Trent had come with you. Mr. Trent, ah,” he lowered his voice. “He is not attending the conference. Dr. Szabor had his name removed from the invitation list. Apparently they have a disagreement?” One eyebrow rose.
“So I had gathered, Dr. Martinez, but I do not know the details.” She concentrated on not slipping on the freshly-polished steps. Click, click, click. “Martinus, claw retract.” Makana seemed to be holding his own, albeit slowly. Staré and stairs could be a difficult combination.
They reached the large, airy conference room without incident. Rigi took a seat in the back corner, and after a moment a student brought in a Staré seat for Makana. Martinus scanned the room, then lay down between them. Other people, some new to Rigi, some familiar, came in. “Miss Rigi! So good to see you,” Micah De Groet boomed, charging past two students to take Rigi’s hand and shake it firmly. “Congratulations on entering society. And on the award.”
“Thank you, sir.” Award? Oh, he probably meant the little prize for the sketch on Governor Theodaulf’s departure cards. She’d done a miniature landscape that had been printed on the back of the cards.
“Have you seen Kor recently?”
“Not since the end of the fur-drop epidemic, sir. I understand that the Elders Council of Sogdia ordered him to take up a leadership position, at least temporarily, and he is a touch busy, or so rumor has it.”
Dr. De Groet shook his a little and looked sympathetic. “He has my condolences if he is on a committee. We missed him this season.”
“If I see him, I will pass your greetings.”
“Please do, Miss Rigi, please do.”
A firm voice called, “Micah, where is the file?” He looked up at his eyebrows before turning around to assist the speaker, a woman in an odd top with very snug sleeves but a loose, flowing bodice in brilliant purple and red. She frowned at the controls inset in the surface of the table. “It is supposed to be here.”
“Yes, Dr. Szabor. Has it passed the warm-up screen?”
“Warm-up? It should have been primed and ready ten minutes ago.” She glared at the people in the room before frowning down at the screen, giving Rigi a view of the elaborate folds of her wrapped headdress and the beading on the edges. “What sort of primitive system is this? It had better work with my files or I will be . . .” her voice trailed off as she and Dr. De Groet did something. “Humpf.” Dr. Szabor looked very different from Dr. Xian. Rigi wondered if the students' nerves came from Dr. Szabor's temper, or from Dr. Xian being gone for the season as she could give an advanced course at the university on Home. Rigi decided half and half. Working with new-to-her people always made Rigi a little nervous.
Behind Dr. Szabor and Dr. De Groet, Rigi caught a glimpse of dark ears. Makana stiffened and she almost reached over to calm him, catching herself before she moved more than a centimeter. To her amazement, Kor himself slipped into the room behind the two academics. She and Makana bowed in their seats as Kor eased down the side of the wall and settled beside Rigi without being noticed. How had he done that? He had managed it because all the students were looking at something on one of their data-pads, trying to be ignored, and the xenoarchaeologists were fussing with the display system and oblivious to the movement around them. And he was Kor, the hunter. A senior graduate student followed Kor in, blinked hard, waved at Rigi, and said something to the man behind her. A second Staré seat appeared and Kor sat. “Humans,” he muttered in Staré. “Thicker than my brother’s head, which I had not believed possible.”
Rigi bit her tongue hard to keep from giggling at his tone and //annoyed/resigned//. Makana looked ready to faint from being in such close quarters with a first Stamm, full brother of the new Second Elder of Sogdia. “I take it you will be returning to the wilds, sir, in search of sense and reason?”
“Quite so, Miss Rigi. Before I scandalize my clan simply so they will leave me in peace for more than four heart beats.”
Dr. Szabor straightened up and looked around the room. Her frown deepened when she saw Rigi and her two associates in their corner. “Why is that young person here? And those two natives?”
Dr. De Groet and Dr. Martinez both murmured things to her, probably trying to smooth the waters. For her part, Rigi decided that Dr. Szabor reminded her of those small mammals from the far western end of the continent, the inedible ones with all the prickles that would attack larger things. What were they called again? She could see the thing in her mind’s eye. A spiked threw? No, but that was close. True? Spiked mew?
“So, welcome to this conference,” Dr. De Groet started, interrupting Rigi’s word hunt. “If you will allow me to make a few introductions, Dr. Szabor, to save time?”
“Certainly.” She folded her arms and looked annoyed.
Kor leaned over and whispered, “Interpret, please, for your guard and I.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dr. De Groet worked his way around the room, starting with the faculty, the guest, then the students at the table. “And Miss Auriga Bernardi, the illustrator and interpreter from the Indria Plateau expedition of two years ago, and one of the first reporters of the Stela Site and other early pre-colonial finds. To her right is Kor, liaison between the Staré Elders and the university, and to her left?” Surely Mickah remembered Makana? Or was he playing dumb? That set off Rigi's inner alarms.
Rigi finished translating and said, “Makana of Sogdia, my assistant.” Makana’s ears flopped to the side, almost hitting her on the head, before straightening up again. She caught a whiff of amusement, but was it from Kor or Makana?
“Thank you, Miss Bernardi.” The xenoarchaeologist turned to Dr. Szabor. “All yours, Ma'am.”
“Thank you.” The lights dimmed a
s the filters on the windows activated. A holographic projection of Shikhari appeared, with the current cities and settlements in green and red. “This is the planet as it stands, green for major human urban areas, red for native.” Rigi wouldn’t have called the Indria Plateau village a major urban area, but she wasn’t a specialist. She translated literally, wondering as she did why Kor wanted it. He spoke Common more correctly than she did, and Makana knew a great deal.
“Based on the reported archaeological finds, this was the distribution prior to human arrival.” The new dots, in orange, appeared rather more common than seemed right. “Not all of these have been located yet, but are included based on the distribution pattern proposed by Liang and myself, using the Modified Sillman-Xingnu Distribution Hypothesis.” She stopped, looking at everyone. “Miss, is there a question?”
Rigi finished interpreting and looked to Kor and Makana. Neither spoke. “No, ma’am. Your pardon, ma’am, but I am not a simultaneous interpreter.”
“I see.” Kor’s ears twitched and Rigi sense Makana’s fur coming up at the professor’s tone. And where was the Bataria Archipelago? As the globe turned, Rigi saw only the islands as they currently existed, not what core tests suggested had once been there.
“Dr. Szabor, question if I might. What about the area currently called the Bataria Archipelago?” Dr. Martinez asked. “Does the model suggest anything there?”
“Of course not. There is no evidence of a sufficiently advanced technology level for amphibious settlements.”
Wait, Rigi thought, that’s not right. The area wasn’t entirely submerged before the end of the First World, and the initial core tests showed evidence of dry land and even bits of what seemed to be metal and advanced ceramics. When had the cores been published? Last year, wasn’t it?
Stamme: Shikari Book Three Page 11