Her aunt was right, Rigi knew, but she’d killed someone. “My head understands, Aunt Kay, but my heart doesn’t, not yet.”
“No, and it will be a while longer before it sinks in.” She hugged Rigi again. “I wish you’d come to me sooner, Rigi. Eb knows, doesn’t he.”
“Yes, ma’am. I had to tell him after the protesters brought the memory back, when we were at the university a year or so ago.”
Aunt Kay exhaled loudly. “Your uncle is a wonderful man with many excellent characteristics, but thinking like a civilian is not always one of them. I suspect he forgot that you are not military or peace-keeper trained and have no experience in how to deal with the aftermath of something like this. He’s like a fish—they swim in the water and don’t realize that it’s water.” Another sigh. “I’ll add it to my list of things to remind him about.”
“Like not kneeling in dirt, ma’am?”
“That, my dear, I fear is a hopeless task. There is something about Prananda men and soil, no matter what planet or what age the man.” Kay patted her on the shoulder. “Ask Mrs. Prananda some day about the general and yellow mud. But ask her only after you make absolutely certain that nothing fragile is within arms’ reach.”
“Yellow mud?”
“On a white dress uniform with silver trim. I swear I heard her shrieks from the other side of Wormhole Lambda.” Rigi could see her aunt shaking her head. “And he hadn’t looked at his shoes, either.”
“Oh no!” She could see the whole thing all too clearly. “Not white carpet.”
“No. Cream colored with red flecks, a specially woven rug that had been in her family for four generations.”
That explained why the Pranandas had nothing but tile and wood on the floors of their houses, Rigi realized. Mrs. Prananda didn’t trust the men not to do it again. “Did the rug come clean?”
“Eventually. Although I’m told she threatened to use his blood to scrub it if he ever did anything like that again. And he slept on the verandah for two nights. I think he was scared that she’d try it.”
Rigi tried to imagine sweet, quiet, petite Mrs. Prananda doing anything like that. No, but her own mother had more surprises up her sleeves than Rigi dared guess, so it was possible. “No cream rugs, no white carpet. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Do you think you can face the men, or shall I give your apologies?”
Rigi swallowed and considered as she stroked Martinus’s shoulder. “I can face them. If I keep reminding myself that this is not Indria, I should not have problems. Thank you, ma’am.”
Another hug. “You’re welcome, Rigi. I’m sorry we didn’t have this talk a year ago. I should have asked Ebenezer to look at the reports and see if you might have had trouble, but everything seemed fine and I was busy, as was he.”
Rigi opened the door for Aunt Kay and they went back in. Tomás sat on the floor, crosslegged, shaking his head. “I can’t just jump commands, sir. I need at least another six months before I can ask for a transfer, and I’m not exactly on Col. Deleon’s good boy list at the moment.”
Why not? Oh no, had her mother’s intervention at the dance hurt Tomás’s career? Rigi’s sour stomach twisted a little. Nothing was going right. She hoped that courting Miss Leopoldi would help matters.
“I won’t twist your arm, Tomás, but Kay is right. You are a scout, not a staff officer. I know,” Uncle Eb waved one hand. “All of us have to have staff duty at some point, if only so we know why to avoid it in the future. But think about it, and look at all your options. I don’t want you to close a door without knowing what you are doing.”
“Yes, sir.” He turned and looked up at Rigi, then patted the floor beside him. “I’m sorry, Rigi, but the furniture seems to be full.”
Rigi arranged her skirt and sat. They were family, in camp, so it wasn’t improper. Besides, that’s why women wore loose trousers under their skirts, for moments like this. “And are all the world’s problems solved yet?”
“Only half,” Lexi assured her. “But I believe two planets have new constitutions and the entire roster for the LimWorld sling-ball team is now reconfigured to the satisfaction of all.”
“Lexi, you do us a grave injustice,” Uncle rested the tips of his fingers on his chest. “I only proposed building a large fence around New Canton, not lock-shielding the entire planet.”
“And who will put a roof on your fence, dear?” Aunt Kay smiled, leaned forward and patted his knee. “No roof, no security. We’ve had this discussion before.”
Tomás shook his head and covered his eyes with one hand. “Uncle Eb says that we’re not to tell Micah about finding a site at BigTrees. Unless you want to spend the rest of the year here.”
Rigi thought hard. No, she didn’t care to spend the wet season here, where the storms slammed into the coast so hard that it triggered seismograph machines and where the rivers flooded until they spread several kilometers beyond their banks. On the other hand, if she could miss Cy’s wedding, or at least the planning for Cy’s wedding, maybe wading every day for six weeks wouldn’t be so bad. “Can we send Cy back and then tell Micah? So mother can’t use me for ideas for Cy’s wedding? She didn’t get to do enough for Lyria and she’s trying to make up for it.”
“What about Mrs. Sorenson and Miss Sorenson?” Aunt Kay asked as the men shivered and Lexi’s ears drooped.
“Mrs. Sorenson delegated to Mother because of needing to come out here to help her husband and to take care of the younger children. And Miss Sorenson has never planned a wedding and is listening intently to Mother’s every word and idea.” Rigi tried not to whine. “Mother had me sketching flower arrangements, including a bower.”
“Erk.” Tomás looked a little pale. “Is she going to have a chorus at the arrival at the reception?”
“Not if you don’t say anything, because I’m not going to. Father had to remind her that Cy and Adele follow the Tradition, and modesty is better than extravagance, especially right now.” Rigi hunched her shoulders, then sat straight again. “Sorry. Governor Leopoldi’s pronouncements of opinion have caused some difficulties for neoTrads.”
“Not just neoTraditionalists, Rigi,” Tomás said. Something like anger snapped in his dark eyes. “Those who sincerely follow the Scout and Huntress are also under pressure. I do not care to speak more on this topic.”
“Wise words,” Uncle Eb agreed. “And I am serious about not telling Micah about the site at BigTrees. The Staré are not entirely pleased with having us nosing around, and they will be even less so if Micah starts trying to dig up their market to see what is under it.”
Rigi smelled //amusement/mischief//. Mischief? She turned to see Lexi leaning back, ears tipped to the sides, tips of his forefoot claws touching like a human steepling his fingers. “Perhaps, sir, instead of the market, suggesting that the current residents had not relocated the—what is the term in Common?—midden might keep him safely occupied while we finish the allocated tasks and then flee.”
One eyebrow rose and Uncle Eb’s head tilted a little to the side as he rubbed under his nose, then pursed his lips. “That is a suggestion worth considering in the unfortunate event that Micah discovers Rigi and Tomás’s find. However, silence is the better option for the nonce.” Rigi noticed that Tomás was having as much trouble keeping a straight face as she was.
“I bow to your greater experience, sir,” Lexi hand-bowed.
“And I always endeavor to take into account the experience and suggestions of my elders and superiors,” Tomás managed, sounding terribly sincere.
“Wooeef?” Martinus asked quietly.
“Wooeef.” Rigi agreed. Very wooeef. Her sides ached from trying not to laugh at the men’s serious tone and sober expressions.
Aunt Kay raised her hands and looked up at the ceiling. “Since that matter is settled, I suggest that we let the youngsters get some rest. Tomás had a long day, and you and Micah kept poor Miss Rigi working all day.”
“I?” Uncle Eb pointed to his chest.
“I had nothing to do with it, Mrs. Trent. I requested Miss Auriga’s observations once. Only once. But I can see that poor Lexi is about to collapse from exhaustion and nervous strain, Martinus as well.”
Tomás got to his feet and helped Rigi stand. “Thank you, Mrs. Trent, for the briefing. I suspect I will be working on the city map tomorrow, from what Dr. De Groet said earlier today.”
He walked Rigi to her tent. The stars seemed touching close, and so did something howling south of the camp. Rigi thought she caught a glimpse of Kor in the darkness, but didn’t follow. Instead she enjoyed the cool evening air and the rich scent of the forest. Martinus paced beside her. The ground gave a little more than it had on the Kenusha Plain and much more than on the Indria Plateau, probably because it was wetter and had more leaf-mold in it.
Tomás cleared his throat. “Ah Rigi.”
“Yes?”
He hesitated. “Are you keeping an away kit packed?”
She shivered. “Yes, I am. And I have not said anything to the Staré about the transmissions. I’ve got a little bag for Paul as well, and Nahla, if it comes to that.” The air seemed to have turned cold and she leaned a little on Martinus.
“Nahla?”
“The orphaned third Stamm female. Father took her in as an apprentice to Shona and an assistant to Siare to help with Paul. The Temple is paying for her upkeep for a year, until a family is found or she can take a true apprenticeship. She’s eight years, perhaps nine? She’s not certain and no one has done a bone age. Her parents, siblings and grandparents died of the epidemic.”
“Ugh, poor hopling, that’s terrible! Yes, I can see why you’d want to have a bag ready for her.” He took a deep breath. “Rigi, I trust the navy, but stay ready to leave on short notice. We have no idea what has transpired with the creatures that destroyed the first Staré civilization in the last thousand years or so, but I suspect they didn’t stop developing their weapons technology and drives. We’re good, but we’ve never faced an alien with that kind of power before.”
“You sound quite certain that they are not just broadcasting ‘hi, we’re here,’ despite what Uncle Eb says.” She sounded a little shaky to her own ears.
“I am, but I can’t tell you why. Just trust me.”
“I will, and I do.” They both turned as a snarling growl turned into a challenge scream to the south. “I, ah, that’s not a tree-draper.”
“No. Good night, and get inside.”
I am not ten years old anymore, Tomás! She stuck her tongue out at him. “I will if you will.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a half-embrace with an arm around her shoulders, then disappeared into the darkness, moving as quietly as Kor. Uncle Eb and Aunt Kay were right, Rigi decided. Tomás really was a hunter and scout at heart, like Kor, and needed to be out where he could hunt and scout. With that thought Rigi got ready for bed. Sleep came easily despite the afternoon’s shocks.
The next day proved to be as hectic as Tomás had foreseen. She found herself part of the mapping group as Kor, Lexi, Aunt Kay, and Micah concentrated on documenting and preserving the floor art. Uncle Eb and Tomás had done maps before, so she drew, held sticks, and grew quite tired of scrambling over piles of debris to get high enough for the map generator to get a good scan. Her arms and shoulders ached, she’d bruised a knee, and was well on her way into a most foul mood by the time Dr. De Groet called a halt for the day and they got ready to relocate to the village. Disappearing into the forest with Martinus sounded better and better. She knew how to make paper, and maybe she could work for the Staré, doing portraits and drawings in exchange for room and board, decorating buildings and being one of those wild women artists people always whispered about. It had to be easier than running cartographic scans!
“I think I’d rather chase two Pauls all day than do that for a living,” she told Martinus.
“Woo.”
“Good boy, good dog.” Martinus made sense. Tomás and Uncle Eb did not make sense, at least not when they were calling contradictory orders to her as she balanced on top of dusty, smelly bits of fallen-down wall and tried not to drop something fragile and expensive that belonged to the university.
Rigi worked herself into a magnificent grump by the time they reached BigTrees. So magnificent that she forgot her satchel until she was almost at the village. “Oh shed fur. I’ll catch up. Left my bag in the transport,” she trotted off before anyone could reply. Her hat blew back over her shoulders and she left it there for the moment, enjoying the chance to stretch her legs and back without anyone chiding her about manners and being ladylike. Rigi got the satchel, stretched more and stopped, hand on the metal frame of the door. What was that sound? Martinus went on alert and Rigi reached into the transport again, patting the side of the frame until she found the tie-down strap of the beam-shooter rifle. She undid the snaps one handed, eyes and ears still focused on something in the brush at the edge of the trees. The weapon came to her hand and she eased it out and around, dropping her satchel and bracing against the transport as she deactivated the safety.
“Woof! Woof!” At least ten spotted forest leapers exploded from the brush, coming straight for her. Supper! Rigi sighted on one and fired, dropping it, then caught a second one. As it fell, a little voice in her brain asked why so many were going so close to humans in such a panic. “Woof!”
“Damn!” She squeaked as an enormous grey dappled and striped shape pounced on the remains of the second leaper, the one closest to the brush. It was a striped lion. But they never, ever came so close to villages. A nasty scent like rotting meat hit her nose, and as the big predator turned a little, she saw that it had an unhealed wound oozing green on the near-side hip. The ribs showed through a patchy, dry coat, signs of starvation. That decided her and she aimed, exhaled, and fired. It ducked to take a bite and she grazed its spine. The beast screamed and fell over before trying to get away, dragging its hindquarters. “Damn,” she hissed, then commanded, “Lothar, alert.” With a whirr and click, a heavy military-grade shooter appeared out of Martinus’s back. Rigi jogged to the striped lion with Martinus at her side, closing the distance as the beast dragged itself by the forelegs toward the brush. She couldn’t leave it wounded and suffering. She got within five meters or so, aimed, and fired again. The back of the head exploded in a burst of heat and mess. The striped lion collapsed. Rigi waited, but it didn’t move again and she said, “Lothar, stand down. Martinus stand down. Good dog.” She activated the rifle’s safety. Then she went and threw up by the bushes.
The second leaper had been ruined when the predator tore a hunk out of the belly and ripped the flank. The first one, however, looked sound, so she got the hunting kit out of the vehicle that Kor had ridden in and set to work. As hot as it was in the sun, she had to clean the carcass immediately if they were going to eat it safely and not waste the meat. “I can see why mother faints,” she told Martinus. “This is not fun.” The gnats had found her, and of course her nose itched. At least she’d remembered to pull her hat up so that wasn’t a problem.
Kor called, “Miss Auriga?”
“Wooeef!”
“Over here with supper!” She waved a hand before she remembered that it had the secondary stomach in it. Oops. At least she hadn’t squeezed it and squirted the contents on herself. She tossed the offal to the side and tried again. “Here, sir. Can you grab a leg? I’m at the awkward bit.” She’d already de-pouched the female, but removing the rest of the belly hide was much easier with a second pair of hands.
Kor puffed negative. “I cut, you hold.” He drew a knife from the tools on his belt.
“Yes, sir.” She wiped the knife and her hands on the grass, took a firm grip on the lower leg and pulled just enough to keep tension on the hide and haunch as Kor made swift work of the rest of the initial cleaning.
“They have a hanging frame by the wall. We use that.”
“Yes, sir.” By hunting tradition she had to carry or drag the carcass herself. It weighed, hmm, she looked
it over and hefted the leg. At least fifty kilos, far more than she could lift. “Will you help me put it on a drag sheet, please sir?”
//Surprise/pleasure/agreement//. “Yes.” She got the sheet of super-tough plastic fabric out of the hunting bag and opened it, then they swung the remains onto the fabric. Rigi looped a rope through the holes in the corners, making a giant bag of sorts. Pulling on the synth-rope would also keep it closed as she dragged. Rigi took a deep breath, set her feet, and heaved. The leaper moved more easily than she’d anticipated, and she made good time hauling it down the slope to the village. As the Staré watched and the humans gaped, she and Kor hung it and finished cleaning it properly. Only then did she turn to the others.
“I can’t leave you unchaperoned, can I?” Uncle Eb sighed.
She giggled, coughed, and said. “No, sir. There’s also a dead crippled striped lion and a second leaper. The lion ruined it, I’m sorry. And I need to clean the tools and put them back up. Kor put the big shooter away after I reloaded it, since my hands are dirty.”
“Two leapers and a striped lion.” Uncle Eb sounded unsurprised.
“Yes, sir.”
“Be glad, Mister Trent, that you are not the one paying her bride price,” Lexi intoned in Staré. “For it will be high indeed.”
“Thanks to the Scout and Huntress both I am not,” he said with great fervor.
Even the gathered Staré laughed. Tomás also laughed, but looked thoughtful as well. Rigi shrugged a little inside. She’d been very lucky. He would do better if he went out, she knew.
13
Racing for Home
Rigi cleaned her knives, and hands, and the drag cloth, then took them back to the vehicle, returning with a portable fly-repeller. Kor clipped it to one of the un-skinned hind-feet and turned it on. The weak force field kept insects and dust away from the meat as it hung to drain. Thorna's faint puff suggested //approval,// and Rigi got the sense that she might be considering how to trade for one for her own use. They didn’t need much power to charge, or so the instruction file averred. Task done, Rigi returned to sketching in a much better mood, even if Tomás’s comments kept nagging her.
Stamme: Shikari Book Three Page 22