The Kindly Ones

by Melissa Scott

  "All right," Alkres said, and turned his head very carefully away as I pressed the head of the cylinder against his skin. The check-bead at the end of the cylinder went from red to clear as the cylinder emptied, and I pulled it away, tucking it into a pocket.

  "I do feel better," Alkres said, sounding very surprised. His color wasn't much better, but he was moving his head a little less gingerly. I smiled, and took the square adhesive pouch out of the aid pack.

  "I'm going to put this on your wrist, over the surface veins," I said, suiting my actions to my words. "You may feel a little itching, or maybe not; it's nothing to worry about either way." I finished wrapping the security tabs around the boy's wrist, and let myself float away again. "That should last you for the trip. Now, if you can sleep, that's the best thing. It'll give the medicines a chance to work."

  "Thanks, Trey," Alkres said. "I'll try." He leaned back in the couch, closing his eyes.

  I pulled myself back to my couch, and fastened the webbing around me again. I was exhausted, and there was nothing I could do to help, at least for the next few hours. I would follow my own advice.

  Chapter 11

  Trey Maturin

  The flight itself went smoothly. By the time I woke, we were well into the rings, on a well-buoyed track that Guil assured me she could fly in her sleep. The para'an had chosen a somewhat roundabout course in order to make use of that partial gap, adding an extra five hours to the journey as we passed the rings, and then turned to chase Electra along her orbit. Even I knew that this was the sort of maneuver that ate into the fuel reserves, but when I voiced that worry, Leith only laughed and reminded me that the Koniko was running virtually empty. There was plenty of fuel to spare.

  I did my best to make myself useful, preparing meals from the galley's limited stock—not much of a chore, just adding hot water to pouches of freeze-dried foods—and sitting in while one or the other of the pilots snatched a few hours' sleep. That wasn't a particularly difficult job, either, and Alkres took his turn at it as well once he adjusted to weightlessness. Electra swelled slowly in the forward screens, first a blue-white point small enough to be eclipsed by any piece of ring debris, then a disk the size of my thumbnail with distinct blue-and-white markings, and finally, as we left the rings, a world the size of my palm, with distinct seas and a single snowy continent beneath the swirling clouds.

  Six hours out of Glittermark, the first-approach buoy hailed us. The signal, coming in over the open intercom, woke me instantly. I struggled free of the safety webbing and was halfway to the command capsule before I had fully realized what I was doing. Alkres wasn't far behind. We had discussed what to do—when to ask the Orillon Patriarch for sanctuary—a dozen times before this, but we hadn't come to any firm decision. Now the decision point was at hand.

  The pilots exchanged glances as I swung to a stop, floating just inside the hatchway. Alkres, who fitted more neatly into the command capsule's limited space, pushed past me to catch the nearest grab bar. Guil's hand was on the abort button of the registry transponder, preventing its automatic answer.

  Leith said, "Well, Trey?"

  I took a deep breath, the previous days' arguments flashing through my mind. It would probably be to our advantage to present the Orillon Patriarch with a fait accompli—under the code, he could not refuse to shelter Alkres—but at the same time, I didn't want to insult him by forcing his hand. Still, we were only six hours out of Electra's only city. That would give him sufficient notification, but wouldn't give him much time to think up an excuse to refuse us. We could always broadcast later requests, if we had to appeal to public opinion —and that seemed unlikely. After all, the Orillon Patriarch had been the only genarch to protest the Brandr action. I nodded to Guil.

  "Go ahead and answer. Tell them you want a line to the Tower, but see if you can go through check-down first."

  "That's standard," the para'an answered, and took her hand off the abort button. Immediately, lights rippled across the transponder's checkplate, recording both the buoy's inquiry and our answer in the Koniko's automatic log. Leith watched the main communications board. We waited while the buoy digested our registry codes, discovered no incoming flight that matched those numbers, and passed its dilemma on the Glittermark field. Ten minutes clicked by on the capsule's chronograph before the signal panel lit: it seemed Glittermark had been taken by surprise.

  Leith touched keys, matching frequencies, and the pinlight went from orange to green. "Open channel," she said softly, warningly, and hit a second button.

  A light changed color, and after a moment, a soft female voice said, "Koniko 573, we don't show a scheduled landing. What's up?" Glittermark field was obviously an informal operation. Guil gestured rapidly at the communications board. Leith shrugged, and touched another key sequence. The para'an adjusted her headset microphone, and said, "Kame, is that you?"

  "Guil?" The field operator controlled her response instantly. "This is Kame Orillon."

  "It's Guil," the para'an said. "I didn't think we'd be this lucky. I'm bringing in an unscheduled launch. Can you give me field space?"

  There was a silence, and Guil took advantage of the moment to cover her microphone with one hand. "Kame's a cross-cousin of mine," she said, softly. "That's a break."

  "That's an affirmative on field space, and on a first-approach landing," Kame said. "Are you in trouble, Guil?"

  "Not me, exactly," Guil began, and the field operator broke in. "Are you messing in the troubles on the big world?"

  I bit back a laugh. Electra was supposed to be under the same code that stifled Orestes, yet here was a field operator—a Family member, neither para'an nor ghost—treating the whole thing as a matter of mere "trouble on the big world." Maybe it was just because Electra was held by a single Family, but I felt my spirits rise for the first time since leaving Orestes.

  "In a manner of speaking," Guil said, and looked almost embarrassed. "I want to contact the Tower, after we've matched coordinates."

  There was another brief silence. When Kame spoke again, the teasing note was gone from her voice. "And who will I say's calling, then?"

  Guil glanced at me. I touched my chest then pointed at Alkres. The para'an nodded, and said, "Trey Maturin, Medium for the Halex Family, for Alkres Halex, of Halex, in Halex."

  The speaker whistled painfully, and I waited for Leith to adjust the frequency, before I realized the noise had come from Glittermark. "When you play, you play big, I'll give you that," Kame said at last. Her voice sharpened again. "I'll pass that message at once, Koniko 573, but we'll match coordinates first."

  "I confirm," Guil answered.

  "Baseline course?" Glittermark said, and I let myself drift back through the command capsule's hatch. Leith detached herself from her couch and followed, pointing for Alkres to take her place in front of the consoles. The patriarch did as he was told, his expression at once determined and uncertain.

  Leith caught herself outside the galley entrance, and hooked one foot through a floor bar so that she could stretch a little. I waited. At last, the captain said, not looking at me, "Exactly what are you going to ask him for, Trey?"

  I had been asking myself the same question for the past thirty-six hours without finding any good answers, and that frustration sharpened my voice. "For sanctuary, first, and then for his support at the next Ship's Council." Whenever that may be, I added silently. The date had not been set for the emergency meeting requested by Yslin Rhawn, or at least it hadn't been set when we left Orestes. I only hoped they hadn't met already—but that seemed unlikely. It took time to set up these things, even if the Orillon Patriarch was only planning to attend by holo-link.

  "And if he says no?" Leith asked. I pulled my mind back to her questions, angry that she kept harping on the uncertainties.

  "He won't."

  "He could," Leith persisted. "What then?"

  I took another deep breath. "Grant me I know my business, Leith. Landret Orillon will give us sanctuary, I'm sure of i
t." Leith nodded, lifting a placating hand, and I wished I really were as certain as I'd sounded.

  "Do you think he'll back Alkres in front of the Council, too?"

  I shrugged. "That's less certain, yes, but I think there's a good chance he might. No one else filed a protest."

  "It's a long way from a protest to open support," Leith began, and I glared at her. This time, she raised both hands in submission. "All right, I trust you. I'm just worried, that's all."

  I sighed, my anger easing. "Me, too. Call me when you get through to the Tower?"

  Leith nodded, and I pulled myself into the passenger compartment. The empty chairs stretched back into eerie shadow—the two spacers had turned out the lights in the rear compartment, a power-saving reflex—and I was suddenly very lonely. I didn't know for certain if Landret would give us sanctuary, though I was almost certain the code would give him no way of refusing us. But if he did. . . . I could either take the boy out of the system altogether, or I could take him back to Orestes. The former would not appeal to him at all, and I was not happy contemplating the latter. It would probably come to that—going back to Orestes—because I wasn't sure that I could, in good conscience, bully the boy into running out on both the only life he'd ever known, and his responsibilities to his people. The one thing Urban morality and the Oresteian code have in common is the concept of responsibility.

  I turned my back deliberately on those empty, accusing couches, and drew myself down into my own seat, pulling the webbing around me. It was my responsibility to persuade Landret to shelter us. I would not fail in it.

  An hour passed, then another, and a third. We were well into our second-stage approach before Leith signaled from the command capsule that the Orillon Tower was on the line. I launched myself out of the couch, and was in the capsule almost before she had finished speaking. Alkres still clung to the strap beside the unused engineer's panel.

  Guil said, her hand over her microphone again, "They'll be on in a few seconds. There's a headset over there."

  I looked around for it, and Alkres handed it to me. I was still adjusting the boom when the light flashed on the communications board.

  "Good luck," Leith whispered, and hit the button.

  "Koniko 573, this is Edlin Tam'ne, Orillon Medium," the speaker answered at once. "I wish to speak to the Halex Medium."

  "This is Trey Maturin," I answered. "I appreciate your responding so promptly."

  The woman's voice lost none of its wariness. "I regret that Himself is in conference at the moment, or I'm sure he would attend to your business personally. In the meantime, may I be of assistance?"

  "I trust so." I kept my own voice steely calm, not allowing anything except an academic courtesy to color the words. "My request is not of a particularly private nature. I take it you are aware of the recent—troubles on Orestes?" She couldn't be anything but aware of them, but I made her answer anyway.

  "I have heard some news, yes," Edlin said. "Himself is much concerned."

  "Yes, to the extent of announcing his intention of filing a protest," I said. "My employer has asked me to convey his thanks for that courtesy."

  "A matter of duty," Edlin murmured, even more warily. She stopped there, wisely, leaving the next move to me. I took a deep breath.

  "My other business is related. I speak for the ult'eir Alkres Halex, of Halex, in Halex, whom we believe presently to be the Halex Patriarch, in lieu of other known survivors from the mainline Family."

  That brought a soft gasp from Edlin, as I'd hoped it would: nothing showed better how far outside the normal bounds of feud and raid the Brandr had stepped. I went on as though I hadn't heard. "We ask Landret, as Patriarch of a Kinship not party to this feud, for asylum, one genarch to another. I also ask, as a favor to Himself, if you or yours have any word of the other children who were at the Tower. They were taken to the Ansson Hold, but we've had no chance to hear more of them."

  Alkres shot me a grateful look. It had not been safe, in Destiny, to query the comnet, and the newscasts had said nothing. Once we had left Orestes, we had lost access to the 'net.

  Edlin said, "For the latter, I can set the Patriarch's mind at rest at once. We had word some twenty hours ago—on the main newscast out of Destiny, which would be reliable—that those children have been restored to their closest kin."

  "Those who have any left," Alkres muttered. I half hoped the other medium had heard him.

  "As for the first matter," Edlin continued, "that is, of course, for Himself to decide. I will place the question before him at once, as genarch to genarch, and will return with his answer as soon as I may. For the time being, of course, I bid you welcome to Glittermark, and to Electra."

  "Thank you for your courtesy and for your gracious assistance," I answered. "We are most grateful."

  Edlin broke the connection then. I sighed, working my shoulders. I hadn't realized until then how tense I was.

  "What's all that mean?" Leith asked.

  "I don't know for sure," I answered. "She's made no promises, though she did give us the run of the city, unofficially. We'll have to wait for Landret's decision."

  "He'll take us," Alkres said. "You'll see."

  "I hope so," Leith said, but not loudly enough to be heard.

  In the end, Alkres was right. Edlin barely waited long enough to keep up the pretense of Landret's being "in conference" before she came back on line. She brought us the formal offer of sanctuary, and, quite fortuitously, Landret's promise of further—if unspecified—support. The others were so delighted by that that I didn't have the heart to mention my doubts that it would automatically extend to supporting a Halex claim against a Rhawn upstart in the Ship's Council. The Orillon Heir, Edlin finished, was by a lucky chance still in Glittermark. Her people would meet us at the starport, and she would personally bring us to the Tower.

  "That's good news," Guil remarked, after the medium had signed off.

  "Oh?" I didn't know the Orillon Heir, and said as much.

  Guil smiled. "Signe Orillon is good people—she's been Portreeve for a few years now. I think she'll back you, just because this kind of trouble is bad for trade."

  Unless, I thought, she'd rather see the Rhawn into power just to keep things quiet. I didn't say anything, and Alkres said, "I met her, once, when I was a kid. She runs an iceboat."

  I couldn't tell from his tone whether that was supposed to be a recommendation or not.

  Leith looked up from her multiple screens. "You two had better go back and strap down. We'll be beginning descent in about forty minutes."

  We did as we were told, and waited out first the forty minutes to entry, and then the interminable descent through Electra's atmosphere. The viewscreen fuzzed orange almost at once, and did not clear until we were in the final leg, flattening out for the conventional landing at the Glittermark field. Electra was a cold world, colder even than Orestes. The land beneath us was solidly white, a permanent snowfield; only the heated runways showed dark against the glaring brilliance. I made some hasty calculations: it was Day on Electra, just after Sunrise, with about forty-eight hours to go to their Eclipse.

  And then we were down. Guil—or Leith; I didn't know for certain who was flying the Koniko—applied the brakes and the ship shuddered, slowing reluctantly to a jolting crawl across the runways. We turned, lining up on the indicated taxiway, and I caught my first sight of Glittermark.

  The city lived up to its name. The buildings were short and squat—Electra may be less seismically active than Orestes, but there's still a serious danger—with steeply pitched roofs that bore permanent crowns of snow. The weak sunlight sparked from the ice that had formed beneath those caps of snow, casting bright reflections across the rows of buildings. They stretched for kilometers in either direction: Glittermark's residents could not build up, but they could build out.

  "Oh, it's pretty," Alkres said, involuntarily, and I had to agree.

  The Koniko swung again, and a series of outbuildings, hangars and m
achinists' shops, swam into view. Beyond them, I saw what seemed to be a rough-ridged sheet of pure ice, patched here and there with duller spots that must be snow. Agamemnon's thin crescent hung just above the horizon, but I knew it only by the familiar colors, bright against the dark sky. Its bow was only a third as big as it appeared from Orestes. Then the main port building slid into the picture, cutting off my view. We steadied on a dock marked with a blinking light, and the pilots brought us sedately to a halt beside it.

  Leith's voice sounded in the intercom. "Attention, passengers, we have arrived at the gate in Glittermark. Thank you for flying the Escape Line."

  Alkres gave a dutiful smile, struggling with his safety webbing. After thirty-six hours of zero gravity, the returned weight was obviously something of a shock. I couldn't really feel the difference between Electra and Orestes, though I knew there was one, and pulled myself slowly out of my couch. For the first time since I'd come to Orestes, the gravity actually seemed to have pull. It was not a pleasant sensation, after I had gotten used to trading on my off-world strength. I made a silent promise to find a recreation suite as soon as I had the chance, and moved to help Alkres. He wobbled a little when I pulled him to his feet. I supported him as I helped him unfasten the wrist pouch, and he steadied slowly. In the background, I could hear the pilots' voices, and the computer's sexless tones, finishing the docking check. Then, over that background murmur, I heard the chime of the main communications board. The voices stopped, and someone pressed the respond button. A new voice filled the cabins.