The Stars Are Also Fire

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The Stars Are Also Fire Page 31

by Poul Anderson


  The guard took her up the stairs of a big, grotesquely colonnaded building. On the porch stood several men, also old but as richly attired as the four young women with them. At the middle hulked another man, in the prime of life, huge and shaggy-blond, a horned fillet and a gold chain declaring his rank. Beside him, a table held a jug and goblet. He was taking a long draught.

  Gazes went from the warriors to the newcomers. The guard bent a knee and dipped his staff. “’Scuse, señorissimo,” he said through the noise. “I caught this here moo over yonder. Dunno who she is or wha’ she wants.”

  “Yah?” growled the giant.

  Aleka mustered resolve. “Are you the mayor, señor?” she asked as calmly as she was able. “My respects. I didn’t mean any harm or, or offense or anything. I just came to meet another visitor here. Nobody was at the airfield, so all I could do was make for the inn where he is.”

  “Ah-h. Yah. That there Hannibal, huh?”

  “Yes. He messaged that he’d gotten permission for me.”

  “I know. Yuh.” The mayor’s glance slithered up and down and across her. He grinned. “Yuh, sure. You goin’ to the inn, um? Awright. Stay there. I can’t leave yet, but I’ll see y’ later. Stay, y’ hear?” To the guard: “Follow ’long, Bolly, an’ watch t’ make sure they stay inside.”

  Unease quickened. “Why, señor?” Aleka protested. “I assure you, we’re only transients, we have nothing to do with—”

  A slab of a hand chopped air. “I know. I wanna talk wi’ you, tha’s all. Move on. Don’t hurt her none, Bolly, long’s she behaves. You got me? Awright, move on.”

  Evidently the mayor’s part in the celebration must not be interrupted any more than necessary. The guardsman led Aleka back down the stairs. He had released his grip, but sullen silence told how he resented being posted away from the fun. She suspected he would have found ways to take it out on her except for his orders. The database had said the chief enforced an absolute governance, personally and brutally.

  But it was limited to his subjects, who could always leave, she told herself. It existed on sufferance. Unless he was a total fool, he wouldn’t provoke national intervention.

  Still, relief streamed through her when the escort stopped and mumbled, “Here y’ are. Go on, get inside.” He hunkered down on the grass by the steps and brooded on his wrongs.

  The hostel was an ordinary-looking house, not much more sizable than average. A single window showed light from the second floor. An entryroom was illuminated but empty. When the hinged door had shut, quietness drew in on Aleka. Dust, a few pieces of weary furniture, a musty smell—no robots, then; two or three humans in charge. A role for them to play. Tonight they were playing another and frenzied one. However, that shining window—Her blood thrilled. Baggage or no, she ran upstairs.

  Doors lined a corridor. They lacked any kind of scanners or annunciators. Mentally orienting herself and recalling historical shows, she chose which to knock on. It opened, and the sight of Kenmuir’s simpático face set her spirit free. “Aloha, aloha,” she gasped.

  “You!” he exclaimed. “Cosmos, but you’re welcome. Come in, do.” He took her suitcases and secured the door behind her.

  The room was about four meters square, with an attached bath cubicle and a woven carpet underfoot. It possessed neither phone nor multi. A bed, a dresser, and two chairs were as primitive in workmanship as in design. The sash window was another anachronism, full of the night that had fallen. Kenmuir shut it against the sounds, to which he must have been listening, and turned on the air cycle. Coolness blew sweet into an atmosphere that had begun to stifle her.

  He took both her hands. “How are you?” he asked anxiously. “I’ve been so worried since this trouble broke. I was hoping you’d sheer off and post a new message for me.”

  “I thought of it, but that would’ve cost more time and I don’t know how much we can afford,” she explained. “Maybe I should’ve. Too late now.”

  He sensed the grimness. “What do you mean?”

  She told him about her arrival. He scowled, paced to and fro, shook his lean head. “Let’s hope Bruno has nothing more in mind than a bit of farewell sociability, to show off his importance.”

  “What else might it be?” she asked with a flutter in her throat.

  “I … can’t say. Of course, he can’t detain us, or anything like that. We can point out the legal consequences of trying. I’m afraid that ruffian outside is too stupid to understand, and we could end with a broken bone or two. But Bruno—I’ve come to know him a little, this past couple of days. He’s been … cordial, in his clumsy way. Eager to impress me, the man from the wide world. Cultural inferiority complex, I think, fuelling a lot of the bluster and violence.” Kenmuir’s tone had gone scholarly. He curbed it and his unrest. A laugh rattled out. “But I say, what kind of host am I? Do sit down, or lie down if you’d rather. Would you care for a drink? I acquired a bottle of whisky.”

  Aleka took a chair and smiled up at him. “Gracias. Plenty of water in it, por favor. Don’t worry about me. I’ve been through far worse. This was unpleasant but short, and I’ve already bounced back.”

  Charging the tumblers, he regarded her and said slowly, “Yes, you are an adventurous lass, aren’t you? A great deal to tell me, I’ll wager. Well, we’ve hours to wait, and we can talk freely. This room is one place—one of the very few places on Earth—we can feel sure there’s no surveillance.”

  “We do need to talk,” she agreed.

  He gave her her drink, pulled the other chair close, and folded himself onto it. Tenser than she, he took a stiff swallow before he began: “Who are you, Aleka? What are you doing in this affair, and why?”

  “I’d like to know you better, too, Kenmuir.”

  “But you’ve been briefed about me. Haven’t you? While to me you’re a complete mystery.”

  She couldn’t help grinning. “Woman of mystery? That’ll be news to all my folk. How do I go about it? Should I put on a foreign accent, or find me a low-cut gown, or what? No, that’s Lilisaire’s department.”

  His lips tightened for a moment. Did she see him wince? She remembered what had been in his eyes when they spoke with the Selenarch from that furnace enclosure in the desert. Sympathy welled forth. By every evidence, he was a decent man, a quiet man, pitched into a situation for which he was no more fitted than a Keiki was to climb a mountain, yet going bravely ahead, without even the hope that drove her.

  She gentled her voice. “I’m sorry. Don’t want to play games with you. Go on, ask what you want. I’ll answer anything that’s not too personal.”

  He flushed. “I … wouldn’t dream of intruding on your privacy.” So he valued his own. “But as for your background and, and your motivation—”

  Time lost itself in memories. He had a gift of evoking them from her, she couldn’t quite tell how, the shy smile or the questions that could be awkwardly phrased but were always intelligent or the bits of his years and dreams that he offered in return. She believed that little by little he came to some knowledge of her Lahui Kuikawa, the two races of it that she both loved, small dear homes enfolded by immensities of sea and weather, ancient usages and youthful joys, a life with a meaning and purpose that went beyond itself, which no machine could share but which the world of the machines and their followers was going to confine and make over. … “Oh, I can admit the necessity, even the justice of it,” she said, and blinked furiously at her tears, “but give us a while yet, give us a chance to find a new way for ourselves!” … She wasn’t sure whether she would ever fully imagine his feelings. Though he had gone in pride among splendors, the faring seemed harsh and lonely. But he held her to him, briefly and tenderly, when grief was about to overwhelm her, and it receded.

  He deserved better than Lilisaire.

  The time came when they sat quiet, until he asked, “And what did she promise you, if somehow this crazy venture succeeds?” His tone was calm, with a hint of the academic style that he often fell into. H
is mouth creased slightly upward.

  Doubts shivered away to naught. She straightened in her chair and cried, “A home!”

  “Where? How?”

  “Nauru.” His glance inquired. Words spilled from her. “No, I don’t expect you’ve heard of it. An island in mid-Pacific, barely south of the equator, northeast of the Solomons. It was a nation once, tiny but rich, because it had plenty of phosphate to export. But that got used up,” before molecular technology had bridled the voracity of global industry. “The population, ten thousand or so, tried to build a new economic foundation, but didn’t really succeed and became poorer and poorer. When Fireball offered to buy them out at a good price, they were happy to accept and move away. Guthrie had an idea of building another spaceport there. But things went to wrack and ruin on Earth, what with the Renewal and the Grand Jihad and all; and when they were starting to make sense again, Guthrie died, and it was a while before his download had full control over the company; and by then, so much space activity was based in space itself that a new Earthside port wouldn’t pay. Eventually Fireball sold Nauru to Brandir of Zamok Vysoki. That was in the early days of Lunar independence. Several Selenarchs had gotten superwealthy and were looking for investments. They picked up a fair amount of property on Earth, including real estate. Some of it is still in their families.”

  “This island being Lilisaire’s, eh?” Kenmuir murmured. “What has she done with it?”

  “Nothing much. Fishery and aquaculture, maintained by robots and a few resident Terrans. Not especially profitable. But you see, it was always important to have people there, if only a handful. Because technically, Nauru is still a distinct country.”

  Kenmuir’s eyes widened. “I think I do see.” He chuckled. “I’d love to know what maneuvers Guthrie went through to arrange it. Wily old devil.”

  Aleka nodded vigorously. “That was the idea. The Ecuadoran and Australian governments were cooperative with Fireball, but if he could have his very own—Bueno, as I said, it didn’t work out. The Selenarch owners used it as a way of getting a kept politician into the Federation Assembly, but it never did them any noticeable good. And now—” She caught her breath.

  “A-a-ah. You shall have it for your people.”

  “Yes. An atoll, with a couple of big float platforms to add some area. But more than a quarter million square kilometers of territorial waters. And the neighbor states, they long since granted rights in theirs to Nauru, on a basis of mutuality that they don’t take advantage of any more.

  “Oh, yes, we’ll have to abide by environmental rules under the Covenant. But they’re flexible enough when … we are the local supervisors … and we do want to bring our Keiki into balance with nature, it’s just that we can’t do it without destroying what we are unless we have time and elbow room and … freedom—” She couldn’t go on.

  She had not yet been there in person, but before her rose the vision she conjured out of the database. Nauru was not Niihau. It lay solitary, 200 square kilometers, a plateau scarred by the former mining, walled by coral cliffs, ringed by sandy beaches and the outlying reef, a wilderness where remnants of dwellings stood desolate under the sea wind and the screaming sea birds, the only habitation a few cabins. But trees swayed in that wind, flowers glowed, in the southwest was a freshwater lagoon, everywhere around reached the living sea. The English had named it Pleasant Island.

  “What we can make of it,” she whispered after a minute.

  “I daresay the deal will raise an uproar in Hiroshima.” Kenmuir stroked his chin. “But, hm, I’d guess you can plead your case on more than legalistic grounds. Popular sentiment will favor a cause that romantic. Also, not least, because you’ll be taking the country out of Lunarian hands, back into Earthlings’. Yes, the prospects look good to me.”

  His dryness was just what she needed. Had he known? Aleka settled into reality. “First,” she said, “we’ve got to carry out our mission, and hope the result will seem worth it to Lilisaire.”

  His countenance drew into furrows. “Right. We do.” Then: “What exactly is your plan?”

  “The plan I was given, actually,” she replied, “and there’s nothing exact about it, only a briefing on what to expect and a suggestion or two about how to proceed. We can try something different if we choose. But this does strike me as our best bet. Does the name Prajnaloka mean anything to you?”

  “No-o. … Wait. Some kind of cult or fellowship?”

  “Stranger than that. I hardly knew of the movement myself till the agent in San Francisco told me. Later, before going to meet you, I retrieved more details. It’s worldwide, though it hasn’t many members, and its name depends on the language—in Anglo, it’s Soulquest. Prajnaloka is the center for North America, a settlement in the Ozark Mountains, not far east of here. For our purposes, it’s got superb data facilities, and they often get used in such peculiar ways that we can hope the system won’t look closely if we—”

  A knock crashed on the door, again and again. Aleka and Kenmuir jumped to their feet. For a terrible half second, she felt this must be their enemy, who had no face. Then she thought to see what the time was. She hadn’t noticed how the hours slipped away, noise and flicker from the square died out, the night grew old.

  “Bruno,” Kenmuir said. He walked stiffly over to unbolt the door and open it.

  The mayor’s bulk filled the frame. Aleka glimpsed the guardsman Bolly behind him. “Good evening,” Kenmuir greeted. “Or I could better say, ‘Good morning.’”

  “Good, yah, good,” Bruno replied slurrily. His face was flushed, he breathed hoarsely, but he advanced with iron steadiness. Kenmuir must step aside. Bruno’s gaze sought Aleka and clung. “Ho, th’ li’l lady,” he boomed. “B’env’ida.” He approached, stopped, laid hands on her shoulders. “Happy here?”

  She slipped from her chair and his touch. He came after her and loomed. Sweat and drink swamped her nostrils.

  “Not happy, huh? Yah, stuck in this room. No fun. Sorry. For y’ own safety. Things got kin’ o’ wild. Quiet now. Come on out ’n’ I’ll show you our fair city. You’ll like it.”

  She would not let her voice tremble. “Gracias, but I’m afraid we must go. Urgent business.”

  “Naw. Not that urgent. Later t’day. When I start off for th’ game. First, fun.” Again his hands were upon her, enclosing her hips, sliding up to her breasts. “Come on wi’ me. You’ll like it.”

  She writhed free. He grabbed her wrist, bruisingly hard. Through nausea she heard Kenmuir: “I say, this won’t do. Let her go.”

  Bruno glared at him. “Huh? You gimme orders? You?” Bolly growled in the doorway and hefted his weapon.

  “Please let us go,” Kenmuir clipped.

  “Why?”

  “You have no right to keep us. You’re being abusive. Have a care, sir, or you’ll be under criminal charges.”

  Bruno tugged Aleka against his belly. She submitted. At least in this position he couldn’t fondle her. “I’m not hurtin’ nobody,” he said, and farted. “Jus’ gonna pleasure the li’l lady. Like she never been pleasured before.”

  “You’re drunk.”

  Monumentally drunk, Aleka thought. Unless it was mostly the hysteria of the war dance still upon him. She could not stop a shudder.

  “Shaddup!” he bawled. “Shaddup ’fore I shut you up wi’ y’r teeth!” Aleka felt him slacken a bit. The hair around the lips scratched her cheek. He laughed. “You were ready enough t’ enjoy a woman o’ mine yestiddy. My turn.”

  “I warn you,” Kenmuir stated, “if you don’t release her this minute, you’ll soon be under arrest. What then is your glory worth?”

  Was that the wrong thing to say? Did it egg the creature past every border of reason? Bruno spat on the floor. “That f’r you!” he roared. Chortling: “Naw, no force. She’ll like it, I tell you. You’ll beg me for more, li’l girl. You’ll wanna stay here. C’mon.” He forced her around, her arm still in his grasp and twisted behind her back. “Bolly,” he commanded
, “make sure this yort don’t give no trouble. Got me?”

  “Yah, señorissimo,” replied the guard happily.

  Kenmuir ignored him, strode to stand in the doorway, and said to Bruno, “Very well, sir, you leave me no choice. I challenge you.”

  “What?” The mayor jarred to a halt.

  “We’ll settle between us who has the authority,” Kenmuir told him.

  Bolly raised his staff. “Hey, you can’t talk t’ him like that,” he rasped.

  “Is the mayor afraid to fight me?” Kenmuir retorted.

  “No!” Aleka screamed out of nightmare. “Don’t!

  You can’t—” The giant would pluck the slender middle-aged man apart. And then what recourse would be left? Both she and Kenmuir could disappear, permanently, and nobody else ever know what had become of them. “I’ll go along. I will.” And maybe later she could call on the law. Or maybe Bruno would wake up dead.

  “You’re loco,” he was coughing.

  “No,” Kenmuir answered. “I simply challenge you to meet me, bare-handed. If you aren’t man enough, let your follower here so inform the people.”

  Bruno bellowed.

  And somehow, in a rush and clatter, they all got downstairs, out into the street. Bruno sprang backward and took stance, a monster blot on the pavement luminance. A breeze had arisen, sighing between darkened walls. Lightning had begun to flicker above roofs to the west. Bolly stood aside. He held Aleka by the wrist, not too tightly, and she saw a dull bemusement on him. Kenmuir patted her hand, a moth-wing touch, before he chose a position for himself. O Pele, how slight were his bones!

  Maybe Bruno would be content to disable him, rape her, and release them. Not likely. Sober, he’d think of the aftermath. Aleka glanced skyward. Maybe Lilisaire would track down what had happened and avenge them.

  Bruno charged. Kenmuir waited. Bruno reached him, twirled, launched a karate kick.

  Kenmuir’s forearm slashed. The leg went aside. Bruno tottered, off balance. Kenmuir’s foot took him behind the knee. He howled and crashed.

 

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