Second Wave

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Not Rushima barn cats,” Moonmay said proudly. “That there is Punkin. Looks to me like he would admire to have a career as a space cat if you were to take him on.” She looked up at the sky, or what was visible of it through the fog. “Anybody would like that. I know I sure would. You must think Rushima is real backward compared to your planet, you being from a highly advanced civilization with notions and gadgets way beyond anything even the Federation thought of.”

  “No, not at all,” Khorii said. She was just feeling a bit low. She didn’t want to give Moonmay the impression she felt superior, though something inside her said, You do. You think you’re better than Mikaaye and all the others, too, or why would you be so angry? Hushing that part, she said in a confidential tone, “Actually, where I live there are hardly any gadgets at all. Most of it is lush fields and tall mountains, rivers, and streams. My people have what you would consider tents, but we mostly only use them for shelter, and on fine nights, we often sleep in the open.”

  “All purely natural,” Moonmay said. “Imagine that.”

  “Well, not exactly natural. It was originally, but when the Khleevi invaded, they completely destroyed and destabilized our world. If it weren’t for my uncle Hafiz, who used some of his vast resources to restore it, we’d all be living on narhii-Vhiliinyar, the planet my people evacuated to when the Khleevi invaded.”

  “Isn’t that a good place?” Moonmay asked.

  “It was. Partially terraformed, too, by our people way back before I was born. All our plants and animals and things were brought over by our scientists. But then the Khleevi attacked us again, so Uncle Hafiz had to help out there, too.”

  “So lots of technology, like I thought.”

  “Mostly we use that of other peoples—we trade with them and our techno-artisans learn to use what we acquire. But other than our space vessels and a few other things, those who stay planetside don’t use a lot of what you would call ‘gadgets.’”

  “We just plain don’t have all that many anymore,” Moonmay said. “When the commodore and the first shipload of our ancestors arrived here, they had lots of technical things and lots of people had knowledge how to use things and invent more. But most of them wanted to live quiet, with animals and woods and such, kinda like your folks, I reckon. And I guess they just about had enough money to get here, and the Federation wasn’t as big as it is now…” Her voice trailed off. Even on Rushima they knew how badly affected the Federation forces had been by the plague. “Anyway, lots of the surface here isn’t very useful, but our patch was pretty easy to make like Old Earth. That’s what the ancestors wanted. They made do with what they had, reused stuff, rebuilt it, or made new things in old ways.”

  “But you still have a place for ships to dock,” Khorii said.

  “That’s Federation doing,” Moonmay told her. “And we do trade for a few things, too, and buy or rent others. Weapons, some equipment, like what Scar brings.”

  “What do you trade?”

  “Produce, animals, some handicrafts. But I wouldn’t ask you to pay for a kitten, not after what you did for Grampa.”

  But Khorii shook her head, withdrawing her finger from Punkin, who gave a squeak and pounced into the middle of a sleeping gray sibling. “That’s very sweet of you, Moonmay, but Khiindi wouldn’t like it. He’s been with me since we were both babies, and there’s a litter of half-grown kittens on the Mana already.”

  “How about dogs?” Moonmay asked. “Maybe you could use a dog?”

  Khorii shook her head again. “Khiindi would be even more upset if I brought a dog aboard.”

  “Too bad,” Moonmay said. “We got a litter of the funniest-lookin’ pups you ever did see. Mama was a little short herd dog and the daddy was a sled dog from way out on the cold fringe. His master moved here with twelve of them but old Dooley, we called him Drooly, is the only one left. Pups look like him in the face, but they got their mama’s short legs.”

  Khorii forced herself to give the child, probably only a few years younger than she in Standard years, but much younger in other ways, a weary smile. “Hap might enjoy seeing the puppies when he returns,” she said. Mikaaye probably wouldn’t have thought about Hap’s liking dogs if Moonmay had approached him. “He’s very fond of dogs. Thanks again for showing me your kittens, Moonmay. Please have someone alert me when the others return. I’m going to go back to the ship to keep Khiindi company.”

  “You do that,” she said. “Oh! Wait! Can you wait just a minute? I’ll be right back! Uh, here, watch the kitties, will you?”

  Thrusting the fur-filled basket at Khorii, she ran off with her bare feet flashing beneath the rolled-up cuffs of her blue trousers.

  Khorii sat down and leaned against the nearest building, pulling the basket of kittens into her lap. She hadn’t realized she was tired, but she closed her eyes for just a moment. It was then that she heard the thrum of a space shuttle and thought that the others had made short work of the crisis and were returning much more quickly than she thought.

  However, the sound seemed to be coming from much higher than the shuttles would have gone for a surface jaunt. Khorii looked up but saw no lights, only a navy blue sky with patches of grayed clouds blocking out the cosmos. Mist steamed up from the ground, too, or maybe it was the local “natural” ghosts going about their nocturnal business. A kitten climbed her arm, and Khorii was distracted by trying to gently extricate the little beast with a minimum of damage to her skin.

  Moonmay came running back again, another, smaller basket on her arm this time, filled with grasses.

  “A snack? That’s so nice of you, Moonmay!” Khorii said, but the girl shook her head.

  “It’s for your kitties. It’s catnip. Although, well, maybe you’ll like it, too. I forgot you folks like that kinda thing. I can go get more,” she offered, but Khorii shook her head.

  “I have catnip in the ’ponics garden, but not fresh, natural soil-grown nip like this. The flavor is much richer. I thank you, and I’m sure the cats will be crazy about it. I’ll just take it back up to the ship and give it to them. Tell the others I’ll be right back to help take care of the wounded.”

  “Okay, I will when they come back.”

  “I thought I heard a shuttle.”

  Moonmay shrugged. “Not so’s I noticed. If you’re lonesome, you could come to our house though.”

  “No, I think I’d better get back to Khiindi. He isn’t used to being without me.” Especially, she thought, he isn’t used to being without me when Sesseli isn’t around to carry him everywhere.

  “I’ll walk you over,” Moonmay offered. “It’s getting a mite foggy tonight, and you don’t know the way as well as I do.” It didn’t take belonging to a psychic race to see that another being was emotionally unsettled and want to comfort her in whatever small way possible.

  “I’ll be fine,” Khorii told Moonmay. “But thank you for your concern and your kindness—and for letting me see your kittens. Now we’d both better get some rest before the others return.”

  “Just don’t seem right you goin’ off like that all on your own,” Moonmay said.

  “I’ll be fine,” Khorii repeated. Moonmay looked unconvinced but ran off again.

  The dock was a short walk from the center of the settlement. The mist Khorii had noticed before had indeed become a true fog now. It was odd to see it lying so thick and close along the ground and still be able to look up and see the sky in other places. There was no moon that night, though, and the way was dark. Fortunately, Khorii’s olfactory and auditory senses made up for the diminished visibility under these conditions.

  As she drew nearer, however, she smelled the hot scent of a shuttle’s exhaust.

  With it, she caught a faint mental call, followed immediately by a strong sense of something gone very wrong indeed.

  Chapter 23

  Congratulations, Elviiz, you’re finally a real boy.” Elviiz looked up, and saw the dim outline of a large, dark form above him, surrounded by bright, p
ale ones. The voice was deep and sounded male, though Elviiz wasn’t precisely sure how he knew that.

  “What?” he asked. He hurt in many places, but the worst part of this awakening was not mere physical pain. Unfamiliar sensations flooded his being. For the first time ever he did not know and could not instantly ascertain where he was, who he was, why he was there.

  “Oh, poor youngling!” one of the pale faces above him cried.

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” a male voice said. “I wasn’t trying to be mean. It’s from Pinocchio, remember, when the fairy changes him so he becomes totally organic?”

  Elviiz shook his head. It felt singularly light and empty. “I don’t know him. I don’t know you. I am not certain I know me.”

  “¡I’m Jalonzo, mijo! Your compadre.”

  The white-faced female was more informative. “You are Elviiz, son of Maak, brother-friend-tutor of Khorii, foster son of Khornya and Aari, and are culturally a Linyaari, like your family,” she said. “I, for instance, am Neeva, your sister’s mother’s mother’s sister. In human terms, I am your great-aunt, or the great-aunt of your foster sister, which amounts to the same thing. You were attacked and injured. We healed you as best we can, but we could only heal your organic components. Your inorganic components, on which you have been used to relying for strength, much of your intellect and other functions, have been damaged or destroyed beyond our ability to heal.”

  “Am I going to die?” he asked. He did not know where that question came from either. It was not a matter he had previously considered.

  “No, I do not believe so,” Neeva said. “But you are changed profoundly and will remain that way until your maker is able to repair and reinstate your inorganic functions. We have one more mission to complete, then we return to our homeworld. By that time, if his disease follows the pattern we are seeing among others affected by the plague, your father/maker should be well enough to restore your missing functions.”

  “Why was I attacked?” he asked. “Who attacked me?”

  “A very good question,” Neeva replied. “Do you remember anything?”

  He shook his head, pain ricocheting from the top of his skull to his ears, the nape of his neck and chin. Still, a few things were coming back to him, a few reminders of who he had been before he was diminished, if not demolished. “My memory chip must be damaged.”

  Jalonzo cleared his throat. “We are waiting on a relay from your papa on Vhiliinyar, amigo, but I have been researching android interfaces and from what I can tell, your chip was mostly used to store long-term memory—your education, your childhood memories, that kind of thing. Stuff that happens to you and emotional stuff ought to be in your organic brain—your mind.”

  Elviiz tried to remember, but another bolt of pain stopped him.

  Neeva leaned toward him and touched his head with the tip of the horn that grew from the middle of her forehead. The pain vanished so suddenly he grunted with relief, and closed his eyes. Her horn still touching him lightly, she said, “If what Jalonzo says is correct, I should be able to retrieve that memory so we know who hurt you. Do I have your permission?”

  “Yes,” he said, barely breathing the word aloud. Peace and comfort he had never known he craved spread throughout his circulatory and nervous systems into his very flesh.

  “Good,” said a voice inside his head. Another new sensation! He had been robbed of his higher functions, and his brain no longer was crowded with data, with the virtual voices of every book or recording of any sort he had ever absorbed. It had become all but empty until now, when this new voice spoke to it so softly, so soothingly. He had company that had entered a part of him in a way he had never known possible. Thought-talk! Telepathy!

  “Why, Elviiz, you seem to be able to receive now, just as all Linyaari young do at about your age. Your injury and loss have perhaps made way for your other abilities.”

  Elviiz did not want her to stop talking to his mind. It was a balm in itself, though the content of her remarks also had a positive effect on his…spirits. He had spirits. He had heard others speak of this vague and nebulous sensation, but had not known he possessed spirits himself. Fascinating. Besides which, it called up an associative thought, a connection. Spirits had something to do with his attack.

  “Ah,” Neeva’s thought-voice said. “Do they? Let us see if we can use the notion of spirits as a search indicator to find the images of your attack.”

  In the next breath, he saw himself watching Marl and the seemingly transparent beings accompanying him. He saw those beings surrounding his own image and the tiles on the front of the building crumbling above and behind those seemingly insubstantial beings. He remembered thinking that he was not seeing the wall through them, that instead, they had made the walls part of their own substance.

  “I believe that helps explain what happened to you,” Neeva said. Aloud, she relayed Elviiz’s memory to the others.

  “So that is why Elviiz’s inorganic parts were damaged,” Jalonzo said. “They like chips. And bricks and tiles, too, apparently.”

  Another female shoved a plate of food under his nose—Jalonzo’s grandmother, Abuelita! More memories were returning. “What are these things to attack innocent children?”

  Elviiz scooted back. He was lying on a soft surface—a mattress with wrinkled fabric both below and above him. Behind him was a hard surface, and he sat up against it. Abuelita caught the plate of food before his sudden movement spilled it.

  Jalonzo said, “They sound like the same ghosts that have been upsetting the niños—the ones that look like their families who died in the plague. Except for the part about eating buildings and android chips. That’s new.” His face contorted with an expression conveying that he did not like that idea one bit.

  Elviiz was also puzzled by what had happened to him. “This was the first occasion that my current limited memory retains during which I viewed the creatures. I know what the children said they saw, of course, but I assumed this was an emotional reaction on their part, having something to do with resolving their feelings about their loss. I did not expect that I would perceive the same phenomena. However, I did, and as you see from my current state, they were substantial enough to damage me.”

  “And the buildings,” Jalonzo said. “The com tower is in bad shape. Not just the outside either.”

  “Let’s see if you’re strong enough to rise and walk now, Elviiz,” Neeva said.

  He, who had always been the strongest of them all! What good would he be now?

  Neeva, hearing his thought, comforted him with another horn touch. When he had to struggle to sit on the side of the bed, Jalonzo helped him. Once he was on his feet again, with Jalonzo on one side and Neeva on the other, he found he could walk, although a bit shakily.

  “Luckily we caught you before your skeleton was damaged any worse than it was. You looked as if you had a metallic version of what is known among humanoids as osteoporosis, with your artificial bones all pitted and weakened.”

  He grew stronger after a few steps, but felt as if his inner structure were made of cables instead of rods and as if the fuel that flowed through him had been replaced with inert sand.

  “He’s exhausted already,” Neeva said.

  Water made Elviiz’s already inadequate vision even worse, and coursed down his face. He was so inadequate this way! How did the others stand it?

  There was a whirring sound from the hallway, and a contraption half Jalonzo’s height stopped in front of him.

  “Melireenya! You found it,” Neeva said.

  “Yes. It was where Abuelita said it would be, right inside the home of her deceased friend. I took it back to the Balakiire to charge its batteries, but it took a while to adapt the wiring to our power source. I believe I can also modify the batteries to last much longer than they do now.” She stood up, and said, “Sit, Elviiz. You see? You no longer have to depend on feeble organic transport. What do you say to that?”

  Elviiz would have fallen into the conveyance
had it not been for Jalonzo’s support. He knew he should express gratitude to Melireenya and the others; but all he could say, whining like a vehicle trying to tow a load that was too heavy for it, was, “I want my father.”

  Khorii cocked her head to listen more closely. Yes, it was clearer now. She distinctly heard a shuttle landing near the Mana. At the same time, Captain Bates exercised her seldom-used psychic powers, and called to her. “Khorii, where are you? I’m coming back for you now. There’s been another accident.”

  “What? Are so many injured that Mikaaye cannot heal them all?” Khorii asked, pretending to be shocked.

  “Mikaaye is badly injured now, too. Sesseli moved the wagon, but we’re afraid to move Mikaaye. I sure hope we get you to him on time.”

  Khorii felt shame for her sarcasm and jealousy. “I am on my way back to the Mana to check on Khiindi. Shall I wait for you?”

  “I’ll meet you there. We brought some supplies with us, but these people are in much worse shape than we thought. The wagon just fell to pieces as it rounded a sharp switchback in the road and pitched the driver and passengers out and halfway down the hillside. Two people are dead. Two more were trapped under the wagon. Hap and Scar tried to hold it up while Mikaaye crawled underneath to heal the trapped people, but it broke again, falling on him, too, and dragging him off the road and halfway down the hill with it. He’s not moving, but that may be from fear of finishing the fall.”

  “Understood,” Khorii said. “I will meet you there.”

  Crossing the airstrip in the fog, she saw the glow from the landing shuttle through the veils of fog and smelled the heat of its retrorockets and the hot friction of the atmosphere against the hull. She could barely see the bulk of the Mana for the obscuring swirling gray mist. Perhaps some of this meant moisture, even rain, for the parched settlement? But if it did, she hoped it wouldn’t be raining near the accident site, making the footing slippery.