The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers

by Alan Dean Foster

  “You must realize, all of you, that as an educated citizen of fair achievement, citizen Williams is giving up a vote.” September sounded as solemn as he could. “That is something no qualified inhabitant of the Commonwealth does lightly, I can assure you.”

  “What of you, friend September?” asked Hunnar.

  “Oh, I guess I’ll hang around a while yet.” He picked at his teeth with a triangular fork left from the last meal. “Can’t say much for your climate, but the food’s good, the liquor is first class, and the company’s agreeable. Can’t ask for much more than that. Besides, nobody asks me too many questions.” He turned to his right. “What about you, young feller-me-lad?”

  Ethan found he was the object of everyone’s attention, found himself wishing he was beneath the table instead of seated at its side. He gazed into his lap, fumbled for a reply.

  “I don’t know, Skua … Hunnar.” His mouth felt like someone had suddenly substituted glue for saliva. “I have other interests, other obligations. There’s my contracted job and …”

  “All is understandable, friend Ethan.” Hunnar smiled that simple Trannish smile, without showing his teeth.

  For some reason, Hunnar’s timely words of empathy made Ethan feel even worse. Wasn’t he the sophisticated member of the advanced galactic civilization? Then why should he feel so devoid of worthwhile thoughts and meaningful feelings?

  “Even if I could go with you, I’d only slow you down.” Colette du Kane looked back toward the doorway. “My father’s in our own cublicle, asleep. I can’t turn him loose to manage the family affairs, not while he journeys from one island of sanity to another across an ocean of senility. There’d be too many who’d take advantage of him. Someone is obligated to take care of business. That obligation devolves upon my shoulders—and I’ve got the shoulders for it.”

  Even the Tran understood that joke, though Colette’s width was no greater than the average native’s.

  “And there could be other obligations.”

  Ethan did not look up, but he knew exactly where she was looking when she said those words.

  “I will tell you all this. If you have the good sense and the ability to organize enough of a government to qualify for associate Commonwealth status, then the House of du Kane will establish itself on Tran-ky-ky immediately and will treat fairly with all who treat fairly with it.”

  Elfa made a sign signifying agreement and compliments. The women had had run-ins before, both in Wannome and on the ship; but they could and had put their personal differences and feelings aside when logic dictated. Ethan wondered if the males in the room could do as well.

  “It is settled then.” Hunnar assumed a pose expressing determination and challenge. “We will try,” he told Ethan, “because we believe in you and in what you say, friend Ethan. You have never lied to us in the past. I do not believe you lie to us now.”

  There was a rumble like that of an underground transport as chairs slid back from the table and the various knights, nobles, and squires broke up into smaller discussion groups. Some talked loudly and with considerable animation while others chatted in hushed tones. Every so often one or two of the debaters would exit through the door opening onto the deck, admitting the planet’s eternal participant in all conversations—the wind.

  Ethan left early, anxious for the solitude offered by his own cublicle. In a few days he could trade the poorly warmed box he shared with September for the cycle-heated atmosphere of a starship cabin. It was strange that the prospect no longer excited him the way it had when the Slanderscree had first entered Arsudun harbor.

  Something like a hot summer breeze touched him on the shoulder, unnervingly warm and light in the chill air of the ship’s corridor. Whirling, he found himself staring down at Colette du Kane. Behind him, the voices of the arguing Tran, September’s intermittent bellow, William’s gentle but persuasive murmur—all faded and merged to form a distant background hum. Small crystals of emerald focused unblinkingly on his own eyes, verdant craters in that moon face. Despite the survival suit face mask her pink flesh had been tanned umber from occasional exposure to Tran-ky-ky’s harsh arctic sun.

  For just a moment, he had a glimpse of sinuous beauty writhing to escape that gland-trapped coffin of fat. Only through the eyes could that exquisite self impinge on the world.

  “Are you staying or coming?” No hint of coquetry there, no mock-embarrassed lowering of lashes. There was no room for it in a personality founded on bluntness. Though the door to the deck outside was closed, he felt something curl ’round him anyway, slowing his circulation, chilling his guts.

  “Well? We’ve gotten along well these past weeks.”

  “I know, Colette.” For one as perceptive as Ethan knew this woman to be, that should be answer enough. She elaborated anyway, rushing, hurrying her words so as to be rid of them as fast as possible.

  “I asked you to marry me. Are you going to, or are you staying here?”

  “I—I don’t know. I suppose I need more time to think. I’m not stalling you, Colette, I’m telling you the truth.”

  She snorted derisively. “Every man I’ve ever known concluded any bad talk with that last homily.”

  “I’ll tell you before the shuttle lifts, I promise.” He grabbed her shoulders, held her as long as he dared. She was warm.

  “If that’s the way it has to be.”

  He let her go. “That’s the way it has to be.”

  She forced a slight smile. “I guess that’s better than an outright refusal. See you.” She turned, flounced out the door. A gust of wind brought a few ice flakes swirling inward, dying even as they struck his face. Two Tran knights followed her out, conversing easily as they ignored the bitter cold. To the natives they were reposing in a sheltered harbor, where they could stroll about outside almost naked. Only Ethan and the other humans had to hurry into their cabins before unprotected skin froze solid and crisp as a honeycomb.

  It was an indication of the readiness with which the local Tran had accepted humanxkind and manifestations of its advanced technology that the natives in the shuttleport did not look up in awe when the shuttle’s braking engines fired and it settled snugly into its berthing pit, tight as a snail withdrawing into its shell.

  As the engines died, the internal supercooling elements built into the skin of the delta-winged atmospheric craft went to work. Soon hull and engines themselves were cool enough to touch.

  Suspensors moved out from waiting bays. Businesslike words were exchanged between the shivering shuttlepilot and the landing crew. Packages and crates began to move from concealed storage bins into the shuttle, while in return the tiny ship gave birth to a multitude of smaller sealed shapes.

  Local handicrafts were traded off for knives and lamps and stelamic weaponry. Fragments of poor quality but still immensely valuable green ozmidine bought radios and tridees and hand communicators. Ethan thought back to the immense volcano known to the Tran as The-Place-Where-The-Earth’s-Blood-Burns and the cavern filled with ozmidine they’d discovered inside. He wondered what whoever was dominating the local trade would have thought of that breathtaking deposit of the ultraprecious green gem.

  Nearby, Hellespont du Kane began chatting cheerfully with the physician the starship captain had thoughtfully sent down in the shuttle to attend his unexpected, famous passenger. Colette stood watching him, responding perfunctorily to September’s gruff and somewhat obscene good-bye and Williams’ more polite, deferential one.

  Then there was nothing else to do, no one else to talk to, and Ethan found himself walking over. She moved to meet him.

  Several silent moments passed. Perhaps the fact that his mind was now made up enabled him to match her stare more resolutely.

  “How’s your father?” he finally said lamely.

  “As well as can be expected.” She had to force herself to blunt her natural sharpness. “I keep trying to get him to consent to a body switch … he refuses additional revivifications. He won’t do it. I d
on’t think it’s a death wish. The psychostics say it’s not. But he won’t agree to it even when he’s senile, let alone during his occasional bursts of full lucidity. Keeps telling me it’s time I took over, that he’s held the reins long enough.”

  “You are ready to take over, Colette.” Ethan spoke softly yet with enthusiasm. It was extremely difficult to sell Colette on herself. “I know how the merchant families work. I have to. I work for one myself.”

  “Ready or not, I have to.” Her reply was so soft it was hard to believe it came from her. “What do you have to do, Ethan?”

  He smiled. It wasn’t easy. “I’m sorry, Colette. Truly I am.”

  “First they say they’re telling the truth, then they always say they’re sorry.”

  “Colette, …” Ethan fought for words. “I’m not a teller, I’m a told. You were raised, trained to give orders. I’ve matured learning to take them. Advice I can offer, but never orders. I don’t think I’d be any good at it. I’d mess up any executive position you gave me, and then you’d be forced to cover for me. You’d have to explain me to my colleagues, the really qualified executives and compusymbs.” He shook his head dolefully. “I couldn’t handle the kind of snickering I’d be subjected to. And I won’t accept a life as an ineffectual parasite.”

  “You have a peculiar conception of what being mated means.” She sounded almost desperate without appearing to beg. “You could do whatever you wanted to, anything at all. Travel, hobbies … it doesn’t even have to be with me.” The gaze lowered just a little. “You could … even have other women on the side, if you so desired. I’d fix it so you could afford the best.” She looked up again.

  “You’re a good man. You could do what you wish, so long as you …” she hesitated, “came back to me.”

  “No, Colette. I have something I have to see through, here.”

  For an instant something flared in her eyes. “It’s that muscular teddy bear, isn’t it?”

  “No.” Ethan’s denial gained strength from his honest, obvious surprise. “Elfa’s not a factor. I don’t know what she sees in me, but she’s a member of another race.”

  “That hasn’t stopped people in the past,” she countered accusingly.

  “It stops me. Where Elfa Kurdagh-Vlata is concerned, any interest other than anthropological is strictly one-sided. Her side. I gave you the real reason. I could never be a professional student, professional traveler, professional hobbyist. Or a professional husband.”

  She seemed ready to leave, then grasped him so suddenly and hard he had to fight to regain his balance. She broke away just enough to plead, speaking so softly no one but Ethan could have heard. He found himself momentarily mesmerized by those metal-bright green eyes.

  “You’re the first man I ever met who treated me like a human being. You were good to me, and you were honest with me. I know I’m ugly.”

  “You’re anything but that, Colette.”

  Her smile was full of pain. “For months I was the only human woman around. I enjoyed the isolation. I’m conversant enough with physiopsychology to read in your eyes my loss of five kilos for every month of that isolation. As soon as we reached any outpost of human civilization you’d see me for what I am, for what no doctor can correct. It’s happened since we’ve been here, at this outpost. I’m obese, sarcastic, and bitter to the point of dissolution.”

  “The last two you need to survive the important position you’re going to assume,” Ethan told her. “As for the first, that’s an image you have of yourself.” He thought of something September had told him. “Physical shape and attractiveness have little to do with each other. In the dark, all mankind looks alike.

  “No, the reasons I can’t marry you have to do with our mental makeup, not our physical.”

  She let go of him. His arms would show red where she’d gripped him. “House du Kane has businesses and branches on most of the populous worlds and many of the colonies. If you ever change your mind, Ethan Frome Fortune, you can get in touch with me.” She grinned tightly. “Twenty-two double R, Ethan. It’ll expedite anything.”

  “You’ll find someone else.”

  “With my attractions? I can offer my cardmeter balance and my position. Those won’t buy what I want. I’ve asked and pleaded, Ethan. I won’t beg.”

  “I know. Begging’s not part of your makeup, Colette.”

  A steward was gesturing from alongside the motion lounge her father was strapped into. A faint voice called her name. It came from the throat of a powerful human relic.

  “Time to go. Good-bye Ethan. Remember me if you change your mind. Remember me if you don’t.”

  She spared him the worry of whether or not to kiss her by turning and striding purposefully toward her father, toward the people and machines helping him stay alive. He watched as the motion lounge maneuvered itself up the rampway leading into the access tube of the shuttlecraft. Snow speckled the window he stared through.

  Fifteen minutes died. Then the exchange of cartons and packagings was complete. A muted chemical bubbling sounded through the thick glassalloy window. Red-orange streaks, like spilled oil paint, emerged from the stern of the shuttle. It rose rapidly until it had shrunk to a size no bigger than any of ten thousand other bright ice flakes swirling through Tran-ky-ky’s cold, cold atmosphere.

  He rubbed his right arm where she’d clasped him, and thought.

  IV

  SEPTEMBER LET HIM STAND like that for nearly an hour. Then he moved to join him.

  “Not easy, feller-me-lad?”

  “No, Skua. Not easy.”

  “Better this way, though,” the giant said cheerily. “Money’s not everything. She would have gotten tougher before sweeter as the years roll down. There’s a universe full of fledglings waiting to try their wings who are a good deal softer.”

  “Skua.”

  “What is it, lad?”

  “Shut up.” He walked away, moving rapidly down the port corridor, hands jammed deep into his pockets. After a shrug, September followed, keeping the distance between them constant. There was a dark muddy wall raised around the young salesman, and it could only be taken down from within.

  Sir Hunnar and his two squires were waiting patiently for them outside the shuttleport building. September had tried to argue them into coming inside to watch the liftoff of the shuttle from closer range. But the Tran had elected to forgo that pleasure, since it meant enduring the unbearably high temperatures inside.

  “We saw it rise from out here, Ethan,” the Tran knight said. “It was bigger than the skyboat you came to us in.” A note of childlike wonder crept into his voice. “Does it truly chivan to a ship bigger still?”

  “Much bigger, Hunnar.” Ethan was reminded by the Tran’s curious, open stare of the reason for his remaining here. One of those reasons, anyhow. “Let’s find a place in town and have a tankard of reedle.” At least the super pseudomead would salve his throat, if not his confused conscience.

  The tavern they located had been smuggled in among more respectable looking two- and three-story structures on a narrow lane. It did not serve reedle, but they found an ample supply of nontoxic intoxicants. Most were derived from varieties of the omnipresent pika-pina or pika-pedan, a few from other plant life. All filled Ethan with an equally warm glow.

  “How are we to proceed to form this necessary confederation, friend Ethan?” Suaxus-dal-Jagger sounded thoroughly discouraged, and the expedition hadn’t begun. “We know nothing of this country. No one from Wannome or Sofold has ever been this far from home.”

  “So many satch,” murmured his counterpart Budjir.

  “That can be to our advantage.” September hunched over the table. “The other states we will visit will know nothing of Sofold, but it’s possible they will have heard of Arsudun, and consequently, of the humanx station here.

  “We’ve already seen indications that there’re entirely too many local goods goin’ off-planet to have come from Arsudun alone. That means the Arsudunites are tra
ding with the surrounding states. What better way for them to make themselves look big and important than to constantly claim extratrannish wizards—that’s us—for allies?

  “So how are they likely to react, when we show up and tell them they’d better confederate for their own good?”

  Ethan put down the tall goblet of liquor, used the oversized spoon at his wrist to dip up another helping of the heavily spiced soup in front of him. He sipped at it carefully, the end of the spoon being too wide for his small human mouth. Soup had never been a favorite of his. He preferred more solid food. But Tran-ky-ky’s climate could make anyone a lover of hot food in any form.

  “I would rather,” Hunnar replied petulantly, after considering September’s logic, “begin in the neighborhood of Sofold.” He pushed back in his chair, balanced on the two hind legs. Ethan knew the knight wouldn’t fall. He’d never seen a people with such perfect, innate sense of balance.

  “No. I think we’ll have the better chance, Hunnar, here where we’re all strangers to the folks we’ll be tryin’ to convert, and where humankind’s dubious reputation has maybe preceded us.”

  “Ta-hoding should have voice in this too.” Budjir put in a word for the Slanderscree’s captain. “It will be he who will bear considerable responsibility for taking us safely across uncharted ice, and for maneuvering us to safety should trouble arise.”

  “That’s incidental,” September countered vigorously. “I’ll grant old Ta-hoding his piece, but it’s more important that we—”

  “I detect an odd smell in here, Baftem.” Conversation at the table ceased.

  The speaker was a richly dressed Tran standing very close to their booth. His dan spines were lacquered silvery chrome and pink, and he was nearly smothered beneath the impossibly thick fur of some slick white-striped and black-spotted creature. Next to him stood one of the largest Tran Ethan had seen, well over one and two-thirds meters tall and broad in proportion to a normal Tran physique. The latter had one paw resting lightly on the butt of some weapon banded to his left leg. It was dull white and gray and looked like the femur of some walking animal, possibly that of another Tran. Intricate bas-relief covered the club. Its knobby bottom end had been shaped into points.