Enigma

by C. F. Bentley

  “Death, death everywhere,” she whispered, fully aware that she spoke her own words as well as those of her Goddess. “I have to be on the next ship home. I’ve been away too long.”

  Her heart wrenched between the need to take control, her fear of a very angry planet, and sadness at leaving Jake.

  “No, Sissy, you can’t.” Penelope grabbed her arm in a fierce grip. Her knuckles turned white.

  “I have to. No one else . . .”

  “Paula and Ginny have your gift of prophecy and song. I will take them home. You have to stay here and get that treaty signed.”

  “But . . .”

  “Don’t you see, Harmony is now vulnerable to invasion,” Penelope said, slowly and clearly, making certain Sissy understood each word, each phrase, each sentence. “The Maril are practically on our doorstep already. All our resources have to go into taking care of the dead and the injured, to finding shelter, food, and medicine for the displaced as winter closes in. You have to organize help from the CSS. They won’t give it without the treaty!”

  “My people need me at home.” Part of what Penelope said filtered into her brain. Her heart twisted with her need to offer comfort and succor. She needed to sing the planet back to peace with itself.

  “Sissy, the universe needs you. You don’t just belong to Harmony anymore. You belong to everyone.” Penelope’s voice took on an echoey quality that frightened Sissy.

  She stopped leaning on the desk to support her wobbling knees. One deep breath, then two, then five. When she thought she could talk without crying or babbling incoherently, she touched a dormant blue icon.

  “Jake, you need to see the news from Harmony City. Now. My people need a ship home. Now. I need contact with all CSS worlds willing to send food, medicine, building supplies, and volunteers. Consider the FCC command central for coordinating a major relief effort.”

  Another deep breath and she shifted channels to Lord Lukan. “We will sign the treaty today or I send you home in disgrace and negotiate on my own.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Mac slowed his progress through a passage between two wings. He’d heard something. A swish? A clink?

  He couldn’t place the quiet sound; he only knew that it had not come from him and did not belong here.

  A thought awakened sensory pads on his secondary legs. Sniff, sniff. Extend the fine hairs like whiskers to pick up any stray change in air temperature and movement.

  Ah! A human male crept behind him, cautious but not frightened. Mac had a vulnerable terminal stationed close to here. He had to protect it from intruders.

  Mac touched the screen on his handheld. All the lights and motion sensors in this passage went dark.

  The human did not panic. He merely stopped and waited.

  “I would know you, human,” Mac whispered.

  “As I would you, phantom,” came the quiet reply.

  “Why?” Mac twisted around, careful to avoid the powered tracks at the bottom of the tube, to face his pursuer.

  “I grew up near an extensive cave system. I am quite at home underground. We have no ground to be under on this station. This is the closest I can come to it. I would know the one who seeks solace in the same way I do.”

  Was that a chuckle lightening those words?

  “I have heard you speak before, Harmonite.”

  “I have seen pictures of you. We have no spiders on Harmony. But they do on Earth. I wonder if your ancestors and mine had a friendly or adversarial relationship.”

  The slow speech, the inflections, the calmness in the voice belonged to only one man. “Mr. Guilliam of the Temple caste,” Mac mused. “You surprise me.”

  “Oh?”

  “You appear too meek to have the boldness to follow me.”

  “Appearances are masks in the light of day. Our true selves come out in the dark.” He gestured to the expanse of black out beyond this maintenance tube.

  Mac laughed out loud. “You sound like our Laudae Sissy when the Goddess takes control of her tongue. Are you another specimen such as she?”

  “No, no, no, no. I’m not gifted by the Gods. Merely curious. Mac or phantom, whatever you are, did your ancestors also migrate from Earth?” The voice neared.

  Mac picked out the pale, round face, reading body temperatures and sound reflections more than sight.

  “There are some who theorize my father’s ancestors seeded some of their lesser get on your Earth to see if they could thrive. Eight legs are quite alien to all your other mammalian and insectoid life there. The spiders and crabs left on Earth multiplied, adapted, and evolved. But competition with humans was too fierce for the higher forms to return and claim the place for their own.”

  “Ah. That would explain much, especially the atavistic fear of your kind among humans. Even though we have no spiders on Harmony, my people still run away from the false cobwebs I lay as barriers to my hidden paths. Instinct. Do I have anything to fear from you, Mr. Mac?”

  “Not at the moment.” Mac decided he liked this man. Therefore, he could not stay and chat. He might reveal too much. So he contracted and twisted again, preparing to lead this human away from the terminal. He only brushed Mr. Guilliam’s pale green shirt lightly in passing him.

  “Can you spin webs?” Mr. Guilliam asked, breathless with a kind of awe.

  “Sadly, no. My father’s gene for extruding silk as a tether did not join in the mix of my life force. I have other means of constructing webs though. Mechanical means that are limited and inefficient.”

  “I’m sorry you cannot conceal your observation posts and terminals behind a web.” Mr. Guilliam sighed. “That would be wonderful to see—to experience real web instead of the false stuff made from shredded sticky bandages I spread in hidden alcoves.”

  Mac kept silent. He too wondered what advantages he might have had with that inherited gift.

  “I don’t have a lot of time. A ship awaits me and my family. We must return to Harmony today. But I came to tell you that many people want to talk to you,” Guilliam continued on a more normal note. “They intend you no harm. All they want is information.”

  “They must find these things out on their own. I am not an encyclopedia.” Mac took three steps beyond Guilliam.

  “Before you leave, may I know the origin of your name? Mac has Earther connotations. Son of someone.”

  Surprised at the human’s ability to sense movements and the directions of those movements, Mac paused. “I have read much of your great thinkers and your history on Earth. I admire particularly the one called Machiavelli.”

  Mac lunged away at top speed, more frightened by this curious human than the ones with blasters and itchy trigger fingers.

  “Go! Go, go.” Mary and Martha pushed Sissy off the top of the lift with all of their strength.

  Heedless of her flying skirt, Sissy leaped. She grabbed hold of the tram door just as it began closing. With a quick twist of her body she flipped inside the car, careful to brush her fingers against Harmony as she passed. Breathlessly she thanked all seven Gods that she’d spent so much time with her girls exploring the station and practicing in Zero G.

  “Destination, please?” the androgynous voice of the tram asked.

  “Harmony Three,” Sissy said, hoping the computer would decipher her broken words. She still fought for air. Not since before her ordination, when dust still filled her lungs and choked her every breath, had she found it so difficult to pull air into her.

  “Harmony Three is a restricted-access area. Authorization code required,” the computer informed her. The tram car remained firmly in place with the door closed.

  Sissy’s girls couldn’t get in, even if they caught up with her. Discord, she was alone. They were alone. A murderer still lurked on the station!

  “Authorization code: priority one, HPs one.” Sissy choked out the necessary words for the new security precautions.

  “Authorization code: priority one, HPs one accepted. Please repeat code for voiceprint verif
ication.”

  Damn. More delay. Sometimes Jake was too careful in keeping the station safe. Sissy took a deep breath, which only made her cough. When the spasm passed, she spoke again, slowly and distinctly, praying the computer recognized her.

  She couldn’t be late. Just once she wished for the frantic speed with which Jake whisked about his duties rather than the deliberate pace of life on Harmony. She couldn’t believe she’d needed three full hours in the comms level, begging, threatening, and bribing any ship within six sectors of Harmony Prime to divert their cargo.

  “Voiceprint accepted.” The tram eased forward at its normal sedate pace.

  “Two wings. I only have to travel two wings. No sense risking a speed override.” Not that she knew for certain her authorization code would change the tram’s speed.

  At last the car glided to a stop. The doors ground open only after all movement had ceased.

  Sissy bounded out, then returned briefly to kiss Harmony for luck and to thank Her for the safe journey. The lift looked even slower than the tram. She opted for Jake’s trick and perched sideways on the stair railing. With a little push, microgravity took over, and she slid down the spiral. At each level her weight and her speed increased. Going round and round the lift shaft made her dizzy. She dared not close her eyes lest she miss the loading bay between light and medium G.

  She passed communications and computer operations so quickly no one looked up from their work. A reporter in the Media section waved to her and sent a hover cam to follow her. Damn. Too many people already knew that Penelope and Gil visited. Only a few logical jumps led to the conclusion that Gregor did too.

  Her landing was tricky. Still, the lighter gravity here than a couple levels down helped her stumble without falling flat on her face.

  Seven corridors off the lobby. Which one? She chose a narrow door, suitable for passengers but not loads of cargo.

  A Military Sergeant recognized her distinctive purple dress and her array of caste marks. He saluted her and waved her through without question. But he stopped the hover cam.

  Thank you, Harmony.

  “The transport headed home?” she wheezed out.

  “Right through here, My Laudae. They’ve already begun boarding. You only have a few moments.” The sergeant ushered her around a security scanner and into a large lounge. Definitely a violation of the new security protocols. Sissy didn’t care. In this case she needed speed.

  Two lines of people threaded past more scanners and into the air locks.

  Then she spotted Penelope’s red outfit and the bevy of children and teenagers wearing pink surrounding her. Guilliam stood square and solid beside her in the light green that designated him an acolyte of Gregor.

  Sissy sighed in relief. “My Laudae,” she called.

  Penelope turned. A huge smile lit her face and banished worry lines. “You made it,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to leave without saying good-bye.”

  They hugged tightly. Guilliam rested a comforting hand familiarly on her shoulder.

  A hole seemed to develop in Sissy’s midsection. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how much she missed friends, adults she could talk to, peers who understood her life and work.

  Jake understood, but on a different level. He couldn’t share the day-to-day minutiae of her life. Her relationship with Jake was more than friendship and less at the same time.

  Penelope fussed with a small personal bag. Their luggage would have been carried onto the space transport through another, wider air lock. “Do you have any instructions? Messages?” Penelope asked

  Sissy handed her a stack of printed messages. “Ten short statements. You may quote me. Deliver them over the radio or in person as you move about the city. I’ll broadcast similar ones over the pirate radio station every night. Distribution of essential supplies, food, water, medicine must never be restricted to caste.”

  “Are there any new reports, My Laudae?” Guilliam asked.

  Penelope looked up and fixed him with a bleak gaze.

  “Nothing new,” Sissy admitted. Hope was dying quickly within her. “The Media buildings are badly damaged. I don’t know if they can receive or broadcast at all. Lord Lukan has sent messages to both the Spacers and the Military from Control and from the ships in dock. Different bands or frequencies or something.”

  “Don’t tell my father what has happened,” Penelope ordered. “The stress will kill him.”

  “He’ll try to leave the hospital and go home too soon,” Guilliam added. “He may be shortsighted, manipulative, arrogant, and a pain in the ass.” He borrowed a phrase from Jake. “But he has always wanted what is best for Harmony. In that he is sincere.”

  “He can’t see beyond taking our society and religion back to the state it was before . . . before . . .” Penelope waved a hand vaguely, and tears appeared in her eyes. “He’ll see this as confirmation that any change is bad for Harmony. Because it is bad for him.”

  Sissy understood.

  Penelope handed her bag to the oldest of her acolytes and shooed all of her girls through the air lock. Only then did she take a hankie from her pocket and dab her eyes.

  “I have to go back to make sure Laud Andrew thinks for himself and doesn’t follow Gregor’s orders blindly,” Guilliam said.

  “He also has to find and destroy Gregor’s orders to transfer us to a rural funerary Temple on the Southern Continent.” Penelope grinned, but the worry lines around her eyes remained. “Harmony City needs us guiding the recovery. The people know us. They know we support you, Sissy. They’ll follow our directions.”

  “I’m going to miss you,” Sissy said quietly.

  “All of Harmony misses you,” Penelope said. “Come back to us soon.”

  “Not until after the final treaty is signed,” Guilliam added.

  “Maybe not then.” Sissy bit her lip and looked away. Her eyes lighted on a small commotion at the security post.

  Jake bullied his way past the protests of the guard. His caste mark and the black crystal stars on his collar were the only things that saved him from arrest.

  “You have to get aboard now.” Sissy pushed Penelope toward the air lock. “They’re announcing last call.”

  Jake stretched his long legs and homed in on them like a bee to a fragrant flower.

  She watched his brow furrow and his gaze dart about. His lips moved as he counted people, matching clothing colors and caste marks. By the time he reached them, he’d drawn the logical conclusions.

  “Is he aboard?” Jake asked.

  “No.” Sissy replied. “Penelope and Guilliam return to deal with this crisis without him.”

  “Still in Medbay, too ill to transport after how many weeks? That does not bode well.” He sounded angry. More than his voice belied his emotions. His shoulders tensed, and he searched the lounge anxiously.

  “We have to keep his condition private because if Admiral Marella knew, she would tell Telvino and they would use this information to press an unfair advantage in our negotiations,” Sissy returned.

  “You’re right. But she may already know.” His body sagged. But he kept turning his head, still counting.

  The phantom? The murderer?

  Sissy was glad he still thought like a bodyguard. She’d taken a terrible chance coming alone.

  “Who are you looking for?” Guilliam asked hesitantly.

  “Lukan has transferred my second-in-command back to Harmony without notice. I need to talk to her. I’ve written a letter of recommendation.” Jake scanned the few remaining passengers.

  “Jake, you of all people know how Harmony works. A recommendation from an outsider will do more harm than good.” Guilliam held Jake’s arm, as if to restrain him from dashing aboard the transport. “As it is, she has probably been judged tainted by contact with aliens and will be carefully scrutinized for many months before being allowed any degree of responsibility.”

  Jake swallowed heavily, his throat apple bobbing. “Yeah. I know. I’ll miss
several strong doses of your common sense, Gil.”

  “Next trip. We are needed at home,” Guilliam said quietly. “I wish I could stay longer and help you search out your phantom. He and I have an affinity for dark enclosed places.” His looked Jake directly in the eye, as if challenging him to ask for more information. “I have left some random notes and musings in an encrypted file in your office,” he whispered.

  “Final boarding call for all passengers on Harmony transport Prime 009567,” a soothing voice came over the speaker system. “Anyone not aboard within two minutes will be locked out.”

  “We have to go.” Penelope tugged at Guilliam’s sleeve. “Harmony needs us more than Sissy and Jake right now.” She marched into the air lock with the haughty aplomb she assumed in her role as a senior Laudae.

  “Good-bye.” Sissy hugged Guilliam tightly, regretting how little time she’d spent with him and Penelope while they were here.

  “You’ve got the new codes for communications?” Jake asked cryptically.

  Guilliam nodded. His throat worked, choking back strong emotions. “I’ll let you know the situation at home as soon as I can find an operating transceiver. You need another priest to help you, Sissy. I’ll send you someone good.”

  Sissy watched a long time after the air lock closed behind him.

  “Pammy just sent me a message,” Jake whispered so quietly, Sissy had to strain to hear him. “A Maril trading group wants to talk, unofficially, no government ties, they say. A drastic change after two hundred years of vicious warfare. They’ve tried very hard to just wipe us out. They arm their merchants like warships. Now this. They want to use this place as neutral ground to negotiate. I don’t trust them and neither should you.”

  “It’s a decoy. They’ve heard about the quakes on Harmony. They’ll try to force your attention here on negotiations while they prepare for an invasion.”

  “Th . . . that sounded like it came from Harmony, not you.”

  “Maybe it did.”

  “Damn, I wish I had Mara around. She can monitor sixteen things at once. She’d be able to track that message to see if it truly came from Maril traders or a pirate enclave. Like there’s a difference.”