Eight
The eyes of every person in the pavilion were focused on the opening. The flap spread wide. Dancing stopped although the band played on.
Then, abruptly, the band stopped, too, and Liriili, horn uncovered, strode through the crowd gathered outside, then the crowd inside, and stepped up onto the bandstand, where she appropriated the tiny amplifier. “I am calling an emergency council session in the viizaar’s pavilion immediately. Meanwhile, all prep crews of all space vessels are to report to their ships and prepare for takeoff, and all other crew members are on standby. Commanders of the ships and all emissaries, envoys, and ambassadors will please attend the council meeting now.”
Then she strode off, a great number of the white-skinned Linyaari following her, or leaving the party behind her.
Grandam, apparently undeterred by affairs of state from reminding people of their social graces, led Acorna down from the heights of the grazing platforms and she herself went to the bandstand and picked up the amplifier. “My children, those of you whose presence is not required elsewhere, please remain and dance with your loved ones as long as you may. There is still much good food on the platforms and many of you have not yet met Khornya.”
Acorna protested. “This seems to be an emergency. Whether people meet me or not is hardly important right now.
But from several directions she could hear low mutterings to the effect of, “She seems to have brought trouble with her.”
“Good manners are always important,” Grandam told her crisply. “Besides, you’ll give people something to take their minds off of more worrisome matters. I must attend the council meeting, child,” Grandam told her. “Young Maati can show you the way to my quarters when you’re ready.”
“I want to come, too,” Acorna said. “If something has happened to the Balakiire, to Neeva and the others, I want to know.”
“I doubt you’ll be permitted to attend, child. But if the emergency concerns the Balakiire, be sure that I will let you know when I return, and also, I will see to it that you are given a berth on one of the outgoing ships. If you’ll excuse me?”
Acorna had no choice but to agree.
The revels had been most effectively stopped by Liriili’s announcement but still everyone stood around waiting for further developments. At last Liriili and the council members, including Grandam, returned to the reception and the viizaar addressed the grim-faced, ridiculously dressed crowd.
“My people, I’m sorry if I have caused you undue alarm. The council, however, agrees that although there is no major emergency that we are aware of, nothing really to become overly concerned about, prompt action may forestall future emergencies. The Balakiire—”
Acorna held her breath.
“The Balakiire, which was just dispatched to investigate a disturbing report from one of our trade missions, sent us a message that they were unable to receive transmissions from either the trade mission in question or any of our other ships or missions abroad in space or on other worlds. It is the belief of the communications officer that some sort of universal equipment failure is responsible for this silence. For that reason, in order to reestablish communication as soon as possible as well as to ensure the safety of our people in space and on other worlds and, if they are in any danger, to evacuate them as soon as possible, we are deploying the remainder of our fleet to simultaneously travel to all of the known destinations of our other ships. They will in all likelihood simply assist with the repairs of our transmitters, but if their assistance is needed in other ways, they will be there to provide it. For this reason, for all of our space fleet personnel, shore leave is cancelled and you should report to your duty stations by mid-sun tomorrow.”
Acorna and Thariinye both rushed forward to volunteer to go back into space but the viizaar only smiled at Thariinye and said, “You’re needed here.” Then, ignoring Acorna, Liriili turned to go. Acorna, with two quick steps, placed herself in front of the viizaar. “If my aunt is in danger, I want to help. I need to be on one of those ships.”
Liriili regarded her very coolly. Acorna saw that the viizaar once more had her horn-hat firmly in place and besides, the viizaar seemed to be even more adept than most at concealing her thoughts. “If it becomes necessary for our ships to evacuate our people from space or other planets, excess personnel may cost lives. I cannot possibly take the responsibility for that risk simply to allow you to indulge your curiosity, Khornya. I hope as you spend more time among us, that you’ll become less self-centered and willful. Perhaps among the barbarians, your Linyaari intelligence made you best qualified to make decisions and lead expeditions, but here you are a mere child among those older and wiser than yourself. Your aunt left you among us to learn our ways, so I suggest you apply yourself to that goal and leave the crisis to those of us trained to deal with it.”
Fortunately, at that moment Grandam rejoined Acorna, hearing only Liriili’s last stinging words.
“Come along, Khornya. I tried to convince the council that you should be sent out on one of the ships being dispatched, but I was overruled. Certain know-it-all youngsters agreed with Liriili that you hadn’t had a chance to evolve enough to be useful on a mission yet. Humph. Well, we older ones are considered by some of our so-called respectful descendants to be relics of a less-evolved time, you know.” Her expression was wry. “That’s why I thought perhaps as long as you are stuck here, you might be more comfortable staying with me. We less-evolved types should stick together, don’t you think?”
Acorna gratefully agreed.
“At least we know, since word of the malfunction—or whatever it is that is occurring that’s keeping our people from being able to contact us—came from the Balakiire, that Neeva and the crew are safe. As a precaution, the ships going up now are having their com units equipped with special filters and boosters as well as the repair equipment for existing transmitters. New communications programs are being installed tonight as well by the prep crews, with extras being sent along for the ships already abroad and of course, the main receivers, transmitters, and computers are being checked for some sort of fault in their space relay systems as well.”
“What do you suppose could be causing the problem?” Acorna asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps a meteor storm between us and the closest transmitters in the relay system? Maybe some kind of mechanical difficulty in the transmitters themselves—or even a programming flaw? A sun going nova? Liriili is right about one thing—I’m sure the problem, whatever it is, is one our crews are well equipped to sort out by themselves.”
“You don’t sound as if anyone believes there really would be a need to evacuate our people elsewhere, more as if the silence is a technical problem. In which case, why not just send out crews to the most likely areas of interference? If there is a larger problem, all of your—our—ships could be cut off from communication with the planet, maybe even each other, and we would have no idea what was occurring. Wouldn’t it be wiser to risk fewer personnel?”
The animation left Grandam’s face and her mouth settled into a grim line. “We are hoping that this is a technical problem. If so, the council’s reasoning is that the more ships we deploy to the most places, the sooner the problem will be mended. The communications channels are a lifeline to our ships, and through them to our allies, as well as a lifeline for us. It would be impossible to devote too many resources to their preservation. And in case there is a more ominous threat”—Acorna heard with her mind rather than her ears that the council was most deeply afraid of a new, heretofore unheralded attack by the Khleevi—“we need to cover all options as quickly as possible so we can learn of the danger, assist if possible those affected by the threat, evacuate those it does not yet affect, and have our ships return home.” She paused and said, “We would not need them for evacuation from narhii-Vhiliinyar. We do not, at this time, have an alternative home ready so evacuating this planet is not an option.”
“But—if nothing else, people could go to Kezdet,
Maganos moon, Rushima. All of the human worlds are compatible with our species.”
Grandam took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “Of course. There are other worlds as well. But until we know there is a threat and if so, where it comes from, we would hardly know where to run, would we? The personnel in space could well be safer than those of us here on narhii-Vhiliinyar. One option seems about as good as another. If this place is not safe, Khornya, is any place?”
She shuddered and Acorna realized that the elder was not only deeply worried but also deeply frightened. Since there seemed to be little either of them could do about the situation, Acorna deliberately changed her focus.
This was not hard to do once they arrived at the Grandam’s pavilion. It shimmered with a ribbon of silver streaming around teal green under the light of the two moons, one blue and one golden, and although there was nothing about it that seemed familiarly cozy it nonetheless exuded a charming warmth and hominess.
Grandam Naadiina waved her hand and soft light emerged from beautifully patterned glass pillars that upheld the center and corners of her pavilion. The flaps farthest from them were open so that once more the moons were visible, and all the stars. Naadiina beckoned Acorna to follow her toward the flap, where three soft beds were arranged. On one of these lay Maati, sound asleep.
“I like to sleep with my face to the stars, and my memories of my lifemate on the old world,” Grandam said, peeling off her gown and sliding beneath the top blanket of the bed. Acorna did the same, grateful to be rid of the makeshift finery.
“Maati lives here, too?” Acorna asked.
“Yes,” Grandam said. “I think her parents felt that I could use the assistance and would be grateful for a strong young person to run my errands. Since it has become clear that they were not coming back, and Maati was orphaned, she has remained with me. She hardly remembers them and is useful as a page for Liriili and other government officials.”
“I’m so sorry,” Acorna said. “What became of her parents?”
“They could not adjust to the loss of their two sons, Aari and Laarye. They tried to—they were here almost two ghaanyi and had time to conceive and give birth to Maati. But her mother went into a deep sadness and at last the two of them announced that the only way to solve this sadness was for them to return to the old home and try to learn what had become of their sons. They have not been heard of since. This may be a good thing. The Khleevi have not sought to entertain us with films of either them or their sons being tortured to death, so perhaps they met with a diversion along the way or perhaps their boys were rescued in some other way and they are pursuing them still.”
“But—I thought everyone escaped when you left the old world. Neeva gave me that impression anyway. You mean you left children behind?”
“What could we do? The need to evacuate happened quite suddenly. And they were young men, not children. We had learned of the Khleevi before, of course, and we had already located this planet as our refuge and had our plan in readiness. But not everyone could be gathered in time for the evacuation. A few—very few, I’m happy to say—were left behind to save the majority. Maati’s parents could not accept that their sons could not be found. They would have stayed behind to search but we could not allow that, much as we hated to leave anything behind for those monsters. It was agony to leave at all. I myself could scarcely bear to leave the grave of my lifemate on the same planet with the Khleevi.”
“Will you tell me about your lifemate, and what it was like on the old world?” Acorna asked.
“Oh, yes. But aren’t you tired after your journey and the so-called reception?” Acorna did not have to be very psychic to feel the scorn in the old lady’s tone.
“Not really,” she replied. “But I was overwhelmed. I don’t think viizaar likes me.”
“The viizaar was already prejudiced against you long before you arrived, my dear,” she replied. “Your mother was chosen by the lifemate Liriili had already decided was her own. Unfortunately, Vaanye didn’t agree.”
“Oh, that must be it then. Neeva mentioned some bad feeling toward my family. But it doesn’t seem sensible to take it out on me.”
“Prejudice and jealousy are seldom sensible. Liriili’s is not a flexible or forgiving nature.”
“I thought that people who could read minds would be incapable of that kind of pettiness.”
The old lady grunted. “Except when they are healing, and really concentrating on extending empathy, or dealing with some crisis among their nearest and dearest, most people have psychic communication down to a very superficial art. One’s thoughts and feelings have many layers, contradictory layers at that. And even in thought, some people are more reserved than others—or repressed, perhaps. Liriili is used to filling her mind with the details of administration and can use those to mask her feelings even from herself, as no doubt she is doing in your case.”
“Oh. Speaking of feelings, is it true that it’s already decided that Thariinye and I will be lifemates?”
Grandam hooted and in the dark her eyes twinkled like the stars as she rolled on her side and grinned at Acorna, only baring her teeth just a little. “Who told you that? Thariinye? I can see that he did! Of course no one has decided such a thing! Except maybe him! You’ve nothing to worry about there.”
“I’m glad,” Acorna said. “I want it to feel—right.”
“You’re a very clever girl. Are you very sleepy?”
“No, not really. I feel rather restless, to tell you the truth.”
“That makes two of us. Would you indulge an old lady and tell me of your life? Neeva indicated in her reports that you had had some adventures. I should very much like to hear of them. Since coming here, our people have been a rather dull lot, and I do like a good story.”
“Very well,” Acorna said, and began with her earliest memories of her uncles and the mining ship.
She had not quite finished when both of them fell asleep.
The next morning, Acorna awoke to the sound of birds singing and a stream burbling very nearby. She sat up.
The stream was running right behind her head, as a matter of fact, down one glass column, across the floor of the pavilion, where it was joined by the waterfall flowing down the glass column on the opposite side of the floor. Acorna cupped her hand to dip out a drink, and found that the water was actually covered by glass. So were the singing birds that flew from another column, across the top of the pavilion, to disappear into the column opposite the one where the flight had begun. Within the bird’s path, clouds drifted with seeming air currents and, at the base of the pillars, the branches of bushes seemed to bob in a breeze.
Acorna yawned and stretched. The pallet beside hers was empty. Then she noticed that beyond the bird column, the flap was closed and voices were coming from the other side.
She rose and pulled on the undergown from the previous night, wishing she still had her flight suit instead.
The front flap opened, and Grandam Naadiina entered the pavilion. Her arms were full of various items, bouquets of wild flowers, notes, and sheaves of edible grasses and big leafed vegetables.
“Here, let me help you,” Acorna said, rushing forward to relieve her hostess of some of the burden.
“You may as well take them all. Young males haven’t left such tributes to me in a long time.”
“You mean these are for me? But—why?”
“Your welcome home reception was interrupted and your guests did not get properly introduced. I suppose these are by way of being an apology, if not an invitation, on behalf of some of your guests. Perhaps some of them were fellows who are going off planet now and will have no chance to meet you until they return.” She paused. “Besides, the Ancestors seem to approve of you, whether or not Liriili does. The opinions of the Ancestors carry a great deal of weight with our people.”
Acorna shook her head, disbelieving, as she deposited some of the edibles—the wildflowers were edible, too—on one of the low tables near the eas
tern wall of the pavilion. There was no kitchen facility, or rest room either. Like Acorna, the Linyaari of course tended to graze, eating only fresh vegetables and grasses, so a food preparation area was unnecessary. They buried their waste in the ground, too—or in an area of the hydroponics gardens, as Acorna and her shipmates had done aboard ship. There was no taboo about this. Linyaari recycled food with a clean efficiency that made the waste excellent fertilizer, Neeva had told her. Acorna’s human upbringing made her wonder at the lack of squeamishness about this function, but then, humans often used recycled urine for water while on long voyages, too, and the connection was at least one step more remote in this case.
“I’m glad they approve,” Acorna said. “It was rather difficult to tell.”
“It always is, for anyone other than an attendant. Your brow is wrinkled. Why is that? What’s bothering you?”
“Just that I made a fool of myself last night, and then there was the emergency and here I am being given gifts, when everyone is so very worried. I don’t want people to give me things because they feel guilty or intimidated. I want to make friends, to learn to know and understand our people.”
“You are a very sensitive girl and your attitude does you proud. However, many of the people last night, including our leader, were most ungracious to you and the gifts show that they realize that. The emergency no doubt kept some of them from making complete asses out of themselves. These gifts are actually quite a healthy sign—that in spite of the crisis, some of them cared enough about your feelings to apologize. Once this would not have been at all unusual but our people have changed, since the evacuation.” Her voice drifted off, sadly. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject. “Now then. Tell me more about your adventures.”
Acorna’s People Page 9