Ri remained as she was for a long time before lifting the weapons. She moved to the table and set the shorter one aside. She pulled the long sword free. It rang like struck crystal long after she set the sheath aside.
“I debated long before giving them to her.”
Suz twisted toward the whisper. Levan stood behind her, looking past at the lone fighter below, his eyes squinted in concern. She’d never heard him enter the balcony. Not even from straight behind. It left her with a shiver of fear at her own vulnerability and another in wonder that Ri could have sensed his approach.
“She appears to appreciate them.”
Levan raised his chin toward the view and Suz turned back. The men had cleared out and the training room was given over to the young woman and the ancient blade. She started through the basic steps, ones that Suz herself had mastered.
“See, she knows how to learn. This one is very smart. She very nearly beat me today. I don’t think I can afford to spar with her again if I wish to keep my reputation. I might be no more lucky than my men.”
“Were they really fighting?”
“For their very lives. I can’t let her do that again. It demoralizes the men too much. I’ll have to let them go out and beat up some old ladies to get them back on their feet.”
She turned to inspect the man. His face was impassive, but his eyes were twinkling ever so slightly. His humor was so rare that even after their years of association, it was still an uncertain thing. But surely he couldn’t be serious about that one.
At last he smiled, “I have put the whole reputation of your entire squad in doubt. Fear not, Angel-lady,” again his eyes crinkled slightly at his use of Ri’s nickname for her, “we will be most circumspect.”
She would have laughed aloud, had Levan’s attention not returned to the floor.
Ri had shifted into forms that Suz recognized, but had not even began to understand, never mind master with a wooden sword. The girl and the sword blurred into a ballet of glittering light and flowing wind.
“See how she leaves the form to follow the dictates of the blade. Unbound by rules, following instinct, she learns from the maker of the weapon.”
Suz could not appreciate the subtleties, but that beauty and instant death could so cleanly intermix, could find such a delicate balance, was a fascinating lesson. She could see why Levan was reluctant to tear back even a part of the shield kept around Japan to extract Ri’s cadre.
They embodied a form of death that would never survive on her father’s planet.
The Tancho Cadre could deal death from a place of absolute honor, without remorse, without thought. They would take ruthless right action from pure instinct. What right action awaited her?
# # #
“Um, Dad?”
Bryce Sr. looked up from his desk at the interruption.
“Your door was open, do you have a moment?”
He closed the folder on his desk and tried to categorize what Suzie might want. He realized that he lacked any data from which to even guess. She’d shown up when requested at the occasional dinners, and been a charming hostess opposite Celia, but that had been the extent of their interaction.
She wore her worn, yellow terrycloth bathrobe and some ridiculous kid’s slippers. Her long, sun-streaked hair was hanked back in an unruly ponytail. She’d never left home and Bryce had never stayed. Why couldn’t she be the one hiding out in Sweden and Bryce Jr. be the one who remained homebound?
“Sure. Come on in.”
Suzie stepped over the threshold and stopped when she saw Celia sprawled in her black leather armchair lost in yet another damned novel. He tried to read the title from across the room. He couldn’t make it out, because the cover was more about tattered clothing and bare flesh, than any words that the author may have incidentally created.
“I can come back late—”
“Don’t be so damned meek. Come on in. Don’t mind her.”
Celia shot him a foul look, her most common offering of late. “He likes to keep me where he can see me.”
Suzie shuffled up to his desk and hesitated before sitting in a chair.
“What can I do for you?”
“Have you been keeping up on the Wanderer?”
“Yes, he just left an underground movement in Stockholm. I think they were planning to overthrow my government, all six of them. I’m not terribly concerned though, they’re equally worried about getting into the Café Opera bar. Why?”
Suzie’s smile was whimsical and unreadable. He was about to ask what it meant but she spoke first.
“I mean the asteroid, though it’s nice to know Brycie’s having fun.”
“The asteroid. Sure, coming up on Pluto in a few years, headed for the sun six months later. Nowhere near to us according to the Earthshield trackers. Why? Don’t worry your pretty little head. We’re safe as can be.”
Even as he spoke he knew he was being condescending, somehow she seemed to bring out the worst in him. Though she never seemed to mind.
“I’m not worried about this one, it’s the next one that concerns me.”
He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his desk. “There’s another one? Why have you heard about it and not me?”
“Because we haven’t found it yet. It’s still too far away.”
“What?”
“How big is the Wanderer?”
Bryce was getting bored of this conversation. He let his attention drift back to the speech he was reviewing. The breeding program was shifting into law tomorrow and he was still fussing with the language he’d use to convince the Council to rubber stamp it for him with the least pain.
“Fifty kilometers or something like that.”
“Three hundred and twenty-two the long way. Over two hundred the narrow way. What if had been headed for the Earth? We couldn’t have done a thing about it.”
The same thing his experts had told him. They’d been lucky this time. Of course seen from space, the Earth was a pretty small target to hit with a cosmic peashooter. When the next one came, statistically in another ten million to fifty million years, they’d be able to take care of it.
“Okay. So?” He opened the folder partway, and kept the edge tilted so that his speech wasn’t visible to the girl, not that it mattered.
“So if we can be wiped out by a single blundering rock, wouldn’t it make sense to not be here when it arrives. Or at least for some portion of the human race not to be here, so that we can survive?”
“Maybe, but there’s no rush.” He deleted “eradicate” and replaced it with “euthanize” then changed it back. Then deleted the whole damn sentence. Suddenly the punishments that would be carried out on the Council’s families if they didn’t embrace his plan became far more ominous without a specifically named retribution.
“What if the scientists are wrong and we’re all dead on October 21st, 2091? What of your plans for a better human race then?”
He turned to face her fully. “My what?” He closed the folder again.
“I’ve watched you remove the criminal element, neatly eradicate organized religions to remove the threat of jihads. I’m sure you have more plans. What if the scientists are wrong and in two years we’re all dead. There is one pair, Bronson and Hendron, who say we’re still in desperate danger, though no one believes them. All we need is for Phobos, Ceres, Io, or some other oversized rock to get dragged off course and tossed in our direction.”
“It would be a disaster.” Celia settled into the chair next to Suzie in a single, lithe motion. “Neither Mars nor the Moon colonies are self-sustaining yet.”
A few years ago such a motion would have made his loins burn. Now he could see that she was overdoing it, trying to keep her hold on him. It was still there, but it was slipping. Another year, maybe two, and she’d have to accidentally run into something very hard.
>
But why was she joining in on his daughter’s side? She might be a bother, but she had a very sharp mind.
“Think about your plans for tomorrow, shot down before they have a chance to come to fruition.” Celia had never used her carefully liquid voice to sway him on policy. Now what was she up to? Two women suddenly deciding to be unpredictable at the same time. He didn’t like it one bit.
Bryce wondered if they were in cahoots, but Suzie’s expression was just a little too wide-eyed as she gazed at his wife. She was as surprised at the support as he was. And she also apparently had no idea about his breeding program announcement in the morning.
But Celia was right. He’d spent thirty-five years shaping a better, healthier Homo sapiens. Having them all die due to lack of planning was unreasonably short-sighted.
“So, we’re all in mortal danger in just two years. What should I do? Colonize the stars like some old fantasy novel?”
Suzie reached into her bathrobe pocket and, fishing out a memchip, slid it toward him across the desk.
Bryce pushed it into his virus scanner, but it reported clean.
He shoved it into his reader and a holo appeared in the middle of his desk. He glanced at the metrics. The thing was huge. Over a kilometer along the axis. Bigger than any station yet in orbit by a factor of almost ten. He leaned back and contemplated it over steepled fingers.
Five rings spinning about a central core like old wagon wheels on a single axle. Four massive ion thrusters, attached at the core, reached out beyond each wheel. Some contraption out of a kid’s toy box. Yet, the call to space and adventure hung in the air above his desk.
“But the off-center thrust—”
“The thrust is so low that there will be no appreciable sensation inside and the rings will be built to take it. Low thrust over long periods. Gets to a likely star in just over five decades.”
“Where’d you find the damn thing?” He waved a hand at it trying to look disgusted, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. It was magnificent. Audacious. Even that stupid wench Celia studied it with glistening eyes.
“The original idea came out of an old two-dee movie. This represents three years of work by the Hanoi Engineering School at Central Launch. They say it can be done. That the stars are in reach. But we have to start it soon if we want to have it ready before the Wanderer arrives. Very soon.”
Bryce watched the rings spin through another slow turn, fully a minute to rotate once around, all in neat harmony. He glanced at his console. He’d have to rewrite his speech.
# # #
Robbie decided to walk through the final night on the hike back to Orinoco station. The jungle was different after dark. With the settling of the noisier and flashier animals of the day, came the silence of the nocturnals. She knew that around her a whole different world was occurring.
In the nests and burrows and in the high branches, the mothers would be preening their young and keeping them warm as they slept. Even from birth, these young knew to be silent. No calls to attract the night predators. All nestled as deeply as possible to hide from the infrared vision of the snakes who prowled the trees. The bats made the only sound, the gentle flapping audible only because all else was still. Even the Orinoco flowed gently and quietly in its distant bed.
Robbie had mapped the trail on her tracker the prior season, but the full moon was so bright, even here below the canopy, that she rarely had to consult it.
The night smells were different as well. The occasionally overwhelming battle of the hibiscus and the chewing-gum odor of the Coryanthes leucocorys had ended with the setting of the sun. Now the smell of the yellow earth and even the dusty smell of cooling bark called gently for her attention.
She wondered if Jaron ever walked through the night forest or if he was always high in the trees with his parrot. She picked up her pace a bit. It had been a long nine months, working at Minsk University wishing she were back in the jungle.
She’d gained quite a reputation from the papers she and Jaron had written. She’d honored his request and published them only under her name, but such a subterfuge did not sit well with her. This season she’d have it out with him.
After their night in the trees, waking in her arms had sent him off into a spin. He’d hardly spoken to her before it was time to go their opposite directions in the mid-morning heat. She’d had to practically corner him at the head of the trail before he said he’d looked forward to seeing her next season.
Well, she’d be there shortly. At first she hadn’t known how she’d afford it, but after she’d begun releasing their papers, her mysterious benefactor had stepped in once again. In came another three month’s sponsorship and next year’s tuition as well. She’d tried to trace it, or even send a thank you note, but everything dead-ended. She’d finally dedicated the last paper of the series to “the unknown patron.”
There’d been a brief note in response, “Thank you. Do not do that again. SJ.”
A few discreet searches from a public terminal had revealed no “SJ” at the university nor any obvious ones in the scientific community connected with jungle research.
She had, however, begun receiving polite inquiries for details from a few of the top researchers. It had taken two days for her nerves to settle after Dr. Wilkson had contacted her, a mere third-year student, asking for specifics on generational mutation rates of several tree frog species as they varied with seasonal breeding times. That she’d been able to reply meaningfully was a testament to Jaron’s notes. That she’d been able to key the response coherently was a testament to her own nerves.
The reclusive Wilkson was notorious throughout the scientific community, both for his brilliance in the few documents he chosen to publish and his taciturn evisceration of all who displeased him. She monitored his publications closely after that and was shocked when she’d seen the extensive footnote in his latest paper on amphibians. Oddly though, none of the mutation data he’d so specifically been interested in had appeared anywhere in the article. What else was he writing that wasn’t seeing the light of day?
The sky was brightening and the station lay barely ten minutes ahead. Robbie shifted her pack, the straps had chafed badly, she’d brought extra treats for Jaron, things he might never have had from the “outside world.” After a week of carrying the weight, she almost wished she hadn’t, but now that the station was near, it had been a good choice. Jaron, blissed out on premium dark chocolate. That was a sight she was looking forward to.
She’d left school immediately after finals, but her grant hadn’t afforded her the luxury of transport beyond the nearest public depot.
She’d enjoyed the week-long hike up-river anyway. It was a chance to leave the world behind. The world of worrying about the politics going on around the new star. Her publications had not passed by the faculty or her fellow students without notice. Some had vied for her attention, some wanted her input, most wanted to find some way to take advantage of her brief splash of fame.
A few had even tried to get her into bed, but they were the most obvious and the most boring. There were very few men interested in a woman as tall as they were and with twice their girth. Jaron had never commented on her size but once. And that had been to acknowledge her stamina and strength in clearing trails.
Robbie strode into the clearing as the sun rose above the distant trees. She broke into a trot as she headed toward the lab, she felt light-headed and a little euphoric after walking for twenty-four straight hours with barely a pause. The door and solar panels had been cleared this season; though it was odd, a few tendrils reached across them as if the clearing had been done a while ago.
She burst through the door afraid of finding Jaron dead on the floor. Maybe he’d arrived early, cleared everything, then hurt himself and been unable to keep the panels growth-free.
Even as she slapped on the lights, she knew she was being irrational. There
was no body on the floor. A small stack of journals rested next to his terminal. A glance revealed his fine scrawl running from binding to paper edge of every sheet.
She tapped the screen awake. A note was opened and the date across the top was almost a month old. She dropped into the chair, cold from its long vacancy.
“I’m headed back up the Orinoco as soon as I finish this. I’ve been wanting to study the high summer life cycles of several bromeliads native to the Amazon cloudforest. You will find much data here to be published, should you wish to do so, in keeping with our prior arrangement.”
No signature, though that didn’t surprise her. Nothing personal. That hurt. Hurt enough that she had to blink hard to reread the note.
She cleared the screen and a directory of data files was displayed. There were nearly fifty completed papers listed with supporting data subfiles. Months of work and no other sign. He was gone. His excuse about the bromeliads sounded…just like an excuse.
She turned away and blinked at the tears that pushed forth. Damn him.
# # #
“You don’t know anything about commitment.” Levan snarled at her. His face so close to hers that she couldn’t breathe without drawing in his used air.
Ri wanted to punch him in the chest to knock him back. But she’d made the mistake of trying that only once. Not only hadn’t she gotten past his defenses, but her right shoulder had been useless for weeks afterward.
She reached past her fury and found a slight center of calm that allowed her to speak in careful, spaced monosyllables.
“You do not know what I have and what I do not have.”
He glowered at her a moment longer and then backed off a hand’s-breadth with only the slightest narrowing of his eyes. She’d come to learn that was as much praise as she’d ever receive.
She glanced away to look out the window. Even after a year of flitting around with the Angel-lady and training with Levan, she couldn’t get over the wonder of looking down on the world, especially the ocean. Today it lay empty except for a few isolated islands dotted like green and yellow sparkles across the vast waters.
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