The Stars are also Fire - [Harvest the Stars 02]

by Poul Anderson

  Wasn't it wise at least to make the cage larger, before the beast tried breaking altogether loose?

  She couldn't tell. She wished she could seek counsel of Guthrie. But she was sworn to silence, and these were her children.

  "Well," she sighed, "we'll talk about it."

  * * * *

  23

  D

  rums boomed and thuttered. A chant pulsed among them, now organ deep, now shrill as the whistles that interwove, hai-ah-ho-hee. At the landing field the noise went low, like a distant thunderstorm, but its darkness thickened the twilight closing in.

  Thunderstorm, yes, Aleka thought. Air pressed downward from the cloud deck, hot, heavy with unshed rain; her skin gleamed wet under blouse and shorts, and prickled as if from gathering electricity.

  For a moment she stood beside the hired volant, unsure. Likeliest she'd leave with Kenmuir in hers, which had brought him here. But that wasn't certain. The news had been a shock when she retrieved it while approaching Overburg—negotiations suddenly broken off, Mayor Bruno calling a game against Elville, a government advisory not to visit the area. She might need to flit in a hurry.

  "Wait here," she directed the cab. "If I haven't told you otherwise, return to your station at, oh, hour seven tomorrow."

  "In view of the hazard the charge for that will be double the standard rate," the robot warned.

  The debit would put quite a nick in her modest personal account. However, Lilisaire ought to reimburse eventually. Besides—her head lifted—she was playing for almighty high stakes. "Authorized." Her voice pattern was sufficient signature. She gripped her two suitcases hard and set forth across the field.

  It reached empty. When she got in among the houses, at first the sole light came from equally deserted pavement. Was everybody downtown, working up enthusiasm? Best would be to skirt that section. But she didn't know how. She had simply projected a street map from the database and memorized the most direct route to the inn. It lay beyond the square.

  If only she could have talked with Kenmuir beforehand. They'd have arranged a safer meeting place, maybe an arbitrary spot in the countryside. Bueno, he had had no way of telling where she was en route. To set the communications net searching would have been to provide any hunters with a major clue. After she got the bad word, she tried to call him from the flyer. The innkeeper told her that Sr. Hannibal was out. Not knowing when to expect her, he must have gone to eat or something. She saw no point in leaving a message. On her second attempt, nobody replied. By then she was so close that she decided to go ahead with the original plan.

  Rightly or wrongly. Probably there was no real danger. She stepped onward. Gloom canopied the buildings and crouched between them. Ahead, though, light strengthened wavery over the rooftops. Drums, whistles, song, stamping feet grew louder, till the racket beat in her marrow.

  The street ended at a large edifice, a pile of night. She turned left, then right at its edge, hoping to stay clear of the crowd without getting lost. Unfamiliarity tricked her. All at once she came forth into the next street and found she was at a corner of the square diagonally across it. The spectacle jarred her to a halt.

  At the center flared a bonfire, flames roaring three meters aloft, smoke washed red with their glare. Around it danced the young men, stripped to the waist, shining with sweat. They waved knives and staves, they ululated, their faces were stretched out of shape with passion. At the corners squatted the drummers and whistlers. Along the right side clustered the women, children, and elderly, a shadowy jumble wherein firelight glistened off eyeballs. Their keening wove like needles through the male chant. "Ee-ya, ho-ah, hai-ah, ho!"

  Through Aleka whirled recollections of ceremonies at home, solemn or merry, cheering at sports events, and a police parade. This too was human.

  Better get away. Fast.

  A hand clamped on her shoulder. In her amazement she had not noticed anyone behind her. "Who you? What you doin' here?"

  The man was gray and portly, unfit for campaign, but his muscles were still big and he carried a knobbed staff as well as a dagger. Yes, she realized, a few guards would be posted, even in this dement hour. "P-por favor," she choked, "I'm a, a visitor. Bound for your inn."

  "Ungn? Spy, mebbe. We see. Come." He took hold of her arm and wrenched. Biting back fear and anger, she obeyed. They skirted the left side of the square.

  A man came dancing solitary down that street. He was swathed in a knee-length hooded coat. As he passed, Aleka saw by the veined hands and withered face that he was aged beyond any further help from biotech. Then she saw that his coat was identical front and rear, and that on the back of his head he wore a mask of himself as a young man. That face bore the same blind ecstasy. He jerked his way on out of her sight. She wondered what magic he was working.

  The guard took her up the stairs of a big, grotesquely colonnaded building. On the porch stood several men, also old but as richly attired as the four young women with them. At the middle hulked another man, in the prime of life, huge and shaggy-blond, a horned fillet and a gold chain declaring his rank. Beside him, a table held a jug and goblet. He was taking a long draught.

  Gazes went from the warriors to the newcomers. The guard bent a knee and dipped his staff. "'Scuse, señorissimo," he said through the noise. "I caught this here moo over yonder. Dunno who she is or wha' she wants."

  "Yah?" growled the giant.

  Aleka mustered resolve. "Are you the mayor, señor?" she asked as calmly as she was able. "My respects. I didn't mean any harm or, or offense or anything. I just came to meet another visitor here. Nobody was at the airfield, so all I could do was make for the inn where he is."

  "Ah-h. Yah. That there Hannibal, huh?"

  "Yes. He messaged that he'd gotten permission for me."

  "I know. Yuh." The mayor's glance slithered up and down and across her. He grinned. "Yuh, sure. You goin' to the inn, um? Awright. Stay there. I can't leave yet, but I'll see y’ later. Stay, y' hear?" To the guard: "Follow 'long, Bolly, an' watch t' make sure they stay inside."

  Unease quickened. "Why, señor?" Aleka protested. "I assure you, we're only transients, we have nothing to do with—"

  A slab of a hand chopped air. "I know. I wanna talk wi' you, tha's all. Move on. Don't hurt her none, Bolly, long's she behaves. You got me? Awright, move on.

  Evidently the mayor's part in the celebration must not be interrupted any more than necessary. The guardsman led Aleka back down the stairs. He had released his grip, but sullen silence told how he resented being posted away from the fun. She suspected he would have found ways to take it out on her except for his orders. The database had said the chief enforced an absolute governance, personally and brutally.

  But it was limited to his subjects, who could always leave, she told herself. It existed on sufferance. Unless he was a total fool, he wouldn't provoke national intervention.

  Still, relief streamed through her when the escort stopped and mumbled, "Here y' are. Go on, get inside." He hunkered down on the grass by the steps and brooded on his wrongs.

  The hostel was an ordinary-looking house, not much more sizable than average. A single window showed light from the second floor. An entryroom was illuminated but empty. When the hinged door had shut, quietness drew in on Aleka. Dust, a few pieces of weary furniture, a musty smell—no robots, then; two or three humans in charge. A role for them to play. Tonight they were playing another and frenzied one. However, that shining window—Her blood thrilled. Baggage or no, she ran upstairs.

  Doors lined a corridor. They lacked any kind of scanners or annunciators. Mentally orienting herself and recalling historical shows, she chose which to knock on. It opened, and the sight of Kenmuir's simpático face set her spirit free. "Aloha, aloha," she gasped.

  "You!" he exclaimed. "Cosmos, but you're welcome. Come in, do." He took her suitcases and secured the door behind her.

  The room was about four meters square, with an attached bath cubicle and a woven carpet underfoot. It possessed
neither phone nor multi. A bed, a dresser, and two chairs were as primitive in workmanship as in design. The sash window was another anachronism, full of the night that had fallen. Kenmuir shut it against the sounds, to which he must have been listening, and turned on the air cycle. Coolness blew sweet into an atmosphere that had begun to stifle her.

  He took both her hands. "How are you?" he asked anxiously. "I've been so worried since this trouble broke. I was hoping you'd sheer off and post a new message for me."

  "I thought of it, but that would've cost more time and I don't know how much we can afford," she explained. "Maybe I should've. Too late now."

  He sensed the grimness. "What do you mean?"

  She told him about her arrival. He scowled, paced to and fro, shook his lean head. "Let's hope Bruno has nothing more in mind than a bit of farewell sociability, to show off his importance."

  "What else might it be?" she asked with a flutter in her throat.

  "I. . . can't say. Of course, he can't detain us, or anything like that. We can point out the legal consequences of trying. I'm afraid that ruffian outside is too stupid to understand, and we could end with a broken bone or two. But Bruno—I've come to know him a little, this past couple of days. He's been . . . cordial, in his clumsy way. Eager to impress me, the man from the wide world. Cultural inferiority complex, I think, fuelling a lot of the bluster and violence." Kenmuir's tone had gone scholarly. He curbed it and his unrest. A laugh rattled out. "But I say, what kind of host am I? Do sit down, or lie down if you'd rather. Would you care for a drink? I acquired a bottle of whisky."

  Aleka took a chair and smiled up at him. "Gracias. Plenty of water in it, por favor. Don't worry about me. I've been through far worse. This was unpleasant but short, and I've already bounced back."

  Charging the tumblers, he regarded her and said slowly, "Yes, you are an adventurous lass, aren't you? A great deal to tell me, I'll wager. Well, we've hours to wait, and we can talk freely. This room is one place— one of the very few places on Earth—we can feel sure there's no surveillance."

  "We do need to talk," she agreed.

  He gave her her drink, pulled the other chair close, and folded himself onto it. Tenser than she, he took a stiff swallow before he began: "Who are you, Aleka? What are you doing in this affair, and why?"

  "I'd like to know you better, too, Kenmuir."

  "But you've been briefed about me. Haven't you? While to me you're a complete mystery."

  She couldn't help grinning. "Woman of mystery? That'll be news to all my folk. How do I go about it? Should I put on a foreign accent, or find me a low-cut gown, or what? No, that's Lilisaire's department."

  His lips tightened for a moment. Did she see him wince? She remembered what had been in his eyes when they spoke with the Selenarch from that furnace enclosure in the desert. Sympathy welled forth. By every evidence, he was a decent man, a quiet man, pitched into a situation for which he was no more fitted than a Keiki was to climb a mountain, yet going bravely ahead, without even the hope that drove her.

  She gentled her voice. "I'm sorry. Don't want to play games with you. Go on, ask what you want. I'll answer anything that's not too personal,"

  He flushed. "I. . . wouldn't dream of intruding on your privacy." So he valued his own. "But as for your background and, and your motivation—"

  Time lost itself in memories. He had a gift of evoking them from her, she couldn't quite tell how, the shy smile or the questions that could be awkwardly phrased but were always intelligent or the bits of his years and dreams that he offered in return. She believed that little by little he came to some knowledge of her Lahui Kuikawa, the two races of it that she both loved, small dear homes enfolded by immensities of sea and weather, ancient usages and youthful joys, a life with a meaning and purpose that went beyond itself, which no machine could share but which the world of the machines and their followers was going to confine and make over. . . . "Oh, I can admit the necessity, even the justice of it," she said, and blinked furiously at her tears, "but give us a while yet, give us a chance to find a new way for ourselves!" . . . She wasn't sure whether she would ever fully imagine his feelings. Though he had gone in pride among splendors, the faring seemed harsh and lonely. But he held her to him, briefly and tenderly, when grief was about to overwhelm her, and it receded.

  He deserved better than Lilisaire.

  The time came when they sat quiet, until he asked, "And what did she promise you, if somehow this crazy venture succeeds?" His tone was calm, with a hint of the academic style that he often fell into. His mouth creased slightly upward.

  Doubts shivered away to naught. She straightened in her chair and cried, "A home!"

  "Where? How?"

  "Nauru." His glance inquired. Words spilled from her. "No, I don't expect you've heard of it. An island in mid-Pacific, barely south of the equator, northeast of the Solomons. It was a nation once, tiny but rich, because it had plenty of phosphate to export. But that got used up," before molecular technology had bridled the voracity of global industry. "The population, ten thousand or so, tried to build a new economic foundation, but didn't really succeed and became poorer and poorer. When Fireball offered to buy them out at a good price, they were happy to accept and move away. Guthrie had an idea of building another spaceport there. But things went to wrack and ruin on Earth, what with the Renewal and the Grand Jihad and all; and when they were starting to make sense again, Guthrie died, and it was a while before his download had full control over the company; and by then, so much space activity was based in space itself that a new Earthside port wouldn't pay. Eventually Fireball sold Nauru to Brandir of Zamok Vysoki. That was in the early days of Lunar independence. Several Selenarchs had gotten superwealthy and were looking for investments. They picked up a fair amount of property on Earth, including real estate. Some of it is still in their families."

  "This island being Lilisaire's, eh?" Kenmuir murmured. "What has she done with it?"

  "Nothing much. Fishery and aquaculture, maintained by robots and a few resident Terrans. Not especially profitable. But you see, it was always important to have people there, if only a handful. Because technically, Nauru is still a distinct country."

  Kenmuir's eyes widened. "I think I do see." He chuckled. "I'd love to know what maneuvers Guthrie went through to arrange it. Wily old devil."

  Aleka nodded vigorously. "That was the idea. The Ecuadoran and Australian governments were cooperative with Fireball, but if he could have his very own—Bueno, as I said, it didn't work out. The Selenarch owners used it as a way of getting a kept politician into the Federation Assembly, but it never did them any noticeable good. And now—" She caught her breath.

  "A-a-ah. You shall have it for your people."

  "Yes. An atoll, with a couple of big float platforms to add some area. But more than a quarter million square kilometers of territorial waters. And the neighbor states, they long since granted rights in theirs to Nauru, on a basis of mutuality that they don't take advantage of any more.

  "Oh, yes, we'll have to abide by environmental rules under the Covenant. But they're flexible enough when . . . we are the local supervisors . . . and we do want to bring our Keiki into balance with nature, it's just that we can't do it without destroying what we are unless we have time and elbow room and. . . freedom—" She couldn't go on.

  She had not yet been there in person, but before her rose the vision she conjured out of the database. Nauru was not Niihau. It lay solitary, 200 square kilometers, a plateau scarred by the former mining, walled by coral cliffs, ringed by sandy beaches and the outlying reef, a wilderness where remnants of dwellings stood desolate under the sea wind and the screaming sea birds, the only habitation a few cabins. But trees swayed in that wind, flowers glowed, in the southwest was a freshwater lagoon, everywhere around reached the living sea. The English had named it Pleasant Island.

  "What we can make of it," she whispered after a minute.

  "I daresay the deal will raise an uproar in Hiroshim
a." Kenmuir stroked his chin. "But, hm, I'd guess you can plead your case on more than legalistic grounds. Popular sentiment will favor a cause that romantic. Also, not least, because you'll be taking the country out of Lunarian hands, back into Earthlings'. Yes, the prospects look good to me."

  His dryness was just what she needed. Had he known? Aleka settled into reality. "First," she said, "we've got to carry out our mission, and hope the result will seem worth it to Lilisaire."

  His countenance drew into furrows. "Right. We do." Then: "What exactly is your plan?"

  "The plan I was given, actually," she replied, "and there's nothing exact about it, only a briefing on what to expect and a suggestion or two about how to proceed. We can try something different if we choose. But this does strike me as our best bet. Does the name Prajnaloka mean anything to you?"