The Ship Who Saved the Worlds

by Anne McCaffrey

  "Can you teach me how to use it?" Keff asked, smiling hopefully at her. Plennafrey seemed uneasy, but allowed herself to be persuaded by the fatal Von Scoyk-Larsen charm.

  "Well, all right," she said. "I'll trust you." Her expression said that she didn't trust often or easily. Such behavior on this world, Carialle noted, would not be a survival trait.

  Plenna stood behind Keff and showed him how to place his fingers in the depressions. "Do not push down, not . . . solidly," she said.

  "Physically," Keff corrected IT's translation. He cradled the buckle in his other hand, raising it to eye level.

  "Correct," Plenna said, unaware of the box's simultaneous transmission as she spoke. "Imagine your fingers pressing deep into the heart, where they will contact the Core of Ozran."

  "Is that why you wear the finger extensions?" Keff asked, after trying to fit his hand into the depressions. His thumb and little finger had to curve unnaturally to touch all five spots, while Plenna, with her pinky prosthesis, could cover them without effort, bending only her thumb.

  "Yes. Most mages do not have fingers long enough. It is one way in which we are inferior to the great Ancient Ones who left us these tools," Plenna said with a trace of awe. "Now, think hard. Do you feel the fire inside? It should run up inside your arm to your heart."

  "I feel something," Keff said after a while. "Now what?"

  She looked around and pointed at the pedometer lying on the console. "Make that box fly," she said.

  Keff stared fixedly at the pedometer. His face turned red with effort. To Carialle's satisfaction, the device lifted a few centimeters before clattering back to its resting place.

  "There, you see?" she said. "Mechanics."

  Plennafrey held out her hand for the belt, and Keff gave it back. "Now, here is how I do it." Barely touching the five depressions, the magiwoman glanced at the box. It shot up to dangle in midair. Keff walked over and tried to push down on the hovering device. It didn't budge. He yanked at it with all his strength.

  "Its as if you fixed it there," Keff said, sweeping Plenna off her feet and kissing her. "Carialle, we're both right. They do use machines, but it's more than that. I can't duplicate what she just did. I nearly got a hernia raising the pedometer as far as I did. She set it like a point plotted in a three-dimensional grid, and she's not even flushed."

  The Lady Fair image didn't show the exasperation that Carialle let creep into her voice.

  "All right, so they have natural TK and psi abilities which are amplified by the mechanism. Probably increased by selective breeding over centuries—you see what they've done to the Noble Primitives."

  "Sour grapes," Keff said cheerfully. "And this gizmo can work from anywhere on the planet?" he asked Plennafrey.

  "Yes," the magiwoman said, "but closer to the Core of Ozran makes it easier."

  Keff nodded and sat down next to Plenna so he could examine the buckle once again. "Chaumel mentioned that, but he wouldn't say what it is. Is that the power source? Do you know how it works?"

  "I do—or I think I do." Plennafrey's eyes grew dreamy as she raised her hands to sketch in the air. "It is a great, glowing heart of power, somewhere deep beneath the surface of Ozran. It was the Ancient Ones' greatest work." For a moment, the young woman looked sheepish. "My power is weak compared with the others. I have tried to figure out more about the Ancient Ones and the Core to try and increase my power, though not . . . not in the way some did." She glanced uneasily at Carialle.

  "I know all about your father, Magess," Carialle said. "Whatever Keff sees and hears, I do, too."

  That reminded Plennafrey of what Carialle must have seen and heard that morning, and she blushed from the roots of her hair to her neckline.

  "Oh," she said. Carialle kindly tried to take the sting out of the revelation.

  "I also agree with everything he said about your situation. You're very brave, Magess."

  "Thank you. Hem! As I said, I wished to make my connection to the Core greater with harm to none. I have some ancient documents that I am sure hold the key to the power of the Core, but I cannot read them." She appealed to both brain and brawn. "I dared not ask anyone for help, lest they take away my small advantage. Perhaps you might help me?"

  "Documents?" Keff perked up. He rose and paced around the cabin. "Documents possibly written by the Ancients? Will you let me see them? I'm a stranger; I have no reason to rob you. I'm also very good with languages. Will you trust me?" He stopped at Plennafrey's chair and took her hand.

  "All right," Plennafrey said. She looked lovingly up into his eyes. "There is no one else I would rather trust."

  "She's completely out of her league in this game," Carialle said in Keff's ear. "What a pity there isn't a place on this nasty planet for nice guys. . . . We have one problem," she said aloud. "I can't lift tail from where I'm sitting, and at present, there's a surveillance team of overgrown marbles flying around my hull."

  "Where are Chaumel and the others?" Keff asked.

  Carialle consulted her monitors, reanimating the globe. The enormous mass of purple had thinned away, leaving single points scattered along the crisscrossing lines. "Everyone's gone home except a few who are hanging around Chaumel's peak."

  "I am sure they will be looking for me in my stronghold," Plenna said resignedly. "All is lost."

  "We need a conspirator," Keff said. "And I know just the fellow."

  "Who? I told you all the others would steal my documents, and then you will be forced to read for them."

  Keff's eyes twinkled. "He's not a mage. Cari, can you get me out of here unobserved through the cargo hatch? I'm going to go enlist Brannel."

  "Who is Brannel?" Plenna asked, trailing behind Keff and Carialle as they headed toward the cargo hold.

  "He's one of the workers who lives in the cave out there," Keff said, pointing vaguely outward.

  "A four-finger? You wish to entrust one of Klemay's farmers with secrets of the Core of Ozran?"

  "You don't know what's in your files," Carialle said. "Might be a book of recipes from the Dark Ages. Hasten, Magess." Carialle's image stopped in the hold as Keff began to move containers out of the way. Plennafrey trotted to a halt to avoid bumping into her. "We need help. Something very wrong is happening to your world and I think it has been going bad since your ancestors were babies. Your documents are the first piece of real information we've heard about. Brannel can do what none of us can: he can go in and out of your house without being noticed by the other magimen."

  "Cari?" Keff gestured at the larger boxes blocking the ladder to the hatch. Service arms detached from the walls and began to stack and move them to other shelves. "I'm also going to have to jump down three meters. You'll have to create a diversion."

  "Leave that to me," Carialle said.

  She led the magiwoman back toward the main cabin. "Now, we're going to have some fun."

  Devoting screens around the main console to three of her external cameras for Plenna's benefit, Carialle tuned into the eye-spheres, the service door, and the main hatchway.

  They watched the eyes cluster as Carialle let down her ramp and slid open her airlock to disgorge a servo. The low robot rolled down onto the plateau and trundled off into the bushes with the cluster of spy-eyes in pursuit. The door slid closed.

  "Go!" Carialle said, pitching her voice over the speaker in the cargo hold. She slid open the door just a trifle.

  Leaving some skin behind, Keff slipped out the narrow opening, and dropped to the ground in a crouch. He ran down the hill and across the field toward where the workers were gathering at the cave mouth for their daily toil.

  Trusting Keff to take care of that half of the arrangements on his own, Carialle watched with amusement through one of the servo's guiding cameras as the spies followed. It rumbled downhill into a gully and plunged into a sudden puddle, splashing some of the eyes so they recoiled. Plennafrey laughed.

  The servo rumbled forward into the midst of a cluster of globe-frogs, who rolled ha
stily backward and gesticulated at one another inside their cases, croaking in alarm. They moved into the servo's path, continuing their tirade, as if scolding the machine for scaring them. Cari guided it carefully so it wouldn't bump into any of them and headed it for the deepest part of the swamp.

  Low-frequency transmissions buzzed between the spy-eyes. Carialle hooked the IT into the audio monitors. From the look of concentration on her face, Plenna was already listening to them in her own way, and enjoying being in the know for a change.

  "Where is it going?" asked Potria's voice. "Do you suppose it's going to where they are?"

  Plennafrey giggled.

  "Is the stranger's house doing this on its own?" Nokias asked. "It is a most powerful artifact."

  Carialle huffed. "They still think I'm an object! Oh, well, there's nothing I can do about that yet."

  "If they knew you were a living being," Plenna said "they would not treat you as an object. Oh," she said, reality dawning, "they would, wouldn't they? They did with Keff. Oh, my, what has my world become?"

  Carialle felt sorry for Plenna. She might be one of the upper class, but she wasn't happy about the status.

  On the screen, the spy-eyes were buzzing busily to one another, circling the area, trying to second-guess the servo's mission. Serenely, the robot rolled into a swampy place where pink-flowering weeds grew. Carialle set its parameters to seek out a marsh weed that had exactly fifteen leaves and twelve petals.

  "That should keep it busy for a while," Carialle said.

  "What does it want in that terrible wet place?" Asedow's voice wailed. "I am getting aches in my bones just watching it!"

  "Keep your eyes open," Nokias's voice cautioned them. "There might be a clue in what this box seeks that will lead us to the stranger."

  Carialle joined Plennafrey's delighted chuckle.

  Keff ran to the far side of the cave mouth so the hill would block the view of him from the spy-eyes' position. The Noble Primitives, still wiping traces of breakfast from their faces and chest fur, were listening to their crew chiefs assigning tasks for the day. Brannel, near Alteis's group, seemed bored with the whole thing. Keff now suspected that there was something in the Noble Primitive's metabolism that rejected the amnesia-inducing drug, or he was cleverer than his masters knew. He was banking on the latter possibility.

  "Ssst, Brannel!" he whispered. A child turned around at the slight noise and saw him. Sternly, Keff shook his head and twirled his finger to show the child she should turn around again. Terrified, the youngster clamped her hands together and returned to her original posture, spine rigid. Keff fancied he could see her quivering and regretted the necessity of scaring her. It was easier to frighten the child into submission than make friends. He hissed again.

  "Ssst, Brannel! Over here!"

  This time Brannel heard him. The Noble Primitive's sheeplike face split into a wide grin as he saw Keff beckoning to him. He rose to hands and knees and crawled away from the work party.

  Alteis saw him. "Brannel, return!" he commanded.

  Wordlessly, Brannel pointed to his belly, indicating the need to go relieve himself. The leader shook his head, then lost all interest in his maverick worker. Keff admired Brannel's quick mind; the fellow had to be unique among the field workers on Ozran.

  "I am so glad to see you safe, Magelord," Brannel said, when they had retreated around the curve of the hill. "I was concerned for your safety."

  Keff was touched. "Thank you, Brannel. I was worried for a while, too. But as you see, I'm back safe and sound."

  Brannel was impressed. Only yesterday Mage Keff could speak but a little of the Ozran tongue. Overnight, he had learned the language as well as if he had been born there.

  "How may I serve, Magelord?"

  "I wonder if you would be willing to do me a favor. I need someone with your injenooety," Keff said. Brannel shook his head, not comprehending. "Er, your smart brain and wits."

  "Ah," Brannel said, docketing "injenooety" as a word of the linga esoterka he had not previously known. "You are too kind, Mage Keff. I'd do anything you wish."

  Inwardly, Brannel was jubilant. The mage had sought him out, Brannel, a worker male! He could serve this mage, and in return, who knew? Keff possessed many great talents and wide knowledge which, perhaps, he might share as a reward for good service. One day, Brannel, too, might be able to achieve his dream and take power as a mage.

  Keff looked around. "I don't wish to talk here. We might be overheard. Come with me to the silver tower." When Brannel looked askance at him, he asked, "What's wrong?"

  "The noise it made, Mage Keff," Brannel said, and put his fingers in his ears. "It drove me outside."

  "Oh," Keff said. "That won't happen again. I want you to come in and stay this time. All right?"

  Brannel nodded. The magelord rose to a stoop and began to make his way across the field. None of the workers looked his way. Brannel hurried after him, full of hope.

  Instead of entering by the ramp through the open door, Keff directed Brannel around the rear of the tower and pointed upward. A slit as wide as his forearm was long had opened in the smooth silver wall.

  "But why . . . ?" he asked.

  "The front's being watched," Keff said. He joined his hands together and propped them on one knee. "Put your foot here—that's good. Now, reach for it. Up you go."

  Brannel grabbed the edge of the opening and heaved himself into it. Once he was up, he helped pull Mage Keff into a room crowded with boxes. They had to climb down from a high shelf with great care. When Brannel and Keff were inside, the opening in the wall closed. The female voice of the tower spoke in its strange tongue.

  "Aha," it said. "Come on through."

  "Come with me," Keff said, in Ozran.

  They walked down a short corridor. Two figures sat together in front of the great pictures of the outside. One of them rose and stared at him in horror and surprise.

  The feeling was mutual.

  "Magess Plennafrey!" Brannel, with one fearful glance at Keff, dropped to his knees and stared at the floor.

  "It's okay, Brannel," Keff said, reassuringly, plucking at the worker male's upper arm. "We're all working together here."

  "Hush, everyone," the other magess said in the tower's voice. "Here comes our diversion. I don't want the spies to pick up any sound from in here."

  * * *

  Carialle turned on a magnetic field in the airlock, strong enough to disable the spy-eyes, should any be bold enough to try to pass inside, but not enough to stop the servo. She slid the door upward. The low-slung robot rumbled imperturbably up the ramp and through the arch. In one slim, black, metal hand it held very carefully a single marsh flower.

  Immediately, the spy-eyes thought they had their opportunity to storm the tower and zoomed after the servo. One hit the field before the others and clanked noisily to the ground, disabled. The over-the-air chatter became excited, and the other spheres reversed course at once, speeding away.

  "That'll make them crazy," Carialle said. The first spy sphere rolled halfway down the ramp before its owner, on the other side of the continent, was able to take charge of it once again. As soon as it was airborne, it flitted off.

  "Good riddance," Carialle said, and returned her attention to the situation inside the cabin.

  Keff stood between Plennafrey and Brannel with his hands out. Brannel was on his feet, with his mutilated hands balled into fists by his sides. Plenna had both her long-fingered hands planted protectively on her belt buckle. The Ozrans were glaring at each other.

  "Now, now," Keff said. "I need you both. Please, let's make peace here."

  "You intend to explain to a worker what we are doing?" Plenna asked, appealing to Keff. "This one only has four fingers! You can give them directions, but they cannot understand detailed instructions or complicated situations."

  Brannel, following the secondary dialect with evident difficulty, replied haltingly in that language, which surprised the magiwoman as much as
his daring to speak out in her presence. "I can understand. Mage Keff has agreed to give me a chance to help. I will do whatever Mage Keff wants," he said staunchly.

  Carialle made her image step forward. "Lady Plennafrey, you are suffering from a preconceived notion that all the people who have had the finger amputation are stupid. Brannel is the exception to almost any rule you can think of. He has superior intelligence for someone brought up with the hardships he suffered. I think he's far smarter than the favored few who live in the mountains with you mages. You're not that different. You belong to the same species," she said, reaching for an example, "like . . . like Keff and I do."

  "You?" Plennafrey asked.

  Almost amazed that such a thought had come from her own speakers, Carialle had to pause to consider the change of attitude she had undergone. Much of it was due to seeing the division of a single people on this world into masters and slaves. She now realized that it was counterproductive to separate herself from her parent community. Yes, she was different, but compared with everything else she and Keff encountered, the similarities were more important. Acknowledging her humanity at last felt right and proper. In spite of the way she always pictured herself, she knew inside the metal shell and the carefully protected nerve center was a human being. She felt warmed by the perception.

  "Yes," she said, simply. "Me."

  Keff beamed at her pillar. Her Lady Fair image beamed happily back at him. Plennafrey fumed visibly at the interplay. If Carialle was human, then the Ozran had a genuine rival. This, combined with her lover's liberal attitude toward the lower class, obviously dismayed the young woman. As she had proved before, she was resilient and adaptable. Plenna seemed to be considering Keff's point of view, but she thoroughly disapproved of Keff having another woman in his life. To disarm the magiwoman, Carialle made her image step back onto the wall. Plennafrey relaxed visibly.