Acorna's Triumph

by Anne McCaffrey

  “Oh, sure,” he said. Naturally she would feel better with him around to protect her. She was able to defend herself in the boardroom when bidding for jobs and navigating through space, but she was no Nadhari Kando. Which, much as he missed the formidable Nadhari sometimes, was kind of a relief. Andina was strong enough to have built an empire from excellent cleaning chemistry and superior elbow grease and was a very good shot with a wide variety of firearms, but when it came to hand-to-hand, she was a lover, not a fighter.

  As it turned out, that was unfortunate. Smythe-Wesson had already entered the hatch when Becker received the mental alarm from Acorna. As soon as the security chief appeared, Becker said, “I know you said your business with Andina was urgent, Commander, but I’ve just been notified that the belly dancers have raided Hafiz’s store of catseye chrysoberyls, which has got to be more urgent. I’ll be glad to go with you and help you catch them.”

  “Will you?” Smythe-Wesson said, with a supercilious sneer that expressed doubt, at the very least. Right about then, Becker, who had been distracted what with one thing and another, noticed that Smythe-Wesson’s sidearm was no longer in its holster. It was, in fact, pointing at Andina and Becker. “I have a better idea. Why don’t we just wait for them to come to us?”

  Whereupon he forced the two of them back to Andina’s cabin and made Andina bind Becker’s hands and feet with tape, checking the bonds himself to make sure they were tight enough. Then, pushing Andina in front of him, the security chief shut the hatch door between him and Becker.

  Becker concentrated very hard, trying to send a telepathic message to Acorna, as he had been able to do on Makahomia. But he got no answer, no sign that she read him. He figured she was in the middle of pursuing the dancers and her concentration was so focused on that she apparently didn’t pick up his transmission.

  Smythe-Wesson forced Andina to the bridge, to begin the liftoff sequence. Becker couldn’t see them of course, but Andina cleverly opened the intercom from her end so he could hear her muttering through her preflight check. He imagined her hands moving deftly over the controls, her brow slightly furrowed with concentration. Which wouldn’t do her or their captor a lot of good with no crew, he thought smugly. This ship was no Condor, which could be flown by one person. But just then he heard other footsteps enter the ship, other voices, high, female ones, laughing and talking as they hurried past the cabin to strap down for liftoff.

  He fumed a little, frustrated by his helplessness, then began thinking about how to do something about it. He’d actually been in tighter spots trying to repair the Condor in space back in the days when he stored and shifted cargo alone. Back then every iota of space was consumed by cargo, and he’d had little maneuvering room.

  He might have his hands and feet bound, but he had a lot of room to compensate for those little inconveniences.

  Furthermore, he wasn’t taped to anything. He scooted himself to the wall, inched up it, and punched the panel to open the first storage locker. The costume Andina had worn earlier that night hung incongruously above her bulky antigrav boots. Neither was terribly useful for his purposes. The next panel revealed more helpful contents. Here was a stash of Andina’s personal cleaning supplies, low-tech antiques that were practically collectors’ items these days, but still effective. They included a scraper and a pair of scissors. Tape was very hard to pull loose, but it was easier to cut than rope. Becker cut his hands loose within seconds, and in a few more seconds his feet were free.

  Unfortunately, by that time the Heloise was rising above the thin native atmosphere of MOO. The increased gravity resulting from the acceleration of the launch pressed him to the floor. He lay well away from the metal lockers, allowing himself to sink into the soft Fellkastani carpet with which Andina had thoughtfully covered her deck. He wondered if his current position would leave her a Becker-shaped impression in the rug forever after. He hoped she wouldn’t be using the carpet as a souvenir to help her remember the late Jonas Becker.

  So far, everyone concerned in this catseye caper seemed merely larcenous rather than murderous, but the cash value of the stones in the galactic marketplace was enough to unbalance even the sanest criminal mind.

  Certainly Hafiz’s criminal mind was going to be considerably unbalanced by the theft. But that was just tough. A deal was a deal. Hafiz had already accepted the catseyes as full payment and then some for the Linyaari debt. It wasn’t Becker’s fault that the wily Hafiz couldn’t hang on to the stones. The deal Becker had made for them with the old man would stand. Legally. That wouldn’t matter to the Linyaari, however. They would feel morally obligated to Hafiz again if he didn’t have the stones to offset the further expenses in reviving the Linyaari planets.

  Now that his bonds were removed, Becker wondered what to do next. Maybe he could lure the dancers into Andina’s seraglio with the power of his animal magnetism (well, RK liked him) and passionate promises? Yep, that was a likely plan. Meanwhile, maybe Andina could overpower Smythe-Wesson and fly Heloise back home. Yeah, right. The dancers, of course, would be so exhausted from their exertions with Becker that they would offer little resistance. As a plan, he liked it. It was a pretty safe bet that Andina wouldn’t like it, but a person had to be prepared to make some sacrifices in the interests of freedom and criminal justice. Then, too, there was the other problem, which was that it wouldn’t actually work. Still, it was more attractive than the alternative, which was that old standby of crawling through the ventilation ducts.

  Becker let go of his little fantasy. Seducing all the dancing girls would be nice, but it was a long shot. Really, really long. The ventilation ducts were probably much more realistic. He sighed and, feeling distinctly grumpy, looked around for something to stand on so he could reach the overhead grating and locate the opening to the duct.

  Andina’s quarters were not as full of furnishings as they were of draperies. The only chair was bolted to the deck. The bed squished under his weight, and even when he bounced up on the mattress, he couldn’t touch the ceiling.

  But the bouncing made him think of the dancers, and he returned to the first storage locker and Andina’s costume. Sure enough, under the coins and fringes, there was the antigrav belt. He feared it wouldn’t fit him, but the girls wore the adjustable belt low around their hips, so by holding his breath and grunting a lot, he dragged the buckle across his gut until it closed.

  He bounced into the air and nothing happened. It took him several tries before he remembered the little twirl the girls did, and the way they passed their hands over the jewel now twinkling just above his fly.

  It appeared he was about to lose his dignity yet one more time, all in the name of expediency. So, placing the tip of his index finger on the crown of his head, while raising the pinkie of the same hand, he pirouetted, strumming across the jewel until he rose and bumped his head on the ceiling. Ouch. Obviously these things were made for playing the Palace, where the rafters were loftier.

  After a little poking, prodding, and raiding Andina’s cleaning tools again, he pulled the ventilator cover loose, only to find that the duct was much too small for him to crawl into, antigrav belt or not.

  Disgusted, he passed his hand over the belt and sank to the floor again, where he sat cross-legged, pondering his predicament.

  He finally decided that the best way to get out of the room was to create a disturbance, use the belt to hover above the hatch, and fall upon whoever came to check on him. Then he could escape through the still-open hatch and pick them off one at a time.

  Before he could decide whether fire, flood, or blood would best serve his needs, the decision was taken out of his hands.

  “Fire!” yelled Smythe-Wesson. “Fire in the head!” Then came the pattering of female feet and a lot of exclaiming and the sound of a very calm female voice giving orders on how best to quell the reported blaze.

  Meanwhile, the door opened in front of him, and Andina came in, and said, “Oh, Jonas, you’re loose and safe! I might have known!
Come on, there’s a fire aboard. Help us put it out.”

  Though the blaze had already consumed every flammable thing in the head and flames crawled across every other surface in the room, the dancers worked well as a team and had it pretty well quelled by the time Becker and Andina arrived. Fire extinguishers smothered the wild tongues of flame, and it looked as if the emergency was over, until the youngest dancer, the one who had befriended Maati, turned suddenly, and the hem of her long skirt brushed a smoldering ember. Flames flared up the costume and caught on to her hair faster than anyone could move. Becker lunged forward. Catching the flaming girl, he smothered as much of the fire as he could against his flameproof shipsuit, then rolled over and over with her, putting out the flames in their path and the ones devouring the girl’s clothing and hair at the same time.

  The women wielding the fire extinguishers turned the nozzles on the girl and Becker, while others of the women ripped off the girl’s clothing. Becker’s fireproof shipsuit had taken no harm, though Andina brushed his face with her hand and bits of char fell off. “You’re going to look funny with no brows or lashes for a while,” she said. “And I’ll clip off the rest of your beard and mustache—you won’t want to shave with that burn on your face. But I think you’ll do. My hero.”

  A woman Becker presumed was her mother cradled the girl in her arms and rocked her, speaking rapidly in a language Becker didn’t understand.

  “Take her to my cabin,” Andina said, “and keep her warm and elevate her feet. She’s probably shocky right now. We also should get some fluids in her.”

  Becker lifted the girl from the woman’s arms and carried her to his erstwhile prison. He was very careful how he laid her down on the bed, but bits of her skin came away on his hands and suit anyway.

  Her mother was at her side immediately and the other women clustered close, but when they tried to cover the girl’s red and blistering body, she moaned and thrashed, which made her whimper piteously. Andina turned up the thermostat.

  “We must give her something for the pain,” said the lead dancer, apparently also the leader of the other women.

  “I have a mild analgesic in my first-aid kit,” Andina said. “I understand with bad burns that there is little pain at the beginning.”

  “What we need to do,” Becker said grimly, “is turn this bird around and go back to MOO so the Linyaari can take care of her. They could heal her like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “They are truly such healers, these Linyaari?”

  “Yes, Aziza,” the girl’s mother said eagerly. “Do you not remember that he”—she gestured with a twist of her lips to the outer corridor of the ship, no doubt indicating Smythe-Wesson—“told us of their great medical skills in our briefing?”

  “Yes,” Andina said. “The Linyaari have wonderful healing skills. And, in fact, two Linyaari friends of ours have been following us in Jonas’s ship. I could send a Mayday, and I know they would come, even at risk to themselves, if your boss will permit it.”

  “He is not our boss!” one of the women hovering in the doorway said. “We are a team. He is simply someone who had a little job for us to do. And he has not yet paid us!”

  From down the corridor came the cry of another woman, “He is gone!”

  As the incredulous cries erupted from her comrades, she reached the group, and said, “He is gone, the shuttle is gone, the stones are gone. And we are left to take the blame.”

  “Well,” Becker said, “that solves one problem anyway. Better get Acorna on the com unit, sweetie, and arrange a rendezvous so she can treat the kid. Unless any of you ladies are armed and have objections?”

  “No, no, please,” said the mother. She turned to Andina, and asked, “ ’Dina, these horned people, they will not hurt my Layla because we steal from them?”

  “Of course not,” Andina said hotly. “They’re not like you. They wouldn’t steal from refugees either.”

  “Don’t listen to her, Fatima,” another of the women, younger but harder-looking said. “It’s a trap. Tell her, Aziza. You are not fooled, surely? Once ’Dina and her man bring those people here, we are lost. As it is, we outnumber them.”

  “And Layla?”

  The other woman shrugged. “She will die, I suppose. It would be merciful.”

  “That’s the most disgusting sentiment I ever heard!” Andina said. “Poor little girl.”

  “But it is true, what Miriam says,” added another woman. “If the little one is too scarred to dance, to work, then how will she be able to earn a living or support us in our old age?”

  Fatima began an anguished wailing.

  “Be still!” Aziza commanded. “She is not dead now, and she is not deaf either! Who would want to live with such vultures as you for aunts?”

  Becker shook his head and returned to the bridge, where he put in a call to the Condor.

  Four

  What do you suppose made Smythe-Wesson jump ship like that?” Rafik asked, now that the emergency evacuation had been dealt with. The two ships had rendezvoused as fast as Becker and Andina could manage it. Acorna used one of Becker’s shuttles to board the Heloise, where she made short work of healing Layla’s burns. Then everyone was transferred back to the Condor, while the Heloise was towed by the other ship’s powerful tractor beam.

  “He probably looked at the fuel gauge,” Andina answered. “It was not a short trip, and I had not yet refueled when he hijacked us. Sloppy of him. He should have planned more efficiently.”

  “Yes,” Acorna agreed, “but his plan, sloppy as it was, worked. He has the stones, and we don’t. Besides which, we can’t chase him just yet. We need to return to MOO to refuel your ship in tow and let Hafiz deal with these prisoners. Perhaps they will be able to tell us where Smythe-Wesson might go next.”

  “The markets for stones of such size is limited,” Rafik said. “All the potential buyers know we have the chrysoberyls, and that no one has ever seen their like. Whether or not legitimate dealers would buy them from an unauthorized source and risk the wrath of House Harakamian is doubtful. However, there’s an additional problem. Partial payment has already been tendered for some of the stones. We will not be able to deliver unless we catch up with the thief.”

  “Why’d Hafiz hire that character anyway?” Becker demanded. “Not only is he a crook, he’s not half the security chief Nadhari was.”

  “No one would be,” Rafik pointed out.

  “True enough. But didn’t anyone check his references?”

  “I’m sure they did,” Rafik said. “But who has references that say, ‘if said applicant found an opportunity to make himself richer than the employer, he would not take advantage of his position to do so’?”

  “I see your point.”

  Aari listened to all of this with a look of profound concern on his face. “If this thief was bold enough to steal from the warehouses of House Harakamian, what is to stop him from going to the source of the stones? He might attack the Makahamian citadel of the sacred lake.”

  Acorna said, “Perhaps, except that this particular individual won’t know where to go looking. At the time of our return, as far as Hafiz knew, Nadhari was also returning, so he didn’t hire a new security chief. As for what would stop him—well, Nadhari would.”

  “Would she?” Aari asked. “I don’t have much in my recorded memory about her—except that she was regent high priestess for a time…”

  “Is…” Becker corrected him. “…Is regent high priestess.”

  “Oh, sorry, I am looking at the events there from the perspective of recorded history late in the planet’s cycle. That is how I knew that Khornya would come and find the shrine the priests made to me for purifying their lake.”

  “That’s got to be very confusing,” Becker said, shaking his head.

  Aari agreed. “It is, a little. But I was thinking. Perhaps I could record a memory of this event and go into the time device again and return in time to prevent the robbery. Isn’t that a good idea?” />
  Acorna felt uncertain. “Aari, I know you’re more experienced at this than any of us now, but it seems to me still that this is not the sort of thing that should be done casually.”

  “Yeah,” Becker said. “Maybe upsetting the space-time continuum isn’t going to destroy the universe, as the people of my home planet used to think way back when, but if everybody uses the way-back machine to go back and change their socks during the day because they don’t like the color they picked originally, the space-time continuum is bound to get very chaotic.”

  “But it would not be everyone, Joh. Just me. And Khornya, of course, if she would like to come and see how it all works.”

  “I’ve used the machine several times already,” Acorna told him, with a sharpness that slipped into her voice despite all of her good intentions. “Searching for you.”

  “Ouch,” Becker said, giving Aari a sympathetic look.

  “I do think the decision for what to do next ought to be left up to Hafiz and to the MOO council,” Acorna said. “My feeling is that we should see how well conventional means work to recover the stones and catch the thief before we try time-traveling. When you change one event, others are also altered. Perhaps not always for the best.” She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Aari looked disappointed. “I suppose I understand your caution. But Grimalkin does it all the time, and nobody seems to mind.”

  Acorna gave him a look, and he amended his statement. “Usually nobody seems to mind. The Friends used time-travel as a tool. I don’t see why we can’t do the same. You can do lots of wonderful things with it. For instance, Khornya, wouldn’t you like to meet your parents?”

  For a moment she felt as if Aari had hit her, then she said with careful patience, “Yes, that would be nice. But I don’t see how I could meet them without warning them of the Khleevi invasion. I would have to tell them not to go off on their own with baby me around that time. That way, I could save them. And if I save them, I would be raised by them as a Linyaari. I would never have been rescued by Rafik, Gill and Calum, I would never have helped Mr. Li and Hafiz free the child slaves of Kezdet, and I would probably never have met you. I really would like to see them, Aari, but I like the life I’ve had thus far.”