Acorna's Rebels

by Anne McCaffrey

  Hafiz Harakamian, a wily, wealthy intergalactic businessman and her adopted uncle, greeted Acorna warmly when they arrived on the Moon Of Opportunity, but he kept a sympathetic reserve. Acorna could see many unasked questions in his eyes. Just as well he didn’t ask. No, Aari had not shown up or been located. Everyone in the galaxy would know when he turned up—she would be so happy she’d broadcast that far and wide.

  For Becker, Hafiz had a mission in mind.

  “I am told you can communicate with these persons,” Hafiz said, gesturing grandly toward the perpetually suspicious and usually filthy forms of Wat and Wat, the Terran unicorn hunters who had accidentally been transported from ancient times to Vhiliinyar along with the Ancestors. The nearest anyone could figure, Wat and Wat, once their presence was discovered by the Ancestral Hosts, had been sent to an ancient period in Vhiliinyar’s history where they could do no harm to sentients. However, when the ruination of Vhiliinyar’s surface caused fractures in the time apparatus, the two hirsute Earthmen had suddenly reappeared and began hunting Linyaari as if no interruption in their activities had ever occurred.

  “No one else can make themselves understood to these ruffians,” Hafiz said. “They annoy my guests and they have the deportment of goats. They speak to you; therefore they are your responsibility.” Hafiz crossed his wide brocade sleeves across his chest. He had spoken.

  “Hey, that’s not my fault! What am I supposed to do with them?” Becker asked, scratching his head.

  “Must I think for everyone?” Hafiz demanded. “I don’t know. Take them back to Terra, sell them to a slaver, but somehow or other you must”—he gave his hand a graceful twirl—“recycle them out of here. The red one had the audacity to make unseemly advances to my Karina. He advanced so rapidly, in truth, that had my wife’s screams not alerted me and had I not rushed to her rescue immediately, accompanied by Commander Kando…” His voice dropped dramatically as he shook his head to indicate his shock and grief at what he had witnessed. “Well. It is only due to great speed on my part and great forcefulness on Commander Kando’s that my delicate flower will not be bearing a barbarian baby in a few months.”

  Karina, wafting toward them, had caught Hafiz’s remarks and did not fail to capitalize on her victimization. “So…coarse,” she breathed, “and smelly. And thought patterns of an extremely rude and crude sort.”

  Nadhari Kando, just behind her, grinned. “Sounds to me as if they are perfect for your crew, Jonas.”

  “Sounds to me like you should put them through boot camp, Commander. Doesn’t seem like it should take these boys that long to get religion if you put your mind to the task. Not to mention respect for the fair sex.”

  “You do me much credit, dear,” Nadhari said. “And in fact they are warriors and might do well to train as such.”

  “I don’t think it’s a real good idea to arm them, since their idea of an enemy is the Linyaari,” Becker pointed out. “And they can’t come with us, since I already asked Acorna if she’d help us out while we’re shorthanded.”

  Acorna was about to object when she picked up thoughts blaring from one of the Wats. (Go home. Back to our lord Bjorn. Away from these bewitched animals who walk like men and women. Away before they spit us on their horns and roast us like oxen.)

  (We are vegetarians,) Acorna reassured them mind to mind. (Why would we do a thing like that?)

  Both Wats looked at her as if she had hit them on their heads with an axe. Their brains were working on the concept of “vegetarians.” She gave them a mental image of a rabbit eating leaves, a sheep eating grass, herself and her friends grazing along with them.

  “We don’t eat meat of any kind, especially not Wats,” she told them aloud in a rough approximation of their language. “And your old master is many years dead by now. You have been brought forward in time. You must bring your ideas up-to-date, too. My people and I are descendants of the unicorns you once wrongfully hunted. We will look for a new home for you now, somewhere that may feel somewhat familiar to you. What is it like, your home?”

  Asked a question, they resolutely folded their arms across their broad chests, now clad in ship suits instead of armor, and clamped their beards tight to their mustaches. Their beards and mustaches were now much shorter and far more neatly groomed than they had been when the Wats first appeared. Becker had, in the not-too-distant past, forcibly washed and barbered the Wats as a conversation opener.

  But as steadfastly as they refused to verbalize their memories of their homes, their thoughts betrayed them. Acorna got images of vast dark forests of gigantic trees, rolling storm-tossed seas, and great smoky fortresses filled with clanking, clomping humans clad in metal and heavy leather garments. On their heads some of the men wore helmets embellished with a set of horns.

  She smiled at the Wats, baring her teeth in an expression that was friendly for a Terran and hostile for a Linyaari—and just right for the emotion she felt toward these two misguided and misplaced human beings. “I think I know where they might feel at home, at least temporarily,” she said.

  “Indeed?” Hafiz asked.

  “Yes. The Niriians are in need of help in rebuilding their planet since the Khleevi invasion. Their two-horned appearance very closely resembles some of the totems these people apparently used to worship. Perhaps these fellows could work off some of their aggressions by helping the Niriians rebuild their planet. And there is something about these men that reminds me a bit of Toroona and her mate, too, don’t you agree?”

  The Niriians were Linyaari trading partners of long standing, a peaceful, industrious, and sometimes overly conscientious bovine race. When the ravenous insectoid Khleevi attacked Nirii, Toroona and her mate had escaped their homeworld in time to seek help from Hafiz and the Linyaari. Thanks to their actions, Nirii had not suffered anything like the degree of devastation the Linyaari planets, Vhiliinyar and narhii-Vhiliinyar, had. Before the Khleevi could destroy Nirii, Acorna and her friends had devised a strategy to lure the buglike aliens away from Nirii to another place. That plan had eventually resulted in an end to all Khleevi destructiveness forever.

  “Good idea, Princess,” Becker approved. “The cowboys and cowgirls will know what to do with these guys. And they’re not fragile, graceful people like you Linyaari. These fellas give them any trouble, the Niriians will sit on ’em till they holler ‘calf-rope.’ ”

  “Ye-es,” Hafiz said. “Yes, indeed. I like it. Acorna, my dear girl, as usual you have devised a solution that is both convenient and kind. In this case, far kinder than these lecherous barbarians deserve. But…convenient. Captain, there is the solution to our problems. You and Acorna will deliver these two troglodytes to the Niriians. If they decline to accept our gracious gift of manpower, remind them please that they are deeply in our debt.”

  “No,” Becker said.

  “No?” Hafiz seemed puzzled by the word, as if it had no meaning for him and was spoken in a language he did not understand. The head (emeritus) of the fabulously wealthy House Harakamian did not often hear such a word. At least not in public.

  “No. Acorna shouldn’t have to put up with that stuff. I told you. These guys hunt unicorns.”

  Hafiz waved his objections away. “My dear Becker, you speak of our niece as if she were any Linyaari, or any female, for that matter. As you can plainly tell, she has already established even better communication with these barbarians than you yourself have, has read their minds, and has determined an agreeable and humane disposition for their offensive persons. They are like lambs with their shepherd. They would do her no harm. Think you that I would allow the daughter of my heart to be endangered? Besides, she has you and the estimable Mac to protect her should she require such protection!”

  “Your faith in me is touching, Uncle,” Acorna said dryly. It was amazing how competent people became in Uncle Hafiz’s estimation when there was something unpleasant he wanted them to cope with because he didn’t want to be bothered with it himself. “But I can’t go that far.
I only came for a short visit. As soon as I have seen Kaarlye and Miiri and some of my other friends, just as I have seen you and Karina, I must return to Vhiliinyar. We all have a world to rebuild there, after all.”

  Hafiz gave her a look. She knew it was meant to make her realize that they were able to rebuild it only because of his financing. But he had picked a fine time to nudge her—blackmail her, actually—into doing his will, when it involved a prolonged absence from Vhiliinyar, the time machine, and possibly Aari. She didn’t want to leave Vhiliinyar. But Hafiz was so besotted with his love he would do anything to spare Karina trouble.

  Suddenly a pair of comforting hands landed on her shoulders and she turned to see Miiri, Maati’s and Aari’s mother, standing behind her.

  (There, there, dear,) Miiri said to her in the mind-to-mind communication all adult Linyaari shared. (Uncle Hafiz is the soul of kindness, as we have good reason to know, but he is used to being spoiled and served by those around him, which has made him extremely self-centered. I imagine he has convinced himself that the solution to his problem will in some way ease your own troubled heart.)

  Becker, however, struck a pugnacious pose, sticking his lower jaw out and glaring at the old despot. “Look, Hafiz, Acorna doesn’t need to be hassled right now.”

  “Oh, no, my estimable Becker, that is very true. And naturally I would not suggest it if I thought it would, as you so colorfully express, hassle her.

  “As for rebuilding Vhiliinyar, well, it occurs to me that the Niriians, as old and trusted trading partners indebted to the Linyaari for their continued existence, have resources and goods that may be useful to the Linyaari in the rebuilding of their worlds—both Vhiliinyar and narhii-Vhiliinyar.

  “Under their current circumstances, the Niriians may be inclined to have a bit of a fire sale, and such items as our Linyaari friends find desirable might be exceedingly cheap at this time—free even, to the dear friends who saved the Niriian home.

  “But some kind soul, someone who would perhaps be willing to collect or trade damaged goods, to salvage them, shall we say, must first confront the Niriians with a Linyaari ambassador to whom they may express their gratitude and eagerness to do business. And it comes to me that they will be more eager yet to reward such a person with low prices for high value. That is, if you—or any wise salvage merchant who seizes this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—and a Linyaari ambassador should arrive at this time bringing news of the Linyaari plight. Not to mention the gift of two louts with strong backs to assist in the manual labor of restoration.”

  Hafiz shrugged ingenously. “It was a little idea I had, nothing more. Please do not let this humble and useless old man impose upon your other pressing plans.”

  The red-haired Wat, bored with the unfathomable exchange of words going on around him, let his eye wander to Karina. He made a flirtatious but forceful gesture in her direction, no doubt intending to charm her with his “wit.”

  Karina looked thoroughly revolted and alarmed. Her eyes rolling upward, she half swooned into her husband’s arms. “Ooooooh, I am having one of my visions. Yes, yes, I see clearly now. Hold me, my protective pasha, while I clear my channels.”

  With one arm she clung to Hafiz’s neck—the side of his neck farthest from the Wats—while with the other she batted at the air as if being attacked by miniature Khleevi.

  She made an odd puffing sound as she performed this ritual. Karina knew that the Linyaari were genuine psychics, and she knew in her innermost mind that she was not psychic, or at least mostly was not, no matter what she publicly claimed.

  This in no way prevented her from carrying on the periodic charades with which she hoped to impress others with her “powers.”

  On the other hand, when Hafiz had wavered when it came time to inconvenience himself on behalf of the Linyaari, Karina had persuaded him, not with a vision, but with the threat of performing the necessary manual labor herself. There was much to like in such a person.

  (Indeed there is, Son’s Beloved,) Miiri agreed with Acorna’s estimation. (Some of us have tried to communicate with her mentally, to touch her mind and school it in nonverbal communication, to encourage the psychic powers she seems so desperately to desire. But try as we will, we cannot affect her. Poor Karina is absolutely the least receptive being any of us have ever encountered when it comes to reliable day-to-day thought transfer.)

  “Oh, yes! Yes!” Karina cried, waving the billowing lavender sleeve of her robe about before touching the back of her plump beringed hand to her forehead. “Oh, I will tell her. Be sure that I will tell her.”

  Her eyelids had been fluttering like butterfly wings above the whites of her upturned eyes, and now she opened them all the way and stared full at Acorna. “You must undertake this journey, not for itself but for where it will lead you, Acorna. What you seek is not on Vhiliinyar. It is not near. It is very far. You are meant to take this journey.”

  Acorna had not been reading the likable but slightly ridiculous wife of her “uncle.” Her own sensitivity, which had been rubbed raw by the loss of her lifemate so soon after they were joined, was outraged with the presumption of this person she considered a friend. To so blatantly try to manipulate her, and in that fashion…

  (On the other hand…) Miiri continued, her voice full of grudging admiration (there are times when not even Karina knows that it is happening when she is wide open. At such times, totally unexpected and uncanny things issue from her.)

  Acorna turned to look Aari’s mother full in the face. “You mean, you felt that she was genuinely in touch with something just then?”

  “Oh, yes, I felt it myself as she spoke.”

  It occurred to Acorna that Hafiz was not the only one who was self-absorbed. Once more she realized that the pain of her loss was blunting her perception of other people’s problems—and in this case, abilities. Aari’s parents had told him that during the time he was imprisoned by the Khleevi, his mother, a powerful empath, had experienced the pain of his torture sessions to such a degree that she was violently ill most of the time. It took all of the healing strength of their people to help her bring his little sister Maati into the world. Karina might lightly fake such a message, but Miiri would never lightly endorse it.

  (Do you—should you and Kaarlye or Maati come, too?) Acorna asked. She knew that if it had been one of them who received such a clear message and she was not asked, she would insist on being included.

  Miiri read that thought and smiled. (No, Khornya. The message really was for you.)

  (Was it from Aari? Is he all right? Will he show me how to find him?)

  (Sweet child, you know nothing is so direct as that. No, I do not think it was from Aari. I can’t actually say where it came from. But I know it was genuine, and it was meant for you. You still don’t realize, do you, that though you are Linyaari like the rest of us, you have special abilities and qualities that make you better suited for some missions than others of us? Perhaps it is your unusual upbringing. I don’t know. I can tell you that if Aari were in serious pain, or…no longer lived, I would know and I would tell you. You know, too, that Kaarlye, Aari’s father, is as powerful a transmitter as I am an empath. If we have word of our son while you are gone, we will get a message to you, no matter where you are.)

  (I know. I know.) Acorna was trying to be reasonable, sensible.

  Miiri reached inside the neck of her tunic and pulled from it a silvery chain Acorna had often noticed glinting at her neckline. Three small silvery disks jingled together upon it. Miiri lifted the necklace over her head, undid the catch, removed two of the disks and slipped them into her tunic, then ceremoniously placed the chain and the remaining disk around Acorna’s neck.

  (This is Aari’s birth disk,) Miiri told her. (I had been meaning to give it to you anyway.)

  (Birth disk?)

  (Yes. When a baby is born to our people, it is customary for the artisans to make a disk like this with the exact position of the stars overhead inscribed upon it, as well
as his unique personal code. It is a gift for the mother at her birthing. When the child reaches maturity, generally the mother gives it to him on his birthday. When he takes a lifemate, it becomes what you would call a wedding gift. I was going to give this to Aari, but then you two became lifemates, and I thought perhaps I would give it to you when we were all together. Now I think you must have it, as a token of the love you share with my eldest. I can get another chain for Maati’s and Laarye’s disks.)

  Acorna examined the little disk, which shimmered in her hand with a shine that was not silver, but more like the opalescent fire of a healthy Linyaari horn. She recognized the constellation from the night sky—Hronii’s Book, the source of knowledge of the universe.

  She clutched it for a moment, her emotions so strong that she was unable even to thank Miiri. Then she kissed the little disk and tucked it into her tunic.

  Miiri enfolded Acorna in an embrace that was the most comforting thing Acorna had felt since Aari was lost. When Acorna finally released Miiri, she turned, ready to face Hafiz and Becker and agree to what they asked of her.

  Becker barely glanced at her, nodded, and turned to Hafiz. “Tell you what, HH. You send Nadhari along with us to protect Acorna from the Wats, and you got yourself a deal.”

  Two

  You didn’t need me, Jonas,” Nadhari said once they were well away from MOO. “MacKenZ is strong enough to subdue our hairy friends, or you could have tied them up and locked them in an inner cargo hold.”

  “Yes, sweetie, but I wanted you to come,” Becker said, twirling the ends of his mustache. “You know how much more secure I feel when you’re here to protect me. I just used Acorna as a smoke screen so nobody else would know what a wuss I am.”

  Acorna added, “Nadhari has a point, Captain. Mac fought the Wats when they attacked Thariinye, Maati, and me. They regard Mac as a superior warrior. Him and RK both.”

  RK was draped across Nadhari’s shoulders like a fur stole, his tail describing lazy Js against the insignia sewn to the sleeve covering her left arm. The cat’s face, framed by its furry mane, was so large it looked as if Nadhari had two heads.