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CHAPTER 13
Borrowed Time
Serge strode up the corridor toward Professor Greyshine's living quarters the next morning, smiling. He had to keep reminding himself not to grin too broadly, and several times he caught himself whistling, then glanced around guiltily to see whether anyone was watching. At one point, he looked down at his feet, half seriously thinking that someone must have lowered the school's gravity. But no, his feet were hitting the surface. He hadn't been sure.
Last night had been ... he caught himself grinning ecstatically, and shook his head. Words failed him. Last night had been too good for words. After they'd unlocked the practice room door and tiptoed out, he and Hing had separated and gone different ways ... for about five minutes, long enough for her to go back to her room and pick up her toothbrush and her Apis silk dressing gown.
Then they had spent the night in his quarters, talking, laughing, making love ... and, finally, sleeping. Waking up to find Hing beside him might have been the most wonderful moment of all ...
Thinking about what Professor Greyshine would say, how he would carry on if he knew, made Serge sternly compose his expression as he signaled the Professor's door. "It's Serge," he said at the Heeyoon's inquiring yip, and the door slid open.
"Serge, Serge!" The Professor was lying on his sleeping pallet, but his computer was on and he'd evidently been up and working. "I am so pleased to see you, lad!" Moving rather stiffly, the Professor began to rise.
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"Please, don't get up," Serge said, and came forward to sit down on the pallet beside the Heeyoon. The room was furnished in typical Heeyoon fashion--pallets for sleeping and relaxing, thick, luxuriant carpets, with exotic wal hangings and suspended lamps. "So much has happened since I last saw you! How are you feeling?"
"Still stiff, and somewhat sore, but my injuries are essentially mended. You, Hing, and Khuharkk'--" The Professor waved a clawed paw-hand. "Your courage is beyond measure. I want you to know that my mate, Strongheart, has nominated all three of you to receive my planet's Medal of Honor for your bravery."
If Serge hadn't been sitting down, he would have shuffled his feet. He was so touched, so honored that all he could do was mumble, "Thank you, but really . . . Hing was the one who really did it."
"All of you did it," Greyshine said firmly.
They chatted for a few more minutes, comparing notes on what had been happening. Serge told the Professor about retrieving the artifacts, then Greyshine had to hear the entire saga of the airlock, and how the two humans had managed to survive. When Serge had finished telling him about it, the Professor, who had been eyeing him speculatively, said, "Again, such bravery! Frequently, shared danger is a way for a couple to become closer, lad ... or have you already noticed that?"
Serge couldn't help it; he blushed furiously. The Professor's teeth flashed in a wide lupine grin as he noted the human's reaction, but he courteously changed the subject.
"I also hear that you have been barred from the site. Have you any idea what has happened to the star-shrine?"
The human shook his head, sobering. "None," he said. "Jeff Morrow promised me that I would be allowed to retrieve it as soon as he finishes his complete survey of all the radonium veins on the asteroid. But I have called his office several times, both from here and while I was in the hospital, and his assistant said that he was out, working with the surveying crew. I have not heard from him yet."
"I spoke to Esteemed Ssoriszs this morning, and he told me that there is a meeting scheduled for this afternoon, during which Morrow and this other person, Andrea Lynch, will be reporting on the results of the survey."
"In that case, I'll call him as soon as I know the meeting is over," Serge said eagerly. He frowned. "Andrea Lynch. .." he muttered. "She's the one that turned me away from the site. There's something wrong about her, and it's more than just being curt and
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nasty. I'm sure she's hiding something!"
"What could she be hiding?"
"When Ssoriszs and I went out to the site to get the artifacts, she said something . .. odd. Something I do not understand, but I feel that somehow it is important."
"What did she say?"
"As I was strapping the tools on the sled, after I had loaded the artifacts in the compartment with the Esteemed Liaison, I accidentally dropped the moisture finder and did not notice. Andrea Lynch- picked it up and handed it to me, saying, 'Here, don't forget your dowser.' " Serge used the English word. "What could she have meant by that, calling it a dowser?'
The Professor growled softly. "Serge, I do not like this one bit! Since you have worked with me, we normally speak my language-- partly so you can practice, and partly because I am lazy--so I have taught you the Heeyoon technical terms--as well as our slang names--for the archaeological equipment we use." Greyshine growled again. "But, Serge ... I have attended many interplanetary archaeological seminars, and I recognize this word dowser as it applies to the moisture finder. That is the slang nickname given to the moisture finder by human archaeologists!"
Serge reached the obvious conclusion in a heartbeat. "Then Lynch has had some experience with archaeologists, or is even an archaeologist herself!"
"I do not see how she could have learned such an esoteric nickname unless she had been more than casually exposed to archaeological terms,"
Greyshine said. "As to whether she is an archaeologist. . ."
"I wager that she is! I'd wager an entire cavernful of star-shrines that Lynch is only posing as an engineer!"
"But why!"
Serge couldn't sit still any longer. Leaping to his feet, he began pacing, gesturing wildly. "So she can steal the star-shrine, obviously! Jeff Morrow hired her as a crew boss, but stealing our star- shrine was her aim all along!
Our star-shrine!" He stopped, struck, and scratched his head as he thought.
"But how did she know it was there?"
"Perhaps one of the workers discovered it six months ago during the radonium check, and recognized its value--but could not steal it because he or she was too closely watched while the radonium monitoring was under way." The Professor, too, was off and running now. "But then this unknown accomplice contacted Lynch, since he knew that she had the knowledge to safely remove the
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shrine, as well as the contacts to sell it on the black market!"
"And so she signed on with Morrow, knowing that, by the en of the year, it would be time to monitor the radonium deposits again. And then she would be in the perfect place to direct the] monitoring, and steal the star-shrine!"
Serge snapped his fingers. "Except that this mess with the radonium-2 came up and delayed her plans. No wonder she is so ill-mannered--her plans have been compromised. It all fits!"
"But how could the woman have the technical knowledge to pose as an engineer?" the Professor wondered.
"You were the one who told me that many archaeologists have undergradate or double degrees in other subjects," Serge replied. "Lynch could have a degree in geology, for example. Or she may have gained her experience working with a mining crew. As you know only too well, Professor, archaeologists do not make salaries commensurate with their education levels."
"Sadly, you are correct. But remember, Serge, all we have are suspicions--
and we could be wrong. We can accuse no one without proof of wrongdoing!"
"I need to speak to Jeff Morrow--get him to give me permission to see that star-shrine today, or tomorrow at the latest!" Serge said, his eyes flashing with excitement as he planned. "If I cannot reach him, I suppose I will have to go out there secretly and see whether the star-shrine is still there. If it is stil there, I will stand over it until it is safe to bring back here. If it is already gone .. ." he hesitated.
"Discovering a theft so early will give us a greatly improved chance at recovery," the Professor told him. "After all, 'The colder the trail, the less chance of tasting fresh meat.' " The Heeyoon thought for a moment.
"But, Serge . .. how will you get into the caverns? You told me that they had changed the access code to our airlock."
Serge smiled smugly. "They did, but unless they changed it again, I memorized Lynch's code when she used it."
"Clever lad!" the Heeyoon yipped, panting slightly with excitement. "In that case, as your so-fascinating human author Arthur Conan Doyle's hero, Sherlock Holmes, would put it, the game is most definitely- afoot!"
As soon as the doctors released her from the infirmary, Heather headed straight for the Simiu section of StarBridge, her chubby features set in a look of determination that made her, had she known it, greatly resemble her mother.
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When she reached the Simiu section, the girl stood in the corridor for a long time, hovering, screwing up her courage.
Ha! What courage? her inner voice taunted.
She rubbed her pale, freckled forehead. Go away, she told the voices, especially her survivor-self. I don't need you anymore. I can think for myself, now. But it was hard, ignoring the voices, in some ways as hard as it was to ignore the thoughts of others.
But she was determined to succeed; after all, it was the impulsive, mean parts of her that had gotten her into trouble, nearly gotten her killed. Dr. Rob promised that if she worked with him, really worked with him, he'd teach her ways to control those parts. Make sure she was running things, not them."
Make sure nothing like what had happened to her in the AI would ever happen again. She shivered, remembering.
Shutting her eyes, she reached out, searched for Doctor Blanket.
She'd never known another telepath as powerful as herself, never mind as powerful as the Avernian. But seloz didn't use that power against her, didn't try to beat her into submission with it, though seloz could have--with barely a thought, seloz could have reduced any being on StarBridge to a quivering mass, and Heather knew that now. But instead seloz was kind, gentle, and wanted to help others. Just like a real guardian angel.
And during the past couple of days, seloz had worked hard, showing Heather a better way to handle her skills constructively instead of to hurt, or steal. Along with Rob, seloz was teaching her how to handle her powerful talent in ways that wouldn't get her into trouble. Between the two of them, they were threatening to turn her into a respectable human being. A regular correctoid, she thought wryly.
Which was why she was standing here, before this door, in the Simiu living section. There was this loose end she had to tie up, and she didn't feel that she could concentrate on anything else until she took care of it.
Heather swallowed, reached a hand out to ring the buzzer, then jerked it back. This ain't gonna work, she thought to herself. I'm not ready.
Damn right you're not, said her survivor-self. You'll never be ready to do something so stupid as this, I hope! What the hell is wrong with you? Make tracks in the other direction!
The girl didn't move. Doctor Blanket? she thought.
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She nodded. Suddenly three male Simiu came loping up the hallway, barking and coughing at each other in their own language. They looked so much like a pride of lions charging her, Heather felt her knees go weak.
Remembering what Hing had taught her, Heather kept her eyes to the ground as she exchanged the nod and returned their signal. Then they were gone. They'd treated her like anyone else. They didn't know her. They had no argument with her. She thought of it their bristling manes, their huge teeth, then she looked at the door again, and her legs trembled, wanting to run.
Raising her hand, Heather touched the door signal lightly. Without hesitation, the portal slid open, startling her. She found herself almost face-to-face with Khuharkk', and hastily lowered her eyes.
Timidly, she attempted the Simiu greeting gesture that Hing had taught her this morning, touching her mouth, eyes, then chest, then extending her curled hand. It had taken her many tries to get it right, so it flowed, but now she did it almost as well as in this morning's rehearsal with Hing. When Heather had called her, the Cambodian student had been glad to stop by the infirmary and spend some time with her, before heading to her next class and then to the inevitable play rehearsal.
Hing was another one who wanted her to succeed, Heather knew. With all these people pulling for her, she felt as though they made a safety net that would catch her if she fell, like the trapeze artists she'd seen once.
It was good to have friends.
After a moment of silent regard, the Simiu slowly returned her greeting gesture, then the ball was back in Heather's court.
"Greetings, Honored Khuharkk'," she said awkwardly, her throat protesting against the Simiu syllables that Hing had so painstakingly taught her, writing them down phonetically
[ when Heather had told her what she wanted to say. "I have
something I wish to discuss with you, if you will do me the honor."
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She stopped, breathing hard, her throat muscles protesting and her mouth full of spit from the strain of speaking even those few words. Heather knew her pronunciation hadn't been perfect, but she thought that the other student had understood her.
Silence. Heather's heart pounded with anxiety--and she felt her temper rising. He's doing this on purpose. To make me uncomfortable. To make sure I realize who's got the upper hand. Whose territory we're on. Anger warred with embarrassment.
Heather swallowed, and waited.
After a few more seconds Khuharkk' stepped aside, waving her through the door. "Enter," he growled in Mizari (to Heather's vast relief). "By all means, enter my home."
When she'd discussed her plans with Hing, the older student had given her a rundown of possible responses to her request, and thus Heather
recognized this one. It was a standard civil greeting, indicating his ownership of the territory, but that, for the moment, it should be considered neutral space. It was as good a start as she could've hoped.
She came inside, was immediately struck by the humid warmth, the
heaviness, the spicy-musky Simiu scent.
"May I offer you some refreshment? A drink, perhaps," he offered graciously.
He was being the perfect host, since his people rarely considered food consumption part of socializing, however, he knew that humans did. "Would you like me to change the environment for your comfort?"
"The environment is fine," she assured him, her throat constricting, "but something cool to drink would be wonderful."
He went immediately, bringing her back a short, squat glass filled with a clear liquid, ice, and herbs. She was startled to find it tasted just like lemonade. Perfect lemonade.
"Is it acceptable?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral. "Dr. Rob introduced me to it. It's become my favorite beverage."
"Perfect. Wonderful," she admitted honestly, taking a bigger gulp. The tart flavor seemed to open her throat.
"There is something you wish to discuss," he asked politely.
She put down the glass. "Yes. Honored Hing Own has tutored me in your customs and traditions, but my knowledge is far from perfect, so I ask pardon in advance if I err, and I humbly request your patience."
He nodded graciously.
She took another sip of the lemonade and plunged ahead. "Honored Khuharkk', we met under the worst conditions. I was
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rude and ignorant... I dishonored you in front of others, and was too stupid to understand what I'd done. In my immaturity and ignorance, I blamed you for what happened and vowed vengeance against you. It was childish,
and wrong."
The Simiu's glance was half-patronizing, half-suspicious. "Vengeance is best left to adults. How could a child like you, weak and toothless, hope to challenge and vanquish me?"
Heather focused her eyes on a tiny spot on the floor. "I didn't just hope," she whispered. "I did it. I wanted," she was stammering now, as she tried to make her mouth form the Mizari words, "I thought that.. . that is ... I did .. .
cause the ... the malfunction ... of your toilet! I'm sorry!" A shudder of real fear passed through her body.
He didn't move for a moment, then to her surprise she saw a twinkle of amusement in the violet eyes. "You, little one?" He gave the barking Simiu version of a laugh. "Small one, you have an excellent imagination! You may have wished that such a disgusting disaster befall me, but--"
"No," she blurted, knowing it was rude to interrupt him, but afraid that she'd lose her nerve altogether, give in, let him think what he wanted. "I did do it.
I... can telepathically link with the computer ... I changed a few things in the environmental system. I did it."
There was a long, uncomfortable silence, but Heather realized Khuharkk'
was still just trying to believe her. Believe it, hairball! one part of her mind whispered, but she pushed her irritation down, controlling her feelings.
Doctor Blanket says I'm the only one that gets to tell me how I should feel, she thought defiantly.
"Why the toilet?" Khuharkk' said finally. "Not that I necessarily believe you, but. .. why that way?"
"Because," Heather said, nakedly honest, "when you roared at me, I was so scared that I had... an accident. I wet myself," she amplified, seeing that he did not comprehend at first. "I was ashamed, and I wanted to make you feel the same way." She took a deep breath, "So I linked my mind with the computer, and I told the environmental system to make your toilet go backward."
"Who else have you admitted this to?" he asked finally, and Heather knew then that he now believed her.
"Dr. Rob. Janet Rodriguez." She wondered if that woman would ever trust her after all this. In some ways, that relationship would be harder to mend than this one.
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