Downtime

by Cynthia Felice

  “How many companion-class ships does Mahdi have?” Singh asked.

  “Only one that we know of,” Calla said. “The Duenna.”

  Singh apparently had concluded, too, that the Compania’s raiders would have only one easy victory. Mahdi would race at full speed to Trillevallen Solar System, the next closest system with an elixir garden. Compania could jump ahead with her superior acceleration and velocity, but so could Duenna. Duenna’s raiders would try to hold them at bay until Mahdi’s fleet arrived. But Cinna’s raiders would be even less easy to find in the vastness of interplanetary space than Mahdi’s fleet. The chances for success really were . . . even.

  Now Singh laughed, but it was a sardonic laugh. “I want to see that man on your gallows, Calla, but I wish to Timekeeper’s hell that they had given us better than fifty-fifty odds to succeed in playing him halfway across the Arm. It’s going to take years.”

  “Thirteen months,” Cinna said to the navigator.

  “Years,” Singh repeated. “That vandal is still the imperator general, and he didn’t get his rank by being a fool. He will double jump somewhere because he will have figured out what we’re trying to do. Then we’ll have to double back. It will take years.”

  “Dilation is with us,” the navigator said. “Thirteen months of ship time.”

  But years on Mutare, Calla thought. Years for Jason to forget her again, years for him to make another life for himself. Years for lovely Arria to grow into the woman’s body she already possessed, so Calla couldn’t even be comforted by knowing that Jason would exercise restraint even if Arria did not. The reasons for restraint would pass, just as they had so long ago when Calla had been young, too young by Jason’s standards. Calla felt her mouth go dry and she had difficulty swallowing. He had been a simple mountain man posing as a prince to escape Dovian poverty, at once unsophisticated and shrewd, and the combination had finally stolen her heart. At first she had thought that if she let down her guard for a moment he would come after her like a rutting stallion, for mountain men were reputed to eat with their fingers and make love from sunset to sunrise, and Calla had seen him eat with his fingers. But no. He was not genteel in those early days, but he was gentle and he was patient, rebuffing all but the quickest of kisses. It took her years to get up enough courage to come to him in the dead of night, attired in such a way that he would know that she had thought out everything in advance and had, therefore, probably also thought out all possible consequences, as well. It wouldn’t take Arria four years to mature, not with her ability to know what people were thinking. Especially not with Jason willing to help her along in every way possible, probably coaching her himself at every opportunity. It wasn’t Arria’s fault that she had a crush on Jason from the first moment she saw him. And it wasn’t Jason’s fault that he was so alone and vulnerable. But, Calla decided, it wasn’t her fault either. So damn the Timekeeper and his drifting sands.

  “There he is,” Singh said pointing to the holoscan. A few new lights had appeared in far-orbit above the southern pole. They were shooting down, as it were, making ready to swoop through the southern funnel.

  “Alert your raiders,” Calla said to Cinna, her voice husky.

  She was aware that her officers were watching her without appearing to watch. “And Cinna. Don’t waste any time.”

  Chapter 19

  Jason and Marmion stepped out of the Red Rocks Round House connecting tunnel into the Round House staging bay, their clothes still wet and clinging from having walked through hip-deep snow, the aftermath of a spring blizzard. Though it had been dark when they landed the shuttle, past midnight by the clock, half the residents of Mutare were waiting for them to bring them the latest news from the Hub. Even Stairnon, who rarely came to Round House ever since Calla had built the gallows almost a year ago, was there. She was standing by the fireplace talking with D’Omaha and Tirzah, both of whom were sitting on thick cushions stuffed with nymph-cocoon thread.

  “That fire looks inviting,” Marmion said with a wistful glance at the blaze, “but I’d better load this newsbean first.” He reached into his pocket, apparently to reassure himself that the jelly bean the freetrader had given them was still there. It was filled with the first news they had had since the regular supply ship brought word last winter that the council’s decision had been in the old worlds’ favor in opposition to the Decemvirate’s recommendation.

  “Use the big flatscreen over there,” Jason said, gesturing to the other side of the gallows. “That way they’ll have to move away from the fireplace and we can have a little peace before the questions start.”

  Marmion nodded and turned to walk briskly across the staging bay. His metal-soled space boots clicked smartly on the shale floor. He was holding the newsbean up between his thumb and forefinger. Few could really see what he held, but all of them guessed what it was and quickly followed him, anxious about hearing what had transpired in the last months. There were no miners in the hall, Jason noted gratefully. Only the freakish blizzard had kept them away, but many would come in the next few days to grumble over the tallies Jason had brought back from the freetrader, still unhappy over not being able to do their own bartering. The freetrader had been likewise unhappy, but only because Jason had pressed the chief of the perfection engineers into representing the miners’ interest during the bargaining sessions. Marmion, who had already earned a small fortune with his knowledge of merchantability, was not fooled or bluffed as easily as the outback miners.

  The fireplace was nearly clear of people, and Jason ignored the few who remained and discouraged private inquiries by concentrating on taking off his boots and rubbing his cold toes in the fire’s glow. The lingerers finally drifted off toward the big flatscreen and Jason stared into the fire, wondering why he had discouraged them that way. What difference did it make if he told them the news of Calla’s victories on Dvalerth and Tancred or if they heard it from the newsbean? Because he couldn’t keep the fear out of his voice, he thought, and he didn’t want to meet their eyes when they realized that the woman he loved was destroying the Mercurian Dream of perpetual youth. It had never occurred to him that Calla would attempt to neutralize the traitor by incinerating his power sources, one by one. With only two destroyed elixir gardens to judge by, Jason could see the entire pattern, a trail of such gardens of rubble on the known worlds that ended on a little known world, Mutare. He had had no difficulty understanding, finally, how Calla could play Ramnen Mahdi Swayman from one side of the Arm to the other and land him on Mutare, where his gallows was waiting. And if Jason could see the pattern, some of the others would guess, too. Worse was knowing that Mahdi would see it and was too good a strategist to continue following the pattern. He would jump ahead somewhere, leapfrogging over one of the gardens. He had an entire fleet to deploy; he could split his forces and go to two or three elixir garden planets at one time. Calla had but one companion-class ship and she had lost four raiders at Tancred. Jason was certain Calla was all but lost to him already.

  “Jason.”

  It was Arria’s voice. He hadn’t noticed her standing in the shadows. She stepped into the fire’s glow, her eyes half-closed against the glare. She was wearing a long skirt of handwoven fiber, the bright design faded from frequent laundering, but the garment was flattering to her nonetheless, for it lay flat from her waist to her thighs before the threads had been pounded into ribbon-widths that made the hem so full and flouncy. She sat down next to him, cross-legged. The sole of her foot was covered with red dust from walking barefooted on the red sandstone in Red Rocks. She disdained shoes unless she was walking in the snow.

  “I have something strange to report,” she said, her hand up to shield her face from the radiating heat. Her flaxen hair glistened in the fireglow like a melting halo.

  “What is it this time?” Jason said, curious in spite of himself, for Arria always had something strange or important to tell him. She had dogged him since the incident in his bed, reverting immediately to the childish in
nocence that he couldn’t help responding to. She picked ground nuts out of her cereal when she ate at his table, and seemed always to be just passing through the Red Rocks tunnels when he was coming out of the elixir processing area where she was not permitted to go, full of questions about the ranger station, indeed about anything in the Timekeeper’s realm since she was so quick to learn and had solved all the mysteries of the station’s technology to her own satisfaction by first snowfall. She was too bright for Jason to tire of his teacher’s role, too perceptive and imaginative for him to wish she would ask someone else, and so unfailingly cheerful that he found he could not help being cheered himself when she was near. Yet he sensed that all was not perfectly well between them, for sometimes her smile seemed frozen on her lips and the happy flashes in her eyes would give way to something more solemn.

  “After you and Marmion left in the shuttle, I went up to the lake. It was still warm, not even cloudy yet. There was a new danae there.”

  “That’s not so strange,” Jason said. “Lots of them are still returning from the winter migration. They’ve all come to the lake for a drink and a good look-see. Still probably trying to figure out how it got there.”

  “Yes, but this danae was in the lake,” Arria said, “and I don’t mean grubbing in the shallows for bugs. She spread her wings like fins and swam from one shore to the other. It didn’t seem to bother her at all that the water was like ice.”

  Jason looked at her intensely so see if she were teasing as she sometimes liked to do, especially on subjects he treated with no humor. She would know that only one other danae ever had been seen swimming, and also would know that that danae had been special to Jason.

  “I’m not lying,” she said in response to his piercing look, her tone indignant. “It was a new old danae, too. Not a single scar or blemish on her.”

  Jason crossed his legs and leaned forward. “Anything else?”

  “What else could you want? You never saw Tonto after she dragged herself out of the kiosk and there was a nymph around, too. It’s not too hard to figure out that the Builder was restraining you so that the other danae could sing the death song to lure the nymph to Tonto. The cocooning went well, and Tonto’s back, a lot healthier than when you last saw her.”

  “Could be a coincidence. Tonto may not be the only danae from a water mammal cocooning.”

  Arria shook her head in mock disgust and leaned back on her arms, the soft blouse pressing against her breasts. “You can see for yourself tomorrow, but I have known the danae since I was four years old and I’ve never seen one swimming before and never heard . . . water thoughts before.”

  “Water thoughts?” The words didn’t sound flat, but inside Jason felt more irony than eagerness when he remembered that he once wondered if Tonto sang water songs. He still cared about the danae, but the only time he gave to them was to listen to Arria’s reports, and at that, he thought unhappily, it was more because he liked Arria’s style when she gave them. There was always something far more pressing than danae studies. First it had been finishing the tunnel, then, instead of improving the antenna tower, he’d taken it down so that approaching ships couldn’t easily zero in on the complex. Fort-like doors for Red Rocks and Round House, security monitors, camouflaging the shuttle landing site — the list was endless. It was strange to realize that Arria was supplying data to support his hypothesis about the danae, yet his heart was not beating with excitement. He was glad that at least she could be eager. It was a crazy kind of compensation to hear her spirited danae reports. “Tell me about these water thoughts,” he said.

  She shrugged. “I guess that’s what you would call them. A bit like flying thoughts when they’re gliding on thermals, but the other danae weren’t sharing like they share flying thoughts. This is one unique danae.”

  “I hope you’re right, Arria,” he said, looking at her twinkling eyes but seeing her jutting breasts. Then the look of puzzlement came over Arria’s face, and though her playful smile was still there, Jason thought that in just another minute she might cry. “What’s wrong?” he said sharply.

  “When you look at me that way, I don’t know what to do,” she said, dropping her eyes. “Always before you let it pass, and I had to, too, or you would become angry again or pretend I didn’t know what I was feeling-again.”

  She was referring to the incident in his bed, he knew, which neither of them had ever mentioned. And now he wished he had let that look of hers pass once again, seemingly unnoticed. “Arria, I’m flattered that you like me, but I’m too old for you.”

  “Isn’t that what Calla said to you? And I know you didn’t believe her, not any more than I believe you. You don’t seem to realize that you can love two people at the same time, nor even that you weren’t even thinking about her until I mentioned her name.”

  “Stay out of my mind,” he said sharply. “You’re untrained and you’re making mistakes. You’ve made mistakes from the very first.”

  “You’re changing the subject,” she said angrily.

  “No,” he said. “I’m not. I’m just trying to point out that your psi ability is confusing you. That’s not love when I notice what a pretty body you have.”

  “Then what?”

  Jason shrugged and shook his head, but she still was expecting an answer. “Lust,” he finally said as nonchalantly as possible.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll settle for lust.”

  “There are a dozen or more young men in this station who would happily accommodate you,” he said trying to sound philosophic, if not encouraging.

  “Is that what you want for me?”

  “It’s only natural that you would be curious “

  “You would hate it!” she said, with a sudden knowing smile that Jason could not deny.

  “All right, all right, I would be jealous. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “Yes,” she said gleefully. “At least, it will do until you can say that you love me.”

  But I don’t love you, he thought. I love Calla. He saw a new flash of anger on Arria’s face. She said nothing, but turned to see who had stepped up to the fire. It was Marmion.

  “What’s this about love?” he said.

  “I’m not sure,” Jason answered truthfully.

  “I am,” Arria said. She looked across the staging bay. “I’d better leave. Stairnon and D’Omaha look as if they want to talk to you, and she won’t come if I’m here.”

  “Why’s that?” Marmion asked.

  Arria got to her feet and shrugged. “She’s afraid of me. It’s the psi. She’s not the only one,” she added looking pointedly at Jason.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Jason said sternly, then regretted saying it because she might interpret it as an invitation to come to his room.

  “Never,” Arria said, equally stern. “Not until you come to me. I’m not as stupid as you think.” She whirled on her bare feet and walked briskly away.

  “I have a feeling I interrupted something,” Marmion said, crouching next to Jason to warm himself by the fire.

  “Thank the Timekeeper,” Jason said. “I think Arria’s in love.”

  Marmion chuckled. “We have all known that for a long time. The question is, how do you feel about her?”

  “Come on, Marmion. She’s a nice kid and I like her a lot, but . . . “

  “Or,” said Marmion, cutting him off, “is the question, how would Calla feel about her?”

  “Timekeeper’s hell. Not you, too!”

  “That kid, as you call her, must be nearly twenty as her body measures time, and what she lacks in formal training she makes up in perception. Except with you.” He considered a moment. “Maybe not even with you. She plays the only role she’s certain you’ll accept, but it sounds like she’s as tired of it as the rest of us are. As for Calla . . . don’t ever underestimate Antiqua. She’s out there saving millions of lives, and even if she succeeds there’s not anyone who will thank her. Not even me. Anyone who can live with that isn’t go
ing to be flustered by a psi kid from an outback planet.”

  “I take it that the news isn’t being well received,” Jason said, craning his neck now to look across the stage. The newsbean had ended, but no one had moved. They were talking, and even at this distance Jason could tell the tone was angry and menacing.

  “For those who didn’t catch on, D’Omaha kindly annotated the presentation. Oh, he said all the right words, all right. Self-sacrifice, devotion to the Mercurian Sway, but I would guess that if Calla arrived tonight, it would be she who faced the gallows.”

  “I had better go calm them down,” Jason said, pulling his legs under himself.

  “Let them stew a few days, Jason. They won’t listen to reason right now.”

  Jason stayed put, but only because he saw D’Omaha and Stairnon walking hand-in-hand toward the fireplace. Stairnon was wearing khaki pants with the ranger insignia and facings trimmed off and ranger-issue lugged boots. Despite the drab garb, Jason thought that she never had looked lovelier; her cheeks were rosy and almost seemed plump, and her white hair was glossy. She seemed less frail than when he first had met her, her gait more buoyant, and it pleased Jason to know that wintering in the caves of Mutare had not had any ill effect on her health.

  “Did the freetrader have any information that wasn’t in the newsbean?” D’Omaha asked, stepping over Jason’s boots to stand close to the fire.

  “Only that the hot war between Dvalerth and Cassells seems to have cooled. Cassells fleet hasn’t gone home, but they’ve mounted no new attacks.”

  “It’s a little difficult to determine who they are branding traitor, Mahdi or Calla,” D’Omaha said gravely. “Mahdi for trying to capture the elixir gardens, or Calla for destroying them.”

  “Obviously Mahdi is the traitor,” Jason said. “We knew that when he left here.”

  “Did we?” D’Omaha said. “It seems to me that Calla was alone in her opinion. I did not agree with her.”