“It’ll be fine,” Rlinda said, seeing her uncertain expression. “I promise.”
“I’m the only one who can make it right. Coming here, facing the past, seeing these people . . . I need to do that before I can move on.”
The Blind Faith flew beside the Curiosity, also carrying a load of supplies for the Dobro colonists. Rlinda said, “BeBob and I won’t be staying long, so you and the kids better finish your business quick, unless you want us to sail off into the stars and leave you all behind.”
“No, we won’t be staying behind.” Nira looked into the back section of the ship, where the children were occupying themselves with some Hansa entertainment vidloops Rlinda had loaded aboard. “We’ve all spent quite enough time here already.”
Once landed, the Curiosity and the Blind Faith opened their cargo hatches like vendors displaying their wares, and excited colonists came to help them unload the new material. Rlinda supervised the workers, watching the stacks of supply crates diminish until the cargo hold was empty.
Holding a treeling, Nira hesitated at the bottom of the ramp until Osira’h took her hand and said, “Come, Mother. Do you need us to show you the way?” The girl carried another of the small potted worldtree fronds, as did each of the other children. Six new worldtrees for Dobro.
“I know it too well.” Cradling the treeling in one arm, she smiled, and together the six of them stepped out onto the ground.
Nira walked with them away from the landing field and passed through the reconstructed colony town in a small procession. While the half-breed children expressed surprise at all the changes they saw, unshed tears welled up in Nira’s eyes. The fences were gone, the breeding barracks burned down, the Dobro Designate’s dwelling torn apart. She barely recognized the place. So many of its shadows and stains were mercifully washed away.
The once-segregated Ildiran settlement and human prison camp had now merged, the structures intermingled. Nira recognized most of the colonists, and she could see a genuinely changed attitude on their faces. The Ildirans really were helping them. She knew there were many scars to remove, both on the landscape and in the peoples’ hearts, but they seemed to be doing it.
Perhaps this would work after all. Dobro could be beautiful.
The children seemed happy and excited, bounding along toward the nearest hills, drawn to a particular place. After the springtime rains, the weeds and grass had grown in lush, thick masses.
She was not surprised to find that her own grave was still there. Muree’n found it first and called the others over to the spot.
Looking at it now, Nira felt disoriented to see the polished geometrical stone that marked where Designate Udru’h had supposedly buried her. The holographic image of her face — much younger and more innocent — still shimmered there. Her children seemed captivated by the projection.
“You look beautiful there,” Rod’h said.
Nira knelt in the rough grass and stared for a long moment, recalling all her years in the breeding camp. She knew that Jora’h, too, had come to grieve by this marker, believing the false story of her death.
It was time to remove the lie. Nira detached the data crystal and its power pack and took the holographic memorial with her. Although the gesture was symbolic, she felt lighter somehow.
The people on Dobro would be all right, and so would she.
“Why did you do that, Mother?” Osira’h asked.
Nira set her pot down on the ground. “Because we are here to make a new memorial, a much more important one.” She began to scoop out a hole in the dirt so that she could plant her treeling. The children helped, and soon the small worldtree had been patted down in its new home. Nira stepped back to admire what they had done.
“And where shall we plant the others?” Gale’nh asked.
Nira marked off spots, separated widely enough to give the growing trees room, but close enough for them to share their strength, where their roots could find each other and interconnect underground. “Someday there will be a fine grove here,” she said.
Bringing the worldforest mind to this place was her way of forgiving Dobro. The trees would grow tall and strong.
When they were done, they walked back to the landing field where the two cargo ships waited. Happy and relieved, Nira was ready to put her bad memories of this place behind her. Feeling a strong wash of love, she reached out to gather all five of her children in a fierce embrace.
This was the only memory she needed of Dobro.
169
Orli Covitz
Though she doubted DD could interpret subtle expressions despite his many years with humans, Orli did her best to keep the impish excitement from her face. She could barely hold back a grin as she used special cloths to scrub and polish the Friendly compy’s exterior.
“I have always done my best to maintain a clean appearance, Orli Covitz. However, I appreciate your attention to detail. My recent difficulties have left me somewhat worn and discolored.”
“I have a surprise for you, and I want you to look your best.”
“What is the surprise?”
“Now, DD, if I tell you, it’s not a surprise anymore.”
The little compy digested that. “By definition, you are correct.”
She glanced at the clock and quickly finished with a last wipe across the compy’s shoulders and the back of his head. “Time to go. Mr. Steinman has arranged transport for us.”
“You have made me very curious.”
“Good.”
DD followed Orli out of her apartment, still chattering. “I can experience curiosity, you know. My programming is very sophisticated.”
“I’m aware of that. You can experience lots of things that surprise me.”
Mr. Steinman had shaved, showered, put on clean clothes, and combed his wet gray hair behind his ears. He could have used a haircut, Orli thought, but she was pleased that he had taken the trouble to make himself presentable. He realized this was very important to her — and to DD. Mr. Steinman was even wearing cologne. Lots of it.
“Everything’s set,” he said. “Ready to go?”
“You look as excited as I am.”
The older man flushed. “Just doing it as a favor for you, kid.”
“Where are we going?” DD pressed.
“It’s a surprise,” the two of them answered in unison.
“Whom will we meet?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Will you answer any of my questions?”
“No.”
“Then shall I stop asking?”
“Yes.” The Friendly compy was as antsy as a child about to open a birthday present.
As they traveled across the city, Orli at last relented and offered a hint. “I did some research. You already know I couldn’t find my mother, but I did find someone — someone for you.”
“I do not want anyone else, Orli Covitz. Margaret Colicos told the two of us to stay together.”
“This is different. You’ll understand soon enough.”
They arrived at a modest house with beautiful flower boxes out front. Orli smiled at the brown shutters and shingle roof, the pale yellow siding, the welcoming walk that led up to a front door surrounded by potted plants.
DD kept up with Orli’s eager step as they passed blue-chip juniper shrubs on the way to the front door. Mr. Steinman followed a few steps behind them. As soon as Orli knocked, the door opened, and a striking old woman in a loose green dress answered it. She wore her pewter hair neatly pinned back, and a delicate gold bracelet encircled her left wrist. To Orli’s eyes, she seemed about the same age as Mr. Steinman.
After a second of awkward silence, the old woman asked in a breathy voice, “Is that DD? Is that really DD?”
The compy stepped forward. “Yes, I am DD. I am pleased to meet you.”
Orli thought she would burst with excitement. “DD, don’t you remember Dahlia Sweeney?”
“Dahlia? My first master?” The compy was actually taken aback.
The woman laughed. “That was fifty years ago. But I grew up and gave you to my own daughter . . . and she grew up, but decided not to have a family.”
“You’re so much older now.”
“Yes, that happens over time. Are you glad to see me?”
DD chattered, his voice filled with delighted exuberance. “This is absolutely wonderful.”
“Yes, it is.” Dahlia opened the door wide. “Please come in. We have so much to catch up on. I’m going to cry, I’m sure of it.”
Inside the house, Orli could smell cookies.
They spent hours that day just talking, and Orli realized how lonely the old woman must be. DD regaled her with his adventures over the years, and Dahlia gave him the story of her life since her daughter Marianna had sold him. Then Mr. Steinman talked of his own exploits, modestly downplaying his heroics. He seemed almost shy, for a change, and he covered it by showing excessive interest in her backyard garden.
They returned the next day for dinner. Then the day after that. There wasn’t a single time that Dahlia didn’t have tears in her eyes when they left.
Finally, on their next visit, the old woman primly sat down on the sofa. Instead of tea, she had made lemonade. “What I’m about to propose is the best solution. We’re all orphans and loose ends. Orli, it sounds to me like you’ve been bounced around from place to place and are just looking for a home.”
Orli forced a smile. “Well, it’s not through lack of trying that I haven’t settled down.”
“Then I suggest you and DD stay here with me. I have plenty of spare rooms, and I could certainly use the company — as well as some help in the garden and a few odds and ends.”
“I can offer my assistance,” DD volunteered.
Orli, who felt no attachment to her little apartment, didn’t hesitate for a moment before agreeing.
“The invitation extends to you, too, Mr. Steinman,” Dahlia said. “If you would be interested.”
“Call me Hud, please — especially if I’ll be settling down here.” The old man couldn’t stop grinning.
“I am very happy about this,” the Friendly compy said.
Orli realized that was exactly the way she felt, too. At last.
170
Patrick Fitzpatrick III
Staring out at the gauzy pastel clouds of Golgen, Patrick no longer felt any threat inside the gas giant. The yawning gulf of emptiness did not make him dizzy, as if he were about to fall (having walked the gangplank, after all). Even the odd smell of chemicals from the upwelling gases didn’t bother him.
“I could almost get to like this place,” he said.
“Then should we keep your grandmother’s mansion on Earth as a vacation home?” Zhett said. “Although compared to this sky” — she spread her arms wide — “even that big old house would seem cramped.”
“I’m perfectly content to be wherever you are,” Patrick said with a mixture of teasing and sincerity, so that she couldn’t tell whether he was being corny or genuinely romantic.
Spiderlike cargo escorts took off from the skymine’s lower decks, circled around the attendant satellite platforms, and ascended to the more rarefied atmosphere until they reached orbit and streaked away with their full canisters of ekti. Production had gone into overdrive. The Ildiran Empire and the Confederation fleet were insatiable customers for stardrive fuel.
Del Kellum joined them, putting his hands on his hips. “Every time I see one of those ships fly off, I can’t help but think of all the profits coming back to clan Kellum.”
Patrick stared upward, blinking into the bright light. “Every time I see one of those ships fly off, I’m just glad nobody’s shooting at it, and that we don’t have to worry about the hydrogues, the faeros, the Klikiss, the robots, or the EDF.”
Zhett’s father turned to her, looking stern. “Now, don’t go expecting your husband to have a free ride around here, my sweet. He’s got to pull his own weight, do as much work as I do — ”
“Better yet, Dad, I’ll make sure he does as much work as I do.” She slipped her arm around Patrick’s waist, knowing that he already put in long days at the facility. “I promised to make him spend at least two hours with me every day in the command center so I can explain how things work on a big skymine. We’ll make him into an adequate administrator sooner or later.”
Patrick gave her an indignant look. “Adequate? I was raised to be leader material — the head of the military, a captain of industry, a well-respected diplomat.”
“Yes, but can you do any work, by damn? One of these days I’d like to retire, you know.”
Zhett gave her father a scornful laugh. “You, retire? It’ll never happen.”
“Oh? Something wrong with settling down? Brewing my orange liqueur — maybe even taking it commercial? Getting a few new tanks of angelfish . . . hell, how about a whole aquarium center of my own? I could run it as a tourist operation. Most Roamers haven’t seen a real live fish, you know.”
Two more cargo escorts streaked off. Billowing exhaust gases continued to spew out of the funnels in the skymine’s superstructure. Scout ships skated along the cloud tops, dangling long antenna probes deep into the misty layers to measure concentrations of valuable gases.
Across the gas giant’s skies, numerous other facilities hung suspended against gravity, filling tank after tank of ekti. Fortunately, Patrick thought, the open vastness had room for everyone.
171
Margaret Colicos
Over the course of weeks, the Davlin-breedex shared with Margaret and Anton all the story songs he deemed necessary, everything memorable about the entire Klikiss race. After hearing of the incredible conflicts, the rise and fall of numerous subhives, the cyclical Swarmings and subsequent consolidations and exterminations, Margaret felt breathless from the sheer volume of information.
Then one day, the breedex was finished.
In the hive city, all of the Klikiss marched briskly about, forming themselves into ranks, millions lined up in perfect order, all categorized by sub-breed.
“What’s going on out there?” Anton asked.
She shook her head. “Something I’ve never seen before.”
Through two of its warrior breeds, the hive mind summoned her and Anton into the yawning hall. The smells were thicker and the background buzz so loud that her teeth rattled.
Even before the myriad organism finished forming the crude human face, Margaret asked, “Davlin, tell us what’s happening.”
“In the distant past, the Ildiran Empire coexisted with the Klikiss. They avoided our colony worlds, and our hive wars remained irrelevant to them.” The alien voice paused for a long moment. “That will change now. Humans will not ignore us. The time will come when vengeful people will refuse to leave us alone. Thus, we can wait here and be exterminated . . . or we can go into hibernation and allow time to pass, perhaps another ten thousand years.”
Margaret couldn’t argue with the assessment. She doubted humans would ever leave the Klikiss in peace.
Anton said, “Those are your only two choices?”
“For a long time I thought so, but now I choose a different way to survive.” The simulated face seemed sad and preoccupied. “I am all that is left of the Klikiss. Therefore, as breedex, I shall leave. I will take what remains of my hive and go elsewhere — far, far from human and Ildiran civilization. I do not expect to meet any of my old race for thousands of years. Goodbye, Anton Colicos. Goodbye, Margaret Colicos. Thank you for gathering our songs.”
Davlin’s enormous face collapsed into a shapeless mass. With scraping sounds, the eight looming domates marched into the hall of the breedex and waded directly into the writhing, squirming mass of the hive mind. For a moment Margaret thought this was the beginning of another fissioning, that all the grubs would devour the domates. Instead the squirming creatures crawled over the eight towering figures, climbing up their hard exoskeletons until they covered each domate with a living, twitching blanket. Then the laden crea
tures lumbered out of the hall, carrying the dispersed breedex with them.
Margaret and Anton followed them out into Llaro’s bright sunlight and climbed to a tower opening from which they could observe the main city. Below them, Klikiss scientist breeds huddled around the transportal at the center of the metropolis. The tall trapezoidal frame shimmered, and the flat stone barrier melted away to reveal another world, a place of gray cliffs and steaming geysers under a dim indigo sky.
The ranks of Klikiss parted as the tiger-striped domates moved forward in a regimented march. Without pausing, they carried the dispersed breedex through the pulsing transportal.
As soon as the domates were away, the first ranks of warriors filed after them in a march that lasted more than an hour. Then came the workers, harvesters, excreters, scouts . . . one sub-breed after another, line after line in an awesome but orderly mass exodus from Llaro.
Margaret and Anton watched from their vantage. “Davlin is taking the seeds of the hive with him.”
The Klikiss flowed through the transportal in an endless stream, evacuating to an unidentified new world. The scientist sub-breeds remained beside the transportal, watching the passage of all the insects until the last yellow-shelled borers scuttled through.
Then the scientist creatures fiddled with the engraved circuitry and controls at the base of the trapezoidal frame. Satisfied, the Klikiss technicians plunged through the frame — all except one.
When the others were gone, the sole remaining Klikiss touched the transportal controls, and the stone doorway melted back into solidity, cutting off the passage to the other world. Sparks flew from the circuitry network, and parts of the coordinate tiles melted, permanently disabling the transportal.
His work finished, the Klikiss scientist died.
When she saw the dead scientist crumpled next to the opaque trapezoidal wall, Margaret was reminded of the lone Klikiss cadaver she and Louis had found inside the cliff city on Rheindic Co, also lying beside a transportal. Now she understood how the last remnants of the insect race had escaped from the black robots and the hydrogues.
The Ashes of Worlds Page 55