The Kobi media made much of three events–the arrival of the Damai, the return of Leta’s body, and Lorelei’s visit. All were treated, and reported, separately, no connection given to them, even if they were all related.
The Damai became the immediate darlings of the planet, just as they had other places, besieged by mobs of reporters, swarms of cambots, and hundreds of air cars, and thousands of ordinary citizens.
Lori arranged to transport Leta’s body to the surface, to her home city, on the far side of the planet from where she’d been before. But as she prepared to do so, Leta’s father arrived on the station with an official delegation of some sort. She met him in a public reception hall, he appearing stern and abrupt.
“You are the human one bringing my daughter’s sad remains home?” he said, with no formal greeting.
“Yes, sir, I am...”
“We will take over from here. You need trouble yourself no further. You have done enough for my daughter as it is.” He stalked away, followed by the rest of the small entourage.
Lori stood there, knowing of the sorrow, and anger, he must feel, toward her, toward humans, toward Earth. And perhaps toward his head-strong daughter, too, defying him to go work off world, and look what it got her. She sighed, and followed at a discrete distance, but they soon disappeared behind a controlled door, and she could go no further.
She avoided the media to the extent she could, but with the Damai in such demand, that proved difficult. With the assistance of the American Space Department representatives at the Embassy, she obtained entry permits for them all, for Leta’s country, and the others she knew, and dropped to the planet the next day. Carefully following all the entry rules, she landed without incident at a small hotel recommended by the human net. The country seemed green, lush, and not too cool, though cloudy and rainy when they arrived.
Messages followed them, their hotel computer was jammed with requests for audiences, interviews, and for Lori, presentations on joining her next expedition. She saved them all to a file, for review later. Going to the dining area produced chaos, with people demanding attention, and the hotel doing little to stop them. The translation machines ran slow, she couldn’t keep up with the talking, and the Damai were lost for sure.
Going up to the first Anawoka she saw, Lori said, in English, “I need help. Can you get me a translator? Or two or more?”
The Anawoka, the bird-like species, shorter than humans, with bright eyes, three small “fingers” on the elbow of their wings, were known as translators, and more. They are native to the sister planet here in the Twin Worlds, Lucipara. It answered her in English, “You are the Saxon? And these ones are the Damai?”
“Yes.”
“I shall summon assistance,” and it nestled its head in its shoulder, and spoke in quiet bird-talk for a while. It looked up at her and said, “The services you require will arrive in 45 minutes. In the meanwhile, I will do what I may.” The bird immediately screeched something, bring a lowering of the volume, and some hesitation on the part of the Kobi nearby. It scolded loudly, its wings opening and closing, and a quiet descended. The crowd pulled back, seemed to form into some sort of ragged queue. “You may dine now. However, the natives request to speak to you, one at a time, as you eat. I will translate. Is this permissible?”
“Yes. One at a time is acceptable. We thank you. Your name?”
The bird bowed slightly, and said, “I am Ardea.”
They got through the meal without further incident, most people wanting a moment or two, and a photo with the exotic aliens, and Lori. None mentioned her involvement in Leta’s death. Continuing news coverage remained sparse she knew, most reports blaming human extremists, and even the Pokoniry themselves.
Back in her room, Lori called the American Embassy, and sought their advice on local burial and funeral customs, but little information was on file for Leta’s country. Two Anawoka arrived, and together with Ardea they began to sort through the countless messages, and worked with Tarue on a schedule of sorts for appearances, aware she was more interested in talking to trade and manufacturing reps.
One of the Anawoka, Tardus, provided information on the local burial customs. Flowers were unheard of, mementos of everyday life more common, and those donated afterward to needy families. Attendance at the formal ceremony itself, and the internment, was usually by invitation for those not of the immediate family. Tardus said it would inquire on Lori’s participation.
Less than an hour later, it returned, and from its demeanor, Lori knew the answer was not positive. Pressed, Tardus said the response was quite hostile, dishonorable in fact, given Lori’s status, and relationship with Leta.
“No, the parents have a right to grieve in their own way, and to not invite me, if it is too painful for them. Their honor is not in question. Their grief is very deep. But perhaps I can observe from afar. Can you find out the time and locations for me?”
Tardus produced a small disk, with meaningless symbols. He translated for Lori, and after some difficulty, she understood the ceremony would be later that day, when the sky was clear of Lucipara, it being considered unlucky to bury the dead under the shadow of the sister planet. The location proved easier, the coordinates showing on a local map. She relayed them to Eagle One, and prepared to leave, declining all invitations for meetings that day.
The funeral took place in an elaborate building, surrounded with gardens, pools and fountains, a lush patch in the midst of a heavily developed urban area. The rain had stopped, but gray clouds still hung low over the land.
Lori halted Eagle One some distance away, hovering at tree top level, and slid a cambot out and away toward the venue. She wound it through the trees and into the building itself, and slowed to a stop near the high ceiling of a large room. Leta’s casket occupied the center, rows of mourners arrayed around it, while several ministers circled before the crowd. Lori called back to her hotel and asked if one of the Anawoka could be brought into her net, and would tell what was being said in the building. Tardus provided a running commentary, and translated the major talks, most extolling Leta’s courage, her pioneering visit to a remote and strange world, and the wondrous writings she left behind, as a bound book was held up.
I haven’t even seen that, Lori realized, determined to get a copy for herself.
Then the room hushed as Leta’s father stood before the casket. Lori could see his grief, and heard it in his words, of loss, of sorrow, of pride in a wonderful daughter, of the agony of her death on a far world, away from everyone who loved her. That irked Lori, but his complaints of her desecration with weeds and stinking plants, crammed against her head in the container bringing her here showed her just how alien each people was to the other. Maybe it was best she was not there, after all.
A parade of the attendees started, each walking by the closed casket, some pausing, some not, all stopping to speak to the family, waiting just beyond. Lori noted a mother, and another female, Leta’s sister, she presumed, all wearing mourning drapes of deep maroon. Several other relatives also stood in line, similarly covered.
Lori felt like a voyeur, as the family gathered, joining hands around the casket, and loudly crying out their sorrow. It ended, and they left, the father last. She waited, watching as workers hurriedly bundled the casket onto an AG sled, and guided it into a ground car, for a journey over roads out of the area. Lori recalled the cambot, and trailed the small caravan as it left the city, flying low, trying to stay out of sight. They crossed a river, and drove eastward for nearly an hour, moving slowly, as all ground vehicles must. Eventually they turned off the roadway, toward a low hill, dotted with winding paths and spotted with memorials of various sorts. A green tent part way up the hill stood out from the low vegetation. The procession stopped nearby and the casket arrived and went under the tent.
Lori halted a good half kilometer away, and again sent out cambots, two of them, one for a relay, the smaller to hover nearby, so she could watch. The clouds lingered, higher, but st
ill the day remained gray. No Anawoka to translate, the ceremony was brief, only the immediate family in attendance, and it was soon over. The family stepped away, as the casket went into the ground, and the dirt back into the hole. After a few minutes, the tent dropped and the cemetery people left. The family walked by the fresh mound, each stopping for a final moment, and then leaving. Again, the father was last, standing there for long moments. The family returned to the ground cars, and they slowly departed.
Lori watched the scene for a few minutes as the cars disappeared from sight. She waited ten minutes more, recalled the cambots, and then slowly flew to the cemetery. She landed next to the mound, and sat there looking at it, as a shaft of sunlight appeared, shining beneath the cloud layer, bathing the entire scene in a golden glow. After a few minutes more, she left her air car, carrying some potted flowers, and spent some time putting them in the wet ground at the head of the mound. At least they can’t say they’re dead.
“Leta, this may not be your tradition, but it is ours, to honor the dead with the beauty of life.” She sprinkled flower petals on the fresh dirt, hiding the starkness of it a little. She stood for a last look herself at Leta’s resting place.
Determined to be strong here, she failed, and fell to her knees in the soft mud, bending her head, shaking and crying into her hands, while Eagle One hovered overhead in a protective manner.
When she arrived back at the hotel, Tarue, seeing her serious demeanor, and mud on her knees and boots, and puffy eyes, asked how the day went. Lori described the funeral, Tarue attentive, the kits listening without a word. Tarue distracted Lori by asking of burial customs of the other races, and kept the talk going for a while, until meal time.
“We have no meetings scheduled this night, Sky Lady,” she said, taking Lori’s hand. “But perhaps tomorrow? Many people here wish to speak to us of the trip back to my home world. Will you help me with them?”
Lori smiled slightly, nodding, seeing Tarue’s continuing efforts to distract her. The kits helped, by yelling that the other planet was rushing over the edge of the world at them, come and look at the amazing sight.
Days later in a different city, a hotel executive found Lori as she left a meeting, not an especially productive one, and told her the American Embassy sent a message for her, and it was waiting at the front desk information booth. Worried about that, she hurried there, and the clerk tapped some numbers into a computer, and pointed to a nearby booth with a message device. Lori entered, kneeling on one knee, annoyed as always by everything being so low on this planet, and pushed the access key. Her face showed the shocked surprise at what she saw.
“If you can find Lorelei Saxon Sloane, please forward her the message that Hunter Lindbloom has just arrived in system, and is on the Mid-Level Station, and would like to speak to her. Here’s the number,” Hunter’s image said, and a bar appeared, high-lighted with numbers in several languages, including English. “She can call anytime, I’m waiting here. Thank you.” His image faded, but the numbers remained.
Her heart pounding, she thought, He’s here? In system? He came out here? Why on earth? Waving to get the clerks attention, she asked, “How can I call the number displayed?”
The clerk came over, pointed to a button, saying through the translator, “Insert your credit card, and push there.”
Lori, her hand shaking, did so, and waited. The machine processed the call, several dopey, she thought, animations showing it passing through various stations, and eventually beamed overhead toward the Mid-Level Space Station circling the planet. A message, untranslated, appeared, Lori presumed it said no answer, and she began to motion the clerk again, when Hunter’s face appeared.
“Yes, hello...” he started to say, then said, “Lorelei, is it you?”
She smiled at him, a shy, slow smile, knowing the slight delay of the electronic signal caught her with her mouth open, and she said, “Hunter Lindbloom, the real question is, is it you, and what on earth are you doing in the Twin Worlds?” And she smirked a little, her head dropping to the right.
“Yes, it’s me, I’m here. And I’ve come to see my girl.” He stopped, swallowed, and she saw his face fall, and harden, as he tried to maintain his composure. He tried to talk twice, started, failed, swallowed, and began again. “Are you all right? I came to see how you are. And to be with you, in this...um, ordeal, or what ever is left of it. Lori?”
Her own face must have betrayed her own surprised loss of composure, her eyes smarting, and she said, “What?”
Hunter smiled a little, and said, “I came to see my girl, I came to see you.”
Lori’s heart began to beat faster, to pound. Her eyes began to water. She stared at his image. He came all the way here...for me? Her stunned surprise must have looked different to Hunter, because he said again, “Are you all right? Lori?”
“Oh, I’m OK. Now, I mean. The funeral for Leta’s over, I wasn’t invited, even, kept away, actually, it was not so good...well, strange, no, different customs, I guess.” She wiped at her eyes. “Now I’m waiting for a ship out, meeting with people, Tarue is famous, having a wonderful time...” She leaned forward a little, cocking her head to the side to look at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Say, how’d you get here, nothing is due in from Earth, or anywhere else, I think, for days, weeks?”
“Yeah, I know, got a lift, a special favor. Look, where the hell are you anyway, the Embassy said someplace I can’t even find on the map.”
“It’s around the planet from them, and the major spaceport. Do you want me to come up and meet you? Can you land, you have a permit, and everything? I’d like to see you,” and she let her voice trail off at the end.
“Yeah, I can land, no sweat, they’re anxious for my entry fee, and all. How long till you can get up here?”
“Um, take a few hours, I’ll need a permit, no, a flight plan, is all, take a while to get the OK, I think, they’re incredibly picky here, and I’m trying not to piss them off any more than I have to. That OK?”
Hunter looked off to the right. He shook his head. “No. Wait. Look, there’s a shuttle leaving in a half hour or so, will be down planet by then. Can you meet me at Crater Spaceport, at about 1300 hours? I think that’s what the arrival time will be.”
“Yours or mine? Never mind, Eagle One will sort it out. Yeah, I can be there when you arrive. Sure that’s OK?”
“Yeah, I’m anxious to see you. How are you, OK?”
“Fine.” She looked at him. “You came all this way, out here, to see me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,” she said, looking serious, maybe doubtful, in the screen.
“You...surprised?” Hunter said.
“Yes, I never expected...I’m...very...impressed. I’ve missed you. So much.”
“And I you. More than you can know...”
Lori pressed her lips together, trying to concentrate on what he was saying, but it was difficult. He went on, “I have mail for you, too. And you ought to see what they’re saying on Earth now. Man. You’ll be surprised.”
“Good or bad?” She looked worried, a frown on her forehead.
“Good. All good.”
“Tell me about it.”
“OK, when I get there. Look, if I want to catch that shuttle, I got to go, now. See you soon, OK?”
“Yes.”
“I love you Lori. I’m so glad to see you.”
“Me too. See you soon.”
They watched each other as the call ended, and faded. A huge sum appeared, twice expected, with the taxes added. Lori sighed, then jumped up, looking for Tarue, and calling Eagle One on the radio.
A large crowd of Kobi surged out the exit gates, furry heads bobbing, and rushed past her, the only human in the area, with hardly a glance. She stared at the doorway, and saw him immediately, standing a half meter taller than the natives, dark hair, a blue shirt, a travel bag slung over one shoulder, while he looked back and forth. His eyes met hers, locked on them, and he smiled. Like a neo-Moses, he
bored through the crowd, it parting before him, and he came straight to her. Her heart pounded when he stopped before her, and she finally closed her mouth, it hanging open while he approached.
Without a word, he opened his arms, and slowly moved them to wrap around her, and drew her to him. Her arms went around his back as she laid her head on his shoulder, and leaned into him. His tight hug squeezed the breath from her chest.
“How I’ve missed you,” he said with a hoarse whisper.
Past his shoulder, she saw the crowd staring at them, strange human behavior in their midst. Several Anawoka walked by, their heads swiveling as they passed.
“How are you?” he said to her silence.
She nodded, and said, “I’m OK. Now.” She stopped. “But it was bad. Again. They killed Leta.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“I’m so glad you are now. I missed you, too.”
He released her, held her at arms length, looking at her face. “How do you feel, you still hurt, or anything?”
Again, she shook her head. “No, I’m all healed. Nothing bad, really. Superficial.” Her eyes moved up to his. “I’ve had worse.”
He shook his head, remembering. Slowly his right hand rose, and caressed her face. When it ran behind her head, he drew it toward him, and lowered his lips to hers. Lori closed her eyes, enjoying the warm softness of his kiss, moving her head just a bit from side to side. He kissed her long and slow, and she savored it. When he pulled away, she leaned into him again, letting him hug her once more. The crowd still watched.
Ah, the natives be damned.
A chime sounded, and Hunter said, “Shit,” and pulled a pocket reader out. “My bags will be ready in 22 minutes, it says, level one, something or other, can you read this?” he said, showing her the display.
She shook her head, and caught the eye of the nearest Anawoka. “Maybe he can,” and she motioned him over.
The Anawoka hurried to them, glanced at the screen, and said, “Slot 125. May I show you the way?”
T-47 Book II (Saxon Saga 6) Page 13