Singing the Dogstar Blues

by Alison Goodman

  Hartpury sat down at the adjustable table, motioning me towards a chair.

  ‘What do you think of the place?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s okay. A bit too blue for my liking.’ I sat down opposite her. Actually, it was brilliant compared to normal student quarters. Being the partner of the alien had some problems but it also had some major perks. Like the fact that I was still at the Centre. Without my Chorian partner, I’m sure Camden-Stone would have eventually kicked me out.

  ‘I think you could finally make a home here, Joss,’ she said. ‘This is your chance to really find out what you’re about.’

  I shifted in my chair. Like I’ve said, I hate being analysed. I feel like one of those butterflies with a pin through its guts.

  ‘Lay off the psych stuff,’ I said.

  ‘It’s my job.’

  I didn’t smile back. She held up her hands.

  ‘Okay, let’s just talk about Mavkel for now. We’ve been trying to get as much information as possible so you can get an idea of your partner.’

  Finally, someone was going to fill me in on Mavkel. Camden-Stone’s little chat had made me realise how little I knew about the whole deal.

  ‘Unfortunately we haven’t been able to get much officially,’ Hartpury said. She paused, looking down at the table. My smell-a-rat detector shot up and bristled.

  ‘Why haven’t you got much?’ I asked.

  ‘The Foreign Affairs department isn’t being very helpful.’

  ‘Why not?’

  She shrugged, but she was holding back.

  ‘Okay then. What do we know unofficially?’ I asked.

  Hartpury rubbed her hands together slowly, choosing her words.

  ‘I got talking to a Chorian at an official reception. Its name was Refmol. It told me that Mavkel is more or less an outcast because its birth pair was killed in an accident. Apparently if one birth-pair dies, the other is supposed to die too.’

  ‘It’s supposed to suicide?’ I asked. A suicidal partner wasn’t going to be very useful to me.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I think it’s more of a separation trauma. Refmol is some kind of Chorian medic. A Chanter. It was the one who saved Mavkel from dying and, from the sounds of it, started a huge controversy on Choria.’

  What would it be like to have someone in your mind all the time and then suddenly lose them? I thought a hole had been blasted right through my middle when Louise left, but I’ve never had someone close to me actually die. Sometimes I’ve wondered what it would be like if Ingrid died, but the idea is too hairy. My brain always hits the panic button and jumps onto a new subject.

  ‘I don’t think the Elders really know what to do with Mavkel,’ Hartpury continued. ‘A Chorian has to be paired to be able to communicate telepathically. Since Mavkel no longer has a pair, it’s cut off from the rest of them. It has to rely on the spoken word — something the Chorians don’t seem to very keen about.’

  ‘We get along all right with it,’ I said.

  ‘The Chorian’s think spoken language is very clumsy. Anyway Refmol let slip that they’re not sure how the separation has affected Mavkel’s mind. I think that’s why the Chorian Elders think Mavkel is the best ambassador for this mission. It already understands in some ways what it is like to be a human: limited to its own mind and forced to communicate with sound.’ She sing-songed the last bit, imitating the Chorians.

  ‘They don’t have a very high opinion of us, do they?’ I said.

  ‘Let’s just say they have a very high opinion of our time technology.’

  ‘Is that all you’ve got on Mavkel?’

  ‘That’s about it. Most of the time we spoke Refmol was pumping me about you. Especially about your parents.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. Their bloodlines are pretty important to them. Maybe Refmol wanted to check out your pedigree.’

  ‘What did you tell it?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I didn’t say much,’ she said. ‘I know you’re a bit sensitive on that subject. You know when all’s said and done, I think I trust Refmol more than some of those Foreign Affairs creeps. At least Refmol is friendly. Look, it showed me one of their hand greetings.’ She took my hand in hers. ‘They seem to touch each other a lot more than we do.’

  She spread out her hand pushing mine into a fist.

  ‘You’ve got to remember that they have two thumbs,’ she said as she covered my fist with her hand, entwining our thumbs.

  ‘What’s this actually mean?’

  ‘Refmol said it was a friendship clasp.’ She dropped my fist. ‘That’s about all I can pass on to you. There’s more information, but it’s on a need-to-know basis.’

  ‘You’re kidding? You mean that’s all the information I’m getting?’ I shook my head. ‘This really burns. I’m the one who’s going to be living with Mavkel. I’m the one who needs the information.’

  Hartpury nodded.

  ‘I know. I know. But the government has blocked our requests over and over again.’ She leaned forward. ‘I think they want you to report any information you find out about the Chorians.’

  ‘They want me to spy?’

  This was getting severe. If they were into spying, this whole place was probably rigged for government eyes and ears. I’d have to find their little peepholes and plug them up.

  ‘Well, they call it fact collection,’ Hartpury said, twisting her mouth into a half smile. ‘I think they don’t know that much about the Chorians and it’s driving them crazy.’

  She was probably right and wrong. It was more likely the government knew a lot, but didn’t trust its information. Answer: corroborate from a different, neutral source.

  ‘If you don’t want to do it, you have my support,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll let you know,’ I said.

  Spying for someone else wasn’t really up my alley, but it wasn’t a bad idea to play along with them. There was also a chance I could get a bit more information out of them. Right now, the Hartpury well of information had dried up. I needed to get onto the Net.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’d like to unpack and get settled in,’ I said, putting on my tired but valiant face. If I was lucky, Hartpury would think I needed ‘some space’. She took the bait.

  ‘Of course, you’ll have a bit to do. You’ve got the rest of the day to settle in, like all the other students,’ she said. ‘Are you coming to the first year cocktail party tonight?’

  I shrugged. First I’d heard about it. Seems I wasn’t on the top of the party list for my class.

  ‘I hope you come. It’ll do you good to mingle with some of the others,’ she said, standing up.

  I grunted. Hartpury hesitated, as if to push the issue.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Doctor,’ I said, firmly.

  ‘Remember, I’m here to help you, Joss,’ she said. She walked out of the suite. The front door closed.

  ‘Computer, lock entrance door. I don’t want any visitors,’ I said.

  ‘Entrance door is locked to all visitors.’

  I’d have to change that computer voice. It sounded too much like Louise.

  Louise would definitely not have approved of me snooping. I can still see that little wrinkle she used to get between her eyebrows when I did something wrong. Ingrid, on the other hand, would think it showed initiative. That was one thing I had in common with my mother. The ability to rationalise any situation. It’s not surprising I’m so good at it. Ingrid is a master. I still can’t get over the way she rationalised why Louise left us. Ingrid said it was all the fault of the company directors. Apparently, they were insisting she have a male partner for a while because her hetero audience percentage had gone down. They said it would bring the conservative belt back on board. All I knew was that Ingrid and Louise were fighting. One night Louise yelled that she wasn’t going to hide away while some testosterone pod jumped on for a publicity ride. She left soon after that. So did I. Boarding school number four.

  Louise and my c
onscience would have to scowl in the background while I snooped. After all, a girl needs to be informed.

  I had a tough choice on my hands. Play around on a state-of-the-art computer or sniff around Mavkel’s room. The computer belched at me. It was a sign. First I’d download a bit of information, then explore the room.

  The console of the organic computer was a new slimline large screen. I sat in front of it, pushing the VR hood to one side. I pressed my finger along the scan plate.

  ‘Would you prefer virtual, voice or keyboard recognition?’ the computer asked.

  Virtual was fun, but I always wasted too much time. I’d stick with voice. Then I had a nasty thought. Johnny Dirtbag, government agent, might be listening to all my conversations.

  ‘Keyboard,’ I said.

  The first thing I set up was a voice print data security lock so Johnny couldn’t track my computer wanderings. It probably wouldn’t keep him out if he really tried, but it might slow him down.

  It was possible that this computer could check if there were any bugs in the suite. I typed in a request for a security schematic of the suite. Denied. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. It was a job for a spyder. I sent out the code that Lenny had made me memorise. Soon a spyder would contact me. Completely untraceable.

  Next I requested two Net-wide searches: one on Joseph Camden-Stone/Daniel Sunawa-Harrod, the other on Chorians.

  Finally I switched the computer to voice recognition.

  The gel shivered into a rainbow as the organic started its scan of the world’s computers. I could safely leave it to do its work while I tiptoed through Mavkel-land. I was almost out of my chair when the computer said, ‘Search completed. Three hundred and eight open entries. Fourteen retina sealed entries. Do you want further details of entries?’

  Snork me gently. This thing was fast! I looked around the console and pulled open a nearby drawer. There must be some reading units around. I’d download this stuff and read it later. A stack of Readers clunked against the front of the second drawer as I pulled it open. Brand new and not even formatted. The university wasn’t counting credit when it came to their Chorian guest. I slipped a Reader out of its pack and pushed it into the download slot.

  ‘Format Reader in Port A and download all of the open entries,’ I said.

  ‘For your future information, this facility automatically recognises data transfer units and does not require port addresses,’ the computer said.

  Ouch, I’d just had my knuckles rapped by a computer.

  ‘Similarly, this facility automatically formats data transfer units. A full instruction manual for this facility is available on request.’

  Double ouch.

  ‘Transfer complete. Please remove data transfer unit from Port A,’ it said.

  ‘I don’t need addresses either,’ I muttered.

  ‘Noted.’

  This computer was so formal, I was getting constipated just listening to it. Maybe it had a language modification program.

  ‘Computer, do you have an informal voice and comment dictionary?’

  ‘This facility can access up to level ten of the Johnson-Hargrave Informal Dictionary.’

  ‘Use that dictionary from now on. Also, if I get any commcalls, just take a message.’

  ‘Okay. Will do,’ the computer said.

  Don’t you just love level ten of the Johnson-Hargrave? Far more relaxed. I pulled the Reader out of Port A and put it in my duffel. Now for Mavkel’s room.

  Sprung Bad

  Mavkel’s bedroom was like a bad party; lights too low and no one around. It was hot, too.

  ‘Can you increase the lighting?’ I asked the computer.

  ‘Not a chance. This is the level of light that’s been program-locked for the room.’

  ‘What about the temperature?’ I asked.

  ‘Same deal,’ the computer said.

  I stood still. All I could see were those coloured cells that stream in front of your eyes until you adjust to the dark. If Johnny was watching, I hoped he was also having problems with the lighting levels.

  I made out two groups of heavy-looking moulded containers stacked against the back wall. A thermo-roll, the kind they use for hypothermic patients, was on the floor. By the time I got to the ensuite, I could see everything. I’ve always had great night vision. In the end I always got banned from the school games of Murder in the Dark.

  The bathroom was outrageous. I couldn’t even imagine how Mavkel used the strange looking gizmo that stuck out of the wall. If it was a toilet, I wouldn’t want to be peeing too often. That is, if Chorian’s peed. The bather was metal and all the taps were different. I turned one on. It rumbled for a second then a blast of sand caught me on the arm just above my wrist-band, gravelling about two layers of skin off. Thank God for soundproof rooms.

  ‘Computer. Medical aid!’ I yelled at the computer.

  ‘Human or Chorian?’

  ‘Human. Quick!’

  I was probably giving Johnny a real laugh. It took two pain patches and some pseudo-skin before I was out of whine mode. Another pain patch finally had me zooming along, ready for more snooping. Something a bit safer. Something like the boxes.

  Each box was moulded to fit the one below so that all together, they formed two purply columns spanned at the top by a longer carved box. I touched one and it ranked me out — just like living human skin. The whole construction stood a bit taller than me. All I had to do was pull the carved box down. I pushed at it to test the weight and found a hover switch. A minute later the box was on the ground.

  There was no lock, only a catch made up of two interlocking circles. I prodded and poked them until the top slid open. It folded in on itself until half of its mass just disappeared. I felt around to see where it had been hidden, but it was just missing. I hunched my shoulders against that crawly feeling you get up your back and scalp when something spooks you. It had finally hit home. I was dealing with something so different that none of the normal laws applied. Not even physics.

  The first thing I pulled out of the box was an instrument. At least, it looked like an instrument. There were valves and holes and two mouthpieces. I blew into one. Nothing. It was obviously a duo kind of thing. The whole instrument was carved in something that was like rock except it was flexible. A line of symbols curved down the body and ended with the same interlocking circle design that was on the box. I placed the instrument carefully beside me on the carpet.

  My next lucky dip produced a small matte-black cube. I tapped it. Shook it. Looked for a clasp. Then held it up to my eye.

  ‘It is a thought cube,’ Mavkel’s voice sang behind me.

  I jumped around, my heart in overload. I was sprung bad.

  ‘Holy screte. You scared the life out of me. How’d you get in?’ I demanded. ‘Computer, I thought I locked the door.’

  ‘It’s not my fault. You locked it to all visitors. Mavkel is a resident,’ the computer whined.

  Sometimes that level ten dictionary could be a pain in the neck. ‘From now on, tell me if anyone even comes near that door.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ the computer said.

  Mavkel held up its left hand. A mem-met band circled its wrist.

  ‘This opened the door. Sorry to scare Joss-partner.’

  ‘Yeah, well, that’s okay. You’re early. Weren’t you supposed to be coming tomorrow?’

  Mavkel nodded. Its ears flattened up the top. For a second, it looked just like a guilty kid.

  ‘Did not wait anymore.’

  ‘You mean, you gave all your minders the slip?’

  Mavkel tilted its head to one side, obviously trying to understand.

  ‘What I mean is, did you leave all of your Elders without them knowing about it?’

  It nodded, double-smiling.

  ‘Yes. It is easy to do what Mavkel wants to do when there is no …’ It faltered, running out of vocab. Then it touched its head and moved forward, touching mine.

  ‘You mean when there is no telepathy
. That’s what we call a link between minds,’ I said. Finally a use for all of those brain-numbing games of charades I’d been forced to play at my last school.

  ‘Yes. Yes. No telepathy. Does Joss-partner like this no-telepathy?’

  ‘I dunno. I’ve never felt telepathy.’

  ‘Maybe there will be telepathy soon,’ Mavkel said.

  It knelt down beside me, a few centimetres too close for comfort. I leaned back on my hand. Mavkel was rearranging its heavy clothing and didn’t seem to notice. I leaned back a bit further, watching as it smoothed down about ten layers of regulation jumpers and woollen wraps.

  ‘Joss-partner will not inform the Elders where Mavkel is?’ it asked, its primary mouth pursed anxiously.

  I had a feeling Joss-partner would not need to inform the Elders. Johnny Dirtbag and Mavkel’s wrist-band would take care of that.

  ‘No. I won’t tell.’

  ‘That is good. Mavkel will show Joss-partner the thought cube,’ it sang.

  I gave it the cube. It was excited, resonating little harmonised scales as it placed the cube on the floor.

  ‘The cube makes a memory come out of the minds,’ Mavkel sang, touching its head, ‘and run like … VR-movie?’ It looked at me to see if that was the right word. I nodded. ‘Mavkel show Joss-partner.’

  Mavkel leaned down until the cube was a few centimetres from its face. It flicked back its protective second eyelid then stared into the top plane. The matte cube changed tones until it looked shiny-wet. Then, a wisp of smoky colour curled into an image a few centimetres above the top. It was a tiny Mavkel sitting in front of Refmol and a sour looking government man. Refmol was bouncing up and down on the spot.

  Then I think Mavkel laughed. It sounded like Indian music, rhythmic and discordant.

  ‘Joss-partner can see Mavkel learning human sounds. There were many jumps of frustration. It is hard to learn your sounds.’

  The image rearranged itself. Mavkel pressed its primary mouth closed, its ears angled back and stiff. This next memory was obviously no laughing matter.