On Assignment to the Planet of the Exalted

by Helena Puumala

  Kati returned to her physical form, gave herself a shake and asked the Team members who had been speaking quietly among themselves and with Uncle Kelt, where the vehicles were that she and Lank were to work on.

  “Well, if you’re ready for that part of the task, I’ll take you and the talented young man to the garage where I store my machines,” Uncle Kelt offered immediately. “The rest of you can attend to other matters. Don’t you people have a show to put on tonight?”

  “Yeah,” answered Rakil. “And since we’re going to go on this bit of a detour to the Southern Continent, I guess it’ll be the last one we’ll be doing in this City for a while. I say we try to make it really good. Maybe I’ll run through my juggling routine a couple of times this afternoon, just to make sure I’ve got it nailed.”

  “Just make sure that you have your fumbles nailed, too,” Joaley advised with a grin. “They get the loudest applause of everything we do.”

  “Well, there’s an art to making fumbling go just the way you want it,” Rakil told her. “I remember how delighted I was when I learned to annoy my teachers with that extra twist to the act, when they were already thoroughly pissed off with me! When I think of the balls they confiscated from me! It was criminal!”

  “You had to keep buying new ones?” Joaley asked.

  “No,” he replied laughing. “My classmates kept me in balls! They were shameless aiders and abettors, my rascally Tree-Family cousins!”

  “All cut from the same cloth, it sounds like,” Kati heard Joaley answer before she, Rakil and Jock were out of earshot, on their way in the opposite direction of where Uncle Kelt was leading her and Lank.

  “So you two really think that you can add the sound of your Troupe performing into my flying machines?” Uncle Kelt asked as the three of them walked through the Legislative Grounds, towards residential streets.

  “Sure can,” Lank said. “It’s not hard if you have some familiarity with the inner workings of the flyers and the flits. Lots of the vehicles sold on other worlds have such arrangements built in, because people want to be surrounded by music when they travel. I’m not sure why the ones brought to Vultaire don’t have that option, unless it’s a price consideration by the local importer.”

  “That could be it,” Uncle Kelt agreed, “or else just the fact that music hasn’t played a large part in people’s lives, here. Many of the members of the Four Hundred have the attitude that music is something with which to keep the Ordinary Citizens amused, not something that the Elites should take seriously. Jock is something of an anomaly, but then we Carmaks don’t really fit in with the rest of the Exalted.”

  “But the Exalted have been coming to our shows in noticeable numbers,” Lank protested.

  “I don’t doubt that. But the ones that do would claim—at least among their own class—that they do it out of curiosity, not to enjoy the music.”

  “They do join in the sing-alongs with the most enthusiastic of the Ordinary Citizens,” Kati muttered, not certain that she should be drawing attention to this fact where their conversation might be overheard.

  But Uncle Kelt only laughed.

  “And don’t be surprised if you get requests for flyer and flit conversions from other Exalted, once they hear about the work you’ll have done on mine,” he said. “Vultairian Exalted pretty well never live according to their stated principles.”

  “Well, I’m not sure I’m prepared to give up the life of an itinerant musician for that of a sound systems mechanic,” Lank stated. “Don’t mind doing that sort of thing as a favour, once in a while, but to make a career of it, no thanks.”

  “Wandering around, singing for one’s supper is certainly more interesting,” Kati agreed light-heartedly. “You get to see a lot more of a planet that way.”

  *****

  The garage which housed Kelt’s vehicles was a large structure in which the residents of his apartment block rented parking stalls. It was separate from the building which housed the runnerbeasts of the Ordinary Citizen tenants. That building was staffed; there were handlers to take care of the animals for a price, and to exercise them when the owners did not need their services. The one for the vehicles had only security cameras which sent a vidfeed to monitors in the Laggos Family’s City Security Offices.

  “It makes for an unobtrusive monitoring system,” Uncle Kelt said, as he pressed his node connector spot against a receptor beside the smaller of the two garage doors—the other one was big enough to accommodate the passage of a large flyer. “Only a tenant can gain admittance, but there are no problems with taking others inside with him, to board the machines.”

  “So, it’s a secure place,” Kati commented. “You don’t have to worry about anything disappearing. Only persons accompanied by a tenant can get in, and the cameras keep track of entries and exits, whether on foot, or aboard a flyer. Have I got that right?”

  “You do. Not that there are many people who’d want to steal a flyer or a flit anyway,” added Uncle Kelt. “Almost none of the Ordinary Citizens know how to use them. The young Exalted who are into joy-riding, usually have their own machines, thanks to indulgent families. Although the odd poor relation of one or another of the Four Hundred has been known, in a moment of resentment, to make a grab for a flit of another clan member. But that only works within families; it’s pretty hard to steal a vehicle belonging to another family.”

  Kati and Lank exchanged quick, knowing looks.

  “I could fiddle these locks in minutes,” muttered The Monk. “And I bet it wouldn’t take your young friend much longer. I’d bet your Troupe’s earnings that the Vultairians are being sold inferior technology; they wouldn’t know the difference. A place that keeps to itself the way this planet does is a good place for a merchant to park outdated technology, stuff that still gets manufactured to be peddled on the Fringe Worlds. I don’t doubt but that a lot of it ends up here, since the Vultairian Exalted aren’t exactly sophisticated customers.”

  Kati assumed that Lank’s thoughts were following the same path as those of The Monk. And Uncle Kelt was quick on the uptake as well. Thus she did not comment further, but allowed the Senator to lead her and Lank to his stall. The off-worlders climbed into the spacious interior of the bigger of the two flyers and looked around them.

  “I think the connections that we need to work on are behind those panels there,” Lank said, indicating the dashboard area around the pilot’s seat.

  “He took the words out of my non-mouth,” The Monk growled, and Kati nodded to the youth.

  Lank settled down to remove the covering. It took him only a few moments to do so, and The Monk, in Kati’s head, nodded in approval.

  “He does have a quick mind, that boy,” he subvocalized to Kati. “Mind you, this is an old class of flyer. I’ve seen plenty of them on the Fringe Worlds.”

  “Oh ho!” Lank exclaimed at the same time, peering at what he had uncovered.

  “Let me get a look at that,” The Monk demanded. Kati felt him push at her nervous system; he was clearly intent on getting her to release her body, and especially her eyes to his control.

  Somewhat reluctantly, since she had her reasons to be distrustful, she mentally stepped aside from her body, allowing the take-over to happen. She remained next to him, however, ready to resume control.

  “It’s been modified, post-manufacture,” she heard her own voice say.

  “Yeah, the modification is similar to the one I found in that communicator that we came across near Ithcar,” Lank said carefully. “Wiring overlaid on the existing circuitry.”

  “Shoddy work,” the Granda said with Kati’s voice. “Do you have those music discs that you prepared for Kelt? Let’s see if we can attach one of them in here, so that it hooks into internal sound. We may have to disconnect some of this extra wiring, but I don’t imagine that it matters. I’m quite familiar with these machines, and they don’t need this extra crap; they were perfectly functional the day they left the factory.”

  The Monk f
ound the several bugs with which the flyer was equipped, and disconnected them, showing them to Lank as he did so. Then he used some of the wires he had pulled out to connect the music disc to the flyer’s speaker system and its power conduits. He spoke nary a word, only grinned and winked at the youth with Kati’s face. He then turned on the electrical system, to test the job, and smiled again when the rhyele music began to play. Satisfied, he stuffed the extra wires into Kati’s pocket and said:

  “I think that you know enough now to tackle the smaller flyer. I’ll keep Kati sweet for a while longer and do the flit. We’ll be able to guarantee Kelt some privacy on his travels, and whoever has been spying will have to admit guilt to resume his habits.”

  *****

  Less than an hour had passed from when they began, when the three machines were done. Kati nudged the Granda into the background of her mind, with a heartfelt thank you.

  “You’d be smart to make use of my talents more often, girl,” came The Monk’s gruff response. “I can be very useful.”

  Kati and Lank left the vehicles and walked over to a small mechanized refreshment stand where Uncle Kelt had waited for them with a handful of government documents and a cup of herbal tea. He stashed the papers back into their folder when the off-worlders approached, and gulped down the last of his tea.

  “Well, we’ve done our part of the bargain,” Lank reported cheerfully.

  There were a couple of other Vultairian Exalted seated at the second table. They had beer glasses in front of them. Uncle Kelt had mentioned earlier that people did, now and then, wait for friends or family at the refreshment station. He was not certain why anyone bothered, why they did not simply go back to their residences, but people did often linger at the stand.

  “Do you want to come and check our handiwork?” Kati asked. “Take a listen to the quality of the sound?”

  “I probably should,” he replied. “Just to make sure that you didn’t shred any essential systems while you were at it. I’d hate to find out that my vehicles have great music inside them, but that they no longer can fly from A to B, and back again.”

  Lank laughed.

  “Oh, give us some credit, Uncle Kelt,” he protested. “We do know how flyers like this operate. No way would we interfere with anything essential. We’re pros.”

  “So when can we borrow the big flyer?” Kati asked as the three of them started walking back towards Uncle Kelt’s flyer stall. “Would tomorrow morning be too soon?”

  “If Jock can be ready to take it out then, sure,” Uncle Kelt replied. “You’ll need him to get into this garage, and since he’ll be with you, I won’t bother imprinting either of your nodes into the flyer’s controls, or it’s remote controller either. He can do that in the morning.”

  “Kati obviously wants us to get up tomorrow morning,” Lank grumbled, but with a wink in Kati’s direction. “And we have a show to get through tonight.”

  “I’m always making you work for your living,” Kati responded good-naturedly. “No rest for the musicians!”

  They climbed into each of the flyers and the flit in turn, listening to a bit of the music that Lank had stored in the discs. Kati found it slightly odd to listen to her friends and herself play and sing, especially since one of the pieces Lank chose for the demonstration had Mathilde’s sweet voice singing an old Vultairian ballad.

  Lank shut the door of the flyer to close them in—they were in the smaller of the flyers, the one that he had worked on alone—and spoke over Mathilde’s singing:

  “The bugs are out,” he said to Uncle Kelt. “It was easy to locate and pull them out because they had been added on sometime after the original manufacture, and the workmanship was crude. Somebody must be modifying these machines for your government, someone whose standards aren’t up to the original Shelonian specs. I’m telling you this so that you’ll know, if it becomes necessary. But as long as they don’t have the gall to recall these machines to re-bug them, you should now be invisible to any tracers.”

  “Even if they’d have the gall,” Uncle Kelt said contemptuously, “I don’t believe that they have the know-how. The modifications you speak of must have been done off-planet. I can’t think of a single Oligarch who’d have enough interest in electronics that he’d find the detailed, repetitious work involved worth his time.”

  “However, somebody must be doing some wiring,” Kati objected. “Like bugging Marston’s house.”

  “Ordinary Citizens,” Uncle Kelt said with a shrug. “Paid workers. Probably very good at what they do, as far as it goes. Trained by someone brought in for the purpose from off-world.

  “But we better not linger too long. I’d just as soon that no-one yet realized that what you two did you did on purpose. We’ll check out the flit, too, and then we better leave.”

  He opened the hatch while Lank switched off the music. They made a quick visit to the flit; then left the garage, glad to be back on the open City streets where they could freely converse.

  However, even in the open, Kati had The Monk do a quick ESP reconnoitre for listening devices. Wryly she thought to herself that checking for spy-eyes had become a habit since they had arrived in the Capital City; she was constantly wary these days.

  “That’s only prudent,” commented The Monk. “Considering the company you keep, you should expect the rulers of this twisted world to take an interest in your doings. Fortunately for you, they really can’t take you seriously as a potential danger. A runty, not too bright Adventuress is how they see you, girl. Consorts with fools like the Carmaks and likes to hang around ordinary folk. Doesn’t have the good sense to try to butter up to the real powers on the planet—not that they’d give you the time of day if you tried.”

  “It’s all perfectly fine with me,” Kati subvocalized. “They can underestimate me to their hearts’ content. That makes it easier for me to do my job.”

  “Indeed. They won’t understand what it is that undermined them, when the jig’s up,” The Monk agreed.

  “I’ll have to figure out some way to get word to you when I hear that Mikal and Malin have left their ship,” Kati murmured to Uncle Kelt as they walked.

  “That will be necessary only if your friends make it off their ship before you people leave tomorrow morning. In that case, we can agree on a simple message to be left on the notice board at the refreshment station of the Garage. Something that won’t give away anything to outsiders.” Uncle Kelt’s voice was as low as hers. “I’ll head out to the Port City soon after you people fly off, and I’ll just wait at Nikol’s until your friends show up. Nikol’s an old friend from way back; his wife will provide me with a place to sleep, if necessary, and we’ll have a good palaver.”

  “A simple message of thanks for the loan, we’ll have a good jaunt, and plan to return your property intact, should suffice,” Lank suggested. “Having word on the board at all would mean that they’ve left the ship. If there’s no message, then they’re still aboard their vessel. How’s that for an idea?”

  “Excellent,” Uncle Kelt said with a chuckle, while Kati nodded. “Simple, but effective. Not that it matters all that much; I’m keen on trying out the flit anyway, for the privacy as well as the music.”

  *****

  At the evening’s show Kati announced to the audience that the Troupe was leaving town for a while.

  “The plan is to come back,” she told the listeners. “Thing is, we got an opportunity that is hard to pass by, an opportunity to see a part of this world that we had figured we wouldn’t get to see at all.”

  “What?” someone in the audience shouted. “Did some Exalted offer to fly you to the sand beaches of the Southern Continent?”

  Kati laughed gaily.

  “That was a pretty good guess,” she replied. “We’re trading our expertise in wiring flying machines for music, for the loan of a flyer, and, we are, in fact, taking that flyer to the Southern Continent. Not to lie on any beach, however, but to entertain the folks living there, just like we have b
een entertaining you people.”

  “Aw,” another person complained. “You won’t want to come back. It’s nice down there.”

  “But we want you here,” someone else shouted. “There are still a lot of people in this town who haven’t heard you. And some of us like to come back again and again!”

  “We’ll be back,” Kati said, strumming her guitar for emphasis. “We’re borrowing the flyer, and we’ll have to return it. And we won’t have it for all that long, although there’s some flexibility as to when it has to be back. Which is why I can’t tell you exactly how long we’ll be gone. It’ll depend on our reception, I guess. If the people hate us we’ll be back very soon; if they love us, we’ll stay a little longer.”

  “They’ll love you,” the complainer responded gloomily. “They’ll try to keep you for good.”

  “I think that we’ll make up our own minds about when and where we’ll go and stay,” Kati protested with a laugh. “And on that note, let’s all of us do a rousing rendition of ‘The Mudball Song’! That way you’ll still remember it when we come back!”

  She had the audience singing and clapping in no time at all. When, after the song, Rakil got up to do his juggling act, he was welcomed with delighted hoots. All thoughts of a duller tomorrow seemed to have been forgotten—at least for the moment.

  *****

  The Exalted girl who picked up the entertainment tax for the Laggos Family expressed regret on account that the Troupe was leaving.

  “I do hope you people come back soon,” she said, sounding a bit wistful as Lank handed her the required percentage of the take.

  “I didn’t realize that we were such a lucrative addition to the Capital City’s economy,” the Tarangay youth joked.

  “Oh, it’s not so much the money,” the Exalted girl, a very attractive specimen of the Oligarchic class, replied. “Some of us really enjoyed your shows. They’ve been a great addition to the night-life. Not everyone is into gambling, dare-devil stunts with flits, or sexual depravity. It has been nice to have shows to come to.”