“A small proposal, Miss Rigi,” her uncle said. “Command your half-furry friend to rise on his hind-legs and dance. I’ll use the distraction to stage a raid and rescue your mother’s baggage before she collapses.”
“Would that I could, sir. He was notably lacking in grace when last I watched him dance. I’ll see to Mother, thank you.” She stepped back two paces, passing behind her father and Uncle Eb to stand behind her mother, Martinus following. “Mother, if you would like, there’s a seat free on the bench. We can watch without being in the way.” And her mother could sit before she fell. The higher gravity and the landing jitters seemed to have taken a serious toll on her.
“An excellent thought, Auriga.” The ladies and m-dog retreated to the bench, and Mrs. deStella-Bernardi sat. Mr. Bernardi brought two of their cases to them before disappearing into the milling crowd once more. A second shuttle had landed, sending a fresh wave of people into the sea of heads and backs lapping the cargo and baggage lines. Rigi’s fingers began to itch, wanting to sketch the scene. Instead she contented herself with trying to memorize it, how the people moved and flowed, some already trickling out of the pool of humans. As she studied the building, Rigi noticed an odd rock in the sea—no Staré worked in the sorting area. How odd. She also saw a sign that puzzled her greatly. “Independent Shikhari: Staré Rights, Staré Land, Staré Freedom” and the profile of a Staré took up a large section of the wall above the door. She could not read the smaller lettering below the simple sketch-outline of the native, carefully done to indicate no Stamm.
Before she could follow that thought any farther, a medium grey Staré, third Stamm, approached, placed the tips of his forefeet together and bowed, puffing a combination of scents. Rigi’s memory struggled, then told her that he’d sent //greeting/question.// She hand bowed in return. “Greetings.”
“Greetings and welcome,” he enunciated with precision, tall ears held straight up, tail still. “Pardon the aggression of my presence. I am Lonka, assisting of the household. Transport waits should you desire.” Rigi sorted out his words, automatically slotting him into the Stamm and household hierarchy and noting that he learned Standard relatively late, like the cook/guard Shona had. He controlled his scent well.
“I…” her mother caught herself. “That is most welcome, Lonka, thank you. We will take your gracious offer.” Rigi helped her stand, and took one the heaviest bag as Lonka slid his long, flat forefeet under the handles on the two lighter cases. The three made their way out a smaller door that led through some trees and other landscaping to a very nice ground-transport. Lonka opened two of the doors, lifting them fully to allow air to move through the passenger compartment. Rigi handed her mother into a seat, then gave Lonka her case after he’d put the others into the baggage area. She hesitated, not wanting to sit just yet, but a little concerned about her mother. Lonka took up a guard position by the vehicle door, and Rigi sat. Even new visitors to Shikhari understood what a male meant when he stood like that, forefeet at his sides, looking left and right, ears moving, weight shifted forward so the heels of his long hindfeet stayed a few centimeters off the ground, tail lifted just a bit. He could explode in any direction if needed, and the claws on his hindfeet would gut a human just as easily as they did other Staré or grazing leapers and small wombeasts.
Uncle Eb arrived with a baggage trolley guided by a pale fifth Stamm male, who unloaded the bags under Eb’s careful direction. They returned to the building and Rigi fanned her mother. The air felt cool but very moist, a sure sign of rain lurking close by. The transports tended to be dry, so perhaps dehydration explained her mother’s exhaustion and pallor as much as her terror of shuttle travel. A few minutes more passed, and Rigi caught a whiff of //relief/puzzlement.// She leaned forward and beheld yet another trolley, guided by two Staré and followed by her father and Uncle Eb, both of whom looked annoyed. “Right there, on the chit. Saw it with my own eyes,” her father said. “You’d think at least the name might have set off a sensor alert.”
Uncle Eb laughed. “Timothy, you of all people should know that there’s no fossil like a bureaucratic fossil. But that does explain where those cases went.”
“Yes, and I’m going to have a quiet word with someone when I officially return to work in two days.”
The males managed to load everything, but they had to give the ladies cases to hold, as well as putting some into the passenger compartment around and on top of Martinus. Her father drove, Lonka rode in the Staré seat beside him, and Uncle Eb took the seat not filled with boxes in the passenger section. The hover-lift engaged with reluctance, or so it felt to Rigi. “I didn’t think we brought quite this much with us, Mother,” she ventured.
“We didn’t. I recognize those as belonging to your father. Apparently something was delayed?” She looked around the box to Uncle Eb.
“I will credit an overly cautious inspections official with the semi-disappearance of Timothy’s belongings and some small household items,” he replied, sounding less than charitable. Rigi opted to look out the window, trying to see where they were. The area around the main spaceport and export depot had grown over four years, and she didn’t recognize much until they passed the main roadway intersection and a large robo-transport bulk hauler trundled by. Four years before, off-course bulk-haulers had led to a horrific accident in one of the main Staré market areas, and she and Tomás and Uncle Eb had inadvertently discovered the true cause while trying to publish an academic article about the ruins they’d found. She remained wary of the enormous vehicles, as wide as a residential road.
“Did you ever hear the outcome of the investigation, Miss Rigi?” Uncle Eb asked, nodding toward the passing hauler.
“No, sir. I remember that one had begun, but we left before the crown lifted the seals.”
“Ah, that’s right. Mr. Petrason had indeed ordered the changes in the programming that led to the problem, and then threatened the coders and some of his superiors to cover it up. He was sentenced to ten years’ labor, despite arguing that the deaths ‘should not count’ because they included no humans.”
Rigi shook her head. “Like son, like father, I’m sorry to say.”
“Quite so.”
Her mother’s compressed lips suggested that a change of topic was in order. Rigi inquired, “Did anything come of the idea to use racer vine sap as jewelry?”
“Not just jewelry.” Uncle Eb sighed. “Kay can provide the details, but it seems it remains pliable if left thin, and strips of it, ribbons, have become a fashion item, or so I am told.”
“In small amounts, I trust,” her mother stated.
Rigi looked up at the roof of the vehicle. Probably not, based on some of the things she’d observed on Home and the First Diaspora worlds. Excess did not begin to describe the over-use of color and pattern.
The vehicle slowed and turned into an unfamiliar area with subdued but very nice houses and lush gardens. Every house on Shikhari that could had at least a small garden, and the humans copied the Staré style in that as in so many other ways. Unlike the Staré, humans did not encourage the plants to cover their buildings, but as close as some people planted tall grasses and small trees, one wondered. The transport stopped in front of a nice house with a token fence, not quite waist-high, or so it appeared, but backed by crimson-claw and roses. Rigi approved. Lonka got out and opened the vehicle doors and the gate. He disappeared behind the house, returning in a moment with two more males, including Shona, the cook who had worked for them before. The males began carrying cases and crates into the house, freeing the passengers and letting Martinus out. Rigi wanted to explore, but duty came before pleasure. She helped her mother climb out of the passenger section, then stepped out of the way as her father took her mother’s arm and led her up the crushed-rock path to the door. Rigi followed, taking her time and pausing to study their new residence.
The house seemed lop-sided until Rigi realized that she was looking at it sideways, sort of. Instead of a full top floor, the u
pper space only covered the left-most third of the roofline. It reminded her a bit of a Staré head, with the first floor for the ears and the main house as the muzzle. She almost giggled at the prospect of sleeping in ears. As she came closer, she saw a verandah around the front that appeared to wrap the low end of the building. Three steps led up to the verandah. Once inside the door, the house felt familiar. All Staré dwellings and most human houses began on a short hallway with an office/workroom to the left and a visiting room to the right. Casual guests and strangers never went farther. Only family and close friends went down to the kitchen, second work room or family room, and upstairs if there was an upstairs sitting area. Sleeping rooms remained strictly private. The dining room had a door to the visiting room for entertaining, at least in human houses. Rigi had not been that far inside a Staré residence.
“Upstairs once more, Miss Rigi,” her father pointed. She waited until the young fifth Stamm male hopped back down the stairs, forefeet now empty, before going up herself. “Oh, thank you. Is Mother’s workroom here as well?”
“Yes, on the north side for light. She also has a separate office downstairs, beside Lonka’s space.” Rigi went and peered out the window, looking down onto the back of the building. The Staré had quarters tucked between the kitchen area and her parents’ room, with doors allowing them to come and go without passing through the house if they needed to or chose to. “Shona and Lonka also have houses on the grounds,” her father said. “I suggest you unpack so I can begin filing any claims for damage as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir.”
Would she have an assistant again, a female like Mar? If Shona had come back, would Mar come as well? Maybe not, since Rigi was an adult now by Staré standards. She planted her hands on her hips and studied the cases, looking for one in particular. The white ribbon had been cut short by the baggage loading bots, but she found her target and opened it with care, keeping one hand ready to catch anything that spilled. Ah, good, the padding and special holders worked. Rigi counted the assorted tubes of chemicals and nodded. Then she selected a smaller, pink-capped vial and opened it, touched her finger to the end of the cap, and then touched the finger to her neck pulse points. She’d learned how to make scents while in school, and could mimic several of the Staré’s communication puffs, including //gratitude// and //harmless// and //friendly/polite.// //Friendly/polite// was always safe and appropriate. Her older sister and brother had never learned to read the scent language as well as Rigi had. As she thought about it, she and Tomás both had better scent senses than the rest of their families. But they were the youngest and had grown up around Staré. Rigi closed the vial, put it into its space, closed the case, and moved it to the washroom. That was the only truly fragile thing she’d brought, aside from her art supplies, and they had their own armored cases with her name and degree on them. Those too seemed intact, and she began sorting clothing and other belongings.
She’d worked for several hours before she heard an unfamiliar tapping sound. Rigi looked around, checking to see if a bird was investigating a window, then glancing at the plumbing access. Nothing. She went to the head of the stairs and discovered a small speaker and a flashing light. Rigi guessed that the house had a message alert system, and went downstairs to find Lonka waiting beside a tap-panel shaped for a Staré forefoot. He hand-bowed. “A visitor for you, Miss Auriga. Or may I call you Miss Rigi?”
“Miss Rigi please, Lonka.” He inclined toward her and gestured with one forefoot to the visiting room. “Thank you.”
She went in and smiled as Tomás bowed to her, very formal and stiff-looking in a dark green uniform with black trim and gold insignia, hat in his left hand. Her father stood beside him. “Auriga, Lt. Prananda wishes to renew his acquaintance with you. Are you interested likewise?”
Rigi blinked. Why so formal? Oh! Tomás had become an adult, and she wasn’t one quite yet, at least not among humans. Rigi went farther into the room. “Yes, sir, I am interested in renewing my acquaintance with Lt. Prananda.” One a whim she added, “As long as he’s not falling into water channels, that is,” and winked.
The men both smiled and Tomás relaxed. She presented her hand and he bowed again before taking it and shaking. Her father snorted. “Right. Duty’s done. Tomás, if I come back and find that you and my daughter have disappeared into the forest with her m-dog and Ebenezer’s m-mule, I’ll tan your hide, or what is left after my lady finishes with you. Rigi, no exploring today. I don’t care to find leaper hides tacked to the kitchen wall before supper.” He turned to go, “And don’t forget that you need to deep-cycle Martinus tonight, and check his joints. He got rained on yesterday.”
“Yes, sir.” He departed and she tried to remember what you did next. “Please, be seated.” That seemed to work. “Would you like some tea?”
“No, thank you. I can’t stay long, Rigi. I just wanted to get official permission to be in touch. I’m going to be posted away from Sogdia, and I can’t comm or message anyone, especially ladies, without formal permission. Which makes checking articles and images a challenge,” he finished quietly.
“Oh yes. Uncle Eb already told me I need to look into some things for him. He thinks Mr. De Groet’s a little imaginative, perhaps.”
Tomás rolled his eyes. “I’m scared to see what he came up with. The road between the Fountain Site and Grassland One would be enough for anyone else.”
She smiled, then put a hand over her mouth to cover a possible giggle. “Oh dear, I wonder if it is something like that man on Eta Tolima, the one who swore he’d found a giant feathered turtle statue.”
He grinned, shaking his head a little. The military haircut and his uniform made him look far more adult than before, but the grin was pure Tomás. “A ten-times life sized horned digger, or horn head.”
“No, worse, giant wombeast, but only the back half survives.”
Their laughter brought her mother into the room. Tomás sprang to his feet and bowed. “Tomás Prananda! This truly is a pleasant welcome.” Her mother hand bowed in return, smiling, eyes warm. “And how is your family?”
“They are all well and send their compliments and regards, ma’am. And now, I fear you must excuse me ma’am, miss. I wished to visit and present my welcome and compliments before reporting to my new posting.”
Mrs. DeStella-Bernardi inclined her head toward him. “You are always welcome under our roof, Lt. Prananda. Please give my compliments and regards to your parents and I am pleased to hear that they are well.”
“I will do so at the first opportunity. Ma’am,” he bowed again. “Miss Rigi.” He nodded and she nodded back, then winked. He gave her a tiny thump on the shoulder as he passed, and she followed him and her mother to the door. Lonka let him out.
“He is as family, Lonka,” her mother declared. “That is Lt. Tomás Prananda.”
On impulse Rigi added, “He has the hunter’s eye, and can see the places of the first ones.”
Lonka’s eyes opened wide, then returned to the normal, almost sleepy, half-lidded position. “That explains much, Miss Rigi, ma’am. He is remembered.”
Did that mean that Lonka would add him to the permitted person’s list he kept in his head, like other Staré did, or that the Staré of the upper Stamme remembered him? Rigi did not dare ask until she knew him better.
Once the door closed, her mother inquired, “Any missing or broken items, Auriga?”
“None yet, ma’am. Should I fully unpack my wet-season things, or leave them cased once I ensure that they are undamaged?”
“Hmm. I will ask your father.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Rigi waited until her mother left to go back upstairs. She found the box of Martinus’s equipment, along with Martinus. “Joints first, then deep-cycle.” She pawed through the jumble of things, thinking unkind thoughts about her father until she found the tools she needed, and the chargers and discharger. If only the law permitted m-animals to have full-body coverings, things would be easier, but no, half the me
tal or polymer had to be visible so that no one mistook them for bio-animals. And metal and water still did not mix. Some things never changed.
The sign in the airport was a change, however, and she wondered what it meant. Freedom for Staré? But they had their freedom, more than some humans did. Oh well. She found a bit of stickiness when she flexed Martinus’s left hind ankle with her hand, warning of moisture in the joint. Rigi sighed. No, things never change, not the big things.
2
Old and New
“ …and then she said that he’d gone too far, and ordered him out. But he didn’t want to leave until he’d finished saying his piece, and I hate to say this, but she called the security team.”
Rigi’s mother shook her head a tiny bit. “Oh dear. I do hope matters did not end as badly as they might have?” Rigi thought her mother had remarkable patience with Mrs. Vanderlune.
The older woman clicked her tongue and set her cup down with a tiny clink as if for emphasis. “Since he was not inside the house proper, they listened to both sides and suggested that the pair separate for a week, then meet with a counselor.” Mrs. Vanderlune shook her head, making her beaded ear-bobs sway and clatter. “Maris has not said anything more to me, so I don’t know if they did.”
Rigi lifted the teapot a fraction of a centimeter. Empty, oh good, end of the tea meant end of the last visit for the day, per the iron bands of tradition. Rigi caught her mother’s eye and nodded just a hair. Her mother nodded back. “I’m certain everything will sort out. Thank you for letting me know. I will add an intention for domestic peace to my list.”
“Oh yes, such are always welcome.” After a few more words, Mrs. Vanderlune stood, and Mrs. deStella-Bernardi and Rigi followed. “It is so good to see you well, Acherna. And you as well, Lyria,” she nodded in a vaguely Rigi-ward direction. Rigi reminded herself that their visitor had not really seen either her or her sister for four years. And most people, even on the out-worlds, expected sixteen year olds to be in school for another two years.
Staré: Shikari Book Two Page 2