Sarah took a deep breath and placed a hand on Lette’s shoulder, feeling the concern in the other woman like heat rising off a rock. “Sorry. Everything is so strange up here. It almost feels like a different world. On the surface it looks like we are all alike but inside we’re struggling just to communicate.”
Lette chuckled. “That’s true even among the people you grow up with. You share a common existence but everybody sees it differently.”
Sarah nodded. “I can see that. None of the kids in the village know what my life is like.” She paused and considered that. “For that matter, I don’t really know what they go through. Most of them have jobs on a fishing boat by the time they’re my age.”
“You don’t?” Lette asked.
“No. I want to be a shaman. It’s all I’ve ever wanted as long as I can remember.”
“You carve whelkies?”
“I’m learning.”
“Really?” Lette asked, her eyes widening. “How does that work?”
“First you have to find the driftwood that has the animal in it. You carve them out, get a piece of purple shell and inlay it. It’s not complicated. The inlay technique is the hardest.”
“How many have you carved?”
“I have no idea. Dozens.”
“But you don’t sell them,” Lette said.
“Of course not. I told you. Shamans don’t sell whelkies. They give them to people who need them.”
“But you also said you can’t be a shaman because you’re not a boy.”
The logic of it felt like a slap on the back of Sarah’s head. She could find no words to respond.
“I didn’t mean that as an insult,” Lette said.
Sarah shook her head and blew out a breath. “I didn’t take it as one. I just never thought of it in those terms.”
“So you could sell them,” Lette said.
Sarah let that idea roll around in her mind for a bit. “I’ll have to think about that. It’s not something I’d ever have considered.”
“Well, somebody is selling them,” Lette said.
“I’d like to see them,” Sarah said. “Talk to him. You know his name?”
Lette shook her head. “No, never asked. He’s just the whelkie guy.”
“You ever bought any from him?”
She shook her head again. “No. Looked at them often enough but never bought any. They’re really popular with spacers.”
Sarah nodded and tried to reconcile the new information with her understanding of the world. It bothered her that it didn’t fit.
“What would you like to do now?” Lette asked.
Sarah shook her head. “I don’t know. What’s there to do?”
“What do you do in the evenings at home?”
“Carve. Sleep.” She grinned. “What else is there?”
“You watch holos?”
“Sometimes.”
“You dance? Listen to music?”
“What? Like concerts? We have concerts sometimes.”
“No, like listen to recorded music.”
She shook her head. “Not much. My father does, a little.”
“All right. Still trust me?” Lette asked.
“Sure. Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, I wasn’t very kind earlier.”
Sarah shook her head. “Neither one of us knows how the other thinks. I’m open if you are.”
A flash of something like longing blinked on Lette’s face before she nodded and took Sarah’s arm. “All right then. There’s a band I know does a regular gig. They should be getting warmed up about now. Let’s go listen to them for a while.”
“A gig?”
“A job. A performance,” Lette said.
“Oh, well, sure. I trust you.” She grinned.
Lette grinned back but something didn’t feel right to Sarah.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
Lette nodded but didn’t say anything.
Clearly she wasn’t all right but Sarah wouldn’t pry. She patted Lette’s arm. “Well, let’s go find this gig.”
* * *
The band turned out to be a trio of women. One sang while the other two played instruments. The music was like nothing Sarah had ever heard before. Some sounded so sad, that they brought tears to her eyes. Some had her tapping her foot to the beat and bobbing her head. Every time she looked at Lette, she found Lette smiling at her and not watching the band at all.
When the set was over, Lette went up and hugged each of the band members. Clearly they were friends of some standing. After much smiling and nodding, Lette left them on the stage and nodded toward the door.
Sarah joined her as they left. “You know them pretty well, then?”
“Yeah. We go back.”
“I’m not keeping you from time with your friends, am I?” Sarah asked, suddenly aware of how much time Lette had spent on her.
Lette shook her head. “Not at all. They’re working tonight. I would have just sat home and watched holos probably. This has been way more fun than my normal evening.”
“Well, thank you for showing me around. I appreciate the effort,” Sarah said. “Maybe it’s time we headed back. I’ve got a lot to digest.”
“The ramen not sitting well on your stomach?” Lette asked.
Sarah smiled. “Not that. Just I’ve seen a lot of things I never knew existed and need time to think about them.”
Lette nodded. “I can understand that. You remember how to find your way home?”
Sarah pulled out her peda. “I think so.”
“Well, you try it and I’ll come along to make sure you get there safely, how’s that?”
Sarah smiled and pressed the button.
Returning back to the apartment took only a few ticks. The only rough part was interpreting the lift instruction correctly.
“And here we are. Out and back all the same day,” Lette said when they stopped in front of the door. “Does your key work?”
Sarah fished the card out of her pocket and held it up to the palm reader. The light flashed green and the lock buzzed. She pushed the door open and stepped in. She turned to see Lette still standing in the hallway outside. “Yes. Thank you.”
Lette nodded. “It was nice meeting you, Sarah. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you for showing me around.”
Lette gave her a wry grin, not at all in accordance with the low-level sorrow that seemed to flow off her body like some dark smoke. “Just doin’ my job.” She nodded again and walked away.
Sarah closed the door, pressing until the latch clicked. She stood there in the entry pondering those last few moments. She had no reference for the emotions she felt rolling off her new friend. Sorrow? Desire? Curious.
A yawn caught her and pushed her away from the door and the odd thoughts.
She went into the kitchen, listening for sounds but hearing nothing but the whooshing of the air circulation. “Grandmother?”
The word hung in the air for a moment but garnered no response. The chrono clicked on the wall. It read 2200. Dinner must have run long. She shrugged and went to find her bed. The nap had helped but she felt those lovely sheets calling her name as her eyelids fought to stay open.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Starvey Bay: September 26, 2347
SARAH’S FATHER STOOD in the terminal. She saw him immediately through the crowd of departing passengers but he seemed unaware. She so rarely saw him as a face in the crowd, she slowed her steps. He looked out of place. His heavy coat, unbuttoned and hanging open, looked almost shabby in comparison to the company people pressing through the terminal on their way to somewhere else. Each of them seemed to pass by in a shadowy flash while he stood solidly in that space that wasn’t his. Real in a way that none of the transients around her were real. Perhaps it was only that she knew him.
The time with Marta had changed her somehow. She didn’t know what was different, or how it happened. Perhaps the old lady had simply shown her a d
ifferent view of life. Lette’s assertion that some shaman regularly visited the orbital to sell whelkies still made her uneasy—a dog’s bark on the beach where the only sounds should be ocean, wind, and gulls.
He spotted her. She saw the moment when his face shifted from a neutral observer to a pleased father. She crossed to him and hugged him.
“How was the trip?” he asked, releasing her and taking a half step back.
“Strange, but fun.”
They turned toward the exit at the same time.
“Strange how?” he asked.
“Well, for one, my great-grandmother is a bit of a crazy woman.”
He laughed. “She always walked her own beach. My grandfather—her late husband—worked the docks for Pirano over at Langille’s Point. When he died, she took his insurance, went up to the orbital, and started her brokerage. She’s been there ever since as far as I know.”
“She seems very happy in her life,” Sarah said. “Every morning when she got up, she was like electricity. Lightning just before the storm.”
Otto looked at her from the corners of his eyes. “Was she, now?”
“We had fun. She showed me around the station. I got to meet the stationmaster.”
“What’d you think of him?” Otto asked.
“He seemed tired of it all.” She shook her head. “We didn’t stay long. Grandma wanted to get to a freight auction. It was sort of in passing.”
He nodded. “What was the most fun thing you did?”
The answer sprang unbidden into Sarah’s head, but she bit her lip and glanced at her father.
“What is it?” he asked. “Did you meet somebody?”
The tone in his voice made her laugh. “Yes, but not that way. The first night on the orbital, Grandma had a business dinner so her helper took me out to show me the station and give me a little pre-tour tour.”
“Was he young?”
“She was a few stanyers older than me, I think.” Sarah shook her head. “She had to be to be living on her own on the station, didn’t she?”
“You didn’t ask?”
“It never came up.”
Sarah shifted the strap on her bag and followed her father through the exit door and onto the street.
“So? What did you and this young woman do that was the most fun?” he asked.
“She showed me how to find my way home, for one. That place is huge and it’s confusing.”
He laughed. “Yeah. I bet it was.”
“Have you ever been up?”
He shrugged. “We made a few trips up to the flea market when I was a kid. I haven’t been up there in a long time.”
“Lette took me to see the ships in their docks. When we started it was mostly dark but we walked around the promenade until we got to sunrise. They’re beautiful.”
“The ships?” he asked.
She nodded. “The light up there is unreal. They looked almost fake.”
“Yeah. No air to diffuse the light.”
“Then we went for dinner.”
“She took you to dinner?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Well, Grandma was out with a client and asked Lette to take me out.”
“Ah,” he said. “What did you eat?”
“Ramen,” she said. The word alone conjured up the tastes and aromas. “It was amazing.”
“Noodles?” he asked.
“Yeah. The broth. I have no words. The noodles were all yummy and the vegetables weren’t just something on the side. They were like part of the whole thing. I think I inhaled it.”
He laughed. “Then what?”
She frowned remembering the man who had the heart attack. “Weirdest thing,” she said. “We’d finished eating and were walking around the promenade when this guy had a heart attack right in front of us.”
He turned his head to look at her. “Heart attack?”
“It was awful.”
“I bet. What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. Lette called the medics. They came in—like—seconds. The guy was in pretty rough shape by the time they got him on a stretcher and took him off.”
“Was he talking?”
“The guy?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
She shook her head. “No. I don’t think he could draw enough of a breath to talk.”
“How’d you know it was a heart attack?” he asked.
The quiet question caught her off guard. She paused before answering. “I don’t know,” she said. “I could just feel it. We were walking along and I was trying to listen to the world to see if it sounded any different up there because it’s an orbital.”
His eyes widened. “Really. How did it sound?”
“What, the orbital?”
“Yeah.”
“Hard to describe. Different. Smaller but somehow connected.” She shrugged.
“But you heard that guy have a heart attack?”
“More like felt it. Right here.” She pressed a fist against her chest. “Tightening up and getting harder to breathe.”
“That must have been terrifying,” he said.
“Well, I knew it wasn’t me. Not knowing where it came from? Yeah. But I spotted him pretty fast. He was leaning against one of the walls. He looked terrible. He kind of curled up and fell over before we got there so I asked Lette to call for the medics.” She shrugged. “I didn’t know how to do it up there and didn’t want to fumble around with it.”
Otto pursed his lips and nodded. “I can only imagine.”
Sarah felt the waves of alarm coming off him. “What’s the matter, Pops?”
He looked at her, his eyes wide. “Me?”
“Yeah,” she said. “You. You seem pretty upset about something.”
“Do I?” he asked. The waves built a little bit.
“Yeah. Something I’ve said has you upset.”
He stopped at the entry to the tram station and turned to look at her. He smiled. “My little girl is growing up,” he said.
The waves of alarm subsided, less like breakers on the beach and more like the lapping of waves against a dock.
“Am I better now?” he asked.
She nodded. “A little. You’re still upset about something.”
“You’re my kid. Your welfare will always concern me.” He paused for a moment, seeming to weigh something on his tongue before speaking. “You think you could live up there?” he asked.
She looked him in the eyes, trying to figure out what he was really asking. “Live where? On the orbital?”
He nodded.
The image of Lette standing outside the door flashed through her mind only to be overwhelmed by the longing she’d felt looking down on the planet through the armorglass on the promenade. She shook her head. “No. Well, maybe. Looking down and seeing the coastline. Knowing the beach was here and I was there.” She shook her head again. “That would be hard.”
He gave her a smile and held his arms open for a hug. “You’ve been gone a week and you seem a year older.”
She returned the hug, sliding her arms around him under his heavy coat. She realized with a start that they were nearly of a height. “I don’t feel any different,” she said.
He broke the hug and opened the tram station door for her. “You do to me.”
She glanced at him, but didn’t question the odd feelings of sadness that hid just under his surface. Curious.
He followed her through the door and into the station. She pretended not to notice his odd sideways glances while they waited for the tram to take them back to Cape Grace.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Cape Grace: September 28, 2347
SARAH STEPPED OUT OF the house intent on a walk along the beach. Her time on the orbital had made her homesick for the quiet solitude of Five Mile Beach. She crested the headland and kicked herself. The high tide looked to be about another stan away and it would be at least four before the water receded enough for her to walk the beach.
An odd smell drift
ed in on a stray breeze. Smells spoke to her sometimes. She could identify a lot of them without much effort. Once in a while a pile of rockweed rotted abnormally, but she knew the difference between dry and rotting weed. She worked through her inventory of smells trying to place this particular one. Not quite dead animal. Nothing vegetable smelled like that. She followed her nose, testing the air as she walked along the path toward the village on the far side of the cove.
The smell was unusual, sometimes nearly overwhelming, like standing in fresh dog poop. Other times it was a thready scent like crushed rosemary on a garden path or the sweet aroma of rugosa from across the street.
Eventually she stood outside a house on a back street in the village. It didn’t look any different but whenever she tried to walk past, the smell petered out until she turned back. The aroma of decay became something more like the stench of fear and despair. She stood on the street looking at the house for what must have some time.
A woman passing on the sidewalk stopped and looked at her. “You want something?” she asked.
Sarah shook her head.
After a few moments the woman shrugged and walked on.
The smell nearly faded out and then came back stronger than ever. It drew her to the door. She rang the bell.
No answer.
She smelled the odor strongest near the door. Something thunked inside the house. Like a door closing or a chair falling over.
She rang the bell again.
The smell almost faded away. She heard the sound of footsteps, soft, padded thumps like somebody stamping their stockinged feet.
Just as she was about to ring the bell again, the door jerked open and a girl snarled at her. “What?”
The stench billowing out of the house nearly watered Sarah’s eyes. She cleared her throat and tried not to retch. “Is everything all right here?” she asked.
The girl blinked several times. “What?”
Maybe the stench was getting blown away or perhaps Sarah got more used to it. “Do you smell something?” Sarah asked.
“I smell lots of things,” the girl said. “What’s it to you?”
Sarah shook her head. “No, I mean, like do you smell something bad?”
Cape Grace Page 27