Third Watch, page 15
A large, oval-shaped ship poked at the top of the pavilion. The first coat of gilt and painted shielding had been applied to the hull, the details sketched out on top of it for later embellishment.
Although soft light still infused the pavilion, the moons of Vhiliinyar had risen, and the night held none of the noises Khorii associated with shipbuilding and repair from her earliest acquaintance with it.
The pavilions, as she knew, could be erected and dismantled depending on the amount of work the artisans had to do. Every precaution was taken to preserve the good meadowland beneath the floors of the temporary structures. Techno-artisans liked to graze as much as the next Linyaari. This was not the scantily furnished and crowded port/technical complex she had known from babyhood, however. This complex was beautifully laid out in a spiral from a large central guildhall and work area where the special coating compounds for Linyaari ships were mixed and the clan records were kept. The ships were each dedicated to individual clans and their members who were starfarers and were named for prominent starfaring ancestors. This was the old Vhiliinyar, before the Khleevi invasion, and at that time, according to her lessons, many Linyaari had never been in space, preferring the peace of their home meadows. They maintained the homeworld and its culture and customs, and cared for the Ancestors while the more adventurous of their race explored space, set up trade agreements with other worlds, and befriended other species. Until the arrival of the Khleevi, she was told, the Linyaari had never had a true enemy, so far as they knew, in the entire universe.
Though it was a bit difficult to see beyond the pavilion and ship that blocked most of the viewscreen, she counted eleven more pavilion hangars arranged in the spiral tightening around the guildhall.
“Let’s have a look,” Grimalkin suggested. He was two-legged once more, clad in Pircifir’s robe. He took the time to strap the crono securely to his wrist this time.
“I’m glad we came at night,” Khorii told Ariin. “I know when we’ve time traveled before we’ve gone back to times before we were born, but this seems so familiar, I feel like we might run into Father when he was a boy. Mother won’t even be born for another two ghaanyi …”
They left the ship to explore the other pavilions.
Every single one of them held one of the VL58PK models, each in the process of receiving its shielding coat of elaborately codified decorative swags, swirls, and embellishments.
“I thought the story was that one of these was never delivered,” Khorii said.
“I’ll bet Odus probably used time travel to confuse the techno-artisans somehow or other,” Ariin suggested. “It would be his kind of joke.”
Grimalkin spoke in a low tone. “It’s as I thought. The ship we saw was here. I visualized it in this place, and here it is.”
But as they stared at the ship in question, with its purple orbs and golden swags on a pink background, Grimalkin’s nose went up as if he were still in cat form.
Elviiz said, “My olfactory sensors detect the odor of fuel. I also feel slight vibrations coming from the ship. Our quarry is already aboard the vessel and preparing for takeoff.”
With a controlled whoosh, the fabric-clad structure of the pavilion’s pinnacle retracted, leaving the ship’s nose open to the moonlit sky.
“Quickly, back to our own ship if we are to catch him,” Grimalkin said. They ran back to their ship and reboarded, but at no time as they ran the relatively short distance did they see or feel the other ship leave its moorings. By the time they were back on the bridge of the Pircifir, however, the twelfth pavilion stood open and empty, though no other vessel ascended into Vhiliinyar’s night sky.
“It vanished,” Elviiz said. “Most unscientific.”
“He timed it!” Grimalkin said. “Of course, and we must do the same.”
He stared at the crono again, and the landscape outside the viewport changed once more. They caught a glimpse of the ship Odus had taken on the ground just before it lifted toward the moons.
The techno-artisans’ compound was gone, as was the spaceport. In the distance were the mountains and the gleaming sea, but no sign of the city of Kubiilikaan or its own spaceport.
“Please return to your seats and strap yourselves in for liftoff,” Elviiz said in an oddly pleasant and mechanical voice. “We will be leaving in a precipitous manner in pursuit of the vessel now exiting Vhiliinyar’s atmosphere.”
“Perhaps we will be invited to join him,” Grimalkin suggested. He touched the com button. “Greetings, friend. Leaving so soon? I was hoping you might give me a ride in your elegant new transport.”
Odus’s gleeful and rather shiny face peered back at them from the com screen. In front of him, Akasa was seated, checking her lips in her reflection from the viewport. “Grimalkin! Haven’t seen you in a while, old cat. What is that antique tube rocket you’re flying? Are those your children?”
“He doesn’t remember me?” Ariin asked.
“If Grimalkin isn’t frozen in cat form, then he hasn’t taken you to his Council yet as far as Odus knows.”
“I’m beginning to agree with Pircifir about not liking time loops. This one seems to have tangled itself.”
“Remember that the Friends knew all about our race before they had Grimalkin abduct you. So maybe Odus came way forward in time to hijack the ship and in his time line, you don’t exist yet.”
Grimalkin answered smoothly, “Never mind them. I’ve been looking for the rest of our people, Odus. When I tried to go home after an extended journey, Kubiilikaan had vanished. I found it, using the crono, but it was deserted. Where did everyone go?”
“Oh, you know, here and there,” Odus said vaguely. “Decided to leave Vhiliinyar to the Linyaari and the unicorns, actually. I was hoping we might create a more stimulating race among us, but the Linyaari aren’t especially interesting. They graze, they build things, they philosophize and sing, but I ask you, old cat, where’s the drama in that? Except for being bipeds, they seem to have acquired none of our traits. Most disappointing.”
“He put me through all that testing to try to create our race, and now he thinks we’re boring?” Ariin said indignantly. “If he was in range of my hooves, I’d show him boring!”
“Hostile thoughts are probably counterproductive right now,” Khorii cautioned. “Can’t you push him to invite us along?”
Ariin pushed.
“If you think that bucket of bolts can keep up, I’ll show you,” Odus said. “I have a brief errand on the way back, however. We left our dwellings behind. They were dying anyway and in poor repair, despite the technicians’ best coaxing and care.”
“Perhaps you could just give me the coordinates in case we lag behind, our vessel being less modern and splendid than your own,” Grimalkin suggested, with a modesty Khorii felt anyone who knew him would find transparent.
“Not that simple, old cat. This journey will involve a bit of a jump forward on the old crono—best synchronize.”
Grimalkin nodded affably and pretended to do so, but Khorii knew he was doing nothing of the kind. They knew very well when Odus would make that fateful jump to the Khleevi-ravaged planet.
“I’d still like the coordinates for our people’s new home,” Grimalkin told him. “Just in case we get separated. You never know what in the universe might happen.”
“True enough,” Odus agreed, and provided the information. Khorii noticed Elviiz listening carefully, and she was sure he was processing the coordinates.
“Try to stay close,” Akasa said. “We won’t be turning back to look for you.”
“Nor should you,” Grimalkin said agreeably. “Our ship is no match for that splendid craft you’re flying.”
When they broke off communication, Elviiz told Ariin and Khorii, “Before we go off-world again, I would like to speak with my father and with our mutual parents as well. We cannot determine the time of our next meeting with any accuracy, so while we are within such close proximity, spatially speaking, I wish to take advantage of the opportunity.”
“Me too,” Khorii said.
“Yes!” Ariin agreed, “Even though it is very frustrating to be able to speak to them only by com or from a distance.”
Grimalkin said, “I have someone I wish to see here as well. And I would prefer not to do it in Khiindi form, which I would have to do if I went forward to your parents’ time with you.”
“We’re not going to be all that long,” Ariin cautioned.
“Nor will I!” he said cheerfully, and vanished from the ship. Oddly, his robe stayed behind.
“That Khiindi!” Khorii joked. “He forgets his coat if you don’t remind him!” She picked up the garment and replaced it on its hook.
But Ariin was looking eagerly at her crono. This time when she used it something unusual happened. As usual, the scenery from the viewport blurred into streaks of color. However, this time the ship shuddered and shook as well.
“What’s the matter?” Ariin demanded. “The crono says we should be when I set it for, but where’s the field?”
Elviiz said, “I fear we may have to walk. The ship has arrived at the correct time but its construction has been unable to withstand the strain. From the log, it seems that the jumps we have made since Pircifir’s death were much longer journeys in the temporal sense than the ones he customarily made. The Friends may be exceptionally long-lived, but apparently their inorganic devices have mortal limitations.”
“Wonderful!” Ariin said. “So now we have a good idea how the plague began, who was responsible, and where he went, but you’re telling me we have no way to get there?”
Chapter 16
We’ll speak to Uncle Hafiz about it,” Khorii said to calm her sister. “I’m sure that for such an important journey he will have a vessel he can lend us.”
“Hail him now!” Ariin said.
But when Elviiz tried the com unit, he shook his head. “I am sorry, Ariin, but this vessel seems to be as deceased as its former pilot. I could resurrect the com unit given time, but first, I really do wish to see our parents.”
Although Khorii agreed with her brother, she found his repeated insistence on the matter a little odd. Perhaps it was due to the increased proportion of organic matter in his makeup. He was telepathic now, after all, even though he seldom used thought-talk, perhaps because he had not yet become accustomed to doing so.
The three of them left the ship. It was resting—and rusting, Khorii noted sadly as they departed, between the planet’s main port and the burgeoning techno-artisan complex.
They stopped to graze on the outskirts of the complex. Nothing anywhere was as good as the grass and wildflowers of home, Khorii decided. As she rose from her grazing posture, a shadow passed overhead.
“A flitter,” Ariin said. “Perhaps we can catch a ride.” She waved at the vehicle, which circled back and settled on the meadow. The hatch rose and the familiar face of Maati, their father’s younger sister, peered inquiringly out at them.
“I thought you three were off on a secret mission somewhere. Back so soon?”
“Yes, Linyaari Father-sister Maati,” Elviiz said. “A portion of our mission dictated our return to Vhiliinyar, and we wished to see our family before embarking on the remainder of our journey.”
“Besides which,” Khorii added, “our ship seems to have kind of fallen apart. Could you give us a lift?”
“Certainly. I was actually on my way there with supplies and to say hello. We just returned from our own mission. Was your ship attacked by the new menace? Many have been. It has become difficult to maintain vessels in working condition.”
“I believe ours simply succumbed to age and overuse,” Khorii said. But she wondered if passing so close to the planet where they believed the plague had originated might have contributed to their ship’s malfunction. If it had Elviiz should have been aware of it.
They crowded aboard the flitter, Khorii sitting on her brother’s lap with the security strap across both of them, Ariin holding a large bag of imported cat food, no doubt bound for the belly of RK, the Condor’s feline first mate.
Maati landed just outside the pavilions that had been erected for the twins and Elviiz. The Condor remained in the middle of the quarantine field, and when they arrived, Uncle Joh was chewing his mustache as Maak beat him at Multilingual Scrabble® while the twins’ parents looked on, amused. “Numerical equations don’t count as words!” Uncle Joh growled.
“You are incorrect, Captain,” Maak replied. “Mathematics is a language and therefore its expressions are allowable under the rules of Multilingual Scrabble®.”
“Never mind him, Maak,” Mother said. “He tried to claim that the Linyaari words we constructed during our turns didn’t count either because he was unfamiliar with them. Oh, look! The children have returned!”
Maati, Elviiz, and Ariin advanced to the quarantine barrier—an area of trampled grass—while Khorii followed. Approaching the others while watching her parents, Maak, and Uncle Joh abandon their board to trot toward the barrier, Khorii was aware of something out of place. Not exactly wrong, just different. Then she decided it was not something out of place but something missing. None of the people beyond the quarantine barrier had blue dots dancing around them any longer.
She gave a delighted gasp, bounded past Elviiz and Ariin, and leaped the barrier to run to her parents. “You’re cured!” she said.
“Khorii—?” Elviiz began to protest.
Belatedly, Khorii turned back, took her twin’s hand, and pulled her toward their mother and father, then threw herself into her mother’s arms. “Oh, Avvi! I thought I would never feel your gentle touch or Father’s strong arms again!”
Father had scooped Ariin up and was twirling around and around in the grass. RK danced around them, meowing excitedly at the happy reunion.
“Don’t I get a hug, too?” Uncle Joh asked Elviiz, who, having firmly shaken hands with Maak so that neither of them damaged the other with their great strength, gingerly patted Captain Becker on the back.
For a fleeting moment, Khorii maintained a light finger touch with her mother while replacing Elviiz to give Uncle Joh a one-armed embrace. Then Mother broke contact to join Father in hugging Ariin. Khorii piled on. Elviiz patted each of them tenderly on the shoulders and backs, so as not to break them.
Then everyone, including Elviiz and Maak, who had worn his special bionic horn adaptation during his stay on Vhiliinyar, touched horns. Only Uncle Joh and RK were left out of that. Then Uncle Joh wrapped his arms around as many of his friends as he could while RK twined around their ankles before becoming annoyed by their lack of gratitude for his attention and climbing the leg of Khorii’s shipsuit. RK was a massive Makahomian Temple Cat, so she could not ignore him. Although his claws did not penetrate the cloth, he almost pulled her to the ground.
When the interlude was over, Uncle Joh clapped his hands and rubbed them together, saying, “Okay, we’ve all been sprung. Now what? Wanna go up to the com unit and tell Hafiz to kill the fatted cauliflower in your honor? I’m thinkin’ party time!”
Mother said, “Maybe. Certainly we should stop by and be briefed on the latest events, but I am anxious to get back to work.”
“Yes,” Father said. “The family that stops plagues together—” He looked at Uncle Joh. “It is a Terran aphorism. Can you finish it appropriately for our situation?”
“Sorry, buddy. ‘Drops eggs together’ is the closest I can come. Somehow I don’t think that conveys quite the sentiment you’re trying to express.”
Those remarks and a lot of other giddy nonsense marked the occasion, but once all of them were again aboard the Condor, Khorii sobered enough to check the ship for blue dots. She was relieved to find none. Perhaps, since the plague had not been able to kill anyone here, it had also been unable to continue its course and mutate into the matter-eating monsters. Certainly everyone present who had been infected was alive, healthy, and unavailable to provide ghostly collections of molecules to consume the inorganic matter that would eventually provide them with mass similar to that of the shapeshifting dwellings.
Ariin roamed as far from the others as she could while staying in sight, inspecting the ship’s interior. “What kind of ship is this?” she asked. “I haven’t seen one like this before.”
“Of course not,” Uncle Joh told her. “The Condor is a unique synthesis of the best bits of the best technologies of many worlds and cultures. Right now she’s in tiptop shape because I have passed lo these many Standard months tweaking her. She’d be even better if I could have had access to my salvage stash.”
“About that, Uncle Joh,” Khorii said. “I’m sorry our news about the Blanca and your other salvage there was so upsetting to you.”
“I can’t be upset today, sweetie,” he said, brushing it off. “My buddies Aari and Acorna have been reunited with their kids, and we are all free again. Nothing can mar that. I’m ready to celebrate!”
“The latest phase of the plague ate the Blanca, and probably by now has eaten the rest of your salvage,” Ariin told him. “We have not checked lately, but it may have destroyed much of the inorganic matter in its path, including the derelict ships it attacked in its plague form.”
At first they thought the low growl was coming from RK, but it was actually coming from the Condor’s captain. “First it almost kills me and my friends, then it locks us up and away from all the action, now it’s eating my salvage? It must be destroyed!”
“We are in agreement,” Ariin said. “And that is a good thing. You have a ship. Ours is no longer functional.”
“Is it salvageable?” Uncle Joh asked with an acquisitive twitch of his left eyebrow.
“I believe so,” Elviiz said. “Parts of it at least. Perhaps among us, you, Captain, my father and I may be able to save some of the electronic data in storage, which I think will provide much valuable information pertaining to our current mission and to the history of the Linyaari people.”
