CHAPTER 7
“I had heard that there is a huge ‘kaboom!’ when the heavenly body disappears,” Xan said, his long legs propped on the end of a deep blue brocade couch. The rest of him lay on a gorgeously embroidered warming rug on the floor beside the broad, transparent viewport at the bow end of our day room. It tended to be chilly at the perimeter of the chamber, thanks to the window, but our parents, aunts and uncles had insisted on this feature when the Jaunter was commissioned some forty or so years before. We all thought it was worth the trouble. When we were not traveling at faster than light speed or in the midst of a jump point, the view of the stars and nebulae was unparalleled. Like the rest of us, he was watching a near pair of stars with a speculative and proprietary air.
We had been cruising along at top speed since leaving the last jump point. The next one was a half-day’s journey ahead, but we were not going directly there. The Jaunter had scheduled a stop for us at Counterweight. This handsome little planet had been discovered four thousand years ago by human settlers. It was renowned for being Earthlike, even more so than our homeworld of Keinolt. It circled the binary pair, which consisted of an enormous yellow giant and a tiny blue-white star. Of all the early human settlements, Counterweight was one of the few where none of our ancestors had needed to live in tight quarters of artificial habitats or make adaptations to their genetics in order to survive. The refreshing atmosphere held a perfect twenty-one percent oxygen level and was perfumed by esters from planktonoids and chlorophyllikes that were so similar to Earth-types that no terraforming had been necessary. Terran plants grew freely in the nitrogen-rich soil.
The difference between Counterweight and Earth, I had been informed, was that no intelligent species had evolved into prominence on the planet. That left it untouched and wild until our ancestors came upon it. Though it was isolated in between two of the most remote jump points in use at this end of Imperium territory, it enjoyed a reputation as a vacation spot and a retirement community for those who could afford the final passage thereto. As a result, the shopping, night life, beach culture, adventure activities and garden tours were all reputed to be excellent. My cousins and I were looking forward to spending three or four leisurely days there. Parsons had already alerted me by private viewpad message that our special guest would join us on Counterweight. All of this had me so filled with excitement, I could not sit down. I circled the room like a doomed planet trying to outrun the Zang.
“There isn’t a ‘ka’ anything,” Nalney said, lying back on the brilliant green damask couch he had claimed as his own with his eyes covered by a long-suffering arm. “No one can hear sound in space.”
“I know that!” Xan said, impatiently, kicking a toe into the air. “But what about the shock waves? Don’t they make any noise?”
“I suppose that they could be translated into noise,” I said. “If there was a resounding chamber set to catch them. If it wouldn’t be destroyed in the blast.”
“There is no blast,” Erita said, curled in the round chair she favored. A sticklike serverbot worked on her fingernails with tiny brushes and tweezers brandishing gems and miniature feathers. “The object just disappears. I have watched digitavids and old-style video recordings of the Zang. I’ve seen them over and over again. It doesn’t explode. It just … goes.” She fluttered her free hand, already decorated copiously with blue crystals, to match the day’s blue gown.
“Please don’t move, my lady,” the ’bot said, in a plaintive little voice. It brought out a minute tool and scrubbed away at a place on her nail where it must have made a mistake.
“Oh, sorry.”
“But there are shock waves,” Xan insisted. “They ripple out to the edge of the heliopause. Beyond it, too, I believe.”
“Marvelous!” Jil said, clapping her hands, which had already been adorned in red and green crystals and white feathers by the same ’bot. They looked rather marvelous. “I can’t wait to see.”
“It’s quite wonderful,” Erita said, fluttering her free hand. “According to the narrator, Professor Derrida, who is a scientist who’s made numerous very popular digitavid series, the process is known only to the Zang. It doesn’t seem to involve anything in the way of mechanisms. Not that we can see, anyhow. They evoke the energy from within their bodies. Well, who knows what they are concealing? They are so odd and blobby-looking. I wonder how they evoke anything at all.” This thought appeared to puzzle her deeply.
“Or why they decided to do it in the first place,” Jil said, lying back in her cushion-filled chair with a small cup of espresso garnished with a curl of citrus peel. Sinim, dressed in salmon pink silk, sat crosslegged on a massive blue pillow beside her. “I’ve never really seen the difference when it comes to doing bonsai on a plant. I know it’s an art form, but what’s the purpose of it? When you’re done, you have a plant that is missing a few branches. Is it any more use than an unaltered plant?”
“What is the use of art?” Xan asked, lazily turning a hand palm up. “To be beautiful.”
I could hardly help myself moving around at the thought. I executed a grand jete and landed on one knee before Erita.
“Do you think the star lanes are made more beautiful by what the Zang do?” I asked. Erita made a face at me.
“Oh, Thomas, how should I know? I’m no expert! All I did was watch the programs, darling. Star systems all look rather the same to me. Sun or suns in the middle, planets and space debris farther out, and that messy Oort cloud surrounding it all.”
“Sounds like a pastry with layered filling,” Nalney said, mischief causing playful wrinkles to form around his deep brown eyes.
“Now you’re making me hungry,” Xan said. He snapped his fingers, and an LAI rolled toward him with a tray held out. It helped him to a tiny plate of canapés. “I have a reservation at the finest mini-cuisine restaurant in town on the surface. If this delay continues for too long, I shall miss it, and that will make me cross.”
“Would you like to see some of my digitavids?” Erita offered. “I think you will find the destruction of the binary system in the Dendrobium sector worth watching. It may divert you from worrying.”
“No, thank you very much, Erita,” Xan said, selecting a pastry topped with a bright green slice of fish. “I’d rather let the surprise unfold when we get to witness the real thing.”
“I shall scream,” Sinim said, her dark eyes huge in her small face. “I just know it.” Jil patted her on the shoulder.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “It’s not as if the planet they are removing is of any importance to us.”
“But what if it was?” the girl asked. “What if it was one of our homeworlds that they decided to destroy?”
“They wouldn’t do that,” Jil said. “The Zang could destroy any planet, but they don’t.”
“They could!”
“Anyone for another game of hide-and-seek?” I asked, casually, hoping to divert Sinim from her self-induced panic. “I volunteer to be It again. One of you will beat me eventually.”
Erita patted a yawn. “Not now, dear. You’re too good at it. Perhaps later.”
“Perhaps later means never with you, cousin,” I said.
“Oh, no, I would never say never, Thomas!” Erita protested. Red blossomed on her sallow face. She had been caught out, and the others knew it. She wriggled her fingers at me. “Oh, very well. Once we know what we’re doing today. If there’s time, I will join your game. I have no idea why we are hovering here instead of going down to the planet to shop. I want a new belt to hold my pocket secretary.” She plucked at the virtual spiderweb that held her viewpad to her narrow midsection. As the forecast for the surface was quite warm with a mild breeze, that portion of her body was revealed to sight between a boned sapphire-colored bodice and a sweeping pale blue skirt. “This one is getting quite threadbare.”
“It was threadbare to start with,” Jil observed, patting the embroidered pouch that hung at her side. “Why don’t you get something that will conceal your device properly? We don’t all need to see when someone calls you or sends you a file.”
“Why shouldn’t everyone see when I get a message?” Erita countered. “You all know how popular I am.”
I joined in the general fleering that greeted that statement. Erita waved at us again, then bent to concentrate on how her manicure was progressing. I did a couple of lunges to work my quadriceps, performed a handspring that landed in a creditable split which I wished Deirdre had witnessed, and went to see how the Jaunter was progressing at maneuvering us into a parking orbit.
Through the viewport, I watched Counterweight turning serenely below us. It was a handsome place. Wide blue oceans covered more than half of its surface. I wanted to walk on a place that reminded our ancestors of our lost homeworld. What could be the holdup?
As if to echo my concerns, the doors to the lift shaft opened up. Lionelle stalked out, looking like the big cat for which she had been named. My younger sister was dressed for a day out, in khaki shorts with knife-creased cuffs that showed off her legs, and a white blouse covered with pockets and loops, from some of which depended miniature versions of gadgets. She brandished at us a domelike hat with a wide brim suitable for keeping the sun from ruining her perfect complexion.
“I can’t stand it!” she declared. Such a dramatic entrance required attention.
“What is the matter?” I inquired. “We have attained orbit.”
“But not parking orbit!” Nell said. “Has anyone reported to us? I can see the massive way station on the equatorial continent below. In fact, I’ve seen it go by more than thirty times! Why are the shuttles still blocked off?”
“I have no idea, Nell,” I said. I beckoned to her. “We’ll get down there soon. Come and have a bite to eat. Would you like to try one of my fruit purees? They will replenish your electrolytes brilliantly. I recommend the papaya-mango.”
“My electrolytes are fine!” she said, throwing up a hand in impatience. “When are we landing? I want to see Counterweight. There’s a train of real elephants going into the mountain jungle above the principal city. Elephants! Descended from the very beasts who walked on Earth itself! I am supposed to be on the lead beast! It’s all white, and it’s been painted with my coat of arms. I have a half bushel of apples for it from Great-Aunt Sforzina’s private orchard! I thought you would be impatient as anything, Thomas. Aren’t you signed up for the tour?”
“Not on this leg,” I said. “I have a reservation for our return journey. Today I had planned a flying tour, then a pub crawl to be followed by a race tournament in atmosphere flitters. My vehicle is in the hold, prepped and fueled. You shouldn’t worry. They’ll wait for you, you know. You’re a member of the Imperium house. They wouldn’t dare depart without you.”
“But what is the delay?” Nell asked, flapping her hat as though battering down invisible barriers. “They’re not telling us anything! Go and find out, will you, Thomas? There’s a dear. You have a way of worming information out of the dullest sources.”
“Of course, Nell,” I said, glad of activity that would take advantage of my brimful energy. I gave her a most elegant bow, with the back of my hand sweeping over my outstretched foot. “In the meanwhile, relax. I will report back as soon as possible. Over and out.”
Nell laughed. I strode back to the lift shaft.
While I rode down the shaft of air, I checked my viewpad. No emergency messages had arrived from Parsons explaining the delay. Instead, I sent him a query. By the time I reached the command level, he still had not replied. To me that meant that something was up, and that he was involved. In the absence of further information, I had better ask the captain xirself what was going on.
I stepped off onto the platform and prepared to walk through, but the door did not automatically open. Instead, a red lens shimmered into life.
“Identify yourself,” the wall said.
“Lord Thomas Kinago,” I replied. “Surely you have been programmed to identify all of us. What’s your name?”
“Please present credentials,” the wall replied, without further courtesy.
I raised my eyebrows, but that did not seem to be enough outrage to overcome the wall’s obduracy. Beginning to experience the first moments of pique, I thought of acting out all my family’s frustration. It was far simpler to unlimber the viewpad from the pouch at my waist and hold the screen up for the red eye to read.
The door opened at once, revealing the dullest-looking corridor I had yet beheld on the Imperium Jaunter. It was as functional as it was unappealing. The beige kickplates were scuffed, and the stone-gray padding was of the most utilitarian to be had.
“Pass,” said the wall.
“Thank you,” I said, holding my chin high. “May I say that it has not been a pleasure interacting with you.”
“Forgive me, Lord Thomas,” the wall said, almost plaintively. “I am on duty.” I felt abashed at my discourtesy.
“Ah. Forgive me. Thank you for your service. Let us speak later on, when you’re off shift.”
“We shall. I am WA-946l. I must close. Please pass.”
I did so. My heels clattered noisily upon the uncarpeted gray deck. I would have to speak to my mother upon my return. That a section of the vessel was utilitarian did not mean it needed to be ugly.
Most of the common spaces on the Jaunter were segregated according to function. Our quarters, dining, entertainment center and day room were in a section all together in the center of the ship. Our support staff, including Madame Deirdre, a few reporters, some friends not of noble blood, and the other professionals hired for the journey occupied the section forward to that. They shared dining facilities and so on with the crew of the ship, who, apart from the engineering section in the stern, were located even further forward, just below the bridge and senior officers’ cabins. I peered into the officers’ gray-walled day room as I passed. It lay vacant. That in itself was unusual. Considering the size of the crew, there ought to have been a few there, answering correspondence, playing a game or so in the full-sized gymnasium, watching digitavids on the utilitarian but very good facilities installed there. (We insisted that our crews have only the best to occupy them when they were not caring for our needs.) Meals sat half-eaten, and a forlorn-looking LAI rolled around the room picking up trays. The diners had vacated in a hurry, and not that long ago. Something unusual was afoot.
The bridge was “up” a deck on its own in the center of the command center. A mechanical lift ran up to it, but it was not operational, even to one with my credentials. I sprang up the coated metal stairs that spiraled around it.
That chamber, which usually held eight or so bridge officers and the captain, a celebrated officer named Melane Wold, was crowded with humans, Uctu and Wichu, in uniform. I excused and pardoned my way through them toward the center seat, but it was unoccupied. I glanced around. All the senior officers, including all of my crew from the Rodrigo, were absent. Parsons was nowhere in sight.
Lieutenant Hamesworth, a sturdy young woman with very short-clipped silver-and-blue hair, whose rank was second helmswoman, glanced up at me.
“Good morning, my lord,” she said. The Wichu navigator beside her gave me a curt nod.
“What is going on?” I asked. “My cousins and I were looking forward to going groundside.”
Hamesworth looked a little sheepish.
“I can’t say, my lord.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t,” Lieutenant Argelev, the Wichu, said. “They’re all in the captain’s ready room.” He nodded toward the side of the command center. Of the three doors set into that wall, one was surrounded by tiny red lights, indicating No Entry.
I began to be concerned for our well-being. I wondered if I should abandon my present course of action to go instruct my cousins and sister to hide in the diverse locations that had been made secure for their safety? What excuse would I give? Persuading them to play hide-and-seek was one thing. Dashing into the room and insisting on a game without further explanation when we were supposed to be preparing for a grand day out would be greeted with eye-rolls and derisive laughter.
No, I needed to know more.
“What event in the last six hours made them want to hold a conference?” I asked. I indicated the press of bodies around me. “Obviously, all of you know what has occurred, and you are awaiting some outcome. Won’t you please tell me what it is?”
Argelev snickered.
“You’re just going to have to wait to find out, sir, my lord.”
“I disagree most fervently with that assessment, lieutenant,” I said. “I seldom wait. I am always seeking.”
In the absence of Parsons, I realized I was going to have to do my own frowning and pondering. Therefore, I frowned and pondered. If the matter was a life-threatening one, the Jaunter would have removed itself from orbit and made for a safe location, leaving the naval support ships to provide safe escape for her. Therefore, it was not immediately life-threatening. It had not been known before, or some arrangement would have been made in advance to cope with it. Therefore, it had come as an unwelcome surprise. It was a potential threat that affected the entire ship, or the rest of the crew would not be occupying less than optimum space per being in the bridge, nor would the captain have allowed so many to have left their stations. Therefore, it could affect every department. I did not see Parsons. Therefore, he was in on the discussion, making it important across more departments than just the navy. No one had informed me or my cousins as to what that event was, so it was something that would inconvenience us and cause annoyance that would cause us to complain and demand a solution. Therefore, they wanted to confer before they approached us with a change of plans. I thought, under those circumstances, it was within my right to ask for details. I could at least forestall the last of the concerns by bringing accurate information back to my cousins and friends.
With many more excuses and pardons, I threaded my way through to the secure door. I knocked upon it.
“No admittance,” the door said. Its voice was similar but not identical to the wall near the lift. I presented my viewpad to the electric eye next to the frame. “I am sorry, Lord Thomas, but this conference is closed to those of noble rank.”
“Ah, but I am also an officer,” I said. “A senior officer, at that. I am the commander of the Rodrigo, a naval ship with armaments and offensive capabilities, in the hold of this very vessel. Look here.” I changed the setting to my naval credentials and turned the screen back toward the eye.
“Your pardon, sir,” the door said. It promptly slid aside. “Please enter at once.”