Acorna was possessed of a peculiar talent no other Linyaari had ever exhibited. She believed it came from being raised by asteroid miners and learning at an early age which drifting rocks might be profitable to exploit. Over the years, her sense of which minerals an asteroid might contain had developed into a finely honed sense of spatial relationships, so that at times, if she concentrated, she could determine what rooms and spaces-and activity-lay behind otherwise impenetrable walls.
The stillness behind the facade of each and every building they passed was as stifling as the heat, as oppressive as the smell, and as appalling as the vast numbers of bodies strewn through the streets like discarded dolls.
Discarded decaying dolls.
"We're too late," she told Aari. "There is nobody here to cure."
"It is a large city, yaazi," he said, using the Linyaari endearment he applied to both his mate and their daughter. "Everyone cannot possibly be dead already-can they? We had communication from here only forty-eight hours ago. I had the impression there were many people there, although some were sick. Everyone cannot possibly be dead," he repeated, trying to convince himself.
"Of course not," she said. "We aren't giving up, but we must search farther from the city center. I sense no life in any of these buildings, anywhere."
He scanned the buildings with a wild and haunted expression on his face. "What if it is very faint?" he asked. "What if someone is hanging on to the last thread of life and we are their last hope- when we leave, they will die."
She laid her horn gently against his, and said, "I sense no one, yaazi. But if such a one exists, we must trust that they will find happiness in their transition. If we search each of these buildings, think how many more may die who are farther away but easier to find."
He nodded. "Of course." Looking at the debris and the bodies, he said, "A colorful people. What strange dress and customs they had."
"The plague caught them at the height of their Carnivale season," she said. "It is a special celebration during which both people and conveyances are costumed, decorated, and disguised to dance in the streets. It is very crowded and people travel from all over the planet and all over this star system-even some others, to be here for it."
He looked at her quizzically. A multicolored paper pompom whirled past them like the spores from the puff flower until its tendrils caught in a black pool of something that dragged it down.
The Federation had transmitted an informational vid on the Solojo system for them before they landed. It was an unusual system in that it contained four planets nearly equidistant from their sun, all of them class M, habitable worlds, on which the colonies established many years before had thrived and grown. Whereas Palo-duro was the most beautiful of the four planets, the center for tourism and the residential center of the system, another world, Dinero Grande, was the administrative and business center. Rio Boca, the planet most distant of the four from the sun, was the usual entrance and jumping-off point for interstellar traffic. However, no communication had been transmitted from there or Dinero Grande in over a week, whereas Paloduro had sent an urgent mayday only two standard days before the Federation enlisted the Condors help.
"I researched the archives from the beginning while I was on watch," she explained. "From what we know of this disease, some of the younglings and the elders should be left here somewhere. But we cannot possibly search all of this on foot."
They found an abandoned flitter that activated at once when Aari toggled the switch. Using the point where they had landed as the center, they flew in ever-widening circles over the moribund city. The evidence of the Carnivale disappeared within a few blocks. Several times they saw plumes of smoke from the cinders of buildings or vehicles. Then they came to a broad gash in the green of a park. Inside it were the bodies of hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people, not even covered, simply deposited there for later burial.
When the plague was over. Now there would be no one left to haul the dead to this makeshift morgue.
But two streets over they saw what looked like purposeful movement--just the flash of what appeared to be a sleeve that quickly passed into a building.
This area had fewer structures that had the businesslike facade of public buildings.
"This is the residential area," Acorna said. "People live here. At least, I hope some of them still do."
"Ah," Aari said, nodding. "Yes. The yellow marks on the doors. Do those mean what I think they do?"
"Yes. A yellow flag was the old sign for quarantine. If you recall, we saw some with intricate symbols flying over several of the buildings. But probably by the time these people started getting sick, whichever agency or individual had been doing the marking couldn't keep up."
She stood still, closed her eyes, and let her sense of what spaces contained guide her through their surroundings. Opening her eyes suddenly, she said, "Come, yaazi. There is life still inside some of these buildings. We can help."
Without a second thought, the two tall, white-clad, silvery-maned, and golden-horned beings crossed the thresholds of each entrance marked by yellow paint, flags, plastic ribbon, kerchiefs, or bits of clothing. Such symbols were not for Linyaari healers.
Nanahomea sat on shore long enough to strew sea flowers over the body of Ray Alcalde. "What were we thinking, letting him off-world on his own like that?" her friend Mokilau asked mournfully.
"He had his duties to do," Nanahomea said.
"Yes, but we could have had a crisis that kept him here. He wasn't very bright. We might have known he'd get into trouble."
"He wanted to go home," Nanahomea said, staring sadly at the flower mound that had been their Federation liaison and so-called governor. They didn't need a governor, of course, since they had been governing themselves quite successfully for more years than the Federation had been federated. In fact, if she wanted to get stuffy about it, Nanahomea was actually the queen, but she was only queen as long as she ruled the way her people wished to be ruled. "He was from that place, and he missed it. People do miss their homes."
"Yes," Mokilau said. "Our young ones do, too. Leave him to the sky now, Nanahomea."
A single turn of the tide, and she regretted wasting sorrow on Alcalde, who brought death to her people as nothing had ever done before. Her own beautiful daughter, Haina-kolo, and her daughter's mate Keaunini were among the first to die. They did not lose their food as the man did, but though it took two more tides to finish, they gasped and choked and could not dive. At the last, they could breathe neither air nor water, and drowned. Before their funeral chant was ended, many of the mourners who were their friends sickened as well. In two more tides, three in some cases, they, too, stopped breathing.
"It is a traveling sickness, this," the ancient healer, Nakulakai, said. "Raealakaldai brought it with him from the stars and when we brought him into the water, he passed his death to us."
"Why Haina-kolo, then, and Keaunini who were young and strong?" Nanahomea asked. "Why not me and Mokilau, who have little time left?"
Nakulakai blew bubbles at her. "If this death is what I believe, you will be joining them soon. We all will. But we must give Keaunini and Haina-kolo back to the sky along with Raealakaldai and these others, too. When they stay in the water, the death rides the tide from their mouths to the mouths of others."
Nanahomea knew the sense of this, but insisted that each loved one passing into death should be treated with all of the love the living could send with them. Nanahomea and Mokilau bore the bodies of Keaunini and Haina-kolo to the beach themselves and covered them with flowers plucked from the ocean floor by others. The parents of her children's dead friends bore their own children to the beach and did the same.