"This Kel does not remember," Kedras confessed, and others moved their heads no.
"We will bring our kerein," said Tian of the ja'ari. "Perhaps each of us can spare a little of canvas.”
Others assented.
"Keranthein," Niun gave them murmured courtesy, watched as they rose and departed, filing out of the tent, as all about them, ja'anom rose in courtesy, settled again. Hlil followed them out, gathering a band of kel'ein to serve what needed to be done.
Niun sat still a moment, replaced the headcloth, sat staring at the empty doorway.
"Strangers," Duncan said beside him, and he realized that of all that had changed, Duncan knew none of it. "More than hao'nath.”
"I will tell you later. Rest, be still. All is better than it was.”
He rubbed at the dus's shoulder to soothe it, looked out over the faces of his kel, at eyes which were fixed on him in strange concentration… with distress, it might be; or simple bewilderment Ras was there; she had come in, and Seras, and Merin. There was a curious thing in the air, a sense of madness that quivered through the dus-sense; so a man might feel with his feet on the rimsands.
"Deal with them as with our own," he said to them. He put off the kel-sword, laid it again on the matting, looked up as Taz appeared with a bowl which he offered, a small portion of liquid, a delicacy reserved for honor, and for those in need. "Kath sends," Taz told him; and he drank, though he would rather have yielded it to Duncan, who needed it more. He gave the bowl back, thought on kath Anaras, thought that this evening would be well spent in Kath, where he might take pleasure, and ease. Rhian's skill had made him think on dying, and Kath was a place to forget such thoughts. He had much neglected them, owed Anaras courtesy which he had never paid. She was fortunate, her child had survived the flight, but the kel'anth had never come a second time to her.
Tonight there were strangers in camp, and duty, and he could not. He shut his eyes, exhaled, opened them again. "I will return it," he said.
"Sir," Taz objected; it was not custom.
He rose up, taking the small bowl with him, and walked out
Chapter Twelve
Luiz stared at the screen, the message tape looping over and over again.
duncan info confirmed on site one, the message ran tersely. dante proceeding new site hoping further data.
No way to contact them; mission Dante went its own way. That any message had come meant they had gone aloft again, messaged from one of the so-reckoned safe corridors, and flitted gnatlike to the next choice of sites.
Boz, he thought with a shake of his head; the muscles of his mouth attempted a smile as he reckoned her happiness ... let loose in such treasuries with camera and notebook and recorder; she would be in agony if the soldiers hastened her on too soon.
Salve to the soul, for all she had given up in leaving Kesrith.
Reparations. To save something. The smile faded into heart-sickness. Guilt drove her. Would kill her. The young men would keep going had to she would break her heart out there in the dunes, climbing where young men went
But she had won something. info confirmed, the message ran.
He reached for a pad and stylus. Tight transmission Saber, he wrote for the ComTech, and transcribed the message in full, with transmission time.
There was another thing on his desk, which had not given him such relief. caution; readings indicate ldte resurgence in
THE CITIES. POWER THERE RESTORED. MAINTAIN SHIP FLIGHT STANDBY. u aiijed
MISSION DEMANDING LANDING; SITUATION DELICATE.
He turned from his desk and handed the slip to Brown, who was Flower's pilot. "Transmit," he said. "Sir," Brown said, as if he would object.
Doit.
Brown left to do so. It would go quickly. Santiago hovered over them in this crisis like a bird over eggs.
He stared at the repeating message, scowling. He would gladly get the two current messages to Boaz if it were possible. It was not. They were on their own. Presumably they knew about the power in the sites… and if so they neglected to mention it; neglected to warn them of potential hazard.
He bit his lip, reckoning Boaz's persuasive powers, wondered with a small and uneasy suspicion how much else Galey's mission neglected. A deliberately optimistic message; a biased message. He sent no comment with it, guilty by silence.
Saber, he reasoned, could draw its own conclusions.
The prep room remained a haven of sanity. Saber's pulse went through it, this place where all had casual access, where a sharp eye might pick up what was developing, what missions went, what missions came in; and a sharp ear hear any rumor that was drifting about. Harris came by routine, in the unease that went with no missions and the lack of contact with Galey. He sat in the rhythm of the room, a frantic pace of outgoing and incoming flights, shuttles which kept their senses extended over the world's horizons… gamed sometimes among friends, among the others who were bound to this assignment, who came, as he did, to sit and drink and watch the scan and the boards and say to themselves, not now, not this watch, not yet.
Harris filled his cup from the dispenser, used his rations card to get a cellopack of dried fruit, pocketed it while he made his usual nervous pass by the flight boards.
Regul, someone had scrawled on the margin of the clear plastic which overlay the system chart; and with it an eye.
Home, it had said once; but some zealot officer had erased that. There were two ships out besides Santiago; that was normal. Four names on the present flight list; four more going up next. Good enough; it was all routine.
He walked next to the status board, found the point that was Flotver, isolate as it ought to be. He sipped at the coffee and strayed back to the table, to sit and wait as he spent his days waiting. He activated the library function, propped his feet up, drank his coffee and found himself four pages into the book he was reading, with no comprehension of it. He stared at it, heard others coming in, looked. It was the next group out, come in for prep.
"How'd it go last night?" one gibed at him; he gave a placid shrug, smug with a memory he was not going to have public, watched as they collected their flight gear from the lockers. The outward blips had made their slow way back on the scan; the outgoing team had it timed to a nicety.
Two men entered the room; North and Magee, two of his own. He moved his feet and offered them place, the while the other team walked out and on their way to the hangar deck. North went to take his own pass by the boards and charts.
And of a sudden all status on scan was arrested; the ships stayed where they were. Harris rose to his feet; so did Magee. The ships began to turn, four neat and simultaneous changes of position, oriented to different quarters, two proceeding back the way they had come, two moving wide.
The screen adjusted to wider field. Red blips were proceeding out from the larger red ship.
"Here it comes," Magee muttered. There was a cold in the air. Harris swallowed and watched. The red blips tracked not toward the world, but headed toward themselves.
The screen flashed letters; code gbeen.
"Going to board," North said. They knew the routine. An aisle was established from the bay to the quarantine areas near command. Regul quarters were there for use when they must be. Areas not meant for regul were put under security yellow, which meant cardlock for everyone needing passage into and out of sections.
Bile rose into Harris's throat. He swore softly.
"Guess we got our allies back," North said. "That regul expert," Magee said. "That's what he brought us. That Averson got us regul.”
Koch sipped at the obligatory cup of soi, stared levelly at the regul delegation and his own staff, who sat disposed about the room, the regul adult in his sled and the inevitable younglings squatting on the carpet beside… not much difference between standing and sitting for their short legs. Degas, Averson, and two aides; two opinions he truly wanted at hand and two live bodies more to balance the odds in the room; protocol; there had to be youngling figures so that regul knew by contrast whom to respect
"Reverence," said the newly adult Suth, gape-mouthed and grinning affably. "A pleasure that we are able to deal sensibly after crisis.”
"Bai Suth." Koch stared at the regul sidelong, finding difficulty to believe that he had known this individual regul before, that what bulked so large in the sled had been one of the relatively slim servitors. There was not even facial similarity. Plates had broadened and ridged; skin had thickened and coarsened into sagging folds. The metamorphosis had been radical considering the elapsed time; and yet this one had not attained the late Sham's bulk and roughness. "We are pleased," Koch pursued, "if this meeting can prove productive; our good wishes to you in your new office.”