Downtime (15 page)

“And
if it’s dead or dying?”

“They
get the body and crystal, and a danae kill on the record.”

“I
guess they’re too fast to shoot with any primitive weaponry they might fashion,”
Calla said thoughtfully. “But they could be snared, couldn’t they?”

“Yeah.
Had a ranger do that last year; was her fourth kill. But I caught her at it,
more by luck than intent. She’d been out for almost two weeks alone, so I
stopped by.”

“Surprise
inspection?”

“Not
exactly. Anyway, she was dissecting the danae when I found her.”

“What
did you do to her?”

“Busted
her and shipped her back to the Hub.” He’d hated doing it, too, because he’d
been sleeping with her for almost a year when it happened. She hadn’t tried to
use their relationship to get him to change his mind, but even so Jason had
felt terribly betrayed. She’d made her three kills, which had resulted in three
fair-sized crystals, and she knew the rules and how Jason personally felt about
killing the danae. Still she had taken the fourth. Jason had slept with no one
since she left.

Calla
slipped the flatscan into the pouch on her stellerator.

“How
much longer?”

Jason
looked at the pathfinder readout. “Minutes, and that’s a lot less than we’ll be
spending when
Belden Traveler
leaves.
Sure wish you’d brought that weather satellite with you. Traveling can get
difficult on a planet with no magnetic north, especially when our homing beacon
goes out.”

“Does
that happen often?”

“No,
but it happens.” He dropped the zephyr’s altitude until they were skimming
treetops. As required by his regulations, the ranger had left the camp signal
on in the foam hut and the receiver was picking up the signal now. He’d tried
to shoot the danae at the edge of a clearing almost ten kilometers north. With
help from
Belden Traveler
, Jason had
no difficulty in finding the spot. It was classic danae grounds, tall mature
trees with sparse undergrowth.

“What’s
that over there?” Calla said, pointing to a rock outcropping.

“Looks
like tailings from a dig. Maybe we have a miner over there. Let’s go take a
look. If there is one living there, he may have seen our wounded danae.”

Upon
closer inspection, the tailings looked old, but the camp was obviously
occupied, for there were nymph cocoons hanging on a line, threads glistening in
the sunlight. A huge kettle was boiling over a campfire near a stream. Jason
selected a grassy patch by the stream that looked firm and level and lowered
the zephyr to the ground. He and Calla got out.

The
camp was simple, too simple, Jason thought, until he realized the main quarters
must be in the old dig. Since there was no one tending the fire, he decided the
miner must be inside. The fire was still blazing strongly, so he couldn’t be
far.

“Whatever
is in that pot?” Calla said as she caught a whiff of steam.

“Nymph
cocoons. The esters can be pretty strong if they’re fresh, so they boil them
before storing them. The Rangers buy a little for pillows and such, and now
Marmion’s buying all he can for Stairnon to weave. Word could have reached the
miners, I guess, that there’s a market for the silk. But it’s more likely this
guy is just boiling up a soft mattress for himself.”

“Are
the nymphs still inside?” she said, approaching the boiling pot with what
looked like morbid curiosity on her face.

“Probably
not. The used ones are out there for the taking, no need to bother with the
ones that are still occupied.”

Calla
poked at the brew with a stick until she snared a cocoon, then raised it out.
It looked like a gray rag. Then she spotted the ones that were hanging on the
line that was strung between two trees, and went over to look at them. They
were shiny and glinted with pastel colors, and when she touched them she smiled.
“Feels nice,” she said, then followed him to the rocks.

The
entrance was easily high enough for them to walk through upright, but before
they stepped in, the miner stepped out. He was of medium build, rangy and
bearded, blinking as much from the bright sunlight as from recent awakening.

“Morning,
Governor,” he said politely, “ma’am,” with a nod to Calla. “Can’t pretend that
I believe you’re stopping by on a social visit.”

Jason
recognized Daniel Jinn, a miner who’d been to Round House only twice in the
last two years. He never stayed on at Round House the way most of the miners
did to swap stories and eat refined food. He left quickly, with the few
supplies he’d come for. As Jason recalled, he’d also declined to register his
claim.

“Daniel,
this is Eudoxia Calla Dovia, Commander of the new research center at the
station.”

Daniel
shaded his eyes from the sun with his hand and said, “Calla Antiqua.”

“What?”
Jason said.

“Antiqua,”
Calla said, going from a puzzled frown to a grin. “It’s what my soldiers called
me behind my back. This is the first time I’ve ever heard anyone say it to my
face. There was a Daniel Jinn in my brigade years ago.”

“Mustered
out almost twenty years ago; you was only a special lieutenant then. Commander
now I see. But you ain’t just come a calling on old soldiers either.” He seemed
awake now and looked over at his pot of cocoons. Without waiting for Calla to
answer, he brushed past them and went to the fire, leaving them to follow or
not. They followed, Calla speaking.

“We’re
looking for a wounded danae. If you’ve spotted it, you could save us a great
deal of time.”

He
threw some wood on the fire and shook his head. “Ain’t seen no wounded danae.”

Even
Jason could tell the man was lying. He sighed. “Daniel, I’m going to have to
search your camp.”

“Won’t
find no wounded danae here,” Daniel said.

“Crystals
though. Maybe I’ll find crystals, maybe even a few more than I should.”

Daniel
shook his head, chin stubbornly thrust up. “Don’t deal in crystal, don’t kill
danae and you shouldn’t either.”

“Look,
I don’t want . . . wait a minute. Why shouldn’t we kill danae?”
He’d never heard a miner say that before.

The
miner shook his head. “Ain’t right. Causes grief. Your ranger was the one who
did it, wasn’t he? Figured it was. Asked him not to hunt around here. Be much
obliged if you’d just move that station far as you can. Don’t want no more
grief.”

“Daniel,
you’re not making a lot of sense,” Calla said. “Do you know where the danae is
or don’t you?”

“All
right, ma’am, I know, but I ain’t going to tell you.”

“Why
not?”

“Because
he thinks you’re going to finish killing her,” said another voice.

Jason
and Calla turned with a start. Neither had heard anyone approach. Standing just
a few paces away was a young girl of slight build. Her hair was long and
sun-bleached, her skin tanned, yet barely dark. Light gray eyes gave her an
ethereal quality.

“Arria,
I told you to stay back.”

“It’s
all right father. You haven’t come to kill my danae, have you?” She stared at
Jason, her face frowning slightly now.

“No,
I won’t kill it. As long as the danae is not already dying, I will not harm it.”

“Oh,
no, she’s not dying. She’s going to be fine when her wing grows back.” The girl
seemed to breathe easier now, half smiling at Jason and stealing shy glances at
Calla.

“I
have to verify that the danae’s all right,” Jason said. “Will you take me to
her . . . Arria?”

Arria
looked at her father, as if asking his permission. “You have to leave your guns
behind. I just couldn’t take another night like last night. She cried all night
’cause the danae was crying. Can’t bear to see her cry like that.”

“Daniel,
I give you my word that we won’t shoot that danae,” Calla said.

“Antiqua,
you was tough and mean sometimes, but you never lied to us. I guess she can
take you if she wants to.”

“Yes,
I want to,” Arria said shyly.

“But
Antiqua, I ain’t never lied to you neither, so I’m going to say it straight
out. You ain’t got no horse like you did in the old days, and that zephyr can’t
go where she’s gonna take you. And if you don’t march no better then you did
then, you might as well stay here in camp with me. Let the young folks go.”

Calla
stiffened and put her hands on her hips as if to protest. But after a moment
she turned to Jason, her eyes blazing but her voice saying evenly, “I’ll wait
here.”

“All
right,” he said unhappily. He didn’t like leaving her behind, but the girl was
already down at the stream, wading across. He followed.

***

Arria led him through up sloping forest, her pace steady
and fast over the uneven ground. Jason was hard-pressed to keep up after the
first hour. When they broke out of the forest, Arria took them through a
boulder field where the smallest rocks were waist high and so closely stacked
that it was impossible to walk around, only over. She moved like a cat, smooth
and easy, lifting herself over the rocks with her arms or legs with equal ease.
If he hadn’t been so engrossed in just keeping up, he would have enjoyed
watching her. At the top of the boulder field, she rolled up her pants legs
while she waited for him. Like the rest of her, her legs were lean and long.

“How
much farther?” Jason asked her.

“A
long way, “ she said, pushing a stray tendril of damp hair off her forehead.
She got up. “Tell me when you want to rest.”

“Now,”
Jason said, leaning back on the last boulder. Over Arria’s shoulder he could
see a switchback trail on the rock and rubble slope and was certain that was
the way they would go. “Arria, what did your father mean when he said you could
hear the danae crying? I’ve never known them to make a sound.”

Arria
shook her head. “Not sounds like we make, but I can hear them in my head.
Mostly they sing and I love to listen to them. Father says I don’t get my work
done when I listen to them sing.” She smiled as if to convey that her neglect
of her work was imagined and his anger wasn’t real either. “When the danae are
hurt or grieving, they cry, and it makes me cry, too.”

“Are
you psi?” he asked.

She
nodded, then added quickly, “but not like those crazy psi people back in the
Hub. I can’t hear what people are thinking, and I don’t know what the danae are
thinking. I hear songs in my head.”

“May
I see your tattoo?” Jason said.

Arria
shrugged and rolled up the thin sleeve on her right arm past her elbow. The
pattern was classic high intelligence, but the colors unusual. He traced the
pattern within the colors with his finger. Still holding her hand, he looked at
Arria’s eyes. They were fair, almost the color of rainwater, but they held his
gaze steadily, no trace of madness. He nodded and let go of her hand, felt
certain that a jelly bean scan of her tattoo would reveal a great deal of psi
tendency in her genetic makeup. “You should be in the Hub where you can be
trained to use your gift.”

Arria
shook her head. “No one likes a person who can read their minds,” she said. “I’d
be afraid to go back.” She shivered and rolled down her sleeve. “The danae
songs are quite enough psi for me.”

“But
you don’t understand the songs,” he said.

“Well,
I understand one song . . . the death song. When a danae is
dying, it calls to a nymph and serenades it until the cocoon is spun around
them both.”

Jason
felt the hair prickling on the back of his neck.” Are you saying that the danae
permit themselves to be eaten by their young? I’ve seen the nymphs cocoon
themselves with animals, but never with a danae.”

Arria
grinned mischievously. “Of course you don’t see it. They’re much too clever to
let those cocoons be found. But I can find them because I know exactly where to
look.”

“What . . .”
Jason’s voice squeaked and he swallowed hard, wished he’d brought some water along.
“What emerges from the cocoon?”

“A
danae, of course,” she said, looking at him as if he were stupid. She reached
into the pouch of her stellerator and pulled out a small flask of water and
handed it to him.

“A
young danae?”

Arria
shook her head and laughed. “A young
old
danae. It has a fresh young body, no scars, no aches or pains. But it sings the
old songs and the ones who were my friends recognize me.”

“Arria,
do you know what you have done?” She shook her head.

“You’ve
answered a question that’s been puzzling me for almost three years.”

“I’m
glad. But Governor?”

“Yes?”

“We
should be going. We’ll want to get back before the rain.”

Jason
looked at the cloudless blue sky. “The danae tell you that it’s going to rain?”

She
frowned as she followed his gaze up to the sky. “Two songs,” she said finally. “I
know two songs. I know the death song and I know the rain song.”

And
you knew that I was thirsty, he thought. How much more do you know, Arria Jinn,
that you do not even know that you know? He half expected the answer to appear
in his mind, but Arria merely smiled, replaced the water flask in the pouch and
started up the trail. Jason followed, but he was no longer thinking of the
wounded danae. He knew now how some of the danae could be intelligent and some
so wild. He could hardly wait to get back and tell Calla.

It had been raining since late afternoon, a soft steady
rain that freshened the rocks and trees. But Calla knew that worse was coming,
for she’d checked with
Belden Traveler
for a weather report and had learned that the rain was just the leading edge of
a major storm. There was no lightning yet, so she was not unduly concerned for
Jason and Arria, but she was becoming more annoyed that Jason had not
remembered to take his comm with him. His clerk back at Round House had
answered her call, and she’d just said, “Never mind.” Had one of her own people
pulled a fool stunt like going off into the wilderness without a comm, Calla
probably would have pulled the transgressor’s privileges for six months. She
could do nothing to Jason, and nothing for herself, except wait.