Fire Time (31 page)

JILL
Twice bereaved?

HANSHAW
: What’d I say? Slip of the tongue. Let’s not waste breath, let’s discuss the wherefores of recovering you. Why didn’t you get in touch immediately after you completed your survey, Ian?

JILL
: Wait a minute.

HANSHAW
: Uh–

JILL
: Wait a bloody minute. You said, when you called before, my capture helped bring on the strike. But I’d been captured many days earlier. You were glossing something over, God. What happened next?

SPARLING
: Jill, you wait. We’ll get briefed when we get back.

JILL
: God, what are you hiding?

HANSHAW
: Ian’s right, girl. Wait.

Silence.

JILL
(a dead voice): It was Don, wasn’t it? News about my brother.

Silence.

HANSHAW
: Yes. He was killed in action.

Silence.

SPARLING
: Jill, darling, laren–

JILL
: Odd. I feel just numb.

SPARLING
: You’ve been hurt to the heart already.

JILL
: How’s the family bearing up?

HANSHAW
: Strongly. All you Conways are that sort. But me and my big flapping mouth– Jill, I’m, I’m sorry–

JILL
: No, you did right. I’d want to know. … Ian, can I sit down on this log and hold your hand, and you discuss the rest?

SPARLING
: Of course. I love you.

Silence.

SPARLING
: Hello, God? Excuse, please. A shock to me too.

HANSHAW
: Everybody liked Don, and nobody liked the war. His death triggered the resistance.

SPARLING
(with slight difficulty): This doubles the reason for relieving Port Rua. A memorial– But see here. We’ve another reason yet. One that changes everything. Our way, we think, our way to force help out of somebody. In these parts and northward is intelligent T-life.

HANSHAW
: Huh?

SPARLING
: Yes. The weirdest little beings. Judas! I’d guess the study of their psychology alone could bring on a revolution in that field.

HANSHAW
: Are you sure they’re sophonts?

SPARLING
: We’ve met a few. Seen them handle artifacts. Exchanged signs, if not words. Arnanak, the barbarian king, had contacted them, traveled way into their country and– He’s using them to reinforce his power; the valenneners think they’re supernatural. In reality, he’s made a deal. They’ll share in the booty of better lands when he’s finished his conquests. But here’s the peak of it all. They’re few and primitive, these dauri, as he calls them … but they know
where an ancient Tammuzian ruin is. What it was like originally, what it’s like after a billion years, I have no idea. However, Arnanak brought home an object, a portable star display is my guess, that time hasn’t touched. Mull that over a while!

HANSHAW
: Whe-ew-w-w. …

SPARLING
: Obviously we humans can offer the dauri a lot more than he can, and learn about them and – (Oh, Jill, Jill) – but only if we can function effectively here on Ishtar. Which requires we have the Gathering to help us – which requires we save it – and with the dauri living in Valennen, Port Rua is the place to start.

Silence.

HANSHAW
: M-m-m, yes, I agree. At a bare minimum, if we knack the barbarian organization, keep the outpost, yes, then the Gathering should be able to mount guard on the north; and there won’t be that awful pressure on the south. … Yes. But how, Ian?

SPARLING
: Would it be possible for the flyer, no, the flyers that fetch us to carry homemade bombs? Apparently the enemy makes massed charges, trying to reach the walls and break through by sheer weight of numbers. Bombs dropped into the brown of them – I hate the idea, but consider the alternative.

HANSHAW
: Are you sure it’d work?

SPARLING
: No. But we haven’t thought of anything better to try.

HANSHAW
: Uh-huh. Well, let me see. Our explosives are locked away these days, but – m-m-m– Well, I’ll have to ponder as you suggest, and consult a few reliable men, and– You can wait some days, can’t you?

SPARLING
: Yes, we assumed we’d have to.

HANSHAW
: We’ll keep in touch. How about I call you daily at – shall we say noon?

SPARLING
: That sounds reasonable.

HANSHAW
: Starting tomorrow, then.

SPARLING
: Now we’d better sign off

HANSHAW
: Until tomorrow. Jill, I’m so unspeakably sorry.

JILL
: That’s all right, God. Let’s … go on … and salvage what they both lived for.

Click.

Half a minute passed before Hanshaw added slowly to Dejerine: ‘What all Primavera lives for. You try to suppress aid in the teeth of this news, and you probably will touch off a revolt.’

Dejerine nodded. He felt stunned and drained.

‘The single thing you need do,’ Hanshaw said,
is not
react vigorously to the storehouse incident. Explain in your report that you’re holding off action while you investigate. GHQ will agree that’s a sound policy, I’m sure. We figure we can send off our expedition in maybe five days. Afterward we’ll face the music.’

The resolution did not burst upon Dejerine. It appeared to his awareness like something which had been there for a time, in embryo for a much longer time, and its strength lent a great calm.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Delay is not necessary.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I will go, in a naval aircraft. Far more effective, not to mention safer for – for her, in case of sudden bad weather. Tomorrow at noon when you call, I will be here to make arrangements.’

‘But “effective”? You say you can’t get into this fight.’

‘I can carry out a rescue, with part of my aim the improvement of the Navy’s public relations. There is no need for Miss Conway or Mr Sparling to be present when your bombers strike, is there?’

Hanshaw regarded Dejerine closely before he asked, ‘You’ll go yourself, solo?’

‘Yes. To preserve discretion.’

‘I see.’ The mayor rolled to his feet and thrust out his hand. ‘Okay, Yuri! How about a beer?’

The morning before rendezvous, Sparling and Jill announced that they intended another overnight trip. Innukrat regarded them closely. ‘For what?’ she asked.

‘You know my work is to learn about animals,’ Jill answered. ‘I would observe those that fare by darkness.’

‘Aye. And yet–’ Arnanak’s wife sighed. ‘Your manner has changed of late. I wish I knew your kind well enough to guess how or why. But I see it, and hear it in your speech.’ Her nostril dilated. ‘I smell it.’

Jill stood taken aback. Sparling jumped into the breach: ‘You are right. The battle for Port Rua must be well along, maybe ended. They are our friends yonder. Do you not fear for those you care about, and long for any word even though it be evil?’

‘Are we that alike?’ Innukrat said very quietly. ‘Then go you shall if you wish. I have my work here to keep me from thinking too much.’ She gave them a generous ration both of native food and supplement.

When they were afoot, Jill confessed: ‘I thought I was a fanatic (j.g.). Instead, I feel treacherous.’

‘Don’t,’ Sparling said. ‘Nobody alive can be more loyal than you. But loyalty to the whole of creation isn’t possible.’

As I have found out, Rhoda,
jabbed within him.
Tomorrow I must face you, who’ve never stopped loving me.

And I may do that with manacles on my wrists. Is this why I hope my crazy scheme will work?
He touched the hunting knife which he, like the girl, wore.
Why did the idea hit me in the first place, after what Dejerine told us? Could it be that the amateur bombing plot won’t likely get me in enough trouble to make love unimportant?

He glanced at her profile, envied her straightforwardness, then:
Stop groveling! What a waste of our last time alone.

They spoke seldom through the next hour, for the climb was hard to their goal. When the subject arose of where that was to be, they had simultaneously named the same place; and their eyes met and they laughed. It had the required characteristics, distance from Ulu, easy identifiability, safe landing for a vehicle. Other locations were handier. But here they could spend an easy evening.

Timberline in Valennen was drawn not by cold but by aridity; and evolution in the Starklands had given T-life greater endurance of this than ortho-life. At the campsite, red and yellow forest had, kilometers behind, yielded to blue growth of different shape, fringed, leathery to the touch. Bushes grew well apart. Still wider spaced were trees. But where the mountain thrust forth an enormous outcrop, which the Ulu folk named Arnanak’s Rump in his presence, a concavity on the south side cast shade. From under the foot trickled a spring. Nearby rose the dark bronze trunk of a phoenix, whose roof gave further shelter. The ground was padded with cerulean turf. Here and there sparkled bright orange not-quite-flowers. Westward the plateau became entirely open, and outlook ran unhindered to the gray awesomeness of the Worldwall.

The humans fell prone on opposite sides of the water, drank and drank. Sparling noticed blessed coolness and a tang of iron, but mainly Jill’s cheek against his and a strand of blonde hair in the rivulet. Slaked, they settled down in shadow dappled crimson and gold. There was a curious absence of odor from the soil – human noses didn’t respond – but no matter; his body and hers breathed forth a fragrance of flesh that had been at work outdoors.

‘Hoo-ha,’ Jill said. ‘Let’s just sit a while and sweat.’

Sparling’s gaze lingered on her as he chose words. ‘I’m happier than I can explain, seeing you aren’t downcast.’

She tossed her head. ‘I refuse to be. Don, Larreka – I’ll mourn afterward. Neither would want me doing it here … nor you, Ian.’

‘I wish I had, well, your ability – no, your courage to be glad.’

Her smile was lopsided. ‘You think that comes easy? It’s
a fight, and I don’t win every round.’ She reached to ruffle his hair. ‘Let’s help each other stay cheerful,
amante.
Captain’s dinner tonight, followed by revelry. Tomorrow we make port.’

‘What then?’

‘Who knows?’ She grew altogether serious. Tears jeweled the thick lashes. ‘I ask one thing of you, Ian. One solemn promise.’

‘Yes?’
You can have any I dare give.

‘Your word of honor. Whatever I do, don’t try to stop me.’

‘What? What are you thinking of?’
Suicide? Impossible!

Her eyes dropped; fingers wrestled in her lap. ‘I can’t rightly tell. Everything’s tangled beyond redemption. But, oh, suppose I decided to – go propagandize on Earth, on behalf of Ishtar. I can claim accumulated leave, my right to a passage. You can’t, and I doubt you can buy a ticket either while the war lasts. You could hold me back, though, by begging me to stay and be your mistress.’

‘Do you imagine I’d be that selfish? Making you act against your conscience? In fact – when we return, I have … my obligations, and you shouldn’t spend more of your life on an old man who can’t ever give you anything real–’
Assuming I’m there at all.

She laid a hand across his mouth. He kissed her palm. ‘Hush,’ she said. ‘We’ll work that out later on, when we know what’s best, least unkind.’ Rapidly: ‘See why I want your word, effective immediately, you’ll let me find my own way, whatever it may turn out to be? I have to explore these questions freely.’

He nodded. She released him to reply, ‘Yes. Maybe I should’ve expected this demand from you. Freedom,’ and wonder why she winced. But in a moment she pursued:

‘Then I have your promise?’ And he responded:

‘Yes, you do.’

She cast both arms around him. ‘Thank you, thank you!’ She struggled not to weep. ‘I never loved you more than now.’

He comforted her as best he was able. In a surprisingly
short time she could lift eyes full of mischief and breathe, ‘I’ll start collecting right away. Guess what you mustn’t prevent me from doing.’ And very soon after: ‘Ah, yes, I figured you’d co-operate.’

Later, when Anu hung immense above the peaks, they built a fire and cooked supper. Then came stars and moons. They would sleep a little, and rouse to each other again.

The rescue vehicle arrived at mid-morning.

‘There he comes!’ Jill called. Sparling’s look followed her up-flung hand. A blinding-bright spark hurtled out of the south, became a winged barracuda shape, overshot, looped back, and circled far overhead, trailing thunder. They embraced a final hasty time and ran from rock and tree, into the heat and glare beneath naked heaven where they could be seen.

The aircraft slanted down. Jill whistled. ‘That’s a
big
Boojum,’ she said.

A
Huitzilopochtli,
Sparling recognized.
Six machine guns, three cannon, an energy projector, and a couple of one-kiloton blast-focused missiles.
His head had felt a bit hollow and sandy, but the feeling vanished in a thrum of excitement.

The microcom on his wrist beeped. He admitted Dejerine’s voice: ‘Hello on the ground. All clear?’

‘All clear,’ Jill responded. ‘Come join the party.’

The vessel did. Sparling’s heart banged. Was the officer indeed aboard alone, as he had mentioned he would be? Sensors, computers, effectors, and whatnot, that was nevertheless a lot of machine to single-hand.
Part of me wishes he’s got companions or
–
or anything.
… It halted. They jogged toward it.

A lock opened and extruded a gangway. Dejerine appeared at the top, a slim figure in a trim field uniform. He waved. Jill waved back. Metal thudded beneath hastening boots.

Dejerine shook their hands. His clasp was enthusiastic. But did he seem tired, nervous, even suspicious?
Well, after what he’s been through–He bears no side arm. No side arm.