People of the Sky (34 page)

“I will take you to him,” said Chamol. She paused before she turned to lead the way, a question unspoken in her eyes.

Do I want to see Imiya
? Kesbe thought. She needed to be sure he was in no further danger, yet she knew she would find it difficult to face him. Her uneasiness would not be due to anything
inhabiting his belly, for that was gone, but what was in his face.

The walk went too quickly. Kesbe was there before she wished to be, standing in the outer rooms of the area where Nabamida lived with his wife. She knew she could take what she needed and run. As Nabamida placed the aircraft’s keys in her hand, Imiya called weakly from next room.

“Come,” said Nabamida, taking her by the hand. “He wishes to see you.” He paused. “When I entered Grandmother Aronan to reclaim my nephew, I found something else as well.”

“The embryo the boy expelled?” Kesbe repressed a shiver, remembering how the thing had thrashed in the rudder pedal well. “Was it still alive?”

Nabamida shook his head gravely. “That aronan-child was malformed. It would not have lived even had he carried it to birth. I said the words of death over it and gave it to the earth. This was a sorrowful thing. Now it is ended.”

He pushed back the doorflap, letting Kesbe go ahead By flickering lamplight, she saw Imiya resting on a pine-branch pallet. The shadows heightened the hollows in his face and the ribs that stood out in his chest. Bearing the embryo had cost him much.

“Kesbe-Rohoni?” The eyes focused on her. She stooped beside the pine-branch bed. Tears welled up, brimmed over from his eyes. Kesbe felt her own throat close.

“It will be all right now,” she said in a husky whisper.

“No. Nothing is right. I have failed again. In my fear and foolishness. I killed Haewi Namij. In my weakness, I have lost the aronan-child. I am not worthy to be an adult among my people.”

“Imiya,” Kesbe began, finding it hard to frame her feelings into words, “You aren’t responsible for what happened.”

“Sahacat told me that bearing the aronan-child was the only road back…”

“Sahacat used you for her own purposes,” Kesbe said sharply, then softened her voice. “Imiya, you will not be made outcast from your people because of her or because of me. There is another way and I swear we will find it.”

A trembling smile found its way onto his face. “When you speak so strongly, Kesbe-Rohoni, I can almost hope.”

She leaned over him, almost fiercely. “I’m telling you to hope. I’m also telling you to rest and eat and get strong again because you will be a man and your people will need you “

He nodded wordlessly. Kesbe stood up, feeling her knees crack. Her hand made a fist about
Gooney’s
keys. “Take care of him,” she said to Nabamida and left the pueblo.

Though the morning was still new, the sun felt hot on Kesbe’s back as she ran the trail to the mesa. The sweat on her forehead was not only from the effort of running. How much time had passed since she’d made that radio call to Tony Mabena? Enough so that, if he had taken her seriously, Canaback would be alerted and on the move. No. The question was whether the authorities had taken him seriously.

With the thrust of a key into the cargo hatch lock she flung the door open, jumped inside and grabbed the old radio. Panting, she turned the crank handle, listening to the receiver spit while she held the old disk-microphone to her lips.

She gave the aricraft’s call letters as her identifier, repeating herself but getting no reply. She cranked harder. Had the old junker finally failed or was Mabena’s engineer no longer monitoring her frequency? Even if she got through, would there be any chance of stopping the events that she had set into motion?

She was starting to grind her teeth in despair when a tinny voice sounded in the transmitter. It
was Mabena’s engineer. A few minutes later, she heard Tony’s voice. “Lady pilot, I was wondering when we’d hear from you.”

“Never mind that,” Kesbe said quickly. “Did you relay my distress call to Canaback? And did they respond?”

“Of course I did. And they listened to me, for once. They’re sending out an expeditionary force from the base. Between you and me, dear pilot, I think the military element was just waiting for a chance to move in and check out those strange rumors that were floating around.”

Kesbe felt her shoulders slump. “Oh no.”

“Excuse me?” queried the voice on the radio.

“Tony, I’ve got to stop Canaback from moving in. I was wrong about the Pai Yinaye.”

“The last time you spoke to me, you had some strong feelings on the subject of those aronan-creatures. You said a child had been parasitized and that everyone was in danger from the things.”

“The boy is all right now. It was something normal…that had gone wrong.”

“Normal?”

“For the Pai people. I know this must be hard to understand, but these people have aronans as partners…essentially as lovers. Technically it is parisitism, but a benevolent version. The host gives himself or herself willingly and as a result is not harmed.”

“The ultimate in xenophilia,” Tony said after a moment of silence. “I think I begin to understand.” He paused. “You have made yourself a pretty situation, dear pilot.”

Kesbe groaned. “Do you know what I have let loose on these people? My own tribe, my ancient people, were destroyed by the invasion of Europeans from the outside. And now it’s going to happen again because I was just too damn scared of myself to see the truth…” She caught herself as her voice was starting to break. “Tony, I have to stop this ‘rescue.’ The Pai mean too much to me now to see them herded into evacuation craft and their aronans shot or fried with flame-throwers.”

“From the com-chatter on the channels I’ve heard Canaback’s got a new weapon that is particularly obnoxious against arthropod-type species,” said Mabena. “It projects an ultrasound beam that causes their body fluids to bubble and froth, disrupting tissues in a fatal manner. It has minimal effect on humans. From what I heard, I imagine it will be deployed.”

Kesbe felt something cold and sharp stab into the pit of her stomach as she thought of Baqui Iba writhing on the ground with foaming serum bubbling from its joints as it died. She caught herself. She had to think, dammit, not let her feelings run away with her. That’s what had got her into this mess in the first place.

“Tony,” she said. “What kind of craft will the evacuation force be using?”

“Modified strato-vans. The usual laser propulsion. No hull-mounted weapons, since they don’t expect any sophisticated resistance.”

A bright flash of glare from sun on the C-47’s wings came through a windowed port and dazzled Kesbe. She shielded her eyes with one hand. Even as she blinked against the glare, her mind was off and running. Lasers were like sunlight. They could be deflected by a mirror. Mirrors. If she only had one large enough, she could cut in behind the evacuation craft and divert the externally-beamed power lasers from them. They’d have enough reserve to glide helplessly to a landing, but that would be all.

Kesbe nearly laughed aloud and her knees went weak. She had all the mirrors she needed.
Gooney Berg
had a huge wing area for her size and nearly all of it was reflective metal.

“Dear pilot,” said the forgotten voice on the radio, which had started to fade when Kesbe
slowed her cranking, “are you generating a plan?”

She started, then brought the mike closer to her lips. “I am indeed, Mr. Mabena. I’ll give you the final details when I’m in the air. First, I’ve got to put a little ‘polish’ on it.”

“I may be able to borrow a neighbor’s stratocar,” said Mabena, after another short silence. “If you need my help, give me a set of coordinates at which to rendezvous.”

Kesbe gave them to him and added her lasercom frequency, thinking she might have a chance to use the thing if she got to altitude. “Watch out when you arrive,” she cautioned. “There may be a few sparks flying.”

“Caution noted,” replied Mabena dryly. “Over and out.”

She put the radio aside, went forward and peered out a cabin port, studying the C-47’s wings. Thank the ancestors, or someone, that she hadn’t decided to have them re-painted in the original drab and olive but instead had decided on a metallic finish. She saw more than a few oily smears and mud spatters, however. Kesbe tried to picture the results of interposing
Gooney’s
aluminum alloy wing into the beam of a propulsion-feed laser. Anything non-reflective would be incinerated. That oil streak across the middle of the left wing might well cost her half that wing.

She yanked out her toolbox, praising the presence of a battery-powered portable grinder and some buffing disks. With luck she could clean up at least the top side of each wing before she took to the air. Maybe also the tail and the horizontal stabilizer. The more dark material she removed from the aircraft, the better chance she would have of keeping it in one piece under the onslaught of the feed-laser for the evacuation craft.

She remembered an ancient photograph she had seen while researching the history of the C-47. It showed one of
Gooney Berg’s
contemporaries so riddled with shell fragments that the remaining metal of the airframe barely held it together. Miraculously, that plane had brought home everyone aboard.
Gooney
might just be able to do the same thing, but Kesbe had the feeling that her C-47 might have just about used up all its allotted miracles. She got busy with the power tool.

Kesbe gave herself a half-hour by the sun’s movement of her shadow to get the worst of the exhaust and oil-stains off the wings. She stood up on the left wing, mopped her brow and hoped it would be enough. If it wasn’t, she’d know soon enough, when the C-47’s aluminum skin was seared open by the feed laser.

Perhaps, just perhaps, she’d be able to talk the expedition leader into calling off his mission and there would be no need for her to risk
Gooney
. She squinted up at the sky. In the end, it would be her and the unique capabilities of her ancient aircraft against the highly sophisticated vehicles and equipment of the evacuation team.

Nonetheless, when Kesbe made her way to the cockpit after a thorough pre-flight walkaround, she checked to be sure her repaired lasercom system would operate. She felt a hard lump in her throat as she fired up the engines. Because of her own mistakes and misjudgments, the old plane had already been pitted against the forces of weather and treacherous terrain. Now she was asking
Gooney Berg
to face a technology that had raced on for three hundred years while the C-47 lay entombed in glacial ice.

Just one more miracle, Grandmother Aronan. Just one more, and I’ll never ask again.

The flash of sunglare on the wings as she pivoted the plane around for the take-off run dazzled her momentarily. Perhaps she’d managed to do enough. Perhaps her crazy plan would work after all. And then the engines roared in her ears and the acceleration pressed her down and back in her seat as
Gooney Berg
swept off the mesa into the morning sky.

She blessed the absence of heavy cloud over the Barranca and the clear air that allowed her to see for kilometers across the great canyon. She began a large patrolling circle with the Pai Mesa at its center. The sky was a light but intense blue. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the distant horizon with her electronic binocular.

At first she thought the tiny speck might be a flaw in her lens. Then the speck grew to a dot and another appeared with it. A faint line of crimson light seemed to tether each ship to the top of the sky and a stronger beam shot out the back. The propulsion feed lasers beamed from a geosynchronous satellite overhead.

Kesbe shoved her viewer aside and got on the lasercom. Among other things, Mabena had given her the rescue force’s beam frequency. She hailed the incoming ships with her call sign and identified her aircraft.

“This is Commander Bridges from Canaback Search One,” replied a man’s voice. “We have been informed of your situation, Miss Temiya, and are proceeding as requested.”

“Canaback Search One, the situation has changed,” Kesbe replied. “Your assistance is not needed at this time.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Temiya. We may have misunderstood. Say again.”

Kesbe repeated her message, adding, “I made a mistake in judgment.”

“You reported via Tony Mabena that there are people living in the Barranca who are in danger from an alien species previously thought harmless. We have validated the first part of your report. Our on-board long-range bioscan has detected a habitation of human beings in this area. In addition, we have picked up an accompanying concentration of the aronan species.”

“Yes, it is true,” she answered, knowing now that she could no longer conceal the existence of the Pai Yinaye from the authorities. “But the rest of what I told you…was wrong.”

“We’ll find that out when we investigate,” said the voice, sounding a little gruffer.

“Please, leave them alone. If you want to punish or fine me for sending in a false alert, I’ll go with you to the base.”

“I regret we can’t do that, Miss Temiya. The fact is that you have discovered an unknown population that now needs to be brought under our jurisdiction.” The voice hardened. “It is also possible that either you’re lying or have been duped into cooperation with the target alien species. You may have also been drugged.”

Kesbe felt her temper flare at this bit of idiocy. “Drugged? How the hell could I be single-handing an antique C-47 if I were drugged? You fellows aren’t wanted and aren’t needed. I apologize. Now turn around and get your tails back to base.”

“Miss Temiya, the kind of aircraft you are flying has no bearing on this. In fact I suggest you land your anachronism and let us transport you back to base.”

“Let me tell you something, Commander,” Kesbe had to work hard to keep from shouting into the lasercom pickup. These people are not part of your so-called jurisdiction and never have been. They came here hundreds of years ago to escape your world and everything it represents. If you don’t call off this damned invasion, because that’s what it is, I’ll show you just what my ‘anachronism’ can do.”