Rift in the Races (40 page)

He was exhausted.

He stopped long enough to stretch his back, close his eyes and try to drive the fatigue from his weary old bones. Opening his eyes again, he looked out across the field of tents, which looked for a moment like a mass graveyard with row upon row of identical graying canvas monuments. Beyond them, the gray of his castle with its large central tower and mismatched lesser towers rising at the cardinal corners—or at least, with two of them rising still. One had been permanently destroyed long ago, enchanted nearly to powder and forever un-repairable, but now, Altin’s was down too. Again. Where his should have been rose a scaffold—no strange sight to Calico Castle’s master and the mentor of self-destructive Sixes for centuries now—marking the site of near tragedy for the second time in as many years. He shook his head, his beard heavy and pendulous with the weight of all the water that had soaked in. A Seven might still prove little better than Six, he thought. And too much heartbreak for an old man to go through again. Not this time.

He pressed on, moving to the next tent in the line. He could hear the snores of a soldier sleeping off a night patrol. He opened the tent flap and stepped in uninvited. The air inside was moist and heavy with the smell of stale ale. Perhaps a different sort of night patrol.

“Soldier,” said Tytamon, prodding the man’s foot with his own. The grime encrusting his boot could hardly be counted dirtier than the filthy sock protruding from beneath the snoring soldier’s blanket, and Tytamon felt no remorse kicking it. He had to repeat the action thrice more before the man finally woke with a start.

“Aye, then,” began the bleary-eyed warrior, reaching across his body for a gladius lying near. “Orcs is it? I’ll have ‘em, sure!”

Tytamon put his foot on the sword. “No need for that.”

The soldier blinked up at him, squinting into light that to him seemed blinding, though it had already been filtered twice through clouds and canvas both.

“I have a simple question for you, and it demands a simple answer,” said Tytamon.

The man, despite the haze of hangover, recognized Tytamon immediately.

“My lord,” he said, scrambling to his feet.

“Save the formalities. Simply answer true.” Tytamon’s demeanor sobered the man, and he waited expectantly as Tytamon reached out an arm, pulled up his sleeve a little and presented his open hand. Tytamon whispered three short words, and the illusionary semblance of a small yellow crystal began rotating in the air just a few fingers’ breadth above his palm, an unattractive thing, not quite half the size of Tytamon’s thumb. “Have you seen anything that looks like this stone? Have you found one or noticed one lying around?”

The soldier leaned forward, breathing the acridity of the ale still souring in his gut onto the illusion. “She’s a plain one, that,” he said. “I expect if’n I’d seen it, I wouldn’t ha’ bothered with it much.”

“Think, man,” said Tytamon. “It is important. Have you seen it or not? No guesses.”

The soldier chewed on the side of his tongue as he considered, his mind sorting through the boozy cotton stuffing his skull and wrinkling his brow for the work of it. Finally, slowly, he shook his head, speaking it as well. “No, sir. I can’t say as I seen it. No, sir. Far sure, I hadn’t.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes, sir. Certain as death an’ service to the Queen.”

Tytamon turned to go.

“Sir,” pressed the man, used to being unceremoniously dismissed. Tytamon paused, looking back over his shoulder with tired eyes. “If’n I find it, I expect there’s a reward of the monetary variety, no doubt and all due respectin’ ta yer natural rights to disoblige of course. In’a that right?”

Tytamon left without answering. This was going to be a disaster. His gut told him so, and the divining spell he’d cast before coming out here suggested the same. The soldier’s question seemed to declare it an absolute.

But still Tytamon had to try. And so he went to the next tent in the line, his jaw firm and his stomach growling for want of a meal. He figured he was in for a long next several days.

Chapter 26

“N
o, you may not have your post back on my ship!” Captain Asad nearly spat the words. “You have been assigned to the Prosperion orb, at your request no less, and that is where you will stay until you are recalled. The fact that, for whatever reason, everyone in this fleet seems to feel you are the singular exception to regulations and protocol is indulgence enough. You may have, once again, whined, begged and for all I know slept your way out of discipline for being AWOL, but I will not indulge you here. You’re on their orb, and that’s the end of it.”

“Please,” Orli begged. “Captain. Please. He needs me. Altin can’t just sit in sick bay for three months with no one here to support him and help with his recovery. You know as well as anyone how important it is to keep a patient’s spirits up.”

“He will be getting the finest medical care in the galaxy, and your presence is not required in any fashion whatever while he is soaking in that tank. You need to learn your value to this fleet, Ensign. Humility would be good for you. Doctor Singh is capable of doing his work without you. Frankly, you should thank me for allowing it. Now, you are dismissed.”

“But—”

“You are dismissed.”

“Captain, please I—”

“Pewter, I said you are dismissed. Get off my bridge.”

Tears burned in her eyes as impotent rage filled her. But she managed to prevent them from running free. She’d done enough crying recently. She turned to go, entering the lift, but before the door closed, she turned back. “You didn’t allow it. Singh is the best doctor in the fleet, and you were ordered to take him by the fleet’s
new
admiral. Learn
your
worth, Captain. Humility would be good for you.”

The door closed on his reply, but his left cheek was twitching before she lost sight of him.

A little while later, she was sitting next to Altin staring into the pink fluid of the amniotic tank where he floated like some alien specimen preserved in a jar. She could see the rhythmic movements of his chest as he breathed, the slow and measured respiration of sleep. The fingers on his remaining arm twitched sometimes, and the movement beneath his eyelids indicated REM. He’d be in a perpetual state of it. Three months. An eternity.

She’d argued for a standard lattice, she knew enough of medicine for that. Just frame the arm up, place the stem cells and let them do their work. It was just an arm after all. They didn’t
have
to put him in the tank for that. A limb could be re-grown without going to such extremes. But it would take longer that way. Sudden movements make setbacks. Infections set in—though Altin had assured them that infections could be easily cured on Prosperion. In the end it came down to time. She’d tried to convince Altin not to let them put him under, tried to convince Doctor Singh not to do it, but with Altin—albeit barely coherent—, the admiral and even Captain Asad all in agreement, that’s precisely what they had done.

They needed Altin to show them where the Hostiles were, and they needed him to teleport a vessel there—assuming the test went well. The first of the teleportation tests were scheduled to take place in only a few more days, and if everything went according to plan, the fleet would be ready for Altin when he got out. The whole operation was in motion.

Roberto and an enthusiastic young ensign, transferred over from the
Abraham
, were going to pilot the shuttle, and they were prepping for it every day, trying to conceive of every possible contingency. Roberto had begged Orli to be his copilot, but she’d refused. As far as Orli was concerned, the whole thing was pointless. She just wanted to be with Altin. And if she had any say about it, she’d never leave the surface of Prosperion. The truth of it was, she felt a strong desire to hide the next time she went down to the planet. Just run off. Maybe even take Thadius up on his offer for a while. It didn’t have to be permanent. It didn’t have to be long. She could stay for a short time, long enough to learn Prosperion customs a little better. She would definitely have to be perfectly clear with Thadius that he was not going to receive any … rewards for his kindness, beyond her friendship and gratitude, but she didn’t think that would be too difficult if Altin’s sense of propriety gave any clue about the ways of Kurr, especially among society’s elite. Thadius would probably even agree to keep her presence secret, keep her hidden away from any searching eyes. He had the means to do it, and the magic too. Nothing a few batted eyelashes couldn’t get done.

She wondered how jealous of Thadius Altin would be. She suspected very much. The two of them certainly went at it, however decorously, whenever they were in the same room, and especially when Orli was around.

“He hates that I’m a commoner,” Altin had once explained to her. “He looks down on any commoner, but most of all a commoner with magic gifts like mine. He thinks it somehow undermines his place in society.”

“And what do you hate so much about him?” she’d asked.

“Beyond the fact that Thadius is a full-fledged son of a harpy, he’s also condescending, pompous, deceitful and, frankly, a knave.”

She’d laughed.

Her breath fogged the glass where her face was pressed against the tank as she reflected on his remarks. He would be jealous. But she could make him understand. He knew she couldn’t do this much longer, live in space, not even to be part of his life. He’d said as much. And she really wasn’t sure she could go through with it all, even on
Citadel
. Not after what had happened to them. Not after
this
.

She watched him floating and felt a rush of emotion. It reminded her how she’d felt out there, so far away, drifting at the edge of the Hostile solar system all alone, just the two of them. And that
thing
. She knew somehow that there was a thing. The thing that had sent the emotions to her. But she had no way of expressing it. It wasn’t even a dream. No vision. No anything. A hunch. A feeling. An instinct.

Nothing, maybe.

Doctor Singh approached as she stared into the tank. She wasn’t really seeing Altin anymore, and the man moved with the practiced quiet of someone used to letting people sleep.

He watched her for a moment before softly clearing his throat.

She looked up. Smiled.

“You look tired, Orli. You need some rest.”

“Well, I’ll have to get it on Prosperion,” she replied. “I ship out at oh-six-hundred.”

“Well, make sure you do. You haven’t gotten a full night’s sleep since their doctors let you go.”

“I know. I was worried about him.” She nodded toward the tank.

“He’ll be fine. It’s
you
I’m worried about.”

“I’m fine.”

“I know you are. But I also know how you can be.” The way he looked at her, long and honest, as if his eyes scanned well beneath simple flesh and bone.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was strong. She meant it. “Really. Hell, I’m going to Prosperion. You’re the one stuck here. I should be worried about you.”

That put some of his concern to rest. But not all. “You’re also still assigned a mission in space, which we both know is not what you really want to do.”

“It’s only until the Hostiles are destroyed.”

“We’re a long way from that, even if the two of you did confirm where they are coming from.”

“Well, I’m not sure we confirmed it. But we did ‘significantly increase the measure of probability.’” She was echoing Captain Asad’s reluctant assessment of her report.

Doctor Singh recognized the words and grinned. “Now you sound like the captain,” he said, baiting her and hoping for a smile.

“Hey, that was rude.” The doctor got his wish.

He smiled back and stroked her hair with a warm, coffee-brown hand. “No offense.” He winked.

“Take good care of him,” she said. “I know stuff goes wrong in there.” She rapped a knuckle against the side of the tank. “It’s creepy growing things that fast.”

“No creepier than being in the womb.”

“I don’t remember, so I wouldn’t know.” She tried to smile but had already run out of energy for humor. “Just … you know.”

“I know.”

She stood and looked up into his rich dark eyes, so filled with kindness and an abiding generosity. She forced a smile this time.

“It’s not going to be that long,” he said.

“It is. It
is
going to be that long. Three months. And I’m going to be down there all alone. And the captain said I can’t even come back for leave. Careful what you wish for, eh?”

“Well, that is a bit extreme on his part, but you do get under his skin.”

“I hate him.”

He let out a long breath and nodded patiently. “Yes, I know.” His face brightened then. “But you won’t be alone. You’ll have Master Tytamon to keep you company. And Kettle. My lord, but that woman can cook. She’ll chat your ears off whenever you need a diversion, and fatten you up to boot.”

“All the more reason to run,” she said, faking humor for his sake, at least at first. The thought of spending time at Calico Castle wasn’t without an uplifting effect. “You are right, though. I won’t have much to do on
Citadel
for a while. Setting up the entanglement array won’t take anything close to the whole three months. There will be nothing for me to do. I’ll be forced to run and explore and maybe even learn how to ride a horse.” That thought cheered her significantly. “A horse. Can you imagine!”