Spear of Light (27 page)

She took a sip of her own wine, a rich red Nona had sent up from Lym. “How do you know?”

“They're not losing themselves so much in the songs. They're talking more at intermissions. Some of my regulars talk about everything and nothing and seem lost. They say there's going to be a fight.”

“There might be.” The wine was good, and she eyed the cabinet she kept the bottle in. “Are you okay?”

“I'll make it through.”

“I know.” She clapped him on the back. “Stay in touch.”

“I always do.”

He reported to her regularly, maybe more than any of the others. He saw more nuanced details, as well, and should be rewarded. “Your numbers are going up in spite of the restlessness,” she offered him. “You'll probably hit a higher bonus level this season.”

He looked proud. “I'm only two concerts away, I think. The last one sold out.”

She took a mental note to push his next two events. She didn't want to lose him to any other organizers.

She poured the rest of the Lym wine and drank it as she said goodbye to the others. After she'd spent a personal moment with each of them, she left them to finish the wine and the chocolates and the rich foods. Two of her managers were there; they would take care of things.

Three hours later, she curled on the couch in Neil's office, drinking tea that came from his sun-colored pot, grateful to have that particular ritual over and just beginning to recover fully from the wine.

Neil came in from the privy and poured himself a cup of tea. They made small talk about the Independent Strength. Even though they had added two new members this last week, they'd lost a ship to an accident when it failed to stick a landing on a small moon and crashed.

The Next's gifts were helping them, but not very fast. Certainly not as fast as the Next had expected or hoped.

“I'm restless,” he said.

“I've just been hearing that from my performers.”

“I mean it. I'm going to change.”

She sat up. “Change what?”

“I want you to send me to Lym the next time you send Nona a shipment.”

Surely she'd heard him wrong. “Why? Do you think you can help her?”

“I'm going to apply.”

“For what?”

“To become.”

She stared at him. “You're going to try to
become
a fucking robot? You?”

Naive excitement laced his voice. “It's a great idea.”

“You might die.”

“I will die if I don't do this.”

“You'll die faster.” She heard the sharp tone in her voice and regretted it. They were only friends, but they talked almost every day, and they had spent many long afternoons together. She didn't have the right.

“It's ideal. Don't you see? I'm a Historian. I can see history unfold.”

She would have expected this from Hiram trying to see the future, but not from Neil. When you have nothing good to say . . .

“I have a question for you,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Would you like my job?”

She nearly dropped the perfect, fine yellow teacup on the floor.

PART THREE

SMALL FIGHTS

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHARLIE

Charlie sat in the dispatch center, watching the last bit of sunset fade from the sky and sipping mint tea.

Gerry wagged a finger to get his attention.

“Yes?”

“I just sent you a video.”

He looked down at his slate. Sure enough, a link blinked right in the middle of his screen. He pressed it.

A satellite shot; the tops of trees were points rather than lines and dry watersheds were easy to identify as they spidered over high ridges. He stared at it for a while before deciding it must be the hills on the far side of the ridge beyond Ice Fall Valley. They were rocky and full of scrub trees, a far different ecosystem than the verdant valley with its plentiful water. Here, trees clung to rocks and sent long tendrils of roots down and out to suck up traces of moisture in the long summer between rainy spells. He watched carefully, expecting Kyle or another ranger.

Three figures. Naked.

The robots.

Three. Gerry stopped the video and zoomed in.

Jason, Yi, and Chrystal.

“Wow,” he said.

“I thought you'd be interested in that.”

He was. Very. “You won't show it to anyone else?”

“You now have the only copy in existence.”

He let out a long sigh. “Thank you. That's from today?”

She stood and came over to perch on the arm of his chair. “Yes. Go ahead and watch the whole thing. It's on one and a quarter speed.”

He did. They were clearly searching for something, moving through canyons and ravine with a purpose. Just as the shadows began to grow so long he was afraid he'd lose them in the darkness, they clearly found it. One by one, all three of them climbed into a hole in the wall.

Outside, it had grown fully dark. Cricket nuzzled at his legs, wanting dinner.

He very much wanted to know what the soulbots were doing out here. Bringing Chrystal anywhere outside of Nexity seemed risky. Her death had been broadcast system wide and talked about for weeks. Pictures of her still decorated social webs from time to time.

“That's it,” Gerry said. “A cave of some kind. Do you have any idea what it is?”

“I'm not sure.” He zoomed out and identified the place where Amfi's home had to be. It was hard to imagine the cave stretched that far. But the robots
had
been gone all night looking for an exit, and they were faster than humans. They were machines. No matter how often he forgot that, it wasn't a smart thing to forget.

Gerry put a hand on his shoulder. “You didn't know about this?”

“I haven't seen Yi or Jason since I left Hope.”

“Should I watch that place in the morning?”

“Don't record it.”

She gave him a long steady look and then shook her head. “I don't keep secrets.”

She took pride in her job. She should; she'd done well to notice the small naked robots in the vast, gnarled mountains in the first place. “If you don't record it, you won't have a secret to keep. I trust them, but most people don't. I don't want them shot at again.”

Gerry took a deep breath and gazed directly at him. “What if someone asks me?”

He took her hand. “If someone asks, you tell them. I don't expect you to lie. You can even watch me go try to find them. That would help me out.”

She put her other hand on his, still looking directly into his eyes gravely. “If I never have to lie except by omission.”

He pulled her to him for a quick, friendly hug. “You never have to lie for me. Ever. I promise.”

Charlie grated sharp cheese into a ceramic bowl that Jean Paul had made for them years ago. A fire burned brightly in the main room, the flickering of its light spilling into the kitchen. Cricket stood in the corner, slurping the last of her dinner. Everything looked friendly and homey, the air filled with the scent of lad's bark and grated poury peel he had sprinkled on the fire.

It made him hungry.

Cricket looked up as the front door swung open. He signaled her to stay and went to greet Alinnia and Susan. Alinnia's long-fingered hands clutched a fistful of dark, leafy greens with red and yellow orbs below them. “For the stew.”

Burnt-root. “Thanks.” They didn't look much worse than when he last saw them, maybe thinner. Alinnia stood a full head or more taller than Susan, all long, thin limbs and thin-faced seriousness. She had reddish-blond hair with black streaks and pale, freckled skin. In spite of her lankiness, every bit of skin wrapped toned muscle. It was immediately obvious that getting into a fight with her would put anyone shorter at a huge disadvantage. When he had sparred with her in training, his wins had all come hard, and there had been a few losses.

Susan didn't have nearly Alinnia's reach, or her grace. She was blond, stocky, short, and very, very bouncy.

He gave them each tasks to do and asked them about their day. After some small talk, he said, “Tomorrow, I'm sending you to the plains. I'd like counts of all of the grazers. Gerry has a list of five days' worth of work for you.”

Alinnia looked up from the counter where she was shaving the burnt-root into thin slices that would practically melt into the stew. “You'll be gone that long?”

“Yes. I need to find out what's happening on the farms. No one's flown that circuit since the Next landed.”

“Don't they do that from Manna Springs?” she asked.

“Not lately. Will you two be okay?”

Susan stopped partway through picking a noodle out of a pot of boiling water. “Of course.”

“Will you spar at night? Keep yourselves in good shape?”

Susan again. “Of course.”

He got the sense he was irritating her, although he wasn't exactly sure why. He worked in silence for a while, and the three of them assembled the meal. It seemed to help that he'd stopped talking, since as soon as they covered the stewpot for its last steaming, Alinnia said, “It's good to be back.”

There. That was the opening he wanted. “Why did you come back?”

“We wanted to be back at work.”

“Was that all?”

The two women exchanged glances, and then Susan said, “Yes.”

He frowned. Gerry had spoken the truth. They didn't trust him. He led them to seats by the fire and poured wine all around. After they'd had a few moments to enjoy the quiet, he leaned forward and tried again. “It's important to trust each other. It feels like there could be conflict, even fights. So let's be sure the fights aren't among ourselves.”

Alinnia raised her glass, looked at him, and after a few moments said, “Surely you know we're not spying on you for Kyle?”

“How would I know that?”

“We're not,” Sue said. “We really did come back to work. Kyle would be back, too, I think, if you hadn't shot him. He's not piloting ships or farming anymore. He used to love this work.”

“Did he tell you why I shot him?”

“He said he made a mistake and pointed a gun at your tongat.” She drank her glass half dry and wiped her lips with her fingers. “He said you love her more than you love yourself.”

He instinctively glanced toward Cricket, who sat placidly in a position where she could watch everything that happened in the room, and the door for a bonus. Charlie took a long drink of his wine, enough to feel it dull the edges of his worries. “I could have killed him.”

“There's only five of them left with him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The rest are with the Port Authority?”

“Lou and Serenya went home to their families.”

“They quit?”

“They just left. They probably expect to be thrown in jail for it.” Sue watched him carefully, and he got a sense she would send whatever he said to Serenya. The two women had shared a shift and a route for a year not too long ago, and he'd had the impression they were friends.

“We could use the hands around here.”

Sue said, “I think a few more want to come back, but they're like Kyle. They just can't pretend things are normal.”

“Do you think that's what I'm doing?”

When neither of them answered him, he went on. “Every minute, I'm watching for red flags. I'm just also taking care of the things we've always loved because I don't love them any less. Maybe I love them more now that they're threatened.”

“How threatened are they?”

“By who?”

“By the Next.”

He poked at the fire. “What do you think?”

“I don't know what they want.”

“We made deals with them.” He looked from one woman to the other. “I made deals with them. They've generally stuck to those deals. Any mistakes are mine. The Wall is because I didn't know what to tell them they couldn't do. But they stay out of Manna Springs like they promised. They take care of their own needs.”

Sue stood by the fire, turning her back to it so that the light outlined her form. “People are afraid of them.”

Alinnia added, “Kyle is too, you know. That's why he's so mad. It's fear.”

Everyone wanted to be afraid. He spoke softly. “But is it the Next we should be afraid of?”

“No.” Alinnia hesitated, staring at the fire. “Well maybe. I wish they weren't here, and I know they could kill us all, easily. It bothers me, knowing that any moment they could just decide not to be patient anymore. So of course we're afraid of them.”

“But we started the fight with them,” Charlie replied.

Sue stiffened. “You mean humans? I figured it was the Shining Revolution come in on space ships.”

“They were using boats from Lym. I saw them.”

Alinnia frowned as she stood up and poured herself and Charlie more wine.

Susan wandered into the kitchen to check on the stew. Neither spoke again until Gerry came in to join them for dinner and changed the topic to a rainstorm that might come in the next day.