The Gripping Hand (50 page)

Glenda Ruth nodded. "Yeah. How's Terry?"

"Breathing on his own. I want a human doctor."

"Hang in there. Terry's tough."

Silence.

"I couldn't watch."

"I noticed," Jennifer said.

"You think he's not feeling anything, and you're almost right, he won't remember how bad it is. But his body, his nerves, he's hurt, Jennifer, and I can
feel
it. Oh, hell, don't you leave me, too!"

"Too?"

"Freddy saw me! He saw me turning away from Terry. Squeamish. I'm going to lose him, Jennifer!"

"Not if he watches you save our asses. But you're juggling priceless eggs in variable gravity, girl."

Glenda Ruth only nodded. She couldn't answer that at least they were right on schedule.

"I hope you're not overly tired, sir," Chris Blaine said.

"Not yet, not in this gravity," Bury said. He looked across the room to Omar, who once again held Ali Baba. "Against all reason I find myself attracted to the pu—to Ali Baba. An unexpected pleasure. But I fear we are away from the comforts of
Sinbad
to no great purpose. Except, of course, to reassure our hosts." It was an awkward situation, made more so because no one wanted to talk about it. It was the one thing East India and Medina Traders agreed to completely: neither would allow the other to talk to Horace Bury alone. "They cling to me as to a talisman," Bury said.

"Or a credit card," Blaine said, and Bury glared.

The outer door opened and a thin, spidery shape entered. The Motie went to Omar and waited patiently as Omar and Eudoxus gathered around it, then chattered excitedly.

"Something important," Blaine said. He thumbed the microphone of his communicator. "Captain, an East India messenger just came in. Whatever it's saying has got both the Mediators listening hard."

"Could it be about
Hecate
?" Renner's voice asked.

"I don't—"

"Stand by one," Renner said.

"What?" Joyce demanded. "What's happening?" She edged closer to the Moties, pickup camera whirring softly.

"Rawlins has spotted a fleet," Renner said. "A big one, coming from in-system. Hyperbolic orbit, accelerating like they've got lots of power."

"Warships," Blaine said.

"Sure sounds like it," Renner said. "Don't know whose, but they're heading this way."

"Excellency, we have news," Oniar said.

"Thank you."

"Excellency, the humans are all safe. One, the ship's engineer, was injured in a way that I do not quite understand, but I am assured it was through no fault of the Crimean Tartars, who have been persuaded of the value of their guests. One of my apprentices, very young and inexperienced but fluent in Anglic, has been accepted by the Tartars and will presently be allowed to speak with the humans." Omar beamed. "He will, of course, be pleased to invite a representative of our Medina Allies, as soon as one arrives."

"This is splendid news," Bury said. "We are in your debt. I wonder if we might prevail upon Medina's hospitality for one more favor."

"You have but to ask, presuming it is possible," Eudoxus said.

"A message," Bury said. "It would be well for all concerned if Lord Blaine were informed that his offspring are safe."

Eudoxus and Omar looked at each other. Ali Baba's attention remained fixed on Bury. "An interesting notion," Eudoxus said. "But one that presents considerable technical difficulties. Neither East India nor Medina controls Crazy Eddie's Sister. Nor do the Crimean Tartars. The Khanate now holds that point and even now gathers more warships to consolidate their hold. Their own, and others. We fear they have created a formidable alliance, one which may even now be growing."

"A combined action of Medina and East India might suffice to escort one ship to the Sister," Omar said. "But as East India has more ships in that area, our losses would be the greater. We would require compensation."

"I had in mind something simpler," Bury said. "Send a message
through the Crazy Eddie point to Murcheson's Eye. Take one of
your flimsy token ships. Wrap a transmitter in a thick layer of
suitably ablative material with a mechanical device to turn it on
once through. Let it broadcast its location. Message cubes inside
should survive long enough to be retrieved."

"Simple mechanical device," Omar said.

"Jump shock is an experience previously described to us, which I have now twice experienced," Eudoxus said. "It is—formidable. Excellency, I need hardly point out that the contents of a message to your blockade battle fleet will be of great interest to all of us. Will you summon that fleet here?"

"I think not," Bury said. "But surely it would be to our advantage to have those not inconsiderable resources at our disposal?" He looked significantly at the Motie Warriors. "And of course we will continue to enjoy your gracious hospitality as we negotiate."

Eudoxus and Omar exchanged looks, then Eudoxus began to speak, slowly and carefully, in the glottal language the Moties had been using to speak to their Masters. Both Masters replied, each to a Mediator, never to each other. The messenger was sent out. Two came back; they delivered messages to each of the Mediators. The Masters spoke quickly and curtly, the Mediators at greater length. The discussion continued for a long time as Joyce's pickup whirred.

Bury waited with a look of serene calm. Ali Baba aped his look, a study of serious concentration. Blaine reported developments to
Sinbad
and Renner.

Finally Eudoxus spoke. "It seems you are correct, Excellency. We may have need of your fleet. We count five fleets probably converging on us. One is from Byzantium. We have reports that the Masters of the Mote Beta moons, the group we have called the Persian Empire, are gathering a fleet. The Khanate has summoned allies to their aid in holding the Sister. There comes another large group from sunward."

"In other words, everyone who has warships is becoming involved," Joyce Trujillo said.

"Just so," Omar said. "And thus our Masters are agreed. The partnership between Medina and East India shall be renewed. When that is accomplished, it would be well to summon whatever resources your Empire can bring."

"Before they kill us all," Joyce said.

Omar bowed. "Just so."

Engineers had erected a screen around the area where Dr. Doolittle and his aides worked on Terry. Freddy was back there for ten hours, while Jennifer and Glenda Ruth waited alone. Finally he came out.

"I'll have to go back presently," he said. "They want my opinions. Mostly I don't know, but I can work the data retrieval system for Dr. Doolittle. It's mostly in charts. Some of it I have to read to him, with gestures. He learns fast, numbers he understands already. Got any coffee?"

Jennifer handed him a bulb. "I should heat that."

"Heat the next one. I'll drink this."

"All right." Jennifer put a bulb in the microwave and started it. "Freddy, I haven't heard Victoria back there?"

"She's been gone for hours. One of the others, I think the Engineer that's been . . . improving
Hecate
, came and got her, and that was the last I saw of her. Sometimes I talk into a mike and Dr. Doolittle listens to what has to be a translation, but I don't know who's on the other end." Freddy sipped the lukewarm coffee. "Good stuff. Thanks."

"When can I see him?" Jennifer's cry was more nearly a wail.

Freddy looked to Glenda Ruth.

Glenda Ruth dropped her pensive look and shuddered. "I think you should wait to be asked. Something odd is happening."

"I'm scared," Jennifer said. "We talked about—he grew up on Tanith, you know. Freddy, he will be all right!"

"If the Moties can manage it, he will be," Freddy said. "They're going all out. They have some instrument the size of a spatball racket that puts a three-D image of Terry's insides on our tri-vee screen. They've got him stabilized. Blood pressure has been the same for hours now."

It had not been instantly obvious: the looming bulk of the Mosque had been a block of water ice permeated by tunnels when
Sinbad
docked. But Engineers had been at work, carving rooms out of the ice, insulating, decorating. The lounge, located just outside
Sinbad
's airlock, had been growing during the negotiations. Now there was a small kitchen, a wardrobe, and a half-completed mini-gym besides the conversation pit with Motie and human chairs and couches. Chris feared it would be the size of Serpens City before they accomplished anything.

Eudoxus spoke long and earnestly to the Master called Admiral Mustapha Pasha. From time to time Omar spoke to the East India Master in the guttural language Chris Blaine had learned to recognize as the Motie trade koine. Ali Baba moved from Bury to Omar and back, but his attention was always on Bury.

Messengers went to and fro like big-headed, lopsided spider monkeys, beautiful only in their agility. Mediators and Masters took frequent rest periods and returned always together, sometimes with Motie pups. The Mediators were talking now, briskly, as if it hadn't all been talked to death long since.

Chris watched and listened and presently offered to speak for Joyce's pickup camera. Joyce tried to find an excuse to refuse and gave up almost instantly. "Thank you, Lieutenant Blaine," she said most courteously, and posed him in a corner of the new lounge.

So: scholar's pose, no sexual signals, and give her his best. "A pidgin is needed to bridge two languages because shadings and nuances and background assumptions don't work. You need it whenever nuances don't work. But Motie language is inflections and body language and even scent, and any of that might have to be dropped for a telephone, or pressure suits, or video with a bad connection. The weird thing is just how
easily
these Moties use what they can and drop everything else. It isn't just the flexibility of the trade language. They generally have to create a trade language on the spot." Chris saw goblin ears focused on him and wondered how much they would understand. How much he understood.

"We're watching a parallel here. Ali Baba, not yet at the age of reason, clearly understands the concept called Fyunch(click) in the Mote Prime language. We're watching him learn both Anglic and the new pidgin simultaneously, and in hours he has learned what a bright human child might pick up in days or weeks. Biological specialization at work. And of course we've seen that in the other specialties.

"We're learning a lot about Moties, and that's important."

"Can you say more about that, Lieutenant?" Joyce asked. Her tone was richly professional.

"We've no choice, this time," Chris said. "Blockades just aren't going to work. We'll have to learn to get along with the Moties—"

"One way or another," Joyce said, but her own pickup mike wasn't on. "Lieutenant—" She stopped.

Here came the paired messengers again. Chris watched them scamper along the chamber's multicolored rock, breaking stride and zigging into channels and depressions. He'd watched them several times, and this time he was sure: their fur changed color to match the rock. Piloerection was doing that, exposing different layers, but the effect hid them like chameleons. They reached their respective Masters, clung to their fur, and whispered briefly.

The Masters had one final exchange with their Mediators, and all four Mediators came to the human group.

"Excellency," Omar said. "I am pleased to inform you that Medina and East India are agreed, in principle and in all essential details." He bowed; his feet left the rock and returned when he straightened.

"This is pleasing," Bury said.

Eudoxus bowed, too. Nobody laughed. "We have agreed on our status and domains, but more important is that we have agreed about you. We tell you nothing new when we say our choices are limited, and our greatest asset is your friendship."

Bury nodded. "More pleasing still. We are honored to be your friends."

"Thank you," Omar said. "We perceive that even if we watch you compose the message you will send to your colleagues in the Crazy Eddie Squadron, we must still trust you to tell us its meaning. Before you send this message you will naturally wish to speak with crew aboard your ship, and it is pointless to detain you here. When your message is complete, East India will deliver it. A suitable ship is being readied."