Zenn Scarlett (21 page)

Her uncle was joking with her, but Zenn wasn’t in the mood.

“I can do it, Otha. I could show you, if you’d let me do more than watch you, more than just put in a stitch here and there or mop up the bloody floors when you’re done.”

“So it’s my fault now? I’m the one holding you back?” He actually laughed at her, shaking his head.

“Otha, how can I make any real progress if you won’t let me try? Half the time you treat me like I’m still a little girl, playing exovet with my stuffed animals.”

“Zenn, the fact of it is you are not an exovet. Not yet.” He lowered his eyebrows, holding her gaze. “That’s what being a novice is about. You go step by step. You don’t over-reach. So, no, I’m sorry, but you won’t be operating on the royal family’s sunkiller. Save that for your surgical apprenticeship. Save it for when you’re ready.”

Another thought returned to Zenn now. And she was just angry enough to let it out.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. My apprenticeship.”

“Oh? Have you?” He turned his back on her and went to check the cables that secured the sunkiller’s gondola to the infirmary floor.

“Hild says the Ciscan hospitaliers at the cloister on Bhranthis have put out a notice. They’re accepting acolytes for their pre-surgical program next year.”

This had the desired effect. Otha stopped and turned back to her.

“Bhranthis? That’s halfway across the Accord. We’ve always assumed you’d be doing your acolyte year here on Mars. With us.”

Yes. Exactly. You assume I’ll always be here. Always be a stable girl on the bottom rung of the ladder. Maybe the Procyoni boy was right about being shut in a room with books
.

Zenn wasn’t sure she was serious about Bhranthis. The truth was, until recently, she too had always seen herself staying on Mars for her acolyte year, and possibly beyond. But if Otha was going to treat her like a child, she was going to rebel like one and let him stew.

“Well…” Otha looked as if he wasn’t quite sure himself if she was having him on. “Maybe we’ll let you do a bit more than assist on the sunkiller’s plexus. But, just a bit. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here.”

“Fine,” she said, feeling she’d just achieved a surprising victory. “I guess I’ll settle for a bit.”

“And we’ll… keep an open mind about where you’ll do your acolyte year, eh?”

Zenn let him worry for a few seconds more.

“Yes, alright,” she said. She couldn’t resist adding: “But the Sister says the Bhranthis pre-surgical practicum is the best program she’s ever seen.”

“Hmph,” Otha snorted. “She says that, does she?”

Zenn heard the infirmary door open behind her. It was Hamish.

“This is an impressive variety of beast,” the coleopt said, stopping at the base of the steps. “Do I have approval to ascend the steps and observe it more closely?”

Zenn sighed. “Hamish, what did we talk about? About approvals?”

“Ah, that I am not to ask another’s approval every single time. That I am to think for myself, and take action based on my thoughts. Correct?”

“Yes… and so…?”

“I see. This is one of those times. Very well. I will… come up the stairs? Yes. I am coming up. So,” he said when he was next to her, “the Sister tells me this flying-life-form is young. How big will it grow when old?”

“Very big,” Otha said, going past Hamish to descend the stairs. “Zenn, I’ll let you introduce the sexton to our new arrival. I’m going to warm up the Q-scanner, get it calibrated for a
solsolis
. Hamish, stick around. We’ll need your help positioning the scan sensors.”

“Yes, director-abbot,” Hamish said, not taking his eyes off the creature. “I will remain here. Novice Scarlett… how big will this creature become?”

“A full-grown adult will reach fifteen-hundred feet, measured across the wings.”

“That large? It’s difficult to envisage such a thing.”

“They blot out a pretty big piece of sky when they fly over. That’s why the Leukkans first called them sunkillers.”

“It is so still, resting in the air.” It was true. The sunkiller, despite taking up most of the infirmary, was almost silent, the two heads emitting only a quiet thrum of barely audible vocalizations. “The wings do not flap. How does it fly?”

“See the bladders?” She pointed to the underside of the wings. “All those little bubbles are filled with a mix of gases. The sunkillers produce hydrogen, methane and some other gases as natural by-products. The gases are lighter than air, so that’s how they stay up. They mix in oxygen, too, which is heavier and helps them control their altitude. This one has a problem with its methane plexus. That’s the organ that routes the right gases to the right places. It’s up on top of her back, running along her backbone, a big, sack-like sort of thing with tubes running out of it down to the bladders under the wings.”

“I understand. So this is why the wings remain in one place.”

“Yes. And since they don’t flap, it makes their body a stable platform for the Leukkans to live on.”

“The beings of the Leukkan Kire live on top of sunkillers? You jest with me.”

“No. Really, it’s true,” Zenn said. “You’ve never heard of the Kiran sky-forts?”

Hamish shook his head.

“Well, a long time ago, like a thousand years or something, the surface of Kire Secunda was crawling with predators – dire-cats, vampiric fungi, huge packs of giant eviscerenni. Big, hungry things. The Leukkans had to wage a constant fight just to keep from being eaten. Then they tamed the first sunkillers. They realized they could escape the hunters down on the surface by staying up in the air. So, they started building little shelters on the sunkillers’ backs. Then they made forts, then palaces, then entire villages. They’ve been living on them ever since.”

“Imagine that,” Hamish said. “To make one’s home on the back of such a beast. Does it not pain the animal?”

“No, apparently not,” Zenn told him. “The Leukkans usually put the first light-weight structures on the sunkillers when they’re small, to get them used to it. That’s what that thing is.” She pointed to the suspended gondola. “They start out by hanging one gondola underneath them, then they add more. They’re really light, woven from reeds and the hollow wing bones of giant Kiran vultures. After a few years, they start putting buildings on their backs. By then the animals are so big they hardly notice. Kind of like a saddle on an Earther horse.”

“Yes, but a saddle that stays on always. And has organisms living on it.”

“Alright, Zenn, Hamish.” Zenn looked down to see Otha wheeling the Quark Resonance Scanner into the room. “Let’s see what’s ailing this little girl and get her fixed up.”

TWENTY-TWO

After Otha confirmed his suspicion about the sunkiller’s defective plexus valve, hunger finally forced Zenn to tear herself away from the infirmary and head for the kitchen. Crossing through the center of the cloister walk, she caught sight of the sundial. If she hurried, she had just enough time to grab a quick snack before Sister Hild’s lecture on the anatomy of Indra brain ventricles. No sooner had she started for the kitchen when it dawned on her: in the flurry of activity she’d almost forgotten her second assignment for the morning. She never forgot assignments. Well, almost never. But the fact this very important one had almost slipped her mind made her more than a little irked at herself. She changed direction and headed toward the main storage shed.

Entering the shed, she flicked on the light – only to have the bulb crackle, pop and burn out.

“I do not have time for this,” she said to no one at all.

No matter, she decided. She knew the layout of the room well enough to do what she had to do in the semi-darkness. She went to the largest of the three wheelbarrows parked there and rolled it over next to one of the large metal tubs lining the far wall. She could just make out the label, “Dried Tanduan Rhina Grub.” Prying off the lid, she rapidly scooped out enough to fill the barrow half-full. Pushing the barrow over to the tub that held powdered sweetbark, she dug out half a scoop’s worth and added that to the barrow’s contents. Then, she unlooped the water hose from its hook on the wall, cranked on the spigot and propped the hose so it would slowly fill the barrow as she mixed the contents.

Thinking about what the wheelbarrow’s contents would be used for tomorrow, her breath came a little faster.

It’s alright. I’m ready
. She’d been giving herself the same sort of pep talk all week. She’d gone over the in-soma procedures until her brain hurt.
At least, I think I’m ready… No. I’m ready
.

Using a discarded piece of pipe, she stirred the mixture until she had what she thought was the proper gooey consistency.

A sound at the door made her turn. It was Liam Tucker.

“Scarlett,” he said. “Didn’t see you. What’re you doing in the dark?”

“Bulb burned out,” she said, mildly flustered by his arrival. The breeze through the door carried a familiar scent to her: the pleasantly sweet, dry-grass smell of baled alfalfa. She realized why she recognized this. It was Liam Tucker’s scent, from his work in the cloister fields and barns.

“I, uh, never really said thank you, you know?” he said. “For Zeus. What you did.”

“I got the idea you were grateful.” She relived the press of his arms around her, something she’d done more than once since that moment in the surgery.

No harm in that. Not breaking any rules. Rule intact
.

“No, I mean, I didn’t really say what I meant. You saved his life. And I… I don’t know if I really said thanks so you’d know I meant it.” He turned sideways in the doorway. She breathed in the scent of him as she squeezed past. It wasn’t intentional. She was just breathing. It was only the smell of alfalfa. But she suddenly felt she was too close. She moved a few safe steps away.

“Sorry,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of the scriptorium. “I have a lecture, with Hild. I should go.”

“Yeah, right,” he said. “Sister Hild. Don’t wanna keep her waiting.”

“Were you looking for Hamish?” she asked. She really didn’t have time for this. Didn’t have time to be distracted. But she was strangely reluctant to leave. There it was. No point in pretending. Just now, standing in this spot, she
was
distracted. The Liam-virus-thought, propagating, spreading. This was exasperating. But not in any way she’d been exasperated before. She breathed in the scent of sun-dried alfalfa that seemed to radiate from the boy. And she was… distracted.

“Oh, yeah. I was. Looking for Hamish,” he said. “But… I don’t really mind running into a novice exovet now and then.” He was smiling at her. Not his Liam-smirk, either. An actual smile-smile. Zenn’s mind was quite blank, then sputtered pathetically to life.

What? What did he just say
?

“I mean,” he said, “I’m always wondering what poor creature you’re gonna pick on next.”

Oh, that’s what he meant
.

“So, you know where the big bug is at?”

“Yes. Hamish. He’s at the infirmary. Helping Otha.” She’d never noticed before, but she really liked the smell of alfalfa. Really. Liked it.

“Right. Well, I’ll go track him down.”

Zenn just nodded, then stood there until she felt foolish.

“Right. Goodbye.” She turned and headed toward the scriptorium. She’d said “Goodbye.” That was idiotic. Why did she say that?

The Rule, Zenn. Obey the Rule
.

And now, there would be no time to steal a bite to eat. But she was no longer so hungry.

The Rule. You’re disobeying. Bad Zenn
.

But was she? Being bad? Recently, she’d been toying with an improper new thought: what if the Rule… was wrong. Could that be? What if, for instance, newly discovered information rendered the Rule obsolete, or called for exceptions?

Liam is… interested. Am I interested? And if I am, is it only because he was interested first? Should I like Liam Tucker? Can a person make a decision to like someone? Or is this sort of thing… involuntary
?

No doubt about it – she was adrift now in foreign territory. She felt weightless and unsighted, so much so that she almost tripped over a water spigot at the side of the path. She stopped and stood still. She heard the sound of her own breathing. She crossed her arms and looked down at the spigot.

Thinking like this was against more than the Rule, of course. There was also the rule about theories and their supporting evidence. But, lately she’d found herself considering that under specific circumstances dealing with emotions, the values in the equations could be changed, more or less at will, producing answers that were just what you needed them to be. It all… depended on how you felt. On your feelings. Stunning. But should she just let this new model of thinking go into effect without further scrutiny?

Probably not smart...
 

It was the water spigot at her feet that finally reminded her:

The water in the shed. It’s still running
.

Berating herself for this latest lapse, she hurried back to the shed. She’d just stepped through the door when a movement in the darkened interior brought her up short.

Liam came out of the shadows abruptly, seeming momentarily as surprised as she was.

“Scarlett,” he laughed. “You… following me around now or what?” He laughed again.

“No!” she said emphatically. “It’s the water. I was filling the barrow. Forgot to shut it off.”

“Yeah, you did,” he said after a slight, bemused pause. “I heard the water running. I shut it off for you. You’re welcome.”

She looked past him to the wheelbarrow. It had only overflowed onto the floor a little. She wouldn’t have to re-mix the paste. “Well, thank you.”

“That goo.” He nodded at the barrow. “That for your in-soma thing tomorrow?”

“Yes. It goes on the pod. It’ll attract the sloo when it’s time for the insertion.”

“Yeah, better you than me,” he said as they both walked out into the sunlight. “Well, I better go track down the boss-bug. Make sure he hasn’t strained himself doing some actual work.”