Early Byrd (6 page)

"An oversight," Rapput replied. "My
apologies. We depart at five in the afternoon, your time, aboard
the same type of courier ship we arrived here on. No further
preparations are necessary." He glanced at us again. "Though
perhaps it might be well if these two hit the teaching machines
again."

"And the swimming pool as well, with your
permission?" Li asked. "Human children have an innate biological
need to play in a physical manner. Deprived of the outlet, they
grow overly-boisterous and ill-mannered."

"Another similarity between our kinds,"
Rapput noted. "Of course they should get their exercise as well.
Though I expect them to pass a primary-first level academic
examination by the end of next week." He met Li's eyes. "Including
proper social interaction skills."

"They'll be fine," Li assured our master. He
looked at us and winked. "After all, they've the very best
bloodline our kind has to offer!"

11

Swimming in a pool instead of a beaver pond for once
was sort of nice. The water was a lot warmer and clearer, plus
there weren’t sharp rocks to cut your feet on. I also learned that
you're supposed to wait after eating before getting into the water,
which neither Tim nor I ever knew before. Mr. Li laughed and
splashed with us for a time, then we all did a few slow laps
together. After that he dived off the high board for us, slipping
headfirst into the water as slick as a bulked-up arrow. Then right
before we finished, everyone got into a big splash-fight together.
It was fun, even if there were Artemesians and human hotel workers
staring at us the whole time, wondering who in the world such crazy
people were and what we were doing there.

The teaching-machine session went better
too, probably because after swimming we were all in a better mood
for that sort of thing. "Do you remember how we couldn't figure out
the hands-on-head thing?" Li asked with a smile. "Well, I've
employed the highest, deepest, and most profound learning technique
known to mankind, and as a direct result I now understand."

"You asked Rapput?" Tim guessed.

"Precisely," he answered with a short bow.
"It's all about relative social status."

"The higher status Artemu put their hands on
the heads of the lower?" I guessed.

"Exactly. It's symbolic of the social
pecking order, to remind everyone continually of who stands where
in line." He tilted his head to the left. "According to Rapput, it
makes their kind feel warm and happy inside. Or perhaps 'secure' is
a better word—the effect is supposedly extra-powerful for kits, and
that's why they do it to you a lot more often than anyone else,
even in public. If someone has their hand on your head, it means
you can count on them for protection and leadership. If you have
your hands on theirs, in turn you can count on loyalty and
subservience. It's sort of like being hugged by your parents, but
more complicated."

"I
thought
they always lined up in
the same order," I said. "Remember?"

"You did," Li agreed with one of his bows.
"But they all looked so much alike that we couldn't tell for sure."
Then he smiled again. "Do you happen to know which of you is the
elder?"

"I am," Tim replied. "By seven minutes."

I frowned. It was true but hadn't ever
mattered before.

"Then you're the senior," Li explained. "And
from now on whenever the pups in the classroom line up, you two are
to do the same. With the elder's hand on the younger's head."

"I don't need protection!" I complained.

"Of course not," our teacher agreed. "And
yet . . . I suspect there's more going on here than we currently
understand. Do you know what a pack alpha is? As in a wolf-pack,
though other species behave similarly."

"There're wolves on the ranch," Tim
answered. "So yeah, Dad taught us how to pick him out."

"Good!" Li replied. "This is just my
personal theory so far, but I think the hands-on-the-head thing is
like wolf-pack behavior, and the Artemu may be very, very wolf-like
in some ways. So much so that I think it's a biological imperative
for them. They
need
their heads held every now and again in order
to be happy. Have you noticed how Rapput holds yours whenever he
thinks you might be especially upset or frightened?"

Tim and I looked at each other. "Wow!" I
said for us both.

"Wow, indeed. But like it or not, you two
are adopted Artemu, and I'm an Artemu slave in all but my lack of
fur. We therefore must learn not only to accept this as a
well-meant gesture, but also in time to hold the heads of others in
such a way that they gain reassurance and pleasure from the
contact. It's terribly important that you understand this."

"Yeah," Tim finally agreed. "I can see it
now, I think."

"Good," Li replied. "Then from now on, we're
all three of us going to pretend we're Artemu, in this one way at
least. Whenever the class holds each other’s heads, we shall line
up and do the same. I consider this an
important lesson. So
. . ." He smiled and held out
his hands just like Rapput. "Come and be rewarded!"

We were rewarded half a dozen more times
before the session ended, a short school day due to our impending
flight off-world. It still felt pretty weird to both Tim and I,
especially for me all the way down at the bottom end because I had
to kneel to my brother instead of having someone of my own to
comfort. Yet I could see that Li was right. In fact this was likely
going to be among the
least
important changes we'd be making
in our behaviors. I just hoped we still remembered how to be human
when all was said and done!

Giril and Tim's assistant were already in
the process of clearing out my room when we got back from 'school';
he'd left an assortment of fresh, clean clothes out for me to
choose from, but I explained that humans often wore the same outfit
all day long. He looked uncertain for a moment, and then fell to
his knees. "I'm sorry, Robertherman. I shall not err in this matter
again."

I smiled. "It's okay, Giril. We both have a
lot to learn about each other. This is just a start. Besides,
sometimes we
do
change clothes in the middle of the day, so
it's going to take a long time to figure it all out. There's no way
to rush it along." But he didn't get up, and after a long moment
passed I finally worked up enough nerve to reach out and place my
hand atop his head.

"Oooh!" he responded, still on his knees.
Then he raised his eyes. "More pressure right in the center."

“Thank you,” I replied.
Sure enough there was a strange little bump right on the very top
of his head, though it was so small that one had feel around for
it. The raised spot gave a little when firmly pressed. I remembered
Rapput’s finger pushing extra-hard there on my own skull and
imitated his action as best I could.

His eyes rolled and his face brightened.
"Thank
you
, esteemed master," he replied, standing with a
bow. "And now, if you don't—"

"Please," I requested. "Tell me something
about yourself, Giril. If you have a moment to spare, that is. It
seems that we may be together for a long time."

He smiled. "I'm short on moments, as it
happens. Yet that's not a problem because there's so little tell. I
am Giril of the Quenth clan, bottom-most of all Artemu. We're
domestic servants and the lowest sorts of laborers, for this is
what our bloodline best excels at. Yet we're pleased with our lot,
for our role is honorable and our place respected. Thus glory is
shared." His smile widened. "I expect that someday, when Rapput's
Great Plan is completed, we'll be serving at least some
human-masters as well. In this I'm honored to be a pioneer."

My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to
say. Giril had been
born
to be a servant and was
happy
about
that?

"Oh yes!" Giril continued. "Someday you
Anglics shall rank among the greatest of clans. Even I can see this
already. And we shall be here to serve you and play our own humble
part in the Conquest. The Empire grows and grows." Then he bowed
again and left.

My head was still spinning when Mr. Li
arrived with Tim already in tow. I started to tell them what'd just
happened, but there wasn't enough time before we met up with
Rapput. "Later, Robert," Li urged, cutting me off. Then he nodded
at Rapput, who seemed to be waiting for something. Both my brother
and I knew what; we each walked to our appointed places and fell to
our knees as the big Artemesian paws landed on our heads.

"Well done!" Rapput declared with a smile in
his voice, and somehow his dominant approval seemed so complete
that just maybe I
did
feel a
thrill of happiness at the touch. "You're
both doing well, and I'm proud of you," He gave us an extra press
before withdrawing his hands. "This speaks well for you, Li."

He bowed formally. "I was given an
assignment."

Rapput merely smiled, and then gestured
toward the elevator. Another Artemu—of the honorably-serving Quenth
Clan, I now knew—pressed a button . . .

. . . and nothing happened. Frowning, he
pressed it again.

"It's been like this all day, sir," an
Artemesian I'd not been introduced to offered. He was carrying a
large and very humanlike briefcase. "Sometimes the elevators
function and sometimes they don't. The humans have a repair crew
working in the lobby."

"The other one works, sir!" the servant
declared as its door opened with a pleasant chime. He reached in to
hold it for us just as any human flunky might've.

"Hmph!" Rapput declared, though he said no
more about what he might or might not've though of human
technology. He stepped ponderously inside, followed by Li and Tim
and I. "Only inner family members are allowed together in crowded
conveyances. Your teacher counts, but only because he's so closely
associated with you. Once you’re grown, he'll be expected to wait
for the next cab with everyone else. You might wish to file that
away."

"Yes, sir," I said for us both. Somehow it
was getting easier to talk to Rapput now that we understood more
about him. Perhaps he felt the same way. At any rate, the floor
sank and our eyes rose to count off the floors. Five, four, three,
two, one . . .

. . . but the cab kept right on moving!

"Li!" Rapput declared. "Have you any—"

He didn't get any further, however. Because
just as the "
B" for
"Basement" indicator began to flicker, the floor dropped out from
under us and we fell free like abird with clipped wings.

12

The elevator was already pretty low in the building,
so we didn't have all that far left to drop. There was just the
basement, then a parking level below it. Tim and I landed on top of
each other, while Mr. Li rolled with the impact and instantly rose
to his feet, ready for anything. It was a neat trick, and I wanted
to ask him how he did it. But instead Rapput said something in his
native tongue, using words I hadn't learned yet. He must've been
cursing; three different bones were sticking out of his left arm,
which he held cradled in his right, and he was bleeding all over
his robe.

Li scowled, torn between standing ready and
going to Rapput's aid. Before he could make up his mind the cab's
doors opened three or four inches, emitting a terrible screech in
the process. "Hello in there!" a human voice cried out in a strong
American accent.

"Hello," Li replied, shifting subtly into a
more aggressive stance.

"There's five armed men out here," the
American continued. "We've got shotguns, rifles, and grenades. We
want to take you alive and promise the boys won't be harmed."

"Dropping the elevator they're riding in a
floor and a half isn't exactly the best way not to harm children,"
Li countered.

"Granted," the voice replied. "We promise
not to harm them any
more,
then, if it makes you feel
better. Now, stand aside or we'll be forced against our will to get
nasty."

Li scowled and eased himself behind the
door, so as to take whoever entered from behind. But Rapput shook
his head. "These are my brother's sons," he said, though pain
slurred every word. "I've sworn both to him and their natural
parents to protect them. As, I suspect, have you."

Li's eyes glistened like black agates for a
microsecond, and then he nodded and stepped to the back wall. "Come
on in," he replied.

Two crowbars snaked into sight, then the
door was wrenched further open. Now we could see that there were
indeed armed men on the other side, all wearing nylon stockings
over their heads.

"Hands up!" a new voice ordered. This one
sounded more Canadian. "No tricks, eh?"

"No tricks," Li promised. "Just don't hurt
the boys." He nodded to Rapput. "Have you got a first-aid kit?"

"Let the bastard bleed!" the American
declared, half-hidden features twisted in disgust. "My son died at
Kansas City." Then his eyes moved to Li. "I'm not inclined to offer
goddamn collaborators much in the way of favors, either."

"Understood," our teacher replied, voice
calm. "Just don't hurt the boys."

The American nodded and turned his attention
to us. "Step on out, kids." He gestured with the shortest-barreled
shotgun I'd ever seen. Meanwhile, shots began to ring out,
seemingly from every direction and all at once. "This way, into the
van."

I looked at Mr. Li, who nodded and forced a
smile. Then Tim nodded at me too, and we took off running. "Get
in!" a woman ordered; her voice seemed familiar, so I looked up and
saw despite the disguise that it was Linda, the hotel manager who'd
supposedly been arrested because of what I'd told her.

"I . . . Uh . . ." I must've been gaping
like a fish of water; she reached down and, none too gently,
dragged me through the van's sliding door. "Sit in the far back.
You're going to be fine now. We're taking you to a safe place where
they'll never find you."