Reclamation (23 page)

The probe came back. Luck. A module had returned today and its information had been emptied into storage, waiting for assimilation. Dorias sent the probe to fetch the explorer. When it arrived he lifted it into the newly discovered space. The explorer was smaller than his hand, but it was still a tight fit. As Dorias watched, the explorer began to methodically catalog and examine each vein where it met a wall, looking for patterns, vulnerability, usefulness. The explorer automatically posted a sentry for itself. If anyone watched it too closely for too long, it would withdraw to storage with its report.

PING!

Dorias shrugged aside to make room for the incoming signal.

PING!

The signal shot into his path and Dorias caught it neatly. It proved to be one of his wanderers. Wanderers piggybacked out on ships or stations, sometimes with preassigned tasks, sometimes just to wait quietly in case he needed a presence there.

This one’s home was aboard the
U-Kenai
and it held a new message from Eric Born in its teeth.

Dorias drew the wanderer into himself and waited while the message it carried dispersed into his working consciousness. The message said only that the
U-Kenai
was finally on its way to May 16, and that Eric was on his own. Bare facts, thrown together without much thought. Eric in a hurry, and more than likely, Eric worried.

About the Vitae, thought Dorias. The name brushed against old sores. The Vitae built walls that enclosed whole worlds and left him clawing at the entrances. They blockaded old pathways, dropping barriers between him and the wanderers, so he had to design searchers to retrieve them. The rescues could take years, or never happen at all.

Dorias didn’t mind that the Vitae made life difficult for him. Challenges were stimulus, not obstacles. What he did not like was the nagging idea that they might manage to make life impossible for him, or anyone else like him.

He was also worried about the fact that Eric hadn’t told him where the woman, Arla, was. It didn’t take much work to guess that if she wasn’t with him, Eric had probably taken her to Perivar as contraband. But the fact that Eric hadn’t volunteered that information spoke volumes about how little he trusted Dorias’s offer to help.

Dorias sent the wanderer back to storage. He could replace it aboard the
U-Kenai
when Eric arrived. Dorias activated the monitors surrounding his den. All communications would be checked, categorized, and stored for the duration. Projects in progress would be monitored and he would be alerted if any strayed too far from the herd.

He called for a talker and a dancer and attached leashes to them. Then he opened one of the dozens of lines that ran out of his den, shot the explorer down its length, settled himself at its mouth, and waited.

Seventy-six seconds later, the leash jerked into life, humming and tingling with the myriad signals that made up a human voice. Dorias drank them in.

“Ross, here.”

“This is Dorias, Madame Chairman.” Holding the end of the leash, Dorias felt the talker relay his signal while the dancer began to move, painting and repainting his portrait across Ross’s video screen.

“What can I do for you, Dorias?”

“I have just gotten a message from Eric Born. He is on his way to May 16, but he is not bringing the woman.”

“Damn.” She followed the curse with a five-second pause. “Well, we knew that was a danger, didn’t we? Has he said how much the Vitae found out?”

“This is what I have from him.” Dorias shook the leash so a copy of Eric’s message spilled itself along the line. The dancer took up the new pattern and repeated it on the screen and waited while Ross assimilated it for herself.

“Not a lot there.”

“I believe he had other concerns at the time.”

She chuckled. “Can’t argue with that, can I? And before you have to ask, yes, I’ll see he gets landed as soon as he gets in-system.” Another pause. “And, of course, I’ll extend our offer in person. What do you think he’ll say?”

Dorias felt through the places where his memories of Eric Born lay stored, looking for the right answer. “It’s difficult to say,” he admitted at last. “I think he’ll be more likely to agree, as long as he doesn’t know his brother-in-law is helping our team in the Realm. He’s never said what grudge he holds against Heart of the Seablade, but it is a strong one.”

“Mmmmph. How does he feel about the war, then, do you suppose?”

“He’s concerned. Eric works very hard to make it known that he does not care what happens in the Realm, but much of that is bravado. It is my guess that he did not wish to bring the woman, Arla Stone, to May 16 because he didn’t know if it was safe for her here. Teachers, you see, are bound to protect the lives of the People.”

“Mmmmph,” Ross said again. “Important considerations, but at this point, he can’t have any wish to see the Vitae in the Realm, can he?”

Dorias didn’t answer.

“Is there anything else you think I should know?” Ross asked finally.

“Yes. Eric will almost certainly be in need of sanctuary … and I will be helping him, even if you decide not to.”

“Even if he decides against the Unifiers?”

“Eric probably will not decide for or against the Unifiers. He will be deciding for or against what will allow him to live as free as he can for as long as he can. I owe him for past favors and I will help him do this.”

“I am at least glad you let me know, aren’t I?”

“I owe you for my own sanctuary, Ross.”

“I can’t stop you from helping your friend if that’s what you need to do.” Ross’s signal became heavier and a bit slower. “All I ask is that you remember your cause is still our cause.”

“I would not choose to forget something so important.”

“Just wanted to hear you say it, didn’t I?” Ross’s signal lifted itself back to normal. “I’ll meet Eric Born at the port if he’s not likely to raise objections. Talk. Show him a few things. Hand over our offers. Try to find out what he really cares about and how much. Then …” She decided not to finish the sentence. “Thanks for the news, Dorias.”

“You’re welcome to it.” Dorias reeled in the leashes for both modules and sent them back to storage.

They did not talk about debt. They did not talk about blackmail or the damage they could do to each other. It was the same with Perivar, and with Eric. Without each other they were alone, and the fact was, alone it was impossible to survive. Dorias knew. He had tried.

Schippend leveled his drooping eyes at Eric. “We’re processing three hundred new arrivals right this minute. Your information will have to wait in the queue with everybody else’s.” Without another word, he resumed his meticulous poking at the
U-Kenai’s
control keys, looking for viruses or contraband software before he issued Eric a permit to hook into May 16’s communications system.

Eric bit down the urge to order the bureaucrat to move his lumbering body like he had a brain under his skull. Instead, he brushed past Cam, who stood motionless in the back of the bridge, and stalked toward the open airlock.

May 16 was an impossibility. May 16 had a stable, planetwide climate, something which was about as likely to occur naturally as fiber optic growing on an evergreen tree. In a feat of engineering that had even made the Rhudolant Vitae blink, somebody had given the planet a solar-synchronous orbit and a perfectly adjusted tilt and rotation. It was always spring, wherever you went and whenever you arrived. A lot of planetologists spent a lot of time arguing about how it had been done. No agreements had ever been reached, because whoever was responsible for the place had neglected to leave even their name behind.

The Alliance for the Re-Unification of the Human Family had discovered it, unpopulated, and had promptly adopted it as their base. They said it was a symbol of the need for the establishment of the universal Human Family. Once, here, on this spot, someone had been able to engineer an entire planetary orbit, not clumsy terraforming or even more clumsy domed colonies, but an entire orbit and possibly an entire planet. Now they were dead and dust and all the current inhabitants could do was try to recover old knowledge.

Eric leaned against the outer threshold of the airlock and breathed the fresh, moist air. His eyes restlessly scanned the port that surrounded the
U-Kenai.
The vast, bleak expanse of concrete under the cloudless sky made it impossible for him to really relax, even in the soothing warmth of the day. Other ships sitting in their own bays broke up the horizon and the cargo haulers that chugged between them helped fill up some of the space, but there was too much left over. He could barely see the sharp, artificial lines of the Hangar Cliffs in the distance. Pride kept him from circling to the other side of the
U-Kenai,
where he could stare at the City of Alliances. Its carefully planned and meticulously maintained buildings made a border wide enough to fill in the ten-mile-wide plain that had been leveled by whoever had originally owned May 16.

It wouldn’t have been enough, anyway. Nothing was ever enough to kill the last trace of agoraphobia that nibbled at the edges of his mind. Eric had been secretly grateful that his assignments from the Vitae kept him mostly on space stations. He frowned at the port and his thoughts at the same time as he remembered tearing through Haron Station with Arla on his heels.

I wonder what she’s looking at right now.
Eric’s gaze traced the orderly forms of the distant cliffs.
I hope she’s got the sense to listen to Perivar and do what she’s told. I hope …
His thoughts pulled themselves up abruptly as he realized what he really hoped was that he’d get the chance to find out what had happened to her.

If I live so long …
Eric cast another glance back toward his bridge. Schippend was muttering something into his torque.

I hope whoever Dorias drafted to get me into the city can wait awhile,
he added sullenly. He could appreciate, in theory, the Unifier philosophy that living human beings ought to deal with living human beings. He could also understand their desire to keep both their people and their machines free of ailments caused by contact with outside sources. He ruefully rubbed the spot where he’d been injected with an armful of antivirals and antibiotics. In practice, however, their philosophy combined with their caution made for a customs process that could stretch on for hours.

One of the smaller, open port cars whirred up to the
U-Kenai’s
bay. A squared-off woman from a cold climate climbed out of the driver’s seat.

“Sar Eric Born?” She squinted in the bright morning sun.

“I am.” He straightened himself up.

“You’ll be accompanying me once your processing is completed.”

Eric managed to keep his voice smooth and patient despite the abrupt goading her tone gave his strained patience. “Thank you, but a friend of mine has …”

Her broad mouth smiled in jerky stages. “Sorry. Used to people knowing me on sight, aren’t I? I’m Sealuchie Ross and I am the transportation your friend arranged.” She must have read the look on his face as skepticism because she added, “We could hunt Dorias up and confirm it, if you want to.”

Eric studied Ross for a moment. That was the name he had from Dorias. It also stirred a separate, vague memory in the back of his mind that he couldn’t make show itself clearly. She was not a young woman. The blond color of her hair was faded and streaked with grey. Time had pressed her rose-and-white skin close to her bones and the wrinkles around her eyes proclaimed she had a serious outlook on life. She certainly did not have much use for ceremony. Or fashion. Eric looked over her loose green shirt and trousers and flat-soled boots. Her torque had several thread-fine cables that adhered to her flesh, one led to her translator disk, one to a pad pressed against her temple, and two others to pads pressed against her wrists, where her pulse could be measured.

Security wired.
Eric dug harder in his memory. Whoever she was, she was important.

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” he lied, and looked over his shoulder toward the
U-Kenai’s
bridge again. “I’m just waiting on my IDs and communications clearance.”

“Are you?” Without asking permission, Ross climbed past Eric through the airlock. Eric followed her, at a loss for the words to ask this woman who she thought she was.

“Who’s processing this arrival?” she asked as she reached the bridge.

Schippend turned laboriously around with his mouth open. When he saw who came through the doorway, his mouth stayed open and he jumped out of his chair, holding himself rigidly at attention.

“Madame Chairman. This is ah …”

“Unexpected would be a good word, perhaps?” she replied without smiling. “This arrival is now to be given priority. Do you require my authorization?”

“I may, ah, Madame Chairman,” stammered Schippend. “There are delays in the … um … background check …” His eyes shifted restlessly to Eric.

She nodded. “You will tell me personally if there’s anything requiring special handling. I shall leave a line open from this ship.” She tapped at her torque and her mouth moved as she added a subvocal command. She turned to Eric with a hint of real apology in her manner. “I am sorry about this, Sar Born.”

“Thank you.” Eric found himself struggling through a mental readjustment. This, at least, explained why her name had struck a chord in him. Madame or Master Chairman was the title used for the appointed head of the Unifiers.

Sealuchie Ross, Madame Chairman Sealuchie Ross, he corrected himself, ran the planet he was standing on.

What this did not explain was why the person who ran the world was running errands for Dorias.

“Dorias forgot to mention your position when he said who was coming to meet me,” Eric said over the sound of Schippend demanding to know where arrival Eric Born’s IDs were, damn it!

Ross’s mouth twitched. “Very like Dorias, don’t you think? Not one to care much for a person’s rank.” Eric couldn’t tell whether this amused or annoyed her.

“No, he’s not,” Eric agreed, trying to haul together an appropriate set of manners. “I should perhaps apologize for taking up so …”