Reclamation (9 page)

Something that wasn’t contempt, fear, or caution turned over inside him. Eric opened up the path to his power gift and stretched out his hand.

Her arm flinched when he touched her, but did not drag itself free. The reach of his gift found the damaged flesh in her and took hold of it gently. This was more complicated than breaking locks. Her body had already begun the healing, but he had to encompass that beginning in order to speed the process along. All of it. A missed step would bring infection, or worse. Eric’s vision blurred over and his heart began to pound in his chest.

And it was done. He released her.

Arla rubbed her smooth, clean wrist. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He gulped air like a drowning man. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about that either. The Skymen have very strange notions about healers.”

“There will be no word from me.”

He smiled. “Sleep,” he ordered, and left the cabin.

When the door shut behind him, Eric collapsed onto the sofa. He was shaking, and it was not from the adrenaline shock that normally came after a healing.

What is the matter with me? Garismit’s Eyes, I don’t have time for this!
He pounded his fist against his thigh.
Get her away. Now. May the Powers bless Perivar for taking her. I’ve got to think. Figure out what to do next.

His mind was not ready to let go yet. Instead, it gathered up all the memories of Lady Fire it could find and handed them across to him. He saw the quiet beauty in her face the second she had opened the door to her house so he could enter and heal her husband’s fever. He felt the touch of her mouth, saw the light in her eyes.

He remembered the sweat and screams and blood that came with the birth of their baby. The baby that was dead and buried by his own power-gifted hands. Because that was the Law. That was what the Nameless demanded. Born of an adulterous union, its blood was untraceable. Such blood could be diverted by the Aunorante Sangh. It had to die and Eric had done as the Words instructed and Lady Fire had cursed him for it.

And now there was war. Maybe in the First City. Maybe not. War over the Skymen’s presence, and it was known that Lady Fire had consorted with him and that he had left with the Skymen and …

Maybe the war was for the best. Maybe the Heretics and the Skymen would weaken the Words, would destroy the hold they had on the Realm and on Lady Fire. Then he could go back, and he could …

Eric knew he was deceiving himself. Ten years and ten times as many light-years of travel hadn’t been enough to wipe the Words out of him. No matter how hard he’d tried. Part of him would never call anywhere but the Realm home, and it would not stop resenting the ones who drove him away from it. It would take the death of every Teacher in the Realm to silence the Words in the world.

Somehow, he doubted liberation of the People from their superstitions was what the Skymen were after.

I don’t care, I can’t care!
Eric buried his face in his hands.
It’s the Rhudolant Vitae I’ve got to worry about, not
…
not the Realm or their war. It’s their war, over their laws. Not mine. Not anymore. Not again.

He stayed like that for a long time. When he was finally able to raise his head again, he stared out at the void, hearing the screams of women in his mind.

Our world is gone. Gone. They stole the whole world while from on high … we watched.

Fragment from “The Beginning of the Flight,” from the Rhudolant Vitae private history Archives

W
HATEVER ELSE, I WAS
honest. I held to the terms of my contract. Whatever judgment they make against me, it will not be for breaking my word.

The thought did nothing to warm Basq. In truth, the chill hadn’t left his blood since he’d reported the loss of the artifacts. He sat stiffly in the shuttle’s padded seat, hands spread on his knees. The robe that covered him was pure white, a color that allowed no status, no allegiance, and no work.

“You do not have to wear this,” said Caril, even though she got it out for him with her own hands instead of leaving it to the automatics.

“I do. Eric Born was my study. The security of him and the other artifacts was my responsibility.” Basq could still feel the rough edges of the shattered bolts under his fingertips.

“The Contractors will not say it was a breach. They will see there is no way you could have known. All the evidence indicated that he manipulated datastreams, not hardware.”

The memories of Caril’s reassurances didn’t offer Basq any more warmth than preening himself for his honorable behavior had. His study of Eric Born had contributed directly to the rediscovery of the Home Ground. The promotions that had followed had been exhilarating. He had been able to tell himself that memory of his past shame had been wiped away by this success.

Do I have the strength to defend myself again? Do I have the means?

Basq felt his whole body slump farther down in the seat.
I don’t know.

The view wall in front of him showed the gleaming length of tether stretching out to its anchor on the encampment’s core. Outsiders compared Rhudolant Vitae encampments to spiderwebs or jewels on strings, depending on how they felt toward the Vitae at the moment. For this gathering, fifteen white and mirror-skinned ships had been moored to the elongated core. Each ship was tethered to its neighbors as well as to the core with bundles of polycarbon cable. When a current was applied, the strands maintained a crystal-fiber structure that allowed the tether to remain rigid. The core’s rotation kept the ships at an even distance from each other and kept all the tethers taut.

If the current was cut, the tethers could fray and tear, sending the ships careening out into space.

Basq realized, with a small jolt, why he was brooding on them. He felt as if his tethers had already been torn.

At this distance, Basq could see the curve of the core’s mottled side. As the shuttle slid forward along the tether, it looked to Basq as if the core expanded. The curved side became a gleaming wall that blocked out the vacuum and the starlight. Modules and antennae, some more than a kilometer across, rose from a surface of smooth ceramic, but most of the surface was covered with the hulks of tanks. Tanks for fuel and coolant and hydrogen and nitrogen and all the other essentials that needed to be carried with them between the worlds. Like the home ships, the core was fully mobile, if slow compared to the freighters and runners that clung to its sides between the tanks and the tethers.

Basq glanced toward the rear of the shuttle, in the direction of his ship, the
Grand Errand.
He did not move his hand to switch on the view wall that would let him see it.

They will not let me go home again.

Eric Born and the female were too important for any Contractor to let this matter go. The Home Ground was at stake. His failure might have delayed the Vitae’s chance to fully return.

The gravity and inertial regulators adjusted themselves so that Basq could feel the shuttle slowing. The view wall showed the docking corridor extending itself from the core to lock onto the shuttle’s hatch. Basq stood and smoothed the fabric of his white robe.

Now the real work begins.
The invocation sounded in his mind before he could stop it.

The docking corridor led straight into the Home Hall. Basq stepped through the arch into the domed chamber. All around him, simulated constellations blazed on a black background. A sun the size of his head burned to the left. Directly opposite, the blue-and-white swell of the Home Ground filled the entire wall. Rising behind it, a grey moon caught the sunlight. Farther off, planets shone as coins of light, or thumbnails, or pinpricks.

Terra, Luna, Ares, Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus, Neptune.
Beginning with the Home Ground, he recited the names he’d learned as a childhood litany. His eyes picked out each patch of light as he named it. The Home Ground. The Host System. All of it lost to the grip of the Aunorante Sangh, the ones who’d been bred to serve and had betrayed their trust.
Beware your own creations, Vitae. They have already robbed you.

How many times have I heard that? How many times have I repeated it? And when the time comes …

A tiny breeze told him the door had opened. Basq turned to see the two Contractors walk forward. Avir, with her chestnut hair braided so it hung down the back of her midnight-colored tunic, looked Basq over with critical eyes surrounded by star-shaped scars. Black-robed Kelat, who stood beside her, was a member of the Amputants. He had only four fingers on his right hand. He would not have the missing one regrown unless and until he walked on the Home Ground. Basq bent in obeisance until his forehead pressed against the smooth, warm floor. These two held his name.

“Please get up, Ambassador Basq,” said Contractor Avir.

Basq’s heart skipped a beat.
Used my title. Then they don’t consider my contract broken yet.
He lifted his head.

Kelat nodded once. “No code or lock currently in place could have kept the artifact designated Eric Born confined if he wanted to escape. You are not at fault. You fulfilled your contracted duties to the level of the available resources and information. We do not need to continue this audience. You are required at the strategy conference.” In unison, the Contractors turned and glided into the corridor.

Basq raised himself to his feet and trailed behind them, half-dazed.

Not at fault. Not at fault.
The words sang inside him. For a moment, the idea flashed through him that the singing was loud enough for Caril to hear.

Multiphase frescoes lined the corridor walls. Each depicted a sequence from the Flight, moment blending into moment so that the blur of history surrounded Basq and the Contractors as they passed. At Basq’s right side, an Aunorante Sangh bowed to a crowd of people, then leaned over a control bank. The scene twisted and dissolved into a shower of sparks. To his left, a trio of Survivors crowded around a ship’s empty data-hold and raised their fists to the sky, then they bent to their work, growing old and older until, at last, fresh generations took their place. Beyond that, a globe of the Home Ground rotated serenely. Clouds shifted across its surface and, in a heartbeat, it vanished.

The only single-phase art was held in the ceiling mosaic that spelled out the names of the Home Ground in the oldest languages the Vitae knew.

At the end of the corridor, the wall parted to let them into the conference room.

The Contractors completed the committee. Two Bio-technicians, two Historians, and two Senior Ambassadors already sat at the round table. Basq recognized Uary, the Bio-tech who had been assigned to study the “stones” carried by the female artifact. Uary raised his sculpted eyebrows briefly as their eyes met.

You didn’t expect to see me again,
thought Basq.
Well, in truth, I didn’t expect you to see me again either.

The robes of all the people around the table were the solid unbroken colors of their specialties, amethyst, scarlet or mist grey. No bands or sigils indicated subranks or allegiance owed to anyone else. These were all encampment leaders and residents of the core. Two Witnesses in their jade green robes stood at the back of the room and watched the gathering. Each wore a camera set over the right eye, giving their faces a distorted, unnatural appearance.

The doors sealed themselves, but privacy did not thaw the air of formality as Basq had expected. Avir and Kelat bowed briefly to the committee. Basq again made full obeisance at their feet, waiting for his name and work to be made known.

Avir spoke first. “I am named Contractor Avir Ose Cien and let the memory show I have been appointed to speak for Advisory Committee 196. Contractor Kelat is our liaison with Advisory Committee 84. Here we speak of the Reclamation of the Home Ground. All we say here will be known as long as Vitae ask ‘in those days, what was done?’ ‘What course did they take to succeed?’ or ‘What course did they take to fail?’ This committee has been convened to advise the Reclamation Assembly about the action required to secure the populated segment of the Home Ground. To further that end, to this committee I bring the work and name of Ambassador Basq of the
Grand Errand.
” Basq stood with his shoulders straight and his face calm, as he had learned to do during his apprenticeship. “His observations gave us a great deal of information about the artifacts that still exist on the Home Ground. It is my intention to contract his services fully to the work of this committee and the Reclamation.”

Basq’s heart began to pound against his ribs.
To the Reclamation? Directly? Me? My hands? My work?
His mouth felt dry. Fear and elation warred inside him. If this happened, his name would be witnessed and remembered for his success, or his failure.

No, I will rise to this. My work will be my seal. My words, my thoughts will be remembered with pride when we walk on the Home Ground.

One of the Historians, a withered woman with silver droplets dangling from her pierced ears and chin, waved two fingers to indicate she was about to speak. “What would be the requirements of that contract?”

Basq fought to keep his eyes straight ahead. He was not present yet. He had been named but not been accepted. To indicate that he could hear what was said about him would have been to admit he cared more about himself than about the work he would be assigned.

Kelat spoke with measured tones. “He will use the data gathered from his observations of the artifacts designated Eric Born and Stone in the Wall combined with the information gathered by Bio-technician Uary and Ambassador Ivale to assess the level of danger presented by the artifacts that exist on the Home Ground and to determine an effective strategy for combating that danger.”

From the corner of his eye, Basq could see Uary’s gaze rest on him. The set of the Bio-tech’s face spoke of resentment. Anger sparked in Basq, but he did not move his eyes to look directly at Uary. The Witnesses also had their eyes on him. He would not begin his remembered existence with such disregard for proprieties.