Sea of Silver Light (145 page)

"If you mean Christabel, yes. She'll be . . . your sister, I guess."

He stared at them again, calculating, still suspicious, but also glimpsing the outlines of something about which Ramsey could only guess.

"Okay," he said.

"If you don't say bad words, I'll let you play with Prince Pikapik," Christabel promised.

He rolled his eyes, then the two of them wandered off to the other room—lawsuits, court-martials, even a dead man talking on the wallscreen not enough to keep them around while grown-ups were doing boring grown-up things.

"Good," said Sellars. "This is all good. Now we have a few more matters to discuss."

This truly is the story of the century,
Ramsey marveled.
I wonder if someday, half a millennium from now, people will be studying what we're saying here today.
He looked at the bedroom doorway. The other wallscreen was on. Christabel was lying on the floor talking to a stuffed toy. Cho-Cho was watching cars explode.

No,
he thought, and turned his attention back to what Sellars was saying.
People never remember this stuff, no matter how important it is.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I've only been back a day and I still feel . . . pretty strange. And you know how slow the buses are downtown." Renie looked around. "The office isn't quite what I expected."

Del Ray laughed and waved his good hand dismissively at the windowless space, the small screen on the unadorned white wall. His other arm was pulled tightly against his chest in a sling, the damaged hand invisible under a knot of bandages. "It's only temporary—I've got my eye on a much nicer one at the main UN building on Farewell Square." He settled back in his chair. "Bureaucracies are a funny thing. Three months ago you would have thought I had a communicable disease. Now I am suddenly everyone's best friend again because the smell of a wrongful-termination suit is on the wind and my face is on the newsnets." He looked at her. "But not your face. It's too bad—it's a nice face, Renie."

"I don't want it—the attention, anything. I'm tired. I just want some quiet." She lowered herself into the chair facing the desk. "It's a miracle I'm up and walking around, but those old-fashioned tanks were actually better than what some of the other people in the network went through. Let us move our limbs so the muscles didn't atrophy, things like that. And, of course, we didn't get bedsores."

"You'll have to tell me one day about the others. I still don't entirely understand."

"It will be a long conversation," she said. "But yes, I'll tell you. It's quite a story."

"So was our end. How is your father?"

"Grumpy. But also a bit different, somehow. Actually, I'm on my way to see him."

He hesitated. "And your brother?"

She tried to smile but it wasn't easy. "No change yet. But at least I can touch him now."

Del Ray nodded, then began to look around on his desk and in the drawers. For a moment Renie thought that he was pretending to be busy—that he wanted her to leave. "I don't think there's such a thing as an ashtray in this office," he said at last. "Shall I go find you one?"

It took her a moment. "You know, I haven't started smoking again. I wanted one so bad while I was stuck in that place, the VR network, but once I got out, it just seemed. . . ." She moved nervously in the chair. "Things just seemed different. But I don't want to keep you away from your work, Del Ray. I just wanted to thank you face-to-face for getting things smoothed out—with the military, the police; all that."

"Still a long way to go. But the military doesn't know that it was Sellars who tipped them off, and they're more than a bit embarrassed a bunch of armed mercenaries were about to take over one of their bases without them even noticing, so they will be just as happy if it all goes away quietly. And as I said, people want to be my friends now. Important people."

He liked it, she realized. Did she begrudge it to him? She didn't think so. "But I still want to say thanks. After all that, I think I would have gone mad if they'd kept me in some government cell."

"So would I," he laughed. "The first time I saw the sky again I burst into tears."

"I didn't have much crying left in me," Renie said. "But I know what you mean." She cautiously levered herself up out of the chair.
I might as well be an old woman,
she thought. "Like I said Del Ray I won't keep you, got to get going if I'm going to catch my bus."

He reached into his pocket with his good hand. "Here, Renie. For God's sake, take a taxi. A real one."

It hurt. "I don't want any more money from you, Del Ray."

For a moment he too looked stung, then he shook his head slowly. "You don't understand. There's a lot more where that comes from, and it doesn't come from me. I've been talking to our friend Sellars while you've been out of touch. He's hooked me up with a man named Ramsey. You're going to get a surprise, Renie. But trust me, Sellars would want you to take a taxi. Use this."

She stared at the card for a moment, then took it. "Okay. But only this once, because my legs hurt."

He smiled as he came around the desk. "Same old Renie." He put out his arms and she moved into them. For a moment she rested her head on his chest, then, suddenly uncomfortable, tried to pull away. He held against her pressure, kissed her gently on the cheek, then leaned back to look at her face. "And your new man?" he asked. "Is it serious?"

"Yes, I believe it is. Yes. I'm meeting him at the hospital. He's been getting his things from his landlady's house. We're going to look for a flat."

He nodded. She wondered if she was imagining a little sadness in his smile. "Ah. Well, then I wish you two good luck. But let's not be strangers, okay? I am not just saying that—not after what we've been through."

She looked at the white club of bandages at the end of his arm. The doctors had sewed two of the fingers back on, he had told her when she called, but they had been badly mangled and there was little chance they would ever function.
None of us will ever be the same,
she thought.
Not ever.
"I know, Del Ray." She disengaged herself, but reached out and touched his cheek. "And thank you,"

"One other thing, Renie," he said as she reached the door. "Don't be too quick to pick out a flat."

She turned, anger bubbling up again. "You don't think it's going to work out?"

He was laughing. "No, no. I just mean you may find you have more housing options than you think."

It was an interesting experience to see the exact amount she was expected to pay displayed on the cab's screen.
Is this how it always is?
she wondered as she waved the card in front of the reader and added a tip for the driver.
For people who have money? Things just . . . work?

Durban Outskirt Medical Facility was a different place with the quarantine lifted. Visitors milled in the lobby or nested around the waiting areas in little family groups of tired relatives and yammering children. The doctors and nurses looked like people instead of visitors from other planets.
At least they've got that vaccine now,
she thought.
At least I don't have to worry about Stephen getting Bukavu 4 anymore.
It was not much solace.

She held the bag carefully as she made her way up the elevator, feeling as though she had turned into someone else when she wasn't looking.
But why? Everything's the same, really—same Renie, same Papa, same sick Stephen. While we were in that place, the world went on. Nothing's really changed.

Except for how she felt about !Xabbu, of course. That scared her a little. She wanted it to work so badly, but she could see so many problems. They were so different, so completely separate in their experiences. What they had, they had made in the most unreal environment imaginable. How would it hold up in the day-to-day of missed buses and scraping for rent, of countless miserable visits to the hospital?

Her father's door was open. She had only spoken to him over the net so she was surprised to see that he had a private room and couldn't help wondering how they were going to pay for it. But even if she had to go into debt, she wasn't going to let Del Ray set himself up as their savior.

She hesitated at the threshold, suddenly frightened for reasons she could not name. Her father was watching the wallscreen, waving his long fingers to jump from node to node, his expression blank and bored.
He's so old!
she thought.
Look at him. He's an old man.
She took a breath and stepped in.

When he saw her he blinked, then blinked again. To her astonishment she realized his eyes were filling with tears. "What is with everyone?" she asked, startled and afraid again. "Is that all anyone does anymore? Cry?"

"Renie," he said. "It is so good to see you."

She was not going to cry—not for this old fool. Jeremiah Dako had already told her of his little trick, wandering off to Durban and leaving poor Jeremiah to mind the fort. But she found herself getting teary whether she wanted to or not; to hide it, she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. His hand closed on hers; she found herself trapped, held tight against his whiskery face. He smelled of honey-lime aftershave, and for a moment she was a child again, overwhelmed by his bigness, his power.
But I'm not a child. I'm not. Not since a long time gone.

"I am so sorry," he said.

"Sorry?" She got free and carefully sat down. "Why are you sorry?"

"For everything." He waved and the wallscreen went blank. "For all the foolish things I have done." He found a tissue and blew his nose angrily. "You the one who always tell me about the foolish things, girl. You saying you don't remember them now?"

Something unbent inside her just a little. "Yes. I remember. But we all make mistakes, Papa." She took a nervous breath. "Show me your arm."

"See? Dog close to tore it off me. Then they call me One-Arm Joseph instead." He displayed the lacerations with pride. "Tried to bite my neck out, too. Bet you happy you were safe in that tank."

"Yes, Papa. Safe in that tank."

He heard something in her tone and his satisfied smile died. "I know it wasn't like that, really. I am just making a joke."

"I know, Papa."

"Have you seen Stephen?"

"Not today—I'm going to see him after you and I have our visit. I'll come back and tell you if there's . . . any change." Seeing her brother's little body, still withered and empty, had stolen away most of her joy at being back in the world again.

Joseph nodded his head slowly. He broke a long silence by asking, "And that man of yours? Where is he?"

Renie fought down irritation. Why did men always ask that? It was like they needed to know whose protection she was under—to make sure that a suitably responsible transfer had been made. "He's okay, Papa. I'm going to meet him later. We're going to look for a flat. I have enough left in my bank account. I think I might even be able to get my old job back—called the chancellor's office and apparently some of them have been watching the newsnets."

He nodded, but he wore an odd expression. "So that's why I am here? So you can find a place with your new man?"

It took her a couple of heartbeats to understand what was bothering him. "You think. . . ? Oh, Papa, I only left you here because there wasn't anywhere else for you to go. !Xabbu and I stayed at his old rooming house last night, sleeping on the front room floor." Despite her sadness, a little smile surfaced. "The landlady wouldn't let us stay in his room because we're not married."

"So?"

"So of course you're going to live with us," she said, although it made her feel heavy and cross to have to say it. "I wouldn't leave you on the street. We're family." She darted a glance at the time display in the corner of the darkened wallscreen. "I'd better go." She stood, then remembered the bag clutched in her hand. "Oh, I brought you something."

He balanced it against his chest to open it with his working hand. He lifted the bottle out and peered at it for a long time.

"I know it's not your old favorite," she said, "but they told me at the store that it's good. I figured you might as well drink something decent—you know, to celebrate." She looked around. "I don't think you're supposed to have anything like that, so you'd better hide it."

He was still staring at the bottle. When he looked up at her, his expression made her a little uncomfortable. "Thank you," he said. "But you know, I don't think I drink it here. Maybe when I get out." He smiled, and again she was struck by how old he looked, bony and . . . scoured. Like rocks in a windy valley. "When you find the new place. We will have a little celebration." He handed her back the bag,

"You . . . you don't want it?"

"When I get out," he said. "Don't want to get in trouble here, do I? They might keep me longer."

She took a long time trying to fit the bottle back into the bag. When she had finished she stood for a moment, fighting the urge to walk straight out the door, to avoid confusion and difficult feelings and simply get on with things. It was only as she looked at him, at the way he was looking back at her, that she realized what she wanted to do.

She bent and kissed his cheek again, then wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a squeeze. "I'll be back tomorrow, Papa. I promise."

He cleared his throat as she stood up. "We can do better, you and me. You know I love you, girl. You know that, right?"

She nodded. "I know that." It was hard to talk. "We'll do better."

!Xabbu was not in the waiting room for the children's wing. Renie was a little surprised—it was not like him to be late—but her brain was too full to spend much time wondering about it. She left a message for him with the receptionist, then went to see Stephen.

She found !Xabbu sleeping in a chair at the foot of the hospital bed, his head back, his hands open in his lap as though he had held and then released some flying thing. She felt ashamed. If she was tired and out of sorts, how much more exhausted must !Xabbu be, after those last hellish minutes holding open the line of communication with the Other?
And now I'm going to drag him out looking for some miserable little flat.
Her heart twisted in her breast.