The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (85 page)

September gestured toward the chanting elders. “I think she’s coming to a close, feller-me-lad.”

“What makes you think so?”

He pointed across the open central aisle. “See those old Tran over there? The senior ladies of the court, I believe. They’ve been standing like trees for the last thirty minutes and now they’re starting to gossip.”

September’s surmise was correct. As a final soliloquy crashed to a guttural close on a rising intonation, the assembled nobles gave out three loud shouts. Paws thrust ceilingward, they began to wave to and fro. This action caused their dan, the winglike membranes that grew from arm and sides, to move back and forth. The effect was to shower the happy couple with wind and words. Fortunately Ethan and Skua stood off to the side and so missed the brunt of the artificial gale.

The elders bowed out as the crowd surged forward to congratulate the newly joined. Hunnar raised both paws for silence.

“Newfound friends and allies: I thank you for your kindnesses and for your hospitality.” He nodded toward the elders. “I thank you also for the splendid ceremony which you have made for us.” Now he turned to face young Gorin-Volga. “Be assured that, pursuant to the new treaty made between our peoples, the citizens of Arsudun will be welcome in our home of Sofold as well as in the harbors of our fellow allies Poyolavomaar and Moulokin.” He stepped back and Elfa moved forward.

“Great times are upon us, my friends,” she began, her strong voice echoing through the hall. “Wonderful things are happening thanks to our friends the skypeople.” She gestured in the direction of the two shivering humans, and a startled Ethan fought to look as dignified as possible under the circumstances.

“We have learned that there are worlds other than our own, worlds as numerous as the city-states of Tran-ky-ky. To share in their greatest glory and power we must give up some of our ancient ways. No longer can the Tran live apart from one another, fighting to settle the simplest of differences and disagreements. We must come together in peace, for strength, so that when we join our friends the skypeople among the stars, as they assure us we must someday do, we can do this thing with our heads held high and dans spread wide. As warriors and as a people proud of what we are and not as wards of a greater state. We join together seeking parity and equality. Charity is not for Tran!”

A rousing cheer rose from the assembly and reverberated around the royal hall. Elfa and Hunnar were all but overwhelmed by hugs and embraces. To Ethan it sounded unflatteringly like feeding time at the zoo. He followed Skua as the giant used his bulk to shove his way through the crowd.

“I, too, have something to say, Sir Hunnar,” Ethan heard him ask.

“What is it, friend Skua?”

Ethan felt dwarfed by the mob of taller, wider Tran but not intimidated. He knew them too well for that. Besides, with all those furry bodies pressing close around him he began to warm up.

“It’s about our clothes.”

“Ah, in the emotion of the moment I did not think. You have lived with us for so long I sometimes forget you find our climate not to your liking. The ceremony must have been a strain for you and Ethan.” He pointed to the small mountain of clothing stacked to the right of the entryway. “I think you will find your dress there. Attire of close friends and relatives is always stacked to starboard. Come, we’ll help you.” Taking Elfa’s hand in his, he led them through the congratulatory crowd.

“I fear your strange clothing lies near the bottom,” Elfa observed.

Ethan eyed the mound of alien attire. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t mind hunting for it. It has to be warmer under there than it is out here.”

By the time he and Skua had recovered and donned their underwear and silvery survival suits, many of the chief nobles and knights of Arsudun had already presented their compliments to the newlyweds and made their exit. In another part of the castle the official feasting had begun. Shouts and snatches of half-sung, half-hissed song drifted into the royal hall.

He hung back while Skua joyfully participated in the raucous celebration. They couldn’t return to the humanx settlement of Brass Monkey until Hunnar’s crew, the sailors and soldiers of the icerigger
Slanderscree,
finished their reveling. This ended sooner than he’d expected. Not that it should have surprised him. The Sofoldians had been away from their home city of Wannome for more man a year. By now their many friends and relatives must be wondering if the great ice ship had come to grief and its crew of loved ones were no more than bones scattered on the ice. Ethan and Skua were not the only ones overdue at home.

Later that evening as the feasting was drawing to a close, Hunnar drew Ethan and Skua aside. They settled around a small table away from the noise of the main celebration.

“I wish that we could persuade you and your friend Williams to remain awhile longer among us. There is still so much we must learn.”

“Milliken’s sorry he was unable to attend,” Ethan replied, simultaneously envying their schoolteacher friend his decision to skip the wedding and remain behind in Brass Monkey. “I’m sure he’s as sorry as the two of us are that we have to leave, but we’re just not designed to survive on a world like Tran-ky-ky.”

“I would say you have survived well. You are as resourceful as any Tran.”

September sipped at his tankard of brew, letting Ethan do most of the talking. “You’re flattering us,” Ethan told Hunnar, “but even if we could survive here, we want to return to our homes, even as your people want to return to Wannome. It’s time. I’m not an explorer and adventurer by trade, you know. This whole business of Skua and Milliken and I coming to your world, landing among you—it was all an accident.”

“Aye, that’s a fact,” said Skua. “He’s a salesman, he is, and that’s about as unadventurous a profession as a skyperson can pursue.”

“You would give up all you have gained among us?” Hunnar stared at Ethan out of wide yellow eyes. “I could see you made a noble among my people. Vast tracts of land could be yours. The
Slanderscree
would be at your beck and call to carry you whence and whither you wished.”

Ethan smiled gently. By Tran standards Hunnar’s offer was magnanimous, but it was insufficient compensation for the lack of heated plumbing.

“Thanks, but right now all I want to see is a big city glowing with wasted light and full of naive customers with deep pockets.”

“What of your intentions to do commerce among us, as you once said you had been sent here to do?”

“No offense, but I’ve kinda lost my taste for working this territory. I’ll let some other representative of my company have that honor. I’m assuming that I still have a job, you see. Most companies frown on their employees’ taking a couple of years off without explanation.”

“But surely once you tell your”—Elfa struggled for the proper word—“master of what has happened he will be understanding and allow you to return.”

“Not master, just employer,” Ethan replied irritably, wishing he could scratch his chin but unwilling to pop the visor on his suit. “Although if I could talk to the big boss himself, I might be able to make him understand. I know my regional supervisor won’t.”

She turned her penetrating gaze on Ethan’s companion. “And what of you, friend Skua? A warrior like yourself could command whole armies. There will be much fighting ahead. Not all will be persuaded to join the Union by sweet words. Your skills would be welcomed by our generals.”

“You’re a darlin’, Elfa.” Ethan tensed but Hunnar only grinned, showing sharp canines. September had indulged freely in the local liquor. “But you don’t need me. With your combined forces you’ll be able to overwhelm the most powerful recalcitrant city-state. Don’t need me to make ’em see reason. I’d just be in the way, stealing the glory from some ambitious Tran warrior. Don’t want to step on somebody else’s career. Did that before, once, and it’s never left me. Besides, I’ve got business of my own to attend to.”

Ethan glanced sharply at him. “What business? You never said anything to me about having any business to get back to.”

“What did you think I was about, young feller-me-lad? Retirement?” There was a twinkle in his eye. “There’s this lady friend of long standing got herself a grant to do some studies on one of those out of the way recently discovered worlds Down-Arm. Fuspin—no, Alaspin the place is called. She’s an archaeologist. Been after me for years to give her a hand with one of her projects. Ought to still be out there, poking into alien thises and thatses, getting dirt under her pretty fingernails. Told me this Alaspin’s a jungle world. After our little stint hereabouts why, I’m ready for some sweat and humidity. That’s where I’m bound soon as we can take passage offplanet.” He smiled at Elfa.

“Second time, nothing personal. Your world’s an invigorating place, but just a mite too much so for us humanfolk. So you’ll understand why we’re taking our leave.”

“We will strive to.” She put a warm paw on September’s forearm. “We can offer you many things, but not a substitute for home.”

Home, Ethan thought. Did he have a home? Different nights, different cities on different worlds and then on again. If anyplace were home, it was the long emptiness between stars. Nothingness is my home, he thought, trying to be flip but finding that considering the matter seriously made him uncomfortable. Travel, sign a contract, travel on. It was hard even to remember his world of origin.

And what if he’d lost his job and couldn’t get it back? What to do then? Proceed to the nearest civilized world and seek new employment?

No, he still had a job, was still a sales rep for the House of Malaika. He had to proceed on that assumption. It was all the security he had left. Maybe Elfa was right. Maybe his superiors would understand. One thing he could be sure of: they’d never heard an excuse for extended absenteeism like his.

He was wondering if his samples still sat in the customs warehouse as the
Slanderscree
docked again in the harbor of Brass Monkey. The icerigger would wait until its honored human passengers rode back toward the stars in one of their skyboats. There was also the matter of stocking the big ship for the long journey homeward.

One thing Ethan had already decided. If he were out of a job, he intended to claim his simple trade goods and give them to Hunnar and Elfa. Let the company sue him for the cost—if they could find him. A modern inert-element space heater would be worth a Landgrave’s ransom to the Tran.

During their recent long journey to Moulokin, the outpost’s engineers had received and installed a deep-space communications beam. For the first time since the establishment of the outpost, its citizens were able to communicate directly with the rest of the Commonwealth without having to wait for the monthly supply ship to carry out messages. The difficulty Ethan faced in trying to contact his superiors was that the beam was booked up for months in advance by long-suffering, long-silenced bureaucrats and researchers. Having been denied regular communication via null-space with the rest of civilization, they were making up for lost years by using the transmitter around the clock. Ostensibly it was all official business. In reality they just wanted to talk.

The solution to the problem of availability and cost was one and the same. Without it he couldn’t so much as think of calling company headquarters.

Skua accompanied him to the gleaming underground communications center. Together they eyed the cluster of government functionaries and scientists gathered outside the broadcast console. The actual screen and its attendant instrumentation were enclosed in a bubble of smoked acrylic. As soon as one concluded his or her communication someone else entered the bubble. New hopefuls arrived in a steady stream. The number waiting to make use of the transmitter rose and fell without ever falling below a dozen.

September eyed the line of hopeful supplicants. “How are you going to break into that? And if you succeed, how are you going to pay for this? Use your retirement fund? This ain’t like calling your old Aunt Tilly, you know.”

Ethan smiled confidently. “You’re right on both counts, but I’ll manage. At least, I think I will.”

He led September forward, pushing and excusing his way past irritated, curious members of the outpost population, until they were standing just outside the entrance to the broadcast bubble.

“Hey, you,” snapped one of those in line, “there’s a queue here.”

“Sorry.” Ethan flashed his most convincing smile. It was a salesman’s smile, a professional smile; well practiced, endlessly rehearsed, subtly effective. “First-priority communication.”

A smirk appeared on the face of the midlevel bureaucrat next in line. “First-priority? I don’t recognize you. You’re not government or research. You have any idea what a First-priority costs? Kitchen help couldn’t pay for a First if the whole crew pooled a year’s pay.” He bestowed the dubious eye on both of them. Battered by the time spent out on the ice, Ethan had to admit that he and September probably didn’t look like they could afford a short sentence between them.

He just smiled at the man. “We’ll see. If you’re correct, we’ll be in and out of there in half a minute, won’t we?”

The bureaucrat performed an exaggerated bow and gestured magnanimously with his right arm. “Leave us not waste unnecessary time then, shall we?” The woman standing behind him turned to her friend and giggled.

As soon as the functionary inside completed his business, Ethan and Skua stepped inside. Some of those farther back in the line might have disputed Ethan’s right to try his luck even for a few seconds, but no one seemed inclined to strike up an argument with someone the size of September, which was why Ethan had brought him along in the first place.

The beam operator was tired, near the end of his shift, but not too tired to regard the newcomers uncertainly. He was blond and pale, and Ethan decided his ancestors would have been more at home on Tran-ky-ky than any other humans.

“What department are you two with? I don’t see any insignia.”

“No department.” Ethan slid into the broadcast chair as though he owned it, trying to hide his nervousness. “I want to make a private call, First priority.”