The Best of All Possible Worlds (31 page)

“The fact that communication is still possible suggests that transponder technology
could be used to locate them,” Tarik said.

“I have no doubt that we will locate them in time,” the Emergency Services chief explained
patiently. “The challenge is factoring in the interference from magnetic fluctuations
caused by the volcanic activity.”

He was a pale-skinned man, regrettably spare of fat for such a cold climate, and his
short frame was made even smaller by the bulkiness of his parka. His eyebrows had
a perpetually worried slant that did not reassure. His voice made up for it, though,
deliberately slow and slightly soft so that you felt you had to dial down your own
hysteria to be able to hear him clearly.

“But the fact that we can still communicate with them
is
good, isn’t it?” I asked.

His expression turned wary. “It is good in that we may be able to find out roughly
where they are so we can plan how to excavate, but there’s too much interference for
certainty. Let’s not get carried away.”

“Well, what about those light tubes?” I insisted. “Shouldn’t we try to find where
they come out, maybe use—”

“Ma’am,” he said, firmly cutting me off. “We appreciate that you’re concerned about
your friends, but we do know our job. Our networks have been informed, and there are
people working to solve the problem.”

“Of course,” I said, defeated. “But … you understand why we can’t lose them? Especially
not Joral. Not now. Not like this.”

He blew out a breath, looking as if he were trying to choose his next words very carefully.
“I’d like to recommend that you return home as scheduled. To be honest, we can’t afford
to have nonessential personnel using up our resources. You might be able to do more
for your friends by being in Tlaxce than being here.”

It was a kind but definite brush-off, and it meant we had to have a final conversation
with Lian and Joral.

“They’re kicking us out,” I said casually. “We have to go back, stop getting in their
way and stuff.”

Lian played along. “Well, you know what that means. Can’t put your name in the acknowledgments
when we make our big discoveries.”

I laughed, then sobered. “About what I said earlier, walking around and so on? Be
careful. Conserve your resources. I know Joral’s got a thing or two in the bag, but—”

“Delarua, I
am
a corporal, you know,” said Lian, gently teasing. “I didn’t forget all my survival
training when they made me a pencil pusher. To replace
you
, I might add.”

My laugh was a little too close to a sob, so I cut it short. “Yeah, man, sorry about
that one. So I’ll be seeing you later, okay?”

I waited for Tarik and Nasiha to finish speaking with Joral, and then I started a
conversation in rapid Sadiri so that Lian would not understand. “Joral, I know that
if you remember all that Councillor Dllenahkh has taught you, your chances of survival
are excellent.”

“Delarua, I have considered this. I know it will be more difficult for someone who
has not been trained in psychosomatic control. I am not sufficiently advanced in the
disciplines to exert this control beyond my own body, but I will at least ensure that
our colleague consumes more food and water than I do.”

I smiled at his careful efforts not to attract attention by using Lian’s name. “Joral,
I hope that it will not be necessary for you to deny yourself what little food and
drink you have, but I know that whatever you choose to do, you will choose well.”
Time to treat the boy like a man. Heaven knows he deserved it by now.

When the jump jet took off, we all gazed down at the land we were leaving. I couldn’t
guess what everyone was feeling at that point, but I bet Fergus was thinking that
if he had been underground with us, he could have done something. As for myself, I
was damping down my emotions, that thing I’m so very good at, and scrutinizing the
slopes for any flash of glass or metal that might suggest a protruding light tube.
I saw none.

A few minutes into the flight, we called Qeturah and Dllenahkh and updated them. An
hour later, we arrived at our stop-over point, changed, ate, and switched from the
jump jet to a slower but more comfortable shuttle. At first it seemed natural to talk
a bit about the old underground city and what new discoveries might be made there,
but as we monitored the bulletins from Emergency Services, the journey grew quieter
and quieter. The
revised time to reach Lian and Joral was no longer being given in hours but in days.

When we arrived in Tlaxce City that evening, there was still no good news. The small
welcoming ceremony at Central Government Headquarters had been quietly called off,
and all that remained of the end-of-mission reception were a few napkin-covered plates
of assorted finger foods. In case we were hungry, Qeturah said in an offhand fashion
as we filed into her office, but I saw eight plates on her meeting-room table and
a dying hope in her eyes. I couldn’t blame her. I’d half expected to step off the
shuttle and find that Lian and Joral were fine and at home, flown ahead at supersonic
speed just to surprise us. Dllenahkh seemed depressed, but in a healthy way, if that
makes any sense. From the questions he asked us, I knew he was trying to convince
himself that nothing would have happened any differently if he had been there.

“It was nobody’s fault, Dllenahkh,” I said wearily. “Nobody’s or everybody’s, take
your pick.”

“This isn’t a postmission debriefing,” Qeturah said hastily. “We’re not in the frame
of mind for that.” She glared at Dllenahkh and added pointedly, “
None
of us. This is … well, even if we couldn’t have a proper homecoming, I wanted us
to meet one last time.”

I was miserable but strangely glad to be there, because I didn’t want to be miserable
alone and there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to be miserable with. We weren’t grieving
for Lian and Joral. We were worried about them, but we still had hopes of seeing them
very soon. We were dealing with the fact that the mission was over, that the life
we had made ours for a year was not the life we would be facing on the morrow. Not
having Lian and Joral there only emphasized how much we were going to miss one another.
I
blinked back tears so many times that I had to excuse myself to go to the ladies’
room to have a proper nose blow and wash my face.

When I returned, Fergus was standing outside Qeturah’s office door. He was speaking
into his comm as I approached, but by the time I reached him he had finished the call
and was staring oddly at the device in his hand. Curiosity overrode my initial intent
to nod and pass by. “What is it, Sergeant?”

At first he didn’t look at me. “That was Lian. Just wanted to make sure we’d made
it back to the city okay.” Then he met my eyes, and we exchanged a brief sympathetic
look of shared pain before he remembered he didn’t like me and looked away again.

“I can’t believe the range those comms—” I started, then froze in midsentence, struck
by something.

He gave me his usual lowering frown. “If you’re getting any bright ideas that might
help those two, you’d better share.
Do
something without thinking it to death for a change.”

I didn’t get it. Qeturah toed the line and he was fine with that, yet he’d written
me off because I hadn’t been enough of a maverick. I was peeved and let him know it.

“Enough, Sergeant,” I said sharply. “Central Government’s taking care of Kir’tahsg,
so stop blaming me for that. Besides, I have at least as much reason as you to care
about what happens to Lian and a hell of a lot more reason when it comes to Joral.”

I took the comm from him and examined it curiously. It was a top-of-the-line military-grade
comm, far better than any wrist model or civilian handheld.

“Bullshit,” he said. “Sadiri or Cygnian, we’re all endangered when we’re facing death.
Got anything useful to contribute,
ma’am
?”

I looked at him and wished for a moment that I was on better
terms with this man. “I might. But I’ll need to take this comm with me, just for an
hour or two.” I was lying. I didn’t know how much time I needed.

He swore under his breath. I stared at him impassively.

“You can choose to say no, Sergeant, but say it quickly. Time’s wasting.” Big bluff.
I hoped it would impress him just a little. Was that Qeturah’s trick? Act as if you’re
in command, and suddenly they’ll start following your orders?

“Take the damned comm,” he said at last in resignation.

I took it all right. I took it straight to Dllenahkh. “You’re staying at the Sadiri
Consulate while you’re working in the city, right?”

He raised an eyebrow at the incongruous juxtaposition of the mundane question and
my conspiratorial whisper. “Yes.”

“Any way to get an immediate private audience with your pilot friend? The man who’s
seen things mere mortals only dream of? The man who’s been to several futures and
who may or may not have the advanced technological know-how to use the fact that Fergus’s
comm is still picking up a clear signal from Lian’s halfway across the globe and through
a ton of rock?”

Dllenahkh then did something completely Sadiri and utterly adorable. He blinked at
my babbled words, filled in the blanks speedily, and arrived at a course of action.
“Come with me,” he said.

Our leaving broke up the meeting. Qeturah looked a little bemused, but Fergus gave
me a stiff yet encouraging nod. I so badly wanted to tell Nasiha and Tarik, but I
didn’t dare risk the possibility that they weren’t supposed to know about Naraldi’s
unique experiences. They hardly noticed. They were once more wrapped up in each other,
and this time I didn’t mind one bit.

“Thank you, Dllenahkh,” I said as I got into his aircar and belted myself in.

He frowned in puzzlement as he tapped in our destination. “Why are you thanking me?
I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You listen to my crazy ideas and make sense out of them. That’s worth some thanks.”

He let the autopilot take us and turned to face me, eyes flashing. “What
you
describe as the product of a mental imbalance,
I
would classify as swift, intuitive thinking to arrive at creative solutions.”

There is no passion like the passion of a Sadiri complimenting your mind. For a moment
I was speechless, completely speechless. I gawked up at him like a lovestruck teenager.
“You … you really mean that.”

“You
know
that I do. Why is it so difficult for you to believe that?”

I rested my hand over his, a gesture of apology and truce. “I believe it,” I said
softly.

He looked down at my hand and slowly turned his so that we fitted palm to palm. Touching
him was never a simple matter, but touching him now, when his emotions were so close
to the surface, was like standing on the seashore with the tide drawing out, pulling
the sand from under my feet. I wanted to fall into the water.

The aircar smoothly grounded. The Sadiri Consulate is in fact very close to Central
Government Headquarters. “We’re here,” I said, trying not to sound disappointed.

A quick comm call to the Consul ensured that he was at least a little prepared when
we invaded his living room for an impromptu meeting. He was too professional to show
irritation in front of me, but he still managed to give Dllenahkh a very pointed look
when he said, “I believe it was clearly stated that you were to tell
no one
about my travels.”

Dllenahkh was unperturbed. “I’m sorry, Naraldi. I was under
the impression that the restriction did not apply to Sadiri above a certain level
of government.”

The Consul looked at me—in fact, he looked at my head and its fuzz of dull brown hair—in
silent comment at the un-Sadiri sight of me, then surrendered with a small shrug.
“Show me the communicator.”

I handed it over and watched him excitedly as he opened it up and pondered the innards,
taking occasional glances at a handheld for reference notes. Then he sat back, eyes
narrowing as he contemplated his drumming fingers for further enlightenment. Eventually,
he returned to the handheld and made some quick audio and written inputs, at least
one of which was a message by the distinctive sound of the “send” chime.

At last, he pulled a datachip out of his handheld, stood, and gave it to Dllenahkh.
“Dllenahkh, if you will permit the indignity to your position, kindly deliver this
personally to the Consulate’s communications office. It is of a sensitive nature and
must go out as soon as possible.”

Dllenahkh bowed, gave me a quick reassuring glance, and left the room. I watched him
go, feeling even more lost than before. “Your Excellency,” I said plaintively, “could
you tell me what’s happening?”

The Consul sat down again, his expression suddenly tired. “Can I, or should I? I do
not want to raise your hopes unduly, Ms. Delarua. You assumed correctly—I
do
have technological knowledge that might result in a swifter rescue—but knowledge
can only go so far. I would need a certain level of existing technology to effect
a quick solution, and such technology is not yet available.”

My heart sank. He saw how my face changed and relented. “There is a small hope. I
have sent a message for help. I cannot be sure it will be answered, but I can do no
more.”

“Who is it? How long will they take to get here?” For all that I tried not to sound
excited, the words still came out too quickly, too eagerly.

He lowered his eyes, and his jaw tensed as if he were biting back words. After a brief
silence, he sighed and answered, “I am sorry, Ms. Delarua. I really couldn’t say.”

I opened my mouth to plead with him, then paused, closed my mouth, and frowned slightly.
“
Couldn’t
say,” I repeated.

His quick upward glance begged me to understand. “Couldn’t.”

My heart began to pound. I swallowed and tried to compose myself. “I think I understand
you, Your Excellency. At least … I hope I do.”