Contact Imminent (14 page)

“That's the second time you've mentioned my background.” Jani quickened her pace to catch Brondt up, only to have him hurry that much faster, to stay one respectful stride ahead of her. “My reputation. My history. My past is not the issue here.”

“Your past dictates our present. Our future.” Brondt looked back at her. “Don't you understand? You were the
first
.” Before he could say more, the front door of the house opened. Two figures stepped out into the shaded entry, but only one of them continued into the sun. A female in her middle years, dressed in humanish-style trousers and a short-sleeve shirt in the same yellow and blue as the domed roofs.

“Glories of the day to you, Kièrshiarauta!” she called in
lightly accented English. She wore her brown hair in a braid that draped over one shoulder, and a series of gold hoops along the edge of one ear. “It is a great and godly thing that you are here. All of Thalassa rejoices, and I, Gisa Pilon, rejoice the most!”

As Jani drew closer, more details of the female's appearance came into focus—her forearms, which bore the scars of multiple challenges, and her Sìah grey eyes, which contained a coolness missing from her voice and her manner. “Ná Gisa.” Jani raised her right hand in a simple humanish greeting, a gesture calculated to reveal nothing of her dismay.

Feyó looked me in the face and denied knowing anything about Torin.
But how could she acknowledge Gisa as her rival without knowing about Thalassa, and who lived here?
She couldn't.
That meant she lied, as blatantly as any humanish.
But why? What the hell have I walked into?
She blanked her expression as best she could. The time had come to count the cards and play them close to the vest. “Godliness, I most fear, had very little to do with my attendance here.”

Gisa's step hitched as she walked down the path. She glanced at Brondt, then quickly away. “All that is fated is godly,” she said after a moment, “and your presence here was foretold by ní Tsecha himself.”

“Ní Tsecha. Yes.” Jani brushed past Gisa and continued up the path. “We must soon speak of ní Tsecha, and truly,” she added as she passed into the shadowed entryway.

“Glories of the day to you, ná Kièrshia,” Gisa's companion called out in English, sibilant and monotonal.

“Glories of the day—to you.” Jani stopped, and hoped the darkness hid her expression.

Gisa's companion was apparently female, judging from the higher pitch of its voice and the narrowness of its shoulders beneath its thin green coverall. “Indeed was your presence foretold, and we have waited for so long.” A figure from a dark place, skin a mottle of pale yellow patched with tan and brown, eyes milky blue like dirty snow, dull brown hair close-cropped, the discolored scalp visible beneath.

Jani nodded once in acknowledgment, and hoped that the shock she felt didn't show. She had spent years subsisting in the less traveled reaches of the Commonwealth, and knew that medical conditions that would never have existed in the Jewelers Loop or the Channel Worlds sometimes cropped up in such places. But this female appeared more Haárin than humanish, and even the most radical outcasts kept their illnesses private, for they believed such exposed weakness threatened the welfare of the soul. “What is your name?”

The female bared her teeth, red-brown as the darkest patches of her skin. “I am Bon.” She took a step back, then beckoned in humanish invitation with a bandage-swaddled hand. “You must enter, ná Kièrshia, and see the place we have prepared for you!” She keyed the door open and stepped inside the house, waving for Brondt and Gisa to enter before Jani, in keeping with protocol.

Jani waited for the pair to precede her, then stepped inside. She sensed that she was being watched, but she couldn't tell by whom, or where they had hidden themselves.

What she finally saw comforted the eye with its simplicity. The bottom floor of the house formed a graceful U-shaped flow of half-open rooms separated by waist-high barriers and flower-filled planters. In the center was a partially roofed courtyard decorated with fountains and fruit trees, walled at the open end of the U by the mountain and around the curve by walkways that trimmed the three upper floors. The pale earth tones of the stone predominated, accented by the jewel colors of the foliage. Only in Rauta Sheràa had Jani seen houses so well-met with their surroundings.

“Stunned unto silence, she is. A miracle.” Eamon walked out of the gloom to join them, a frosted glass in hand. “The last time I saw you this quiet, Johnny and I had just pulled you out of the regen tank. Had to siphon out your mouth with a hose. I told Johnny that was a mistake.” He raised his drink in a toast, then tossed it back as though he stood at a Karistos bar, not in the presence of two Haárin.

Jani checked Gisa and Bon for their reactions, and found
them regarding her calmly.
They planned this. It's all part of the show
. She looked around, and found that she was indeed being watched—heads poked up over the backs of chairs and around the ends of couches, and took note of her every move.

“You hide your surprise well, ná Kièrshia.” Gisa looked toward the assembled hybrids, a glow of pride informing her sharp features with a lightness seldom seen on an idomeni face. “Whatever you believe, ní Tsecha would be most as pleased. This is his blended world. This is what he prophesied so long ago. It is the future as we all know it shall be. Why then must we continue to suborn ourselves to old ways, and those who promote them?”

Jani looked toward the representatives of the blended world, and felt a roomload of bright-eyed expectancy enclose her like a noose. “By ‘old ways,' you mean ná Feyó. You would challenge her for dominance of the Elyan Haárin.”

“Such is my right, as dominant of the Thalassans.”

“Is this place recognized by the Outer Circle Haárin as an enclave? Have members of the Trade Association visited to pay their respects?”

“Such is only a matter of time.”

“When that time comes, if it comes, will be the moment to offer challenge, not before.” Jani kept her voice low, speaking rapid, ungestured English she hoped most of the hybrids couldn't understand. “You will have to do better than that if you wish to dominate Haárin, and you will have to do better than that if you wish ní Tsecha's support.”

Gisa offered an arrogant smile. “That, ná Kièrshia, is why you are here.”

“I think I'll take a walk outside.” Jani brushed back her overrobe and shoved her hands in her trouser pockets to stop their shaking. “By myself, if I'm allowed.”

“But ná Kièrshia,” Bon called after her. “We wish to show—”

“A walk. Alone.” Jani's boot heels struck the bare tile, the
sharp clip echoing throughout the space. The door opened as she approached, and she shouldered through before it opened completely, the whine of the mechanism following her like a siren wail.

Jani walked around to the bay side of the house, veering off the path and through the red-green scrub toward the cliff. The sun pressed down like a physical force, while the breeze brought with it the smell of the sea, but little coolness.

“John, did you get away? Niall?” She toed the cliff edge, kicking a stone over the side and watching it plummet to the waves below. “Are you still at the station? At Fort Karistos? Did you contact ná Feyó?” She squinted out over the water and watched white seabirds with black-tipped wings swoop and drift, answering her questions with screeches. Then she scanned past them toward the cliffs on the opposite side of the bay, straining to catch sight of Karistos, or the fort, searching the skies for the telltale glint of a shuttle coming in for a landing.

“They're trying to sandbag me. Everywhere I turn, I see eyes like mine. Faces. They want me to feel at home, to forget that they brought me here by force, that they threatened my friends.” The noise of the seabirds faded into the background as her thoughts turned inward and her perceptions narrowed. Now she saw a rodent skitter across the rocks, heard the rustling hum of insects emerge from the dried grass. Sensed movement behind her even though she couldn't see
it, and reached into her duffel for the shooter that wasn't there.

“We mean you no harm, ná Kièrshia.”

Jani turned to find Brondt standing behind her, off to one side. He still wore summerweights, but had removed his eyefilms—his irises proved a strange yellow-green that reminded Jani of a cat.
And he moves like one, for all his heft. Now you see him, now you don't.
“Colonel.” She nodded. “You'll have to forgive me. Imprisonment makes me jumpy.”

Brondt stepped forward as far as he could, so he stood a half a pace or so in front of her. While the position may have been more respectful, it was also dangerous—the tips of his boots extended beyond the cliff edge, and pebbles tumbled and bounced down the steep incline each time he shifted his weight. “You're not imprisoned, ná Kièrshia.”

“I'm not?” Jani let her arms hang at her sides, swung them forward so her hands met with a soft clap, then back again. “You mean that if I happened upon one of the enclave skimmers and made to drive out of here, you'd let me go?”

“Yes.”

Jani fanned her face with her hand. For the first time since the Chicago summer, she felt sweat trickle down her back. She let her duffel slip to the ground, removed her overrobe, and tied the thin garment around her waist. “You sent Torin's image to John Shroud. Why?”

Brondt stared out over the bay. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

Still human enough to lie
. Jani picked up her duffel and slung it across her back, a position that left her arms free and allowed her to reach the strap disconnect if she needed to drop the bag in a hurry. “Neither you nor Torin like Eamon DeVries—that's obvious. Do you feel his medical skills have proven inadequate to the task of caring for the hybrids? Do you think he needs help? Don't tell me that he wanted John to come out here—he'll lose his place as Neoclona's third leg when John confirms that he's been engaging in research his contract bars him from performing.” She stepped
back from the edge, picked up a stone, and flung it into the bay. “Eamon seems fairly well allied with Gisa. Does your disaffection with him extend to her as well?”

Brondt stared back at her, eyes wide, sclera glinting yellow in the bright sun. “Disaffection is too strong a word,” he said softly. “Concern, perhaps. Uneasiness.”

“Gisa has brought the Outer Circle to the edge of disorder.”

“Perhaps she had help.”

Jani walked the cliff edge. Then she started down a narrow path that widened as it angled toward a row of houses that had been built on a road cut into the cliff face. “Tell me about Thalassa, Colonel Brondt.”

Brondt hesitated, then started after her. “My name's Dieter,” he said as he edged past Jani on the path and reasserted his suborn position in front of her. “We've lived here for six months of the Common calendar. Construction is still going on, but we've all the primary structures in, courtesy of Doctor DeVries. Houses. Storage. Community buildings, garages and such.” He led her past the first of the houses, a two-floor white structure with rounded corners, its windows shuttered with yellow slating. Like the other houses on the cliff side of the street, it had been built flush against the cliff face, so that the rock served as one of its walls. The houses on the bay side, however, were freestanding, the sun lighting them into brilliant boxes of coated stone.

“Six months?” Jani followed Brondt down the street. “Is that how long you've been hybrids?”

“No—some of us have been receiving treatment for quite some time.” Brondt glanced back at Jani and smiled. “You should see the look on your face. So surprised. You've been one of many for several years now.”

Jani heard the sounds of opening doors—before long, a small crowd of hybrids lined both sides of the street. Some waved at her, while others bared their teeth. She recognized a few from the shuttle, but other faces were new. The youngest were teenage like Torin, with spindle limbs and faces
that brought back memories of the bazaars of Rauta Shèràa, when the sharp scent of
vrel
blossom permeated the air and the rise and fall of a score of idomeni tongues had filled her ears. “Why did you do it?”

“Some of us had no choice.” Brondt stopped to pick a dead leaf from a potted shrub set in front of one of the houses. “You've heard the hypothesis that there are environmentally induced diseases that can only be cured by hybridization?” He waited for Jani to nod. “We had a few here. Bone and metabolic disorders. Horrible to suffer, to see. Neoclona Karistos could do nothing. Then Doctor DeVries let it be known that other things could be done.” His face lit. “What an incredible experience to bear witness to the healing. Within weeks, in some cases, after the treatments began.”

Jani wandered farther down the street. Past the last of the houses a building that was little more than a door was set into the cliff face. “And the rest of you?”

“We believe in change, and the need for a better world.” Brondt's quiet, clipped voice infused the words with a sincerity that a more passionate pronouncement would have overshot. “In blending, there is strength.”

“You're a Service officer.”

“Yes. Hamil and I both.”

Jani thought of Niall, tracking Brondt through Fort Karistos systems, closing in. The wolf on the scent. “You're finished.”

“We expected to be finished about the time our next physicals rolled around, anyway.” Brondt reached up and touched the leaf that studded the corner of one collar tip. “They were good posts while they lasted. We had access to a great deal of intelligence. We knew all about Colonel Pierce's assignment, for example. That allowed us plenty of time to cover tracks and rearrange the furniture.” He smiled, this time more coolly. “The man is, in many ways, almost comically obvious in his methods.”

Jani felt the blood rise. “He's just as obvious in his temper, his influence, and his dedication.”

“And he's your friend.” Brondt's smile faded. “Considering the circumstances, I wonder how that can be possible.”

Jani paced the street, beating down an idomeni temper that struggled to surge to the surface. “Any significance to the domes?” she asked, because the color drew her fevered eye and she fixed on it for want of anything more calming.

Brondt fell back into his role as tour guide. “In Karistos proper the domes signify places of worship, or the homes of priests or rabbis. Here…” He shrugged. “The Haárin picked them, for the most part. They like the color.” He pointed to the door in the cliff face. “You should be warned—we do experience some heady storms, as well as the occasional land tremor. Each house has its own emergency gear. We also have stations like this set up throughout the enclave.” He led Jani down the incline to the hole in the wall and palmed inside.

The interior lit up as soon as they crossed the threshold, to reveal a single, rock-walled room, the walls lined with carton-stacked shelves. The shelving had been bonded to the floor and ceiling to prevent collapse, with nothing stored above shoulder height.

“This is one of the storm shelters. We have flares, food kettles and water generators, blankets and spare clothing and such.” Brondt patted the shelving framework, then walked deeper into the room. “In case of tremor, get off the cliff. Go above to the land around the main house, what we call ‘the flat.' We've bolstered the houses with shock-dissipating poly infusions, but I'm an old-fashioned boy in that regard. The land always wins.”

As Brondt talked, Jani wandered from shelf to shelf, lifting carton lids and checking the contents. When she came upon the flare pistols, she checked her escort to see if he watched. Then she slipped a pistol into her trouser pocket, adjusting her overrobe so it obscured the bulge. She followed up with a couple of charge cartridges, and set the carton lid back into place just as Brondt rejoined her.

“We should get back to the main house.” He walked to the
door, then waited for her to join him. “It's almost time for mid-afternoon sacrament.”

“Cocktails at fifteen-up?” Either she'd kept her voice low enough that Brondt had not heard, or he decided that ignoring her was the better course. She stepped back out into the glare of the day, and found the hybrids gathered at the end of the street. Several others had joined them from other parts of the enclave. Those in the back rows had leaped atop planters for a better view, while some looked down from verandas or second-floor windows.

“Tell us of ní Tsecha, ná Kièrshia!”

“When will he come here?”

“Does he know of us? What will you tell him?”

Jani walked across the street to a shoulder-high boulder that had been left in place like a free-form monument to the rugged terrain. She set her hands and clambered to the top, then edged forward until she stood at the very tip.
Don't look down
. She did anyway, and watched the waves crash against the rocks a hundred meters below.

Then she reached beneath the overrobe into her pocket and pulled out the flare pistol, keeping her back to the other hybrids so they couldn't see what she did. She shoved the charge cartridge into its slot, raised the pistol above her head and squeezed it off. One—two—three—

The flares lofted upward, contrailing blue smoke. The charges blew one after the other, splaying streaks of yellow-white that fanned over the bay like fronds of starlight, brilliant even against the daylight sky. Visible from Karistos, surely. Visible from the Fort.

“Ná Kièrshia!”
Brondt tried to climb up the rock after her, but cat-quick though he was, he didn't hoist and scramble well.

—four—five. Jani pressed the charge-through again, heard nothing but a hollow click. “Defective cartridge. That's the problem with flare pistols—you can never be sure what the damned thing will do.” She reversed the chamber and ejected
the clip, then turned to the hybrids, who muttered among themselves and watched her in puzzlement.

“If you wished to notify Doctor Shroud and Colonel Pierce of your presence, ná Kièrshia, you could use one of our comports. It is more direct, and does not smoke and flame.”

Jani turned, and saw Gisa standing in the middle of the road, eyeing her in bemusement.

“You are not a prisoner here. There is no reason for you to resort to such actions—you may contact your companions and leave at any time.” Gisa cocked her head, her look turning thoughtful. “We all have read of your life.” She pointed to Torin, who watched from the upper level of one of the houses. “Torin Clase has drawn together all the records, as is his way and his duty as our historian.” She let her hand fall to her side, and took a few steps closer to the rock. “I most understand why you would fear entrapment. Your history is that of one who has been chased. Imprisoned. But much as we despised to do what we did, such was the only way we knew we could talk to you as ourselves. If you had gone with Feyó, she would have never brought you here. You would only have known us through her words, her fears.”

Jani felt the tug of Gisa's own words. Her voice.
Feyó dominates by simple authority. This one tries to be your friend.
She wasn't sure which method she distrusted more. “You despised to do such, yet you did it. You threatened my friends.”

Gisa shook her head. “We would not have harmed them.”

“I was led to believe differently.” Jani glanced at Brondt, who declined to meet her eye. “The Elyan enclave is well-established, while Thalassa is a young place. Why should Feyó fear you?”

“
Because we are not of the old ways!
” The shout came from one of the houses, and was soon echoed up and down the street.

Gisa remained quiet until the last murmur died away. “Because we are not of the old ways,” she repeated softly,
showing an actor's gift for timing. “We treat food in the humanish manner, as is sane. We study all aspects of all our many gods. Yet in order to maintain her place among the conservatives, Feyó would compel us to behave fully as Haárin. To take our meals as solitary once more. To take our rules from her.” She drew close enough that Jani could see the hard shine in her eyes. “That is the issue, ná Kièrshia. Are we of ourselves or are we of the Elyan Haárin? Who will represent our wishes in the meeting rooms of the Outer Circle? Feyó, who has never visited this place for fear of contamination by our new ways, or I, who have taken the first steps down the road of ní Tsecha's prediction?”

“Feyó is esteemed by ní Tsecha.” Jani stood on the edge of the rock, the flare pistol dangling from her hand. “To humanish and Haárin outside this place, she represents the solidarity of the Outer Circle. If her power is seen to weaken, others will see it as a chance to attack, and Karistos will be as it was only a short time ago. A lawless place, controlled by those who could not give a damn for Haárin, and even less for Thalassa.” She tucked the pistol into her waistband and leaped down from the rock. “You must know this if you know anything. Yet you battle Feyó, and Feyó battles you. What neither of you realize is that by your actions, you have put me in the middle. If you know my history as you claim to, you know this is not a sound thing for either of your strategies.” She walked past Gisa and the other hybrids, and trudged up the road toward the main house.