IronStar (72 page)

“Ma’am, I know you said the matter
was closed, but I need to get this out. I realize now that Lieutenant Roehl had
me tied to the jump seat to protect me from consequences and to make it look
like I was powerless, and in a lot of ways I was. But I have to confess, ma’am,
I actively helped her a little at a few points, when I didn’t have to. What she
was doing just seemed …right, I guess. Was that wrong?”

“Margaret, God save the Regnum from
officers who think about duty
instead
of ‘right’, or for that matter,
vice versa. We put tools in your hands that a single person could use to
vaporize half a continent. A balance between
duty
and
right
is
the only thing that separates us from the worst savagery humans have ever seen.
If you don’t come to the Navy knowing the balance, I’m not sure it
can
be taught. Not well enough for command, anyway. You already have it.” Lucinda
Dunning paused, allowed the thought to sink home. Then she broke eye contact,
said,

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a
tonne of reports to process…” Margaret took her cue, rose, saluted and stepped
to the hatchway. She paused there, one hand on the open-control. The Admiral
worked a moment longer, looked up. Eyebrows raised in an inquisitive arch.

“Let’s hear it, Margaret.”

“Sorry, Ma’am. It’ just that
…that’s what Lieutenant Roehl said, too, before she made me the offer of
‘protective custody’. She said, ‘Margaret, if you’d tried to fire that beamer
at Elagai, I’d have heard its proximity warning beep, and known. And then I’d
never be making you this offer.’ She added, ‘Thanks for getting it right’. I
didn’t understand her then, not totally, but I think I do now. Thank you,
Ma’am.”

Lucinda’s eyes lingered
thoughtfully for a long moment on the hatchway, after it closed behind her
redeemed Ensign.

Five days later, Kirrah was
standing with one hand over the clear cover of a regen tank, in the extended
facilities at Stone-in-a-River school. Irshe floated within, just beneath
consciousness, all biosigns green. A white film of new cells was rapidly
coloring the pale yellow synthskin that covered most of his back above his
legs.
Any skin that happened to be facing south as he rode north up
Merchant’s Path
, Kirrah thought bitterly. The Kruss’ fireball had been
small and brief, but savage for anyone exposed within six blocks, as the neat
ranks of twenty-two filled regen tanks testified. Admiral Dunning had stripped
all three destroyers of almost every available medical resource, over the
half-hearted protests of her medical staff. At the moment, six of the nine Navy
medics were on duty planetside. Kirrah gazed down into the lightly-sleeping,
familiar face, remembering…

“He heals well,” said a calm voice
beside her. “I am impressed to see
Reg’num
healing tech at work, it can
do so much. I am also a little disappointed - it sustains life where we could
not, yet as a machine which only repairs another machine. He will need help
with the damage he has suffered in his
ath’la
, to be injured so cruelly.
I had hoped that somehow…”

“Issthe! I am so grateful for all
your work with Irshe, and so many others. The Regnum healers are absolutely
fascinated with whatever your priest-healers are doing. They have never seen
such serious burns heal so quickly and so well. Aren’t you tired after all the
many
takkaz
you have been working? When did you sleep last?”

“Two days ago, plus a few naps. It
is a debt I have promised my body I will repay, and it trusts me with more
energy, for now. Come, I have someone else for you to meet.” Kirrah followed,
not deeper into the hospital section, but out into the early evening courtyard.
To her puzzlement they continued across the busy open area and up to the door
of Kirrah’s quarters. A lithe form rose as she entered.

“Peetha! Your pardon,
Elagai
!
Please forgive me, I am still not used to your… what is
this
?” Kirrah
touched her own forehead.

Elagai’s hand went to the circle of
fast-heal above her own eyes. “One of the
Reg’num
healers told me I
could have Wyrakka’s brand removed. I thought, since it would not interfere
with my duties, I would prefer it gone. It is no longer …appropriate. You are
not displeased?”

“Displeased? Gods, no! You’ve
certainly earned it! How are the…” Kirrah broke off at a gesture from Issthe.

“My apologies for interrupting,
Kirrah Warmaster. I am weary, and this is not the person I mean for you to
meet. Please come.” Even more puzzled, Kirrah followed into one of the side
chambers, Tash’ta’s room. There Tash’ta was sitting beside a small cot on which
reclined a sorry-looking little girl of about five Standard years. Clean
dressings covered her right eye and the right side of her face, and one thin
leg and foot was wrapped in a splint. The child’s left hand was also wrapped,
smaller than it should be, and her left arm bruised yellow and purple as far up
as the short sleeves gave view. Seams of medicinal gel gleamed here and there
on the exposed parts of her face and throat where something jagged had
impacted. Her left eye, huge, dark and beautiful, peered anxiously at the
newcomers.

Issthe spoke, using the formal
language of introduction. She bowed from the waist towards Kirrah, indicated
the injured girl with two graceful fingers, and said, “I show you Ulla’ta. The
Reg’num
healer
Earl’Lock’wood
assures me that her hand and eye can be
restored, both.” At the mention of her name, the little girl’s complexion
paled, and she backed the few available centimeters into the corner of her cot,
as far from the newcomers as she could get. Her chin began to tremble, and she
drew skinny legs up protectively in front of her thinly gowned body. Issthe
moved to sit beside her, cradling her with right arm around small, bony
shoulders and holding her left hand over the girl’s upper chest. The rapid
breathing began to moderate, but only a little. The single huge dark eye
continued to stare at Kirrah like a rabbit before a snake.

“Issthe, I can see this poor girl
is badly injured, not only in her body. Is she from one of the
vai’atho
at the edge of the Kruss’ blast?” Kirrah took a step forward, knelt beside the
cot, added:

“Ulla’ta, you are welcome to share
our rooms while you heal.” At her advance, the child recoiled as far as she
could, pressing herself against Issthe’s side.

Kirrah backed away, sighed, said to
Issthe, “We will be dealing with injuries from the Kruss attack a long time,
won’t we? The poor girl is terrified of someone new.”

“Kirrah, she was not injured by the
Kruss attack. She…” Issthe began.

“Then who has injured her?” Kirrah
demanded, feeling the darkness inside begin to stir at the thought of someone
deliberately harming such an innocent being as this child.

Issthe looked at her a moment,
said, “Why,
you
injured her, Kirrah Warmaster. She is terrified of
you
.
Ulla’ta lived in O’dakai, about three
doi’la
from the palace. We found
her, buried in rubble, three days ago. Her home had collapsed, killing all but
her.” At the mention of Kirrah’s name, the girl trembled and covered her face,
rocking and keening to herself. Kirrah recoiled in dawning horror as the pieces
dropped into place.

“What… why… Issthe! What are you…”
Kirrah was at a loss for words, her eyes trapped and held by the sight of the
terrified, wretched little girl rocking on the cot.

“Ulla’ta is for you, Kirrah
Shu’Roehl. The final lesson in your study of
kaena’hachk
. You have well
embraced your own darkness. You have acted as you needed, as your
ath’la
led,
to protect those you love. All that remains is that you embrace the cost. I
selected this child while we healers were in O’dakai a few days ago. I brought
her here because she has no one left in the world.” Kirrah felt paralyzed - not
numb, her distress was intense - but unable to move, as the priestess’ words continued.

“You know of
kir’shazza
, a
lesson
between friends
. Just so, there is its balance, the
kir’vekka
, a ‘
lesson
between enemies’
. Ulla’ta is to be your teacher, your
kir’vekka
.”

“No!” whispered Kirrah. Her mouth
seemed disconnected from her roiling thoughts. “This isn’t… I didn’t mean to… I
don’t want…” Issthe seemed to ignore her, bowed to the child, and spoke in the
O’dai tongue to her. One of the words was ‘Kirrah’. One graceful hand indicated
Kirrah, touched the child, all the while cradling and reassuring her with the
other arm.

Dark gray eyes returned to focus on
Kirrah. “Kirrah Warmaster, until you fully accept that you
did
‘want
to’, and
did
‘mean to’, you remain a special problem for your priestess.
Every Talamae child has learned this lesson, to embrace not only anger and
action, but to embrace their consequences. Otherwise one’s
kaena’hachk
may become unbalancing. This may lead to action which does not count the entire
cost. It has been known to lead to far worse: to losing the humanity of one’s
enemy, and thus one’s own.

“I do not believe, despite all your
Reg’num’s
knowledge and power, that they have taught you this simple
truth. Therefore I have prepared a special, remedial lesson for you. Surely you
do not seek to flee this part of your learning. It is essential for you and the
child, both.”

Looking from Issthe’s calm, weary
eyes into Ulla’ta’s single dark one, Kirrah realized she had never before been
so thoroughly and so painfully brought to accounts. The darkness inside her
seemed to come alive with soul-searing fire. A thousand excuses and
rationalizations formed and fled in every direction, all lies. Her mind
followed, slowed, stopped, turned to look at the child, turned to the memory of
Irshe floating in his tank, the sight of the planet, blue-shifted in the
shuttle’s front viewscreen. She saw again the image as the earth under the
palace gushed fire, saw Akaray’s ruined village, the remembered flash of the
Kruss bomblet. Somewhere deep in her personal calculus, something shifted. The searing
darkness stopped trying to escape. Instead it flowed, like molten steel into
the mold of her resolve and decisions. Something else shifted into its place: a
network, a joining, a new wholeness, a
firado’kae
. She realized her
personal universe had shifted, forever.

Somehow, she had slipped to a
sitting position on the end of the now-crowded cot. A last protest tumbled from
her lips. “Issthe, you are right. I need to understand the consequences of what
I’ve done, of what I do. But that is not this child’s task, it’s mine. You
can’t just…
use
her, as a sort of, of
punishment
, or training
tool, for me.”

“Kirrah Warmaster, she has already
been used by you. I give you to one another, not as judgement, but as a healer
to my
karadoiz
, both of you.” Sensing Kirrah still wavering, Issthe
added a little dryly, “You may trust me in this, I shall not abandon you with
her.”

Stunned as though standing at
ground zero in an explosion that vaporized her armor but miraculously left her
intact, Kirrah recovered enough to ask, “What shall I do? She is
terrified
of
me,”
and I of her!
wailed a small mental voice. “How may I begin?”

Issthe’s face lit briefly with a
tired smile, whether from relief or approval Kirrah could not say. The
priestess replied, “She is of course afraid, knowing you only as the one who
attacked her city so spectacularly. Know also that her wounds are more than
they seem. Ulla’ta has been misused, by those in her own home. Of this I am
sure. She should be kept in the company of women, for now. Although Akaray’s
presence will be good for her, as he obviously loves you. But no male over
seven winters, I have left orders with Tash’ta and Slaetra.

“Be seen providing her with food,
more than she can consume, so that she feels surrounded by abundance. It will
be new for her, and help draw her back fully into this world. But be patient,
Kirrah shu’Roehl. Expect nothing in return, for many days.

“You two have much to learn from
one another. I shall be your bridge, as long as needed.” As the blue-robed
woman spoke the word ‘bridge’, Kirrah noticed one of Issthe’s hands had been
resting for some moments on her own, and the other gently disengaged from
behind Ulla’ta’s back and touched the child’s whole, right hand. The familiar
warmth flowed into her from Issthe’s touch, and with it another, feather-light
sensation - which corresponded exactly to the look in Ulla’ta’s eye as it
glanced shyly at Kirrah, widened, and quickly fled away.

Issthe broke the contact, said,
“First, I suggest a meal together. If you are willing, two of the students will
bring dinner to your rooms here, and the six of us will dine together.” Her
words, Kirrah realized, encompassed the two of them, the child, Tash’ta, Akaray
and Elagai, who had been standing silently just inside the door for some time.
Just
close family, good,
came the unexpected thought.

“To begin with”, Issthe continued,
“I have set the
object-which-speaks
to tell Ulla’ta what we are saying,
over dinner. But I believe we would do well with her to learn the O’dai
language, at least a little. I am sure she will quickly learn ours.

"There are two ways of getting
home; and one of them is to stay there." - G. K. Chesterton,
op.cit.

In a cleared practice yard in the
center of the still largely unrepaired military quarters, a loose circle of
warriors was gathered. In the hot early afternoon sun, a mix of Talamae, Wrth
and a sprinkle of Regnum Marines and sailors stood around the combatants.
Adrianne Gilman circled warily, two meters from her opponent. Elagai stood
calmly, feet apart, elbows bent, palms forward. Adrianne stepped behind the
Wrth woman, sprang suddenly. At the first sudden motion, Elagai dropped to one
knee, turning at the hips with left arm fully extended. The ex-Marine’s left
hand slapped at the other’s wrist, which suddenly dropped out of the arc of her
swing. Her right hand continued the sweep, catching Elagai just above the wrist
and pulling sharply. Elagai lunged into the pull, and it was Adrianne’s turn to
drop as the taller Wrth’s left ankle swept the space her head had just
occupied.