Misfits (10 page)

"What are you planning, then, if you don't
mind sharing with a friend?"

She nodded at the screen, gnawing on her
chocolate. "This thing here? It's got a power supply capable of
powering a pinbeam."

Skel sat back on his heels, face attentive.
"Does it, now?"

"That's what it says here." She tapped the
screen. "An' if I was to do a series of something stupids, like it
warns me here in this manual never to do? Then it might give up all
its power at once."

Skel didn't say anything. She gave him a
look and a grin. "Want your chocolate back now, don't you?"

"You got everything you need to pull this
off?"

She nodded, and reached 'round with her free
hand to pull the grubby cord up over her head. The key was right
where she'd put it, nestled next to the enamel disk her mother'd
given her. She palmed it and let Skel put the string back over her
head, and tuck the pouch away.

"You tell 'im up there you was gonna blow up
his equipment?"

"Told him he was gonna lose the signal, and
not to think anything 'bout it."

"That'll be a comfort," Skel said dryly, and
Miri sighed.

"I'll make it up to him. Now, gimme a minute
to read this part again, right?"

* * *

The door opened and Jack strode in, tool
belts clanking.

"Tech," he said, nodding, and wandered over
to the supply cupboard, belt clanking, casually opening a hatch
that was coded to Brunner's thumbprint, and placing something
within it.

"I see that I am wise to lock important
items away," Brunner said.

The big man shot a grin over one shoulder.
"Little testy? Well, you got a right, I guess. We all do. Just
gotta remember that I hold the overrides. You're safe from
everybody but me." He closed the hatch and walked over to the
monitor shelf, hitching himself up on the stool.

Brunner sighed and turned back to his
screen. "If you are here for a purpose--… ?"

"Come down to see how the work was going, is
all. Heard from that girl of yours lately?"

"Indeed. She informs me that they intend to
make rendezvous. I have assured her that the ships will be
there."

"Did you, now," Jack murmured, and Brunner
threw him a sharp look.

"Will the ships be there?" he demanded.

"Said so, didn't you? Now, you might be
interested in knowing that the chief, he got his answer from the
company. And--following the letter of his instructions, y'know,
just like he ought--he's had the Scout arrested and thrown in the
brig. I expect to be--yeah, here it is, now."

Footsteps rang in the corridor outside; the
door opened and three people in Phaetera security colors entered
the room. One stood by the door, stunrod held ready, the other two
advanced on Jack, who docilely held out his hands to accept the
restraints.

"Phaetera Company orders Jacumbra Edgil
removed from his position and the company payroll. His access to
the station is restricted and he will be removed from the station
at the earliest opportunity." The security guard looked up from the
portable from which she had been reading, and looked hard into
Jack's face. "Phaetera Company also wishes you to know that there
will be no involvement in the situation on the planet below.
Promises of rescue or succor made by Scout Commander Kon Rad
yo'Lazne and/or Jacumbra Edgil are not binding on Phaetera
Company."

What? "But--" Jack's shoulder lifted
minutely and Brunner stopped himself, biting his lip. Jack rose at
the prompting of his guard, bound hands held awkwardly in front of
him. The other guard looked to Brunner.

"We apologize for disturbing your work,
Technician Brunner."

"Jack--"

"See you, Brunner! Hey, it's about time I
got a vacation. Don't expect the Scout to be such good company,
though--…"

He passed through the door on the heels of
his guard, the others following.

The door closed, leaving Brunner alone with
the equipment.

* * *

Getting in close enough to kill the gun,
Redhead thought, as she rested behind the scant cover of a charred
bush, that was gonna be tricky.

But not half as tricky as getting back out
before the Stubbs blew.

Liz, she'd laid down the law, and it was the
scariest thing Miri had heard so far in her life.

"Soon's Redhead's diversion goes off, we're
running, and it's every hand for themselves, you hear me? If your
partner falls and don't get up, run. If I fall--run. If you get hit
and fall and it ain't fatal--get up, damn you, and run!"

Miri figured she'd be a little behind the
general race, what with having to set the Stubbs and all. She had
the route to the rendezvous set in her mind, so that was okay.
Skel, he'd wanted to stick with her, but she'd told him to look out
for himself, like Liz'd said, and she'd see him at the shuttles, or
for sure on the station, after.

Time to move. She took a breath in, deep,
got her feet under her, and moved.

* * *

Brunner locked the lab door, went to the
cupboard, set his thumb in the lock and pulled the door open.

Calmly, and not at all surprised, he removed
the non-station communication device and a data stick.

Returning to the monitors, he cleared one,
inserted the stick, and touched the "talk" button on the
communicator.

"Jack?" Cautious. Low.

"Brunner," he answered serenely. "I am the
meteorologist of record. You and your compatriots are in place and
willing?"

"We're willing, sir, but the dock's locked
up."

"Security?"

"Not now."

A schematic blossomed on the screen as the
feed from the datastick kicked in. Brunner looked at it, understood
what he was to do, and spoke into the communicator.

"You can move at once."

"Yessir, but--"

"I will take care of the airlock and the bay
door. If anyone should ask, you do this on my orders, which you
believe I am able to issue. You understand this?"

"Yessir."

"Good. The airlock will cycle in three
minutes from my mark. Mark. What is your name?"

"Jamin Fowler, sir."

"Jamin Fowler, fly well. The weather will be
unsettling on planet, bear in mind that it will soon be worse. Be
quick, and bring everyone you can."

"We aim to do just that, sir."

"Good," Brunner said. "Good."

He glanced over at the weather screen, saw
the window for the Stubbs open, and data begin to flow. Surely not!
he thought, suddenly not calm at all. There was no time now to stop
and--

The data continued to flow, he reached out,
touched the speaker plate--

Static from the speaker was abruptly cut
off. On the screen, the data flow ceased, and the window reformed,
displaying the legend:

NO SIGNAL. CACHING HISTORY. ARCHIVING.
DONE.

* * *

Day 57, Standard Year 1393

Solcintra, Liad

"We had managed," the Delm Lysta said, "to
quiet the problems you have caused. We brought you home to the
clanhouse, fed you, clothed you, kept you from prying eyes and
wagging tongues. You have, in return, tended our inner gardens, and
for the most part you have been respectful."

His delm turned on him suddenly. Brunner
recognized the play, and the actor whose stance was but poorly
emulated.

"Tell me why you thought, what gave you the
least reason to assume, that you would be permitted to broadcast
your name to the world now? You fall yet short of the ten standards
we had agreed to retain you in house for your own protection. Have
you no sense of propriety? Is it that you specialize in
disasters?"

The delm pounded a key, sweeping the on-hold
play from the wall-screen taller than he and replacing it with:

Scouts Confirm Meteorologic Concerns over
Blast Aftermath read the teaseline, above a wonderfully colorful
and overwrought full motion graphic representation of the beam
blast and the resultant dust plume. Below that was his paper,
exactly as he had written to yo'Lazne, detailing his concerns
regarding trace timonium and other radioactive by-products, the
assumptions of dispersal difficulties, the recommendation that
nearby residents be tested for pollutants at least and perhaps
treated to a prophylactic stay in an autodoc.

There was more. He was quoted from his
letters of testimony regarding the investigation into the actions
of Phaetera Company in the matter of Klamath, his certifications
were listed. As he had given his opinions in his melant'i as a
professional and an expert, he was signed as I. Brunner, Master
Meteorologist, with neither clan nor even city of residence
appended.

His analysis, including jet-stream
particulate distribution, fall-out rates, half-lives, everything
he'd sent to the Scout, were included by link.

Brunner sighed and turned to his delm.

"By warning the people of Liad of the
peculiar nature and dangers of the blast plume, and showing
potential areas of concern, I have shamed the house?"

His delm stamped feet, twice. Brunner wasn't
certain of the play from which the gesture was borrowed, though the
mood he knew far too well. The delm being a forever hopeful
playwright, all actions were seen through another author's
eyes.

"Ten Standards. Ten Standards you were to
remain silent to the world, and then to remove yourself to a quiet
occupation. This morning already I have had three comm calls and a
piece of mail inquiring if this is the clan home of I. Brunner.

"We have an orderly house." The delm
sniffed. "And we will have an orderly house. This--" waving
energetically at the wall "--is not a quiet occupation, do you
understand? I am willing to acknowledge you ten years a gardener,
and to divert a portion of the trust to set you in that
service."

Brunner bowed, acknowledging that he'd
heard.

The comm line blinked; the delm ignored it
in favor of staring toward the door toward the outer halls, where a
rarely heard chime echoed discreetly.

"This, if this is more of your doing we
shall--…"

The what of the doing was interrupted by yet
another comm call; this one at least was known to the house for the
comm emitted a quiet chirchirchir, stolen from the sounds of
chiretas closing out the last act of A Clan Dissolute, the extended
critical version.

The delm said "Answer" and the comm
dutifully did so.

"Cousin," started the voice, and Brunner
winced. "Imagine my surprise--…"

"Hold Cousin, there's a knock."

Brunner winced again: Act II, Scene 6 of The
Interminable as echoed in Act I, Scene 4, of the current rage False
Melant'i.

Verena stood at the door when the delm
opened it. A polite if rapid bow followed, and a sweep of
words.

"There are visitors to see Ichliad. They ask
by name and they have--…"

A stamp of feet.

"Ichliad does not receive visitors. Not from
friends and not from the curious! This house does not permit."

Brunner still stood, wondering if the child
would break and run. He was pleased to see that she did not, nor
did she look at him.

"My delm, please. I have cards." She showed
them, two, fanned between small fingers. "Also, the lady sends
this--" She raised her other hand, showing a slightly
phosphorescent blue key.

Brunner's stomach went into freefall.

Lysta snatched the cards, reached for the
key, but Verena stepped sideways, extending her hand to
Brunner.

"The lady said that I should place it in
Ichliad's hand, for she had promised to bring it back to him, when
her mission was done."

He moved, received the key, and stood for a
moment staring at the imprinted Stubbs logo in archaic Terran
script.

"She died," he said, perhaps to Verena,
perhaps to his delm. "On Klamath. I--she was not listed among the
survivors and--"

"Korval!" His delm's voice carried shock
without artifice. "We cannot receive Korval. They are--"

"… thrown off planet for being bad boys and
girls," an ironic voice concluded in backworld Terran. A redheaded
woman in working leathers stepped into the room neatly between
Verena and Lysta, followed by a slender, dark haired man wearing a
battered pilot's jacket.

"Hi, Brunner," the woman said to him, gray
eyes measuring him, head to toe.

"Redhead," he whispered. "Is it you?"

She grinned, and he saw the halfling
soldier. "'Fraid so. Amazing what some people'll do to collect a
debt, ain't it?"

She reached behind her, took the man's arm
and brought him forward. "Ichliad Brunner, I make you known to my
lifemate, Val Con yos'Phelium Clan Korval." Now she spoke Liaden.
Her accent was Solcintran, pure and perfectly clear.

Korval Himself bowed, a bow most exquisite
in its exactness and in its brevity: The bow of one owing a debt
beyond paying.

"Ichliad Brunner, I am most glad to meet
you," he said softly.

"And now that you have met him," Lysta said
sharply, "I will ask you to remove yourselves from this clanhouse."
The cards were thrust out imperiously, exactly the famous gesture
performed by Nadelm Casaro in A Clan Redeemed. Brunner closed his
eyes.

Korval turned and bowed again, delm to delm.
He seemed unaware of the attempt to return the cards.

"Lysta, forgive us for coming to you in such
a state of disarray," he said smoothly. "There is a long history
between my lady and Meteorologist Brunner; many events to be told
over, several Balances to be crafted and weighed. You will have
heard the news; we do not have much time here."

Val Con glanced at them, his free hand
executing a sign Brunner took to be "Continue."

"Too long and too short," Redhead murmured
from her place next to Brunner. She sent him a quick look from
beneath her lashes.

"You and me got a lot to talk over, like the
man says," she continued, as Korval walked Lysta over to the other
side of the room, still talking, his posture one of concerned
respect. "So, quick question--you looking for work?"