Saga of Shadows 1: The Dark Between the Stars (23 page)

When BO finished her historical lecture, the children remained silent and attentive, though it was clearly an act. Ending her lesson, BO said, “Now it is time for us to begin our aquatic instruction. You will learn about fluid dynamics, parabolic arcs, surface tension, and hydrostatics—”

The children cried out, “Swimming!”

The Teacher compy took the students to the suspended body of water, while Cesca remained with Jess. “To answer your question,” Cesca said, “no I don’t regret retiring as Speaker for the clans.”

“I never asked that question. I always knew the answer.”

“I’m just reminding myself after the recent election.”

“Does it bother you that you’re not doing important things anymore?”

Her dark-eyed gaze flashed him a question. “This is just as important.”

On his comm, Jess received a summons to the offices. He and Cesca kicked off toward the near wall, wondering what business had called them now. When they arrived in the network of chambers carved out of the comet wall, they found a stern-looking Olaf Reeves, his son Dale, and several other Roamers waiting for them. They all wore the same clan embroidery on their old-fashioned jumpsuits.

“We’ve come to take our children back,” Olaf said. “Per our agreement.”

Cesca was alarmed. “Is something wrong with the instruction?”

Dale started to speak, glanced at his father, then fell silent. Olaf said, “We can teach them what they need to know. Clan Reeves is going to pack up from Rendezvous and head out to a new home.” He seemed defiant.

Dale Reeves added in a low voice, “We want to be like the old clans, the families that came off the
Kanaka.
We’re self-sufficient, and we won’t be beholden to anyone.”

Cesca let out a slow sigh and turned to Jess. “How many Reeves children are at Academ?” Even he didn’t know offhand.

Olaf glanced at Dale, who answered, “My two sons Jamie and Scott and seven others, total. When we agreed to let you teach our children, it was on the condition that any parent could take their child away for whatever reason.”

“Yes, that was the agreement—I wasn’t arguing,” Jess said. “Academ is for all Roamers, but they have to come here by choice.”

They called the clan Reeves children to the headquarters office. The waiting felt awkward, and Dale looked as if he didn’t want to be there.

Cesca was troubled. “We’re sad to see them go. I wish you’d reconsider.”

Olaf’s ire was clearly directed elsewhere. “It’s not either of you. You aren’t those new self-centered Roamers, the ones who attend meetings and run for office rather than feel the joy of building something, strengthening a clan, and remembering who we are.”

“Where will you go?” Cesca asked.

“Rendezvous for a while, until we finish our preparations,” Olaf said. “Then we’ll go far away.”

Dale added, “It’s a secret, but once our settlement is established, we may make contact again.”

“Or not,” Olaf said. “If we need extra supplies, we have an agreement with Kett Shipping.”

Teacher compies entered the office chamber leading nine children, some of them dripping wet from swimming. The boys and girls looked confused. When Dale’s two sons saw their father, they bounced forward, happy. “Are we going home?” asked the younger of the two.

BO presented herself. “Could we please know what is happening? This interrupts my class activities.”

Cesca hugged the nine Reeves children, one by one. “You’re going back with your clan. We’ll miss you.” Her eyes were sparkling. “Go pack your things.”

Jess turned to the clan leader. “Do you have instructors where you’re going? I know clan Reeves doesn’t have many compies, but . . . I could offer you a Teacher model if that would help. BO, would you like to continue instructing this group of children?”

“Yes,” the compy said. “That is my reason for existence.”

Skeptical, Olaf stroked his bushy beard and then conceded. “As long as she knows Roamer history.”

“I am an expert in Roamer history,” BO said.

“Good enough, then. Come with us.”

T
HIRTY

P
ATRICK
F
ITZPATRICK
III

When Del Kellum showed up at the Golgen skymine for a surprise—and probably extended—visit, Patrick Fitzpatrick made the best of it.

He got along well enough with his father-in-law, considering. After all, Zhett had put up with Patrick’s grandmother, the Old Battleaxe, who had threatened to disown him and call down the authorities on the Roamer girl he’d fallen in love with. Ah, romance had its charms!

Del Kellum arrived without making any prior arrangements, expecting the skymine operators to drop everything and accommodate him. He flew across the gas giant’s high wisps of cloud and called for a landing spot in the skymine’s main industrial bay. “And what is your business here, sir?” asked a young man at the comm station, newly assigned to the task.
Too young,
Patrick thought.

“I’m
Del Kellum,
by damn! Just clear a spot for me. I know that skymine like the back of my hand—and I am very familiar with the back of my hand.”

Patrick had been in the upper control dome, inspecting the flow readings from the station’s numerous process lines. The crew chiefs sent him regular updates. Even though everything was nominal, Del Kellum would probably have plenty of suggestions on how to “fix” things.

Zhett hurried in from their quarters with Rex propped on her hip, connecting the toddler’s harness to a small antigrav battery; when she released him, Rex bobbed along at her side like a tethered balloon. Her face was flushed. “It’s always good to see my father.” Her tone sounded weary rather than excited.

“From a distance,” Patrick said. Zhett elbowed him.

Because it was a big shipping day for ekti, the skymine’s industrial bay didn’t have a berth for an unscheduled ship. Zhett got on the comm and instructed her father to land on one of the upper skydecks. “If you can handle it, Dad—it’ll take some careful flying.”

He made a rude noise and clicked off.

His ship took up two-thirds of the cramped skydeck, but he landed in perfect position. As soon as the big man descended from the ramp, Zhett ran forward to give her father a hug with a bobbing Rex in tow. Patrick shook the older man’s hand. “Good to see you, sir.”

Del clapped him on the back, but was more interested in scooping up his grandson. “Just came from Newstation and the election of the new Speaker. I had to be there for appearances, but what a cluster-fart!”

“Sam Ricks won, we heard,” Zhett said.

“Lee Iswander
lost.
Nobody imagines Ricks is qualified, but after the Sheol disaster . . .” Del made a silly noise at Rex, which caused the boy to giggle. He handed the toddler off to Zhett, who passed him to Patrick. “I needed an excuse to clear my brain, and what better excuse than to come see all my grandchildren?”

“Two of your grandchildren,” Zhett said. “Shareen won’t be back from Earth for a couple of days yet.”

“Then I’ll just have to stay long enough to see my favorite granddaughter. If the invitation stands?”

Patrick gave Zhett a
What can you do?
look. “Of course it stands.”

“Don’t know why you sent her to Earth, though. That girl needs

Roamer training, not fancy impractical academics.”

“She needs both,” Patrick said. “But I agree she’ll do better in a Roamer environment. A formalized class curriculum isn’t Shareen’s strong point.”

“She belongs at Fireheart Station,” Del announced. “Have her spend a year with Kotto Okiah—let her thrive. She has so much potential.”

Zhett smiled as they made their way to the top of the skymine, because Del would want to inspect the skymine’s activity. “Knowing Shareen, I think she’d end up teaching Kotto a few things.”

Inside the control dome, the shift crew studied the ekti-reactor output and the gas densities in Golgen’s cloud layers, as detected by dangling probe antennas. Pilots adjusted the directional output from the exhaust stacks to keep the big facility wandering along.

Del marched to one of the embedded screens to call up a summary and frowned when his old password didn’t work. Without hesitation, he nudged aside one of the techs, accessed the system, then raised his eyebrows at Zhett. “That’s an impressive production num-ber, by damn. Up fifteen percent from my day. Of course, it doesn’t hurt that the drogues aren’t harassing you anymore.”

“Shareen designed several of our engineering upgrades herself,” Patrick said with understandable pride. “She’s got a good feel for the operations.”

Del eyed his son-in-law. “And have you figured out all the processes yet? Every skyminer needs to know every system.”

“I’ve picked up quite a bit over the years. Zhett and I manage the skymine together.”

“Of course she manages the skymine—she’s my daughter.”

“Fitzy and I do it
together,
Dad,” Zhett corrected. Del had never resolved that in his mind. “I cured him of a life of luxury long ago. You should be glad he didn’t go into Confederation politics.”

Del gave a grudging nod. “He’s better off here on the skymine. Or maybe I should take you to my distillery on Kuivahr—then you’d re-ally get your hands dirty.”

Patrick pulled Rex closer in his antigrav harness and gave his son a playful bounce. “As exciting as you make that sound, I think I’ll stay here. We still have a family to raise.”

Coming from a blue-blood family, not to mention being the grandson of a former Hansa chairman, Patrick had absolutely no interest in politics, though he could have had any number of ambassadorial positions or government posts. Patrick decided he preferred the Roamer way of life, and he was perfectly content with his spirited and beautiful wife.

“And where’s my other grandson?” Del looked around the control dome as if he expected Toff to be working one of the stations. “Hope he’s studying hard. His sister left some big shoes for him to fill.”

“Toff is reminded of that every day,” Patrick said. “We’ll find him down on the loading dock. Busy day today. Four big shipments going out, open-grid cargo frameworks lined up and waiting to be loaded with ekti canisters.”

“Let’s go see the boy. Once I review how you do things, maybe I can offer suggestions for improvement. I have plenty of experience in industrial operations, you know—not to mention leading all the Roamer clans.”

“We’ll be happy to hear your suggestions,” Patrick said. This time

Zhett gave him the
What can you do?
look.

The skymine was a satisfying flurry of activity. Down on the cargo deck, the air was filled with fumes and stardrive exhaust, the smell of hot engines and cold chemical breezes. The bay rang with the clamor of tanks being loaded onto pallets, adjustment jets maneuvering cargo frames into place where their open grids were loaded with hundreds of ekti canisters for transport. Two empty cargo frames hovered outside in the sky, waiting to enter the big bay.

“You should have a subsidiary storage raft where you can keep surplus silos of ekti,” Del announced. “You’re producing faster than you can distribute.”

Zhett pointed out the cargo doors. Not far off, a storage raft floated above the clouds, loaded with excess ekti tanks. “Like that one you mean?”

“Exactly like that, by damn. But you should really have two of them.”

They did, in fact, have a second one under construction. Rather than point that out, Patrick said, “We’ll run the numbers and see if it makes sense.”

Outside, workers with safety jetpacks rode on slender swoopers, zooming around the skymine like wasps as they guided the waiting ships. The swoopers rode up to intercept a cargo hopper, while inspectors wearing helmets and insulated suits dove deeper to follow the probe lines.

Near one wall, Kristof was using antigrav handles to stack empty crates. Seeing his grandfather, he bounded over to them. Del Kellum sized up his grandson. “You must be five centimeters taller than last time, but there’s not a speck of meat on your bones! Zhett, don’t you ever feed this boy?”

Toff said, “I burn it off. There’ll be enough time for me to fill out later.” He playfully jabbed his grandfather’s significant gut. “I hear it happens to everyone when they get older.”

A loud crash outside the loading area startled them, and two jumpsuited loaders leaped out of the way. An incoming ship flown by an impatient pilot struck a glancing blow against a cargo frame, which jarred one of the racks loose. Trying to avert disaster, workers ran yelling and waving toward the open bay doors and the long drop into the sky, but they couldn’t stop the collision.

The empty ship caromed off and went tumbling as the pilot reasserted control. The heavier cargo frame skidded to a halt on the deck, but ten ekti canisters were knocked loose and tumbled out of the bay and into Golgen’s sky.

Zhett’s mouth dropped open. “Damn clumsy asses! That’s valuable stuff, and now it’s—”

“I’ve got this, Mom.” Toff grabbed one of the narrow swoopers and swung it around toward the open door. “Already got antigrav handles in my pockets. I can round up those tanks.” He started the engine, lifted off from the deck. “All I have to do is fly faster than they can fall.”

“Careful!” Patrick yelled—out of habit, not because it would make any impression.

Del was shocked. “You’re letting the boy . . .”

Toff’s swooper streaked out of the open bay door and plunged straight down the clouds below.

Zhett shrugged. “He’s done it before.”

Del chuckled and cupped his hands around his bearded mouth and shouted after him, “Watch out for hydrogues down there!”

“He’s not going that deep,” Zhett said. “He’ll catch up with the canisters before they hit the secondary cloud deck. Otherwise, the mist will get too thick for him to see.”

Bobbing in his antigrav harness, Rex seemed amused by the activity, as well as his brother flying off in such a rush. Patrick muttered to Del, “But please don’t tell Toff
not
to find the drogues because then he’ll do it just to prove himself.”

T
HIRTY
-
ONE