The Duke Of Uranium (7 page)

after… The thought seemed incomplete, and he tried to finish it for a while, drifting close again to rejoining the for-sure dreams.

After I got wanged.

It all came back—Sesh, the kidnapping, the fight. Jak really was in a hospital room, flat on his back, after a bad wanging. For a while he had been hearing the flat mechanical voice of a monitor repeating “Brain activity shows that the patient is awake.” A face moved into Jak’s view, and resolved into Uncle Sib.

Still confused and thinking of what happened in stories, Jak asked, “Are you going to say I gave you all a good scare?”

“Actually, you didn’t,” Sibroillo said, smiling. “No. Not at all. By the time they called me, they knew that you were going to make it, so the question was how fast they could get your neuro repaired, and they could tell me right away that you were not in any real danger. Your friend Dujuv Gonzawara has already been up for more than a day—probably that enhanced healing they build into a panth—and you’ll be all done in sixteen hours or so. You’ll recover faster, they say, if you’re conscious now and then, which is why they’re waking you up now, even though the regenerating nerves sting like hell.”

“They do,” Jak agreed.

“We don’t think you’re even going to lose much short-term memory. You have a pretty hard head and your brains don’t rattle around nearly as much as I would have guessed. We could have awakened you two days ago, in fact, but we waited for major tissue regeneration to finish, so that you would only know in the abstract that one of your testicles had been raptured and one of your eyes had been thumbed out, after you were unconscious. Since you now have new ones as good as the originals, it shouldn’t really matter, but—”

“It probably shouldn’t,” Jak agreed, “but, toktru, it precesses me all the same. Which eye and which nut?”

“The left, for both. But you’re good as new now.”

“The principle matters,” Jak said. “I was already unconscious, so they had no reason to do that.”

“Probably just sending you a message,” Sib agreed. “They did it after they had already grabbed Sesh Kiroping and the snatch team had escaped with her.”

“Sesh! I didn’t even think—”

“Of course not, you were unconscious.”

“Well, uh, yeah. Okay. But why would anyone kidnap her, anyway? I guess her family is rich—do they still kidnap people for ransom? It seems like something you read about in history books. I never heard of it happening—”

“It still happens, but very rarely. And it’s not what happened to Sesh.”

“Well, then, does anyone have any idea where she is? Do you know what they wanted with her? Why would anyone kidnap Sesh?”

“That’s three forms of the same question, as I’ve been trying to explain to cops, soldiers, and diplomats for the last four weeks.”

“Four weeks! Sesh could be anywhere! They could have done anything to her!”

“Well, no, Jak. Not at all. As I’ve been trying to explain to all these idiot officials (with very little success, by the way) we can make a very good guess about where she is and what is happening to her, and though it is very serious, she is in no personal danger, and we undoubtedly still have plenty of time.”

Jak could not believe that Sib was taking this so calmly. “Her parents must be in a panic. They got so

worked up about it whenever I brought her home an hour late—”

“Her parents? They barely know her and they’re much more concerned with the politics of the situation.”

Sib seemed extremely puzzled, as if Jak had brought up the most irrelevant possible point. Then he laughed. “Oh, my. You mean Pritararu and Feyxorra. Well, of course, they’re upset, and they are fond of her, but they’re also professionals, and this was a very slick job and no one is going to hold it against them—”

“Professionals?”

Uncle Sib appeared, if possible, more astonished than before. “So she didn’t tell you at all! We all assumed that she would eventually—that’s part of why we threw the two of you together, so that she’d have a safe confidant and one we could watch—goodness! And she never divulged a word of it. Didn’t even tell you that those were her guards, not her parents—damn near perfect security habits. She’s quite a girl! You rarely see anyone like that, especially not that young. When I was in service to the Satrap of—”

“Where is she and what is going on?” Jak hissed. He had never before dakked how maddening it was to need information from someone that you really wanted to strangle.

Sibroillo blinked a couple of times, and then said, contritely, “Of course, Sesh means a great deal to you, in a completely nonprofessional way, eh? And here I am talking about her as just part of the job, and you worrying all the time. All right, I’ll clear it up a bit.

“Now, to understand where Sesh is, properly, you have to understand who she is, which is not Sesh Kiroping, but Shyf Karrinynya, or more formally, Her Utmost Grace the Princess Shyf, Eleventh of the Karrinynya Dynasty of the Kingdom of Greenworld, by the Blessed Choice of Mother Gaia. And as a matter of practical politics, she’s the heir to the throne whenever her father, King Scaboron, retires or dies.”

“A princess

” Jak let the thought settle slowly into his mind; it didn’t fit well or comfortably, and he kept trying to find something that would help him make sense of the idea that his beautiful, funny toktru-toveand-sex-partner, who he knew as a passionate clothes-horse, gossip, and dancer

was supposed to one day rule a kingdom. After struggling for a moment, he managed to blurt out, “No wonder she wasn’t worried about finding a job.”

Sib grinned. “Toktru! As your friends would put it. No wonder. I can’t quite believe she never told you.

What an astonishing grasp of security protocol, in a person so young! It seems very unfair that she should be kidnapped when she was so extraordinarily good about security practices, now doesn’t it? I really must insist that you go and get her back from her captors, as soon as you’re fit to travel.”

“Uncle Sib, you can’t possibly mean that we’re rich enough to pay a princess’s ransom?”

“We have a wealth of information, pizo, and that’s worth more than cash, as a common rule. And I didn’t say we were going to pay a ransom, I said you were going to go get her. Different operation entirely.

Now, the orange light has come on over your head, which means that you’ve had about the optimal load of brain stimulation for this time awake, and it’s time for you to go back to sleep. So do. Have some confusing dreams filled with pointless anxiety, and when you’re awake again, we’ll talk some more.”

The world seemed reassuringly familiar, probably because Jak was used to being confused, annoyed, and precessed by his uncle. He immediately felt better and slid down toward sleep. “Where is Greenworld, anyway?” he murmured. “Is it that big island on earth where Narssaq Pock is?”

“No,” Sib said, “it’s in the Aerie, at the tip of the eighth branch. Greenworld is a kingdom low in wealth, middling in size, and huge in importance. The principal products are—”

Some reflexes are so deeply conditioned that nothing overpowers them, not even physical pain, concern for a friend, or anger at having been battered and mutilated. The moment that Sib began to lecture about politics and economics, Jak fell into deep, dreamless, refreshing sleep.

Thirst woke him. He sat up in bed with only minor pain from stiff muscles, and a mechanical arm reached down and extended a black nipple; he sucked a long, cold, delicious draft of icewater.

As soon as he finished the deep, chilling drink, he truly singingon dakked what he desperately needed.

The toilet stall was only a meter from his bed, and Jak had bounced back into bed, hoping not to get caught in case he wasn’t supposed to be up, before he realized how much better he must be, if he could do all that with no difficulty.

That was pleasant, but not as pleasant as the machines asking him if he was hungry and presenting him with a menu. He immediately ordered one of everything, plus an extra one of all the things he especially liked.

Every plate of the main courses was demolished, and at least fifty percent of each dessert was gone as well, before he recalled his conversation with Uncle Sib. He continued eating and contemplated what it all might mean. The djeste of it seemed to be that he was about to get his wish for travel, and quite possibly for adventure. Somehow it all seemed like an intrigueand-adventure viv, and though Jak was singingon good at those, he had no illusions that it could have really prepared him for the real thing.

Well, Sib seemed to speck that whatever trouble Sesh was in, Jak could get her out of it. It wasn’t much comfort—he kept thinking of her, hurt and scared, and he couldn’t imagine what he could do if she was being held against her will. After all, he hadn’t been particularly effective at keeping her from being kidnapped in the first place. Nonetheless, if Uncle Sib thought he could do it, very likely it would turn out that he could.

He turned the issue over and over in his head as he continued to eat. The food wasn’t bad and there was plenty.

He finally reached the point where one more dessert would be too many, slipped out of bed again to wash his face and hands, and slid back in, trying to decide between looking for pornography on the hospital’s entertainment screens, calling up Dujuv to see if he was doing anything interesting yet, or just getting more sleep. He decided that Dujuv would be the most entertaining.

His tove’s face on the screen was a little more battered than it had ever been before, which added some character, but also made Jak think of what a going over the two of them must have had, to still look like that after so many days. Duj was grinning. “Hey, tove, you’re still with me. I told’em you were too ugly to kill.”

“If that was why I was spared, how did you get hurt at all?”

They fell silent. For an instant the two forgot to tease each other, just enjoying both being well and together. Finally Dujuv looked a little more serious. “So your uncle must’ve told you about what’s going on with Sesh.”

“Yeah, but not much, just yet.”

“Well, good luck to you and to her, old tove. I wish I could be there to help, but

urn—”

Myxenna appeared on the screen next to him. “Hi, Jak, I thought that call was from you.” Discreetly she tugged her top into place and retied it, staying back of Dujuv’s peripheral vision so he wouldn’t notice how she had joined the call. “Dujy, it’s okay to brag. This is a big deal to you and Jak will understand that.”

Jak was smiling already. “You must’ve made the slamball draft.”

“Absolutely. Made it and then some. I had already applied and I had my school record, and then there were pictures of you and me, all over the news, giving a good fight to a bunch of trained kidnappers, until we finally got beat by sheer numbers. Incredible publicity plus we gave a good account of ourselves. If you were interested, Jak, they’d’ve drafted you too. I got picked in the fourth round, by Hive National; I’m gonna be playing with their rookie league farm club, Panlucrotic. So I’ll be in training starting tomorrow.”

His face fell in sadness again. “And you’re going to be—well, I guess actually Sibroillo wanted to explain that to you himself. I did want to help you out and go along, but everyone says that I wouldn’t actually be useful for anything, it’s a one-person job. So—”

“So get on with your life and make me proud of you, old tove,” Jak said.

They chatted a little longer; because the kidnapping had happened so shortly after the exam results had

come out, Jak had not yet heard the gossip about who had gotten in, which scores had been outrageously high and low, and where those who didn’t get in were going. Once they caught up, Jak realized that he was starting to tire—apparently rebuilding so much of his body was a lot of work—and Duj and Myx seemed to want to get away, so they all said bye and that they must keep in touch, and closed the call. Jak settled back, thinking that now he’d really like to get some sleep.

Uncle Sib came in with Gwesbira.

Gweshira was Uncle Sib’s demmy, and had been for so long that Jak thought of her as sort of his aunt.

She was short, spare and wiry, with very dark skin and very white hair that fell in loose messy curls. From sparring with her Jak knew that if you didn’t beat her with sheer mass in the first five seconds, she’d wang you with her speed and cleverness in the first minute. She taught at his gen school—Jak had avoided taking classes from her, by mutual agreement—and he had often heard other students speak of her in the mixture of devoted love and pure terror that denotes either a great teacher or a sadistic bully. In her case, Jak specked it to both.

Sib was beaming. “Time to get down to business, pizo. The machinery says you’re coherent. I told them that you never were before. They said they’d look into it.”

Gweshira winced. “I do hope this old scapegrace’s corny jokes won’t affect your recovery,” she said. “He actually was worried about you, not that you can tell, and whatever he might have said. But he’s right, there’s ground to cover, so let’s get started.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Jak said, “that to be prudent, we should probably wait a week or two before I leave for wherever Sesh is, just to let me get in some extra practice at the Disciplines.”

They both stared at him for a long breath before they burst out laughing. Gweshira in particular seemed to be tickled. “Jak,” she said, “I’ve told Sibroillo for years that he’s needlessly obscure around you, all the time, and you’ve utterly proven my point. I suppose that you thought that what we wanted you to do was go to Fermi—that’s where we’re nearly certain that Sesh is being held—and then, what? Oh, say, infiltrate the palace guard, scale a sheer wall twenty meters high, locate and rescue Princess Shyf from the chief malph just as he’s about to rape her, carry her away half-naked from twenty armed men, shoot your way into the spaceport, and escape in a hijacked warship?”

“Now that you mention it, that does sound toktru silly, masen? But Uncle Sib said I wouldn’t be ransoming her, I’d be going and getting her, so I thought I’d at least be sneaking her out, and if something went wrong—”