The Galaxy Game (21 page)

‘Wait,’ he began, finally worried. ‘Where are we going?’

‘You wanted to know about your nexus?’ she queried, watching his panic with a lazy curiosity. ‘You should have presented yourself – but you are Terran and you don’t know how things are done here, not yet.’

‘Let me go back for Ntenman,’ Rafi said as calmly and firmly as he could manage.

Ixiaral turned to the elevator doors. ‘But we’re already here.’

The doors opened. The first thing that Rafi noticed was the heat, and the second was the smell. Above-ground was dry and any scent in the air was generally due to whatever plants were nearby. Here it was a mixture of machinery, movement and humanity into an imperfectly filtered, moist and slightly metallic urban bouquet. There was light, a shy and muted light that radiated from large, long sconces above, but it was contained in pools within the larger ocean of primal dark.

Ixiaral dropped the end of the scarf and looked back over her shoulder. ‘Are you coming?’

Rafi hesitated a moment, listening. Beyond the doors of the elevator, and around the corner of the passageway that led from it, he could hear people talking, laughing, moving about. It did not sound like a trap. He nodded warily and ate a second perrenut to fortify himself.

Ixiaral turned and walked quickly away, leaving him to gather his wits and scramble after her. As he rounded the corner, he almost ran into her heels. She had stopped and was staring out at the panorama. He stopped and stared with her. One of the guides had told him that the underground city went by a number of names: Belowground commonly, the Twilight Metropolis poetically and Sub-Metropolis officially. He privately approved most of Twilight Metropolis. Viewed from a distance, the city showed that light and darkness had found balance and truce. People walked briskly in the darker areas and congregated cheerfully in the oases of light near doorways and crossings at intersections. There was an occasional glimmer from above, almost as if the brightest stars were beginning to take over the sky, but he dismissed it as a trick of light on minerals partially exposed in the cut rock.

‘It may appear dim, but full darkness and full light are private things kept within walls for sleep and for work and play,’ Ixiaral explained. ‘We are going to the sun rooms.’

As she spoke, a small transit bubble drew up beside them, startling Rafi badly with its silent, sudden appearance. Ixiaral bundled him inside the small space and they sat peacefully for a short while until the bubble took to the air without warning. Rafi almost vomited in fear on the transparent floor of their fairy-tale carriage, but eventually he started to orientate himself and realised that the glimmers of interior starlight he had seen earlier were not reflective minerals but the rising and setting of the bubbles that formed the Sub-Metropolis transportation system.

Ixiaral watched his reactions with mild confusion and pity. ‘I thought the walk would have been too much for you,’ she said in apology. ‘Have you never been below-ground before?’

‘No,’ said Rafi, keeping his voice steady – his last hope for a show of dignity. ‘I have not been here for very long at all.’

She kept a solicitous eye on him for the remainder of the journey and on arrival she lifted him out of the bubble as if he were a fragile bit of cargo. Rafi felt a little embarrassed, but also a little safer. He doubted she would take so much trouble with him if she intended harm.

‘What is this place?’ he asked, looking up at the huge entrance before him and the great curving wings of a vast building that appeared to stretch up indefinitely.

‘These are the sun rooms in the base levels of Academe Maenevastraya. Are you feeling better? Are you ready?’

Rafi ate the last perrenut, more as a symbolic action than for any hope that it could revive his flagging spirits. He was drained, anxious and bewildered, and not at all in a position to show any of those weaknesses. He considered his tunic, still tied around his waist after all the excitement on and off the Wall. The knotted arms had pulled so tight that he suspected it would take a lot of time and calm to undo it. He wrapped up in Ixiaral’s scarf instead and straightened his back.

‘Lead on,’ he said.

Chapter Ten

A little recycled sunlight looked far more impressive in an enclosed area. Rafi winced, his eyes watering at the brightness, the mirrors and the glass. He blinked, and then wished he had kept his vision clouded. Ixiaral held him lightly before her, her hands on his shoulders in a grip that might be meant to comfort, but could also be to ensure that he did not bolt. She spoke over his head to the door attendant.

‘The Controller, the Patrona and the Dean are expecting us,’ she told her.

The attendant stared at Rafi as she gave Ixiaral directions, more curious than disapproving. He tried not to stare back, conscious not merely of her bare torso, but of the massive scar that carved vertically over her ribs where her left breast had been. Ixiaral nodded in thanks and went on, keeping a hand on Rafi’s shoulder.

‘Some soldiers consider it an honour to keep their battle scars and will do so even after retirement,’ she said into his ear as softly and confidentially as any audioplug. ‘But you already know about this – Wallrunners think the same way, don’t they?’

‘I thought the players had no choice after the enhancement scandals,’ Rafi whispered back.

‘True, but to keep the memory and limitations of injuries long after a sports career has ended speaks of philosophy, not necessity. Now, here we are. Don’t be
too
nervous.’

He was about to deny that he was nervous, an automatic verbal reflex from the Cygnian habit of wearing brave, courteous masks, but it was useless to lie.

‘But be a
little
nervous,’ Ixiaral continued. ‘They like it when new boys are nervous. Smile!’ She trilled the last word, clapped him once on the shoulder and pushed him through a doorway into an even brighter room.

Four pairs of eyes turned in his direction. A fifth pair belonged to a young man dressed in a remarkably stripped-down version of Wallrunning gear, and he kept them dutifully trained on the platter of fruit he was offering around before quietly withdrawing from the room. The remaining occupants, all women, lounged or sat on large cushions around a small central pool with Punarthai water lilies afloat on the surface. They were elegant, with dark Ntshune curls close-cut to frame and flatter their cheekbones and jawlines to full aesthetic advantage. He could tell from their eyes that they were not young, but their skin was smooth and radiant, earth-hues deepening in the ubiquitous sunlight. Even in relaxation there was something in the way they held their tall, strong bodies that gave the air of grace and power combined. He could see how in a few years Ixiaral would follow this template by adding solidity to her height and a certain carelessness to her posture. Not that Ixiaral lacked poise, but compared to these women who exuded effortlessness, Ixiaral had clearly not completed her formation.

They accepted Ixiaral’s greeting with infinitesimal attention – a nod, a half-hearted wave, a brief mumble – but they examined Rafi with terrifying closeness. The little confidence he had managed to preserve shrank to nothing under the regard of those alien eyes which were judging him by standards he could not guess at and was sure he did not meet. He tried not to look uncomfortable, failed and stared at his feet instead, awkward and bitterly chagrined at his failure.

The group of women silently sunned themselves and watched him get flustered. After a slight pause, one of them said with devastating kindness, ‘But he is still young.’

Ixiaral gently loosened Rafi’s grip on her scarf and took it away from him, which made him feel both embarrassed
and
naked. ‘Revered Dean Suyanahaneki of Academe Maenevastraya, Revered Controller Devunalhaneki of the Credit Exchange Bureau, and my respected superior and Patrona whose name I am not yet allowed to speak. I present to you Rafidelarua of Cygnus Beta. Forgive his appearance. I may have kidnapped him somewhat.’

The women laughed. They did not sound malicious, but neither did they sound as if they were taking him seriously. Rafi noted that Ixiaral had not introduced that same one who had commented on his age, and he further noted with tired cynicism that she was the youngest out of all of them, Ixiaral included. Something made him look a little more closely, and he began to see that, unlike her named and titled colleagues, her leisure was studied. She glanced frequently at the other three women to match her reactions and pose to theirs. They did not return her glances, but the Dean and the Controller looked occasionally to the Patrona. The Patrona kept a quiet, steady gaze on him.

‘What was he doing?’ the Controller asked.

‘Wallrunning on one of the Academe’s Walls,’ Ixiaral replied.

‘Is he any good?’ enquired the Dean.

‘No, ma’am, not really,’ Rafi answered, raising his chin and looking at her with a small smile.

Her face changed from coolly amused to mildly impressed, and then, with a speed that made him blink, to flirtatious mischief. The curve of her mouth never changed. It was all in and around her eyes, from smoothly supercilious through to laugh-lined warmth and a hint of an eyelash flutter. She looked old enough to be his grandmother, and she was probably older than that, but in that moment he was mesmerised by her eyes.

The Patrona spoke at last. ‘Do you know why you are here?’

‘Because you have prior claim over Academe Surinastraya? Is this because I spoke to Tshalo?’

He flinched as they laughed again in earnest. Ixiaral tried to suppress a smile.

‘My son, but not of my line. A youthful indiscretion,’ explained the Dean, and her eyes no longer looked alluring but narrow, tired and disappointed. ‘No, it has nothing to do with him.’

‘You met Ixiaral twice by chance on two worlds. It would be a missed opportunity not to make something of it.’ The Patrona was cautious at first, but then she spoke more directly. ‘According to tradition, you took food from her hand and spoke together. There was no one to witness it, but her word is good and I will confirm it if needs be. But of course there are other reasons. You saw Ixiaral on Cygnus Beta at a time when she was known to be on Punartam. If you know our secrets, we may have to make you one of us.’

‘Who is “us”?’ Ixiaral asked sweetly. ‘I see three overlapping interests represented here.’

The Dean crossed her hands before her protectively. ‘Not me. He already has shelter in one Academe, a nexus in another and protectors in a third. Let us broaden his horizons. What do you think, Dev?’

The Controller glanced at the youngest woman, who had neither spoken nor been spoken to since that first comment, and shook her head. ‘I must wait and see for a little longer.’

The Patrona mused, ‘I believe I will do the same. I can see there could be mutual advantages, but it also cannot hurt to take time to assess the situation thoroughly.’

‘Are there many Sadiri pilots at Academe Maenevastraya?’ Rafi asked abruptly.

There was a sudden, tense silence. The Patrona was the first to recover. ‘There are several Sadiri at Maenevastraya. Some of them are pilots. Perhaps you should pose that question to your fellow-Cygnian Lian.’

Rafi decided to be honest. ‘There’s something about you that reminds me of the Sadiri.’

The Patrona’s stern face relaxed into an almost-smile. ‘Some of my dearest keys are Sadiri. I may introduce you some day if our networks grow together.’

‘Patrona—’ He was not sure if that was the correct address but somehow ‘ma’am’ felt insufficient. ‘Patrona, tell me, who is my nexus?’

That started them laughing again, except for Ixiaral, who looked very embarrassed.

‘Well,’ said the Patrona, quickly sobering, ‘that is partly what this meeting is about. You have presented yourself . . . after a fashion. You are young, but you have potential. Ixiaral is your nexus, of course. I will confirm it. Don’t disappoint her.’

She turned her gaze to Ixiaral and her voice hardened. ‘Be sure that he learns his duties and appreciates his benefits. He may wear any minor variation on the Maenevastraya theme, but keep him clear of accoutrements for now. We will wait and observe. Train him well.’

At last she spoke to the quiet woman who had not been introduced. ‘Hanekivaryai, walk with our friends as they leave.’

A flash of anger passed briefly over the young woman’s face, but she quickly suppressed it and went calmly and politely to escort Ixiaral and Rafi to the entrance foyer. Rafi kept expecting her to reveal something important, but she was there for courtesy, not information, and she did her duty and left them to sit for a while and adjust to the dimmer light before venturing out once more into the Twilight Metropolis. Rafi did not dare speak openly until they were alone in a transit bubble.

‘Why didn’t you introduce me to that other woman?’ he asked.

Ixiaral looked sorrowful. ‘I avoided saying her name out of kindness. I wish the Patrona could have done the same.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Rafi admitted. He was beginning to feel sleepy and wondered how many hours he had been awake. It was still too easy to lose track of Standard hours on Punartam.

Ixiaral began to say something, then looked at his nodding head and unfocused eyes. ‘Another time,’ she said softly.

He fell asleep before they reached the elevator to Academe Surinastraya.

*

When he woke up, back in his own bed at the Academe’s living quarters, he had a hazy memory of stumbling around the green, fatigue-drunk and disorientated, in a vain attempt to find Ntenman. He sat up slowly, feeling the aches and agonies of too much vigorous exercise after long idleness, and was hit in the face with a vambrace.

‘Come on, get ready. I have to take you to Wallrunning training in less than an hour.’

Rafi grabbed the vambrace, primed to swear at Ntenman or perhaps throw it back, but then he realised what he was holding. ‘This is a proper vambrace!’

‘Yes! None of those little wristy bands the amateurs use on Cygnus Beta.
And
I got you handguard extensions because novices like you tend to lose your little fingers in the micrograv fluctuations of a pro-level Wall.’