The Galaxy Game (28 page)

Rafi looked at her. She was damp, but clothed. He turned his head slowly and noticed Oesten on his left in similar condition but with a worried expression. They appeared ready to catch him if he stumbled or fainted. Rafi started walking again and let another slow thought percolate. ‘Is the Commander here?’

Teruyai hesitated, flashing a quick, concerned look over his head at Oesten. ‘I don’t know of any commanders.’

‘She disappeared,’ Rafi murmured. ‘Have we disappeared, too?’

By the time they reached the buildings, he was sufficiently himself to ask accusingly, ‘Where did you get clothes?’

*

The Masuf Lagoon stretched several miles inland and underground from the same ocean that washed the shores of Grand Bay. The semi-arid desert above was slightly reminiscent of the indigenous climate of the Punartam Metropolis, but the extra gravity dragged at Rafi’s steps and the rich air made him slightly giddy. It vexed him that after such a short time on Punartam he was able to feel alien on Cygnus Beta.

The people of the region mostly lived in or near the capital Piedra, a rock-cut city carved into the side of a butte. They were nominally taSadiri but thoroughly Cygnian in outlook and culture. They welcomed the pilot community with hospitality and courtesy but, unlike Sadira-on-Cygnus, there was little integration. The pilots themselves lived like transients and used their hostel to sleep, eat and rest before journeying on.

‘The Lagoon is part of their territory, and we pay them in goods and information for its use,’ Teruyai explained to Oestengeryok as they took breakfast together in a single-storey dining hall where the window views were less spectacular but much more comforting than those of the Punartam Academes.

Rafi tugged at the sleeves of his robe, a loan from the communal clothes bank, and felt the fabric strain over the datacharm on his upper arm. He was glad that his data had survived, but his comm and audioplug were being repaired; they too had been incompatible with the mindship’s secretions. It did not matter. Teruyai refused to allow him to contact his family directly. After an initial rush of anger, he saw her point. They had arrived secretly and the aim was to stay hidden. The Masuf rest station used other means to communicate. Unusual activity within the global comm networks would only attract attention and force the Cygnian Central Government to become officially aware of their presence.

‘The arrangement with Piedra has worked well this far and it could become permanent,’ she continued. ‘Let’s not push our luck.’

Rafi quietly wondered if the Cygnian government was informally aware of the details of this arrangement. He figured somewhat cynically that the government was likely to be even
less
efficient at detecting and stopping contraband than before and, given the cartels’ stranglehold on the galactic market, perhaps mindfully so.

Oesten, for all his quick recovery from mindship travel, looked aged by worry. ‘I could see the Academes moving to Cygnus Beta. Not all of them. A few. Definitely those of particular interest to the Zhinuvian cartels.’

Teruyai looked at Rafi as she answered Oesten. ‘Academe Bhumniastraya would always do well on Cygnus Beta, but I believe Academe Maenevastraya should go to Sadira-on-Cygnus. Do you agree, Rafi?’

‘I don’t know,’ he answered honestly. Most conversations between Teruyai and Oesten went over his head in more ways than one. ‘Won’t the cartels put a stop to that?’

‘They can try,’ Oesten said grimly, ‘but I think Cygnus Beta in alliance with Sadira-on-Cygnus will be stronger than they realise. What are we waiting for?’

Teruyai drank some of her broth, licked her lips and exhaled deliberately. ‘The slowest evacuation in the history of galactic conquest.’

‘Our resources are not what they once were,’ Oesten noted. ‘And the cartels have been so diplomatically coy about the nature of their “assistance” to Maenevastraya that some still believe there has been no conquest.’

‘They’ll believe it when the Bhumniastraya spire is the next to be cut,’ she predicted.

‘They’ll take their time,’ said Oesten. ‘Knock them off one by one.’

‘Fear and anticipation work in their favour. No one likes to operate in an environment of vague threat. Can you blame the remaining Academes for trying to negotiate?’

‘But why doesn’t Galactic Patrol do something?’ Rafi said aloud. The other two gave him such an astounded look that he decided henceforth to keep his mouth shut when they discussed galactic affairs.

‘Galactic Patrol hasn’t worked properly since Sadira fell,’ Teruyai told him, speaking as gently as a doctor breaking bad news to a terminal patient.

‘No money, no transportation, no authorising body,’ Oesten listed. ‘What you see of their operations is the twitching of a headless corpse.’

Rafi spared a thought for Lian and Dr Daniyel, and for the first time he understood enough to feel afraid. It was one thing to have no judges, but to have no police – anyone could do anything with impunity.

‘We’ve been here almost a week doing nothing but waiting,’ he said despondently. ‘I might as well go back home to Tlaxce or Sadira-on-Cygnus.’ It was a selfish thing to say to two people who had lost everything they had known, but he was young, oblivious and desperate for something useful to do.

Teruyai answered him with more politeness than he deserved. ‘Be patient, Rafi. Certain transits take time.’

Confused, Rafi looked to Oesten for clarification. Oesten obliged. ‘It has been too long since the last Galactic Consortium Meeting. The rulers of Ntshune are sending representatives to Cygnus Beta.’

‘I should really try to get home,’ Rafi fretted. ‘You stay here if you like, but as soon as my stuff is fixed, I’m going home.’

‘How?’ Oesten asked him gently. ‘Will you walk to Piedra and borrow a desert scooter? Find a port or a track after about a week’s travel? Or are you hoping a private shuttle will pass by and give you a ride?’

Rafi considered. He tried to remember where the sub-Consulate in Vaya was located, but all he knew was that it was nowhere near Piedra. He tried to think about other ways to send a message to his family, ways that the Cygnian government would not detect, and found his mind blank.

‘Does this place at least have a Wall?’ he asked, resigned.

Part Three

Vanguard

Chapter Thirteen

‘This is days old,’ Delarua noted calmly, tapping the chip with a steady finger. It held the latest personal dispatches from Grand Bay, and it was projecting to her handheld one particular message, origin Punartam.

Dllenahkh stood beside her chair and looked over her shoulder to scan the message. ‘Yes.’

‘Dated a little before the Zhinuvian cartels began their takeover of the Academes,’ she continued.

A tear spilled over her eyelid and swept quickly down her cheek. Dllenahkh raised his hand, his initial impulse to wipe away the tear, but another, deeper instinct made him lower his hand, gently clasp his wrist and exhale deeply, quietly, until Delarua’s breaths matched his. Only then did he speak.

‘We have some information. There is little new, and nothing confirmed, but it is very likely that Rafi, Lian and Qeturah are no longer on Punartam . . . and are safe.’

The speculation was comforting. Dllenahkh did not have it in him to idly reassure. Delarua took a deep breath and set the handheld aside. ‘Well, Governor, what now? Has Central Government said anything official?’

He found another chair, pulled it close and sat tiredly. ‘Most of our trade comes via Punartam, which means everything is at a halt. The settlements and homesteads are fairly self-sufficient but the urban areas will suffer.’

‘And that’s what makes Grand Bay valuable,’ she concluded.

‘Of course. Central Government has hinted at this arrangement before. Their terms are generous. It many ways, it is a natural step in our settlement’s development.’

‘And what do the pilots say?’ Delarua asked, hearing the unspoken ‘but’.

Dllenahkh sighed. ‘Some of them no longer wish to owe allegiance to any planet. We may have to negotiate separately. We do not hold any authority over them.’

‘But Naraldi—’

‘—is an icon, a legend, a symbol. Not a leader. He refuses to get involved. He says things like “interesting” or “I remember this”. Once I heard him mutter “that’s different”, but when I pressed him he only shook his head and smiled. At times I truly dislike him.’

Delarua laughed lightly, sympathetic to his irritation. ‘Perhaps he’s right. Knowing what
could
happen is never the same as knowing what
should
happen.’

‘Anything that could give us an advantage would be welcome at this point. I find him so strange now. He’s less engaged. Perhaps that’s to be expected, if he’s seen several versions of us live and die, but I hope that does not mean he will sit happily on the sidelines to observe whether or not we’ll bring about our own destruction.’

‘No, he wouldn’t. Not Naraldi. Not where you’re concerned.’ She gladly took her turn to reassure, knowing how desperately he needed it. Some figurehead. The Council was expecting him to produce miracles and it was exhausting him. For all her kind words about Naraldi, there were times when she truly disliked him as well for encouraging her quiet, introspective husband to take up such a stressful post.

He tried to smile and rested his head on the desk, near enough to her hand to be a subtle invitation. She sighed and took up her handheld again, but in mere seconds her free hand was moving lightly over his hair and curling around the tender skin behind his ear. The quiet moment did not last long. Freyda came in and slammed the door, complaining bitterly and loudly.

‘
Just
when I was getting ready to go to Punartam the Zhinuvians have to pull something like this. It’s almost like Lanuri planned it— Oh! Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.’

Delarua withdrew her hand from her husband with almost guilty speed. Dllenahkh sat up straight. Both of them looked elsewhere to avoid noticing the tears of frustration in Freyda’s eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said again, thoroughly mortified. ‘I—’

Irritated at her behaviour, Delarua said, ‘I’m in my office, I’m working, stay!’

Dllenahkh glanced from one to the other, stood up without haste and left the room.

‘I just wanted to say,’ Freyda mumbled, ‘that another Academe’s orbital spire has been sabotaged. The entire Terra project has shifted to Cygnus Beta temporarily.’

‘That’s good— I mean, it’s bad for the Academes, but that’s good for you, right? You can still work with them? Where are they located?’

Freyda shrugged miserably. ‘For now, at Tlaxce City.’

Delarua stared at her in confusion, then gradually worked it out. ‘Oh. Still too close to Lanuri.’

Freyda nodded, ashamed. ‘I wanted to get away,
really
get away.’

Delarua squeezed her eyes tightly shut for a moment. ‘Freyda, there’s a lot happening in the galaxy right now. Focus on what you
need
to do. If you’re lucky, we’ll all get kidnapped by a Zhinuvian cartel and you won’t have to worry about how to avoid Lanuri.’

‘That’s unkind,’ Freyda said, both hurt and angry. ‘Isn’t it ironic that you can focus on “what we need to do” while you’re so comfortable in your perfect marriage.’

Please
, thought Delarua, briefly closing her eyes again,
I want you to shut up now so we can still be friends
.

Freyda groaned and covered her face with one hand. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘You know my problem. I’m restless. I need to move on again, do something different. I should never have got married, especially not to a Sadiri.’

There was an uncomfortable cough at the door. Dllenahkh stood there, visibly embarrassed at his poor timing, with a completely blank-faced Lanuri beside him. ‘An emergency meeting of the Galactic Consortium has been scheduled to take place four weeks from now in Tlaxce City. I must go to represent Sadiri-on-Cygnus.’

‘And Naraldi has designated me as the spokesperson for the pilots of Grand Bay,’ Lanuri said, his voice grave and level, as if he could never experience or even understand what boredom and anger felt like. ‘However, we are making plans to leave earlier in order to have our own discussions with the Consul of New Sadira and other representatives from the heritage communities. You are welcome to join us.’

He tried to say something more, managed only a hesitant parting of the lips, then turned abruptly and left. Dllenahkh gave Freyda an apologetic look and followed his friend.

Freyda laughed unhappily. ‘What does
he
have to be sorry about?’

Delarua rubbed her arms, trying to remove the chilly tension that was the backwash of Dllenahkh’s emotions. ‘Well, he
did
introduce you to Lanuri. I think he feels responsible.’

*

Rafi set himself to walk every day and occasionally climbed the small mesas dotted around the Masuf Hostel. Returning to Punartam seemed both reckless and impossible with no way to get to the Tlaxce spaceport and none of the mindships of Cygnus Beta available for non-essential travel. The best thing he could do, besides practise on the little Wall maintained at the hostel, was to build back his muscles and stamina to accept Cygnian gravity. His legs shrieked pain at him but his lungs felt better than ever. He thought to himself that he might measure his height and weight again. He felt stronger in some ways, less awkward, as if his brain’s idea of his body was finally matching the reality.

He saw a figure coming along the main path at a run. It turned in mid-stride, recognising him, and bounced to an untidy halt. It was Oestengeryok. ‘I was right,’ he shouted, excited but far from pleased. ‘I was right. Academe Surinastraya’s spire was destroyed days after we left. Now Bhumniastraya’s is gone, and Academe Nkhaleëngomi has declared unconditional surrender to the cartels.’

‘What? How do you know that?’ Rafi yelled, picking up his pace to join Oesten on the path.

‘New arrivals,’ Oesten told him, hopping in place as if eager to be gone again. ‘At least ten new mindships. The cartels are not at all popular!’