Titan (GAIA) (44 page)

She had known it would not be that simple, and it was not.

She formally resigned her commission, explained her reasons to Captain Svensen, then listened patiently as he told her, in increasingly peremptory terms, just why she had to go back, and for good measure, why Calvin had to return as well.

“The doctor says he can be treated. Bill’s memory can be restored, Gaby’s phobia can probably be cured.”

“I’m sure Calvin can be cured, but he’s happy where he is. Gaby’s already
been
cured. But what do
you plan to do for April?”

“I was hoping you could help coax her to come back to us before you came aboard. I’m sure—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going back, and that’s all there is to be said. It’s been nice talking to you.” She turned on her heel and strode from the room. No one tried to stop her.

She and Gaby made their preparations in a field a short distance from the base camp, then stood side by side, waiting. It was taking longer than she had expected. She began to get nervous, glancing at Calvin’s battered watch.

Strelkov came racing out the door, shouting orders to a group of men busy erecting a shed for the crawlers. He stopped suddenly, caught flat-footed when he realized Cirocco was not far away, waiting for him. He motioned the men to stay put, and came toward the two women.

“I’m sorry, Captain, but Commander Svensen says I have to place you under arrest.” He seemed genuinely apologetic, but his hand was close to his side-arm. “Will you come with me, please?”

“Look over there, Sergei.” She pointed over his shoulder.

He started to turn, then drew his weapon in sudden suspicion. He backed away and to one side until he could steal a glance to the west.

“Gaea, hear me!” Cirocco shouted. Strelkov eyed her nervously. She carefully made no threatening gestures, but raised her arms in the direction of Rhea, toward the place of winds and the cable she had climbed with Gaby.

There were shouts from behind them.

A wave was traveling down the cable, almost imperceptibly, but producing a definite kink like the wave that moves through a garden hose when it is given a quick flip from the wrist. The effect on the cable was explosive. A cloud of dust expanded all around it. In the dust were trees torn out at the roots.

The wave hit the ground, the place of winds bulged, shattered, sent rocks high into the air.

“Cover your ears!” Cirocco yelled.

The sound hit all at once, throwing Gaby to the ground. Cirocco was staggered, but stood her ground as all the thunder of the Gods rolled around her, the tatters of her clothes streaming out as the shock wave hit and the winds began to blow.

“Look!” she shouted again, holding out her hands and raising them slowly toward the sky. No one could hear her, but they saw as a hundred waterspouts broke through the dry ground, turning Hyperion into a mist-shrouded fountain. Lightning crackled through the thickening fog, the sound of it swallowed in the mightier roar that still re-echoed from the distant walls.

It took a long time for it to die away, and in all that time no one moved. When it was quiet again, long after the last fountain had turned to a trickle, Strelkov was sitting where he had fallen, still looking at the cable and the settling dust.

Cirocco went to him and helped him to his feet.

“Tell Wally to leave me alone,” she said, and walked away.

“That was very slick,” Gaby said, later. “Very slick indeed.”

“All done with mirrors, my dear.”

“How did it make you feel?”

“I nearly wet my pants. You know, one could learn to get off on that. It was tremendously exciting.”

“I hope you don’t have to do it very often.”

Cirocco silently agreed with her. It had been a close thing. The demonstration, awesome for having occurred at her command, would have been merely inexplicable if it had arrived before Strelkov came out of the dome to threaten her.

The fact was that she could not repeat the performance for five or six hours, even if she asked for another at that very moment.

She could communicate readily enough with Gaea. There was a master radio seed in her pocket. But Gaea could not react quickly. To do anything as awesome as she had just accomplished, she needed hours of preparation time.

Cirocco had sent the message requesting the stunt while still on Whistlestop, after carefully considering the likely sequence of events. From that time, it had been a nervous dance with the clock, drawing out her story here, skimping on the answer to a question there, always with the knowledge of the forces gathering in the hub and under her feet. Her advantage had been the leeway she had in timing her resignation, but the drawback was estimating the time it would take Wally Svensen to order her arrest.

She could see wizarding was not going to be easy.

On the other hand, not all of her job would be as finicky as calling in an air strike from heaven.

Her pockets were stuffed with the things she had brought as backup measures in case the blood and thunder failed to intimidate the ground party, things she had obtained foraging through Hyperion before re-boarding Whistlestop and traveling to the base camp. There was an eight-legged lizard who could spit a tranquilizing agent when squeezed, and an odd assortment of berries that would do the same job taken internally. She had leaves and bark that could be turned into flash powder and, as a last resort, a nut that made a passable hand grenade.

There were libraries of wildlife lore in her head; if there were Gaean girl scouts, she would own all the merit badges. She could sing to the Titanides, whistle to the blimps, and croak, twitter, chirp, rumble and moan in a dozen languages she had not even had a chance to use. To creatures she had not yet encountered.

She and Gaby had worried that all the information Gaea proposed to give them would not fit into human brains. Oddly, it had been no trouble at all. They were not even aware of any changes; when they needed to know something, they knew it, just as if they had learned it in school.

“Time to head for the hills?” Gaby suggested.

“Not yet. I don’t think we’ll have any more trouble from Wally, once he adjusts to the idea. They’ll see that we’re more valuable if they maintain good relations with us.

“But there’s one more thing I want to see before we go.”

She had been prepared for an emotional moment. It was, but not as bad as she had feared, and not in the way she had expected. Saying good-bye to Bill had been harder.

The wreck of
Ringmaster
was a sad, silent place. They walked through it without speaking, recognizing pieces here and there, more often unable to tell what a twisted hunk of metal had been.

The silver hulk gleamed dully in the beautiful afternoon of Hyperion, partly embedded in the dusty ground like a robot King Kong after the fall. Already the grasses had established a foothold in the turned soil. Vines crept over shattered components. A single yellow flower bloomed in the center of what had
been Cirocco’s command console.

She had hoped to find some memento of her former life, but she had never been acquisitive and had brought little of a personal nature with her. The few photos would have been eaten, along with the log book and the envelope of newspaper clippings. It would have been nice to come across her class ring—she could see it sitting on the shelf beside her bunk where she had last removed it—but the chances were against it.

They saw a crewman from
Unity
some distance away from them. He was clambering over the wreckage, pointing his camera and snapping indiscriminately. Cirocco thought he was the ship’s photographer, then realized he was doing it on his own time, with his own camera. She saw him pick up an object and put it in his pocket.

“Come back here in fifty years,” Gaby observed, “they’re likely to have carted it all away.” She looked around speculatively. “This looks like a nice spot for a souvenir stand. Sell film and hot dogs; you’d do pretty good.”

“You don’t think that’ll happen, do you?”

“It’s up to Gaea, I guess. She did say she’d let people visit. That means tourism.”

“But the cost …”

Gaby laughed. “You’re still thinking of the
Ringmaster
days, Captain. It was all we could do then to get seven of us out here. Bill says
Unity
has a crew of 200. How would you have liked to get the film concession at O’Neil One thirty years ago?”

“I’d be rich by now,” Cirocco conceded.

“If there’s a way to get rich here, somebody’ll do it. So why don’t you make me Minister of Tourism and Conservation? I’m not sure how I like the role of sorcerer’s apprentice.”

Cirocco grinned. “You’ve got it. Try to keep the bribes and nepotism down to a minimum, will you?”

Gaby swept her arm in a circle, a far-away look in her eyes.

“I can see it now. We’ll put the taco stand over there—a classical Greek motif, naturally—and we can sell Gaeaburgers and milk shakes. I’ll keep the billboards down to fifty meters, tops, and limit the use of neon. ‘See the angels! Smell the breath of God! Shoot the rapids on the Ophion! This way to the centaur rides, only one thin sawbuck! Don’t forget to bring—’”

She yelped and danced to one side as the ground moved.

“I was
kidding
, damn it!” she yelled at the sky, then looked suspiciously at Cirocco, who was laughing.

An arm came from the spot where Gaby had been standing. Loose dirt shifted to reveal a face, and a mop of multi-colored hair.

They knelt and brushed sand away from the Titanide as she coughed and spit, until she had managed to free her torso and front legs. She paused to gather strength, and looked curiously at the two women.

“Hello,” Hornpipe sang. “Who are you?”

Gaby got to her feet and held out her hand.

“You really don’t remember us, do you?” she sang.

“I recall something. It
does
seem as if I knew you. Didn’t you give me some wine, long ago?”

“I did,” Gaby sang. “And you returned the favor.”

“Come out of there, Hornpipe,” Cirocco sang. “You could use a bath.”

“I remember you, too. But how do you manage to stay balanced for so long without falling over?”

Cirocco laughed.

“I wish I knew, kid.”