Fire Time

SIXTEEN

Theoretically, Dejerine could have done all his communicating with Primavera at his worksite. In practice, he needed relief from that desert as much as any of his men. Furthermore, an electronic image is no real substitute for a live presence. It is immensely easier to stay cold and impersonal toward the former. Hence he flitted often to the town for consultations as well as avowed recreation. The individuals who most strongly resented his mission had the wit to see, in time, that he had not instigated it, he too meant well by Ishtar and might be persuaded to urge a change of policy upon the government.

After a couple of hours spent on technical problems in Sparling’s office—the location and most efficient utilization of natural resources needed for the project—the engineer abruptly said around his pipe: “Tell you what. Anyef, the area’s top dream artist, is giving a performance in Stubbs Park. Why don’t you come to dinner at my house and then we’ll see the show together?”

“You are very kind,” Dejerine said, surprised.

“Aw, you’ve turned out to be not such a bad fellow. Besides, frankly, the more you see of native culture, the harder you may work to help save it.”

“I have tried to appreciate playoffs from your data banks. It isn’t easy.”

“Uh-huh. It isn’t simply foreign. Music, dance, and drama are more subtle, more complex than anything I believe our species has ever done. But while Anyefs conveying her latest experience, I can give you a running commentary.”

“Won’t that disturb the audience?”

“I’ve got a micro transceiver set in a bracelet, and I’ll find you another you can hang on an ear. Whispering won’t bother anybody: the wind’ll be noisier. I think that’s why she’s performing this dream, whatever it is, this evening—she’ll use the wind somehow as part of her language—” The phone chimed on Sparling’s desk. “Excuse me.” He punched acceptance.

Goddard Hanshaw’s ruddy features appeared in the screen, unwontedly grave. “Bad news, Ian,” he said. “I thought you, being a particular friend of hers, ought to know right away.”

The pipestem broke between Sparling’s jaws. He caught the bowl automatically and put it in the ashtray with exaggerated care. The ashtray was an iridescent chelosaur shell—“Larreka called from Port Rua. Jill Conway’s been captured by the barbarians”—which she had given him.

Dejerine sprang out of his seat. “Qu’est-ce qua vous dites?” he yelled.

Sparling waved him down, “Details, please,” he said.

“They borrowed a ship from the Kalain Glorious on the Dalag coast, but the commandant refused to spare more than a handful of soldiers for its protection; claimed he needs every sword he can get to hold North Beronnen safe,” Hanshaw related. “He may be right. However, the upshot was that a couple of Valennener galleys, doubtless out pirating, attacked the ship in the Fiery Sea. Their crews boarded, were either beaten off in short order or deliberately retreated after they’d grabbed Jill. On the basis of prisoner interrogations—Larreka didn’t specify his methods—he thinks probably the kidnapping was the whole objective, when their chief had seen a human was aboard. That does give hope. If they want her for a hostage or a bargaining counter, they shouldn’t hurt her, on purpose anyhow. Their boats being too fast to pursue, Larreka proceeded on his way. The thing happened, uh, three days ago. He’s just arrived, made straight for the big transmitter.”

Nausea rose in Sparling’s gullet. “What do you mean, they won’t hurt her?” he snapped. “Unmixed Ishtarian food—”

“Larreka’s a smart old devil. The moment he saw her borne off, he ran to fetch her box of supplement, and managed to toss it onto the other deck.”

Sparling sagged in his chair. I wish God were more to me than the mayors nickname, so I could thank him.

Then: But she’ll be in that hell-country, alone among savages. They won’t realize she can’t endure many things they take for granted. Or any superstitious notion may enter their heads.

Strength returned. “I’ll go there.” Sparling said. “Make sure I can have a fast long-range vehicle, will you? First, though, I’ll check what else I can arrange. Shall I call you back?”

“Yes, please do. I… I’ve got to notify her family.” Hanshaw’s image blanked out.

Sparling swiveled around to face Dejerine. The officer’s tanned countenance had become a piece of leather in which the eyeballs stood like white-ringed targets.

“You heard,” Sparling said. “What do you propose we do?”

Dejerine worked his lips before he responded, “What have you in mind?”

“Don’t worry, nothing rash. I’ll try to negotiate her release. But if they don’t approach us about that soon, or if they demand impossible terms, we’ll show them they’d bloody well better bring her back unharmed,”

“You would threaten—?”

“What else? They savvy force. When we start sinking their ships, demolishing their homesteads, strafing every armed band we come on, they’ll get the message.” And if Jill has died—

“Aerial punishment.” Dejerine nodded heavily “My command is to supply the means.”

“You’ve got ’em. We don’t. We haven’t a single military device. Never expected to need any.” Anger lifted. “Well, how long are you going to sit there? You didn’t need those battle flyers you brought along—till now—to justify your presence on Ishtar!”

Dejerine gathered resolution. “That would be insubordination on my part,” he said. “Under no circumstances besides a direct attack on us may we, any man or any equipment, be used against natives. The policy has more reasons than idealism. If we got embroiled in local quarrels—”

Sparling’s left hand squeezed that arm of his chair; his right fist doubled upon the other. He spoke slowly, congratulating himself on the levelness of his voice. “Don’t you think you’ll compromise your mission worse by provoking a complete boycott of it and all your personnel? That’s what will happen if you abandon her, you know. I’ll see to it personally.”

Dejerine reached toward him as if across a gulf. “Can you not realize?” he pleaded. “I will dispatch a message at once, requesting permission. I am fond of her myself.”

“How long will your courier boat take to reach Earth? How long will those lardbrain GHQ bureaucrats take to process your letter—and deny you?”

Dejerine’s tone hardened. “If I disobeyed, I would be removed from this post. My successor would likely be much less simpatico, considering what trouble you caused the Navy. I can carry on if you boycott us, but it will require using powers of confiscation and arrest, criminal penalties for refusing to give us essential cooperation.” He stood; Sparling did, too. “Sir, I will leave you. Please note, I have not ordered anyone to refrain from helping Miss Conway. Please do not be so conspicuous about whatever you do that you force me. And… you would be wise to keep me informed of events… and I will be more grateful than you can guess.” He bowed. “Good day, sir.”

Sparling stared at the door for a minute after it had closed.

Doubtless he’s right, he thought drearily. Well, I suppose I’d better go home and pack.

When he stepped outside, it was into a hot blast, which hissed down the street and brawled in the treetops. Bel glared and Anu glowered where red-tinged streaks of cloud hastened through a sky that was otherwise merciless blue. The air smelled dusty. Few people were about. He didn’t notice if they greeted him or not. As he strode, he was working on a set of plans, one for each contingency he could imagine.

Except Jill’s death. If her laughter blew away forever on the wind, nothing would matter very much.

His wife was in their living room. With most undertakings suspended, Primavera’s supply department required little staff. “Hello,” she said. “What brings you this early?” He turned his face her way, and the happiness died out of her. “Something is terribly wrong,” she whispered.

He nodded. The facts jerked forth.

“Oh, no. Nolo permita Deus.” Rhoda closed her eyes briefly, seemed to brace herself, then came to take both his hands. “What will you do?”

“Go there.”

“Alone?”

“Might as well, since the Navy isn’t interested in protecting mere taxpayers.” An imp reminded Sparling that extrasolar workers didn’t pay taxes. “Should things come to a fight, Larreka’s troopers are preferable to us civilians. Or, if we do need human help, it can arrive in a matter of hours, even if we are only allowed small passenger vehicles these days. Meanwhile, till we have some solid information, why keep men tied down in Port Rua?”

“Must you go yourself? And immediately?”

“We’d better have a human on the spot.” No longer able to meet her look, he regarded a picture of Becky on the wall. “I’m idle here; the Navy will get no more advice from me. I have about as wide an experience of Ishtar and Ishtarians as any man. You know how I’ve perforce become a fairly good jackleg physician, in case she—she—Well, she’ll’ve had a rough time at best.”

Rhoda straightened her dumpy figure, “Also your top reason,” she said quietly. “You are in love with her.”

“Huh?” he exclaimed, shocked. “Why, that, that’s ridiculous! We’re friends, sure, but—”

She shook her head. “No, querido.” She hadn’t used the endearment of their early days for a long time. The tears would not altogether stay down. “I know you, I knew this from the start, and knew you were both innocent. You have always been kind to me, Ian. So I think, because you must go back into a dangerous place—you must—I should say you go with my blessing. Bring her home safe.”

He hugged her to him, protesting. “You’re wrong. I can’t imagine how you got such a wild idea,” since that felt like the only possible thing to do.

“Well, perhaps I was mistaken,” she likewise lied against his breast. “We will talk no more of it. Let me help you pack. And I will call the Conways and ask if there is any way we, I can help.”

Should I feel guilty that I chiefly feel embarrassed? he wondered. Or that several of my contingency plans call for me to risk my life?

A thought went through him like an electric shock. She sensed it in his body. “What is the matter?” she asked timidly.

“Nothing, Nothing.” He spoke with his voice alone; his mind was elsewhere. “I just got a notion. It’ll keep me here maybe two’or three days yet.”