Suzette Elgin - Native Tongue

“I expect competence. We expect competence in the women of the Lines, Andrew.”

St. Syrus shrugged, carefully.

“Well,” he said, “it’s done. Never mind blaming the nurse at this point — it changes nothing. It’s done.”

“I’m sorry, Andrew,” said Thomas.

“I know you are, and I appreciate it.”

Andrew got up and walked back and forth as he talked, his hands clasped behind him. “We felt that the worst possible thing would be publicity… Considering the way people feel about us, they’d probably give the kidnapper board and room instead of turning him in. So we exerted a little pressure in the necessary places, and we’ve been promised that those media buzzards won’t be allowed one word, not even an announcement.”

“I see.”

Andrew looked at him, narrowing his eyes, and said, “You know, Thomas, that’s odd. They must be short-staffed, or confused, missing an opportunity to sic the pack on us and keep the public mind off their own shenanigans. This one is tailor-made for the bastards — I can’t figure out why they’re passing it up.”

“Andrew, when have the actions of our illustrious government ever made sense?”

“Not lately.”

“I rather expect they’re concerned that people might get nervous about hospital security measures… copycat crimes, that sort of thing.”

“I suppose. Whatever it is, thank God for it.”

“Right you are, my friend. And I will tighten the screws a bit from this end, just to make sure that their motivation doesn’t slip somebody’s mind on its way up through the chain of command.”

“I was hoping you’d offer to do that, Thomas.”

“Certainly, man! Of course. You can put that out of your mind, at least. And what else can I do?”

“I don’t think there is anything else to do.”

“That’s not likely. There’s almost always something else to do — you just haven’t had time to consider the matter. How about my pressuring the police as well as the press?”

“I think the police are doing all that can be done,” said the other man, sitting down again. “They’ve no reason not to. It’s all just a job to them, no matter whose baby is involved. And perhaps it will be all right. I mean, perhaps they’ll find the scum who did this before he has a chance to harm the child.”

“Not yours, is it?” asked Thomas, looking politely away from him.

“No, thank heaven, it’s not. But it’s my brother’s, and it would have been his first child. You can imagine how he feels.”

“Yes.”

“As for the woman…” St. Syrus spread his hands wide in a gesture of complete hopelessness and stared eloquently at the ceiling.

“The mother’s taken it badly, I suppose.”

“Oh, my God… You’ve never perceived anything quite like it. The lungs on that woman! I’m surprised you can’t hear her all the way here, frankly. When I left, they were sedating her so the rest of the family wouldn’t have to suffer with her caterwauling. And the other women are not a whole lot better, I’m sorry to say — especially since they are all fully aware of the Lines’ policy about ransoms.”

“It has to be that way,” said Thomas gently. “If there was the slightest chance that the linguists would pay ransoms, none of our children, or our women, would be safe. We don’t have any choice.”

“I know that. The women know that. But it doesn’t keep them from carrying on world without end about it.”

“In my experience, Andrew, you’ve got to give them something to keep them busy. Not makework, mind you, but something that will really occupy them.”

“For instance? There are nineteen adult women under my roof, and nearly that many adolescent females… and a miscellaneous assortment of girl children. It would take something like the excavation of a sewer system to use every spare moment of a gaggle that size.”

“What about their damnfool Encoding Project? What about their church duties? What about their ordinary obligations, for God’s sakes? How can they have spare time?”

“Thomas,” said Andrew wearily, “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I simply do not have the kind of control you have.”

“You haven’t been Head very long… it will come.”

“Perhaps. But at the moment, my women claim they can’t keep their mind on their hobby, and they’re so angry at the Almighty that they’re not speaking to Him. And so on. Drivel, endless drivel.”

“Double their schedules, Andrew. Give them some stuff to translate that there hasn’t been time for. Hell, make them clean the house. Buy them fruit to make jelly out of, if your orchards and storerooms are bare. There’s got to be something you can do with them, or they will literally drive you crazy. Women out of control are a curse — and if you don’t put a stop to it, you’ll regret it bitterly later on.”

“I regret it bitterly now . But this is not the moment for me to institute reforms, Thomas. Not in the middle of this mess.”

“It’s a hell of a thing,” said Thomas.

“Yes. And then some.” Andrew sank down in the chair, caught himself and straightened up again, and lit a cigarette.

“You didn’t have any warning, I don’t suppose. No threats. No stuff written on your walls. Obscene letters.”

“No. Nothing like that.”

They sat silently, and Thomas concentrated on looking suitably distressed. Not that anyone in the Lines, or anywhere else, was ever going to suspect him of collusion with the government. The idea was so unthinkable that he could be certain it would go unthought. But the popular platitudes about it being impossible to lie to a linguist were based on a solid foundation. Even if you were also a linguist. He couldn’t afford to be careless; St. Syrus was inexperienced, but he was capable and intelligent and nobody’s fool.

“Perceive this, Andrew,” he said finally. “I’m not going to just let this pass.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that we aren’t going to sit like sticks and let it go on without taking some action of our own. I’m going to put private investigators on it, St. Syrus. Today.”

“Surely that’s not necessary!”

“I think it is.”

“But, Thomas — ”

“Andrew, this is a matter of principle. And of honor. The honor of the Lines. I want whoever is behind this to be shown, and I want the unenthusiastic law enforcement people to be shown, that we of the Lines don’t take kindly to having our women and children tampered with. It’s necessary to make that unambiguously clear, and without any delay that might confuse their little minds.”

“It’ll cost the earth, Thomas,” said Andrew slowly. “Not that I mind the expense, but — ”

Thomas cut him short.

“There are special funds,” he said. “Special funds set aside for unusual circumstances, when cost should not have to be considered. This qualifies as one of those circumstances. Think, Andrew — damn it, man, do you want word going out on the street that anybody who fancies it can go pick off a linguist infant from a maternity ward and we’ll just wring our hands and whimper in many tongues? We may be able to silence the media, but we sure as hell can’t silence the criminals.”

“Maybe you’re right, Thomas. Hell… of course you’re right. It’s the sort of thing a criminal might do on a dare from his buddies, isn’t it? Jesus.”

“Andrew,” said Thomas firmly, “you go home and tend to your affairs. Get all the women out on contracts if you can. Those that aren’t on duty even as informal backups, find something exhausting to keep them occupied. I’ll get things started here right now — first, I’ll lean on the press; second, I’ll hire the detectives. Leave it in my hands and go home.”