Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“Oh, I’ll be staying.” Milliken Williams sounded surprised that any other possibility could be seriously considered. The ancient Tran seated next to him spoke through a white beard.

“Sir Williams and I still have much to discourse upon to one another. He could not leave now.”

“Of course I couldn’t.” Williams’ guileless enthusiasm did much to boost the confidence of the assembled Tran as he gazed blithely around the table. “You’re much more interesting than any of my old pupils, and there’s more here for me to learn. I couldn’t possibly leave.”

“You must realize, all of you, that as an educated citizen of fair achievement, citizen Williams is giving up a vote.” September sounded as solemn as he could. “That is something no qualified inhabitant of the Commonwealth does lightly, I can assure you.”

“What of you, friend September?” asked Hunnar.

“Oh, I guess I’ll hang around a while yet.” He picked at his teeth with a triangular fork left from the last meal. “Can’t say much for your climate, but the food’s good, the liquor is first class, and the company’s agreeable. Can’t ask for much more than that. Besides, nobody asks me too many questions.” He turned to his right. “What about you, young feller-me-lad?”

Ethan found he was the object of everyone’s attention, found himself wishing he was beneath the table instead of seated at its side. He gazed into his lap, fumbled for a reply.

“I don’t know, Skua… Hunnar.” His mouth felt like someone had suddenly substituted glue for saliva. “I have other interests, other obligations. There’s my contracted job and…”

“All is understandable, friend Ethan.” Hunnar smiled that simple Trannish smile, without showing his teeth.

For some reason, Hunnar’s timely words of empathy made Ethan feel even worse. Wasn’t he the sophisticated member of the advanced galactic civilization? Then why should he feel so devoid of worthwhile thoughts and meaningful feelings?

“Even if I could go with you, I’d only slow you down.” Colette du Kane looked back toward the doorway. “My father’s in our own cublicle, asleep. I can’t turn him loose to manage the family affairs, not while he journeys from one island of sanity to another across an ocean of senility. There’d be too many who’d take advantage of him. Someone is obligated to take care of business. That obligation devolves upon my shoulders—and I’ve got the shoulders for it.”

Even the Tran understood that joke, though Colette’s width was no greater than the average native’s.

“And there could be other obligations.”

Ethan did not look up, but he knew exactly where she was looking when she said those words.

“I will tell you all this. If you have the good sense and the ability to organize enough of a government to qualify for associate Commonwealth status, then the House of du Kane will establish itself on Tran-ky-ky immediately and will treat fairly with all who treat fairly with it.”

Elfa made a sign signifying agreement and compliments. The women had had run-ins before, both in Wannome and on the ship; but they could and had put their personal differences and feelings aside when logic dictated. Ethan wondered if the males in the room could do as well.

“It is settled then.” Hunnar assumed a pose expressing determination and challenge. “We will try,” he told Ethan, “because we believe in you and in what you say, friend Ethan. You have never lied to us in the past. I do not believe you lie to us now.”

There was a rumble like that of an underground transport as chairs slid back from the table and the various knights, nobles, and squires broke up into smaller discussion groups. Some talked loudly and with considerable animation while others chatted in hushed tones. Every so often one or two of the debaters would exit through the door opening onto the deck, admitting the planet’s eternal participant in all conversations—the wind.

Ethan left early, anxious for the solitude offered by his own cublicle. In a few days he could trade the poorly warmed box he shared with September for the cycle-heated atmosphere of a starship cabin. It was strange that the prospect no longer excited him the way it had when the Slanderscree had first entered Arsudun harbor.

Something like a hot summer breeze touched him on the shoulder, unnervingly warm and light in the chill air of the ship’s corridor. Whirling, he found himself staring down at Colette du Kane. Behind him, the voices of the arguing Tran, September’s intermittent bellow, William’s gentle but persuasive murmur—all faded and merged to form a distant background hum. Small crystals of emerald focused unblinkingly on his own eyes, verdant craters in that moon face. Despite the survival suit face mask her pink flesh had been tanned umber from occasional exposure to Tran-ky-ky’s harsh arctic sun.

For just a moment, he had a glimpse of sinuous beauty writhing to escape that gland-trapped coffin of fat. Only through the eyes could that exquisite self impinge on the world.

“Are you staying or coming?” No hint of coquetry there, no mock-embarrassed lowering of lashes. There was no room for it in a personality founded on bluntness. Though the door to the deck outside was closed, he felt something curl ’round him anyway, slowing his circulation, chilling his guts.

“Well? We’ve gotten along well these past weeks.”

“I know, Colette.” For one as perceptive as Ethan knew this woman to be, that should be answer enough. She elaborated anyway, rushing, hurrying her words so as to be rid of them as fast as possible.

“I asked you to marry me. Are you going to, or are you staying here?”

“I—I don’t know. I suppose I need more time to think. I’m not stalling you, Colette, I’m telling you the truth.”

She snorted derisively. “Every man I’ve ever known concluded any bad talk with that last homily.”

“I’ll tell you before the shuttle lifts, I promise.” He grabbed her shoulders, held her as long as he dared. She was warm.

“If that’s the way it has to be.”

He let her go. “That’s the way it has to be.”

She forced a slight smile. “I guess that’s better than an outright refusal. See you.” She turned, flounced out the door. A gust of wind brought a few ice flakes swirling inward, dying even as they struck his face. Two Tran knights followed her out, conversing easily as they ignored the bitter cold. To the natives they were reposing in a sheltered harbor, where they could stroll about outside almost naked. Only Ethan and the other humans had to hurry into their cabins before unprotected skin froze solid and crisp as a honeycomb.

It was an indication of the readiness with which the local Tran had accepted humanxkind and manifestations of its advanced technology that the natives in the shuttleport did not look up in awe when the shuttle’s braking engines fired and it settled snugly into its berthing pit, tight as a snail withdrawing into its shell.

As the engines died, the internal supercooling elements built into the skin of the delta-winged atmospheric craft went to work. Soon hull and engines themselves were cool enough to touch.

Suspensors moved out from waiting bays. Businesslike words were exchanged between the shivering shuttlepilot and the landing crew. Packages and crates began to move from concealed storage bins into the shuttle, while in return the tiny ship gave birth to a multitude of smaller sealed shapes.

Local handicrafts were traded off for knives and lamps and stelamic weaponry. Fragments of poor quality but still immensely valuable green ozmidine bought radios and tridees and hand communicators. Ethan thought back to the immense volcano known to the Tran as The-Place-Where-The-Earth’s-Blood-Burns and the cavern filled with ozmidine they’d discovered inside. He wondered what whoever was dominating the local trade would have thought of that breathtaking deposit of the ultraprecious green gem.