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Thirty-Two

 

Melchiza
City of Treasures

They were met in the Egress Lounge by their officially assigned Melchizan Chaperon. According to the handouts, they weren't supposed to stir outside their hotel room or other quarters without their Chaperon. Visitors caught roaming around on their own faced the usual litany of Melchizan penalties: fine, imprisonment, or immediate expulsion from the planet.

Their particular Chaperon was tall and thin with droopy yellow mustaches that made his long face look even longer. He had pale brown eyes and big knobby hands in which he held a data screen and a sheaf of brightly colored cards.

"Greeting! Greeting, sir, professor, professora, mamzelle! I am Gidis Arkov, your assigned guide and protector. All questions are for me; I stand between you and all harm. I am the keeper of the schedule, I carry copies of your bona fides next to my heart—" He lifted the data screen—"Consider that I am your elder brother; any problem or concern you may have during your time on Melchiza, bring to me and I will make all smooth for you.

"Now!" he continued briskly, "we have the bus just here, with the driver waiting. Before we board, however, we must be insuring that your identification is in order." He slipped the data screen into the side pocket of his bright orange jacket, which was not, Theo thought critically, next to his heart, unless biology on Melchiza was very strange.

He glanced down at the cards in his hand, and looked up, scanning their faces earnestly. "Which is Farancy Able?"

Professor Able stood forward. "I am, Chaperon Arkov."

He smiled, his mustaches lifting. "Please, I am your elder brother, eh? Gidis is what you may call me. Now, this." He extended the purple card to her. "This is very important. You must at all times have it visible. Attach it to your coat and surrender it to no one, excepting anyone of Security." He looked 'round at all of them.

"You have read that Security will wear blue. In general and most usually, this is so. Sadly, there are rogues, not so many in the City of Treasures as elsewhere, but! Please be observant. If it seems to you that the person wearing blue is not behaving as a security person ought to do, you may politely ask to see identification. A legitimate security person will not take this amiss. A rogue will bluster and seek to bully. If this should happen, that a rogue seeks to separate you from your identification—do not acquiesce. Refuse, become loud and create a commotion. The rogue will—often—run. If they do not run fast enough, Security, having heard your commotion, will catch the impostor." Gidis smiled. "It is a very bad thing to pretend to be Security on Melchiza.

"So, Farancy Able, please affix this firmly to your coat so that all may see it. Know where it is at all times. Sleep with it, eh?" He laughed, and looked down at the next card.

"Vaughn Crowley."

Professor Crowley stood forward and took another purple card, subjecting it to a moment of study before pressing it against the breast of his jacket.

"Yes, excellent." Gidis smiled and looked down to the next.

"Orkan Hafley." The chair silently held out her hand, and slapped the identification card against her dull green sweater, where it adhered somewhat crookedly.

Gidis lifted the last purple card with a smile and held it out to Kamele with a little bow. "Kamele Waitley, yes? Please, do as your companions before you."

The next card was white. Gidis bowed again, without the smile. "Sir," he said.

Clyburn nodded and pressed the card against his elaborately fringed jacket.

The last card was pink.

"Mamzelle," Gidis said, handing it to Theo. "You will be vigilant, eh? The rule for you, it changes, only a little. The people who have the right to ask for your card are Security and your teacher. Your teacher only, yes? If another teacher wishes to peruse your information, he must apply to your teacher, who will, if he considers the request reasonable, ask you to surrender the card to him. If you are confused about this rule, you will please ask your teacher. All of this is plain and clear?"

Does he think I'm a littlie? Theo wondered grumpily, but she remembered that the rule-book listed pretty serious penalties for arguing with a Chaperon, and while immediately being deprived of the Chaperon's services wouldn't matter to her, since she was going to be locked up at boarding school, it would matter a lot to Kamele and the research team.

"Everything's clear," she said to Gidis, and pressed the pink tag against the shoulder of her red jacket.

"Excellent. Now! The schedule for the rest of this day. First, we board the bus and transport the mamzelle to school. There will at the school be a short moment for mamzelle's mother to speak with the teacher. The bus then takes us to the hotel. Dinner has been ordered in, as the scholars will wish to rest in their apartment. The sir has of course, been cleared for visiting." He nodded, then spun on a heel. "Follow me, please!"

Theo moved at once, Kamele right with her, both of them following Gidis down the room toward the doors. The others hesitated for a long moment, as if they thought there'd been a mistake, then hurried to catch up, their feet noisy against the 'crete floor.

"Visiting?" Theo heard Professor Able say. "Oh, of course! Your mother, is it not, who is placed high in Admin?"

"Precisely!" Chair Hafley took the question to herself. "As it happens, Clyburn's mother and sister live on Melchiza. Of course he must visit them! I insisted upon it."

"Certainly, one must pay one's respects to one's mother," Professor Crowley said, but in the tone of voice Theo noticed he used when he was saying something else instead.

"Oh, no doubt," Professor Able agreed. "I simply hadn't known that Clyburn was native to Melchiza."

Chair Hafley sniffed. "Why do you think I insisted that he accompany us?" she demanded. "A local guide will be invaluable to us!"

Except, Theo thought, Clyburn was going to visit his mother and the team had an assigned Chaperon, so how was he going to be any help? She looked at Kamele, who was biting her bottom lip, apparently listening just as hard as Theo was to the conversation to the rear.

"How long will the research take?" Theo asked.

Kamele glanced at her, blue eyes dancing. Her voice, however, was grave. "Professor Crowley estimated anywhere between four and seven local days, depending on the accessibility of the records, and how many hours per day we're allowed inside the Treasure House archives."

"So, if Clyburn is going to go visit—"

"Yes," Kamele murmured, cutting her off. "I think it's safe to conclude that Chair Hafley brought Clyburn so that he might have the treat of visiting his mother." She gave Theo a sideways glance. "It shows well of her, that she treats her onagrata with kindness," she added.

Theo sighed. She knew from Life Class that a woman who was responsible for an onagrata should take pains to let him know that he was valued, and to give him those little gifts and treats that were so important to the male ego. It was just that Professor Hafley treated Clyburn like he was . . . learning challenged, which, despite the fact that she didn't like him, Theo was pretty sure he wasn't. In Theo's opinion, it took real observational skills to be as snarky as Clyburn.

Ahead of them, Gidis waved open the doors. Before them was a short, canopied walk, with a long, orange car pulled across the far end.

"The bus!" he called, moving to one side of the walk and making shooing motions with one hand to hurry them along.

Kamele and Theo walked on, Theo turning her head, attention caught by a flicker of what might have been sense . . . 

Yes, there it was again, woven between the nonsense waving and posturing, a phrase she almost recognized, but it couldn't be all is in readiness.

Could it?

"Theo," Kamele called from the bus door, "do you want to sit in the front or the back?"

Theo turned as Clyburn detached himself from their group, mincing in his fancy boots, clearly heading for another vehicle at the far end of the drive.

"Where's he going?" she asked loudly. "He doesn't have a Chaperon!"

"Hist! Hist, mamzelle! The sir is not a visitor! He is a returning son of Melchiza. Such require no Guides."

"Really, Theo!" Chair Hafley added, as she stepped past on her way to their bus. "If you spent as much time minding your own business as you spend monitoring others, you'd be in Four Team One, instead of Three!"

"Theo?" Kamele called again.

Ears burning, Theo turned back toward the bus.

* * *

"Why are you telling me these bizarre things?" Monit Appletorn kept his face averted, most of his attention seemingly centered on the screen of his mumu.

Jen Sar Kiladi tipped his head to one side, and considered the other man's profile. Strong bones, and a stubborn chin, dark hair beginning to recede from a high forehead. There was a tightness in the tiny muscles around the eyes that perhaps spoke of more interest in bizarre topics than he wished to have seen.

He had not been offered a seat, which was only Balance, as he had arrived unannounced and all but forced himself into Appletorn's office. If he had called ahead and made more seemly arrangements to meet, perhaps the good scholar might have found time to move a pile of hard copy from one of the overburdened chairs. One did wonder, however, where his students sat when they came to solicit the scholar's advice.

Jen Sar flexed his fingers where they were folded atop his cane, and shifted his weight slightly. Appletorn reluctantly turned his face until it could be said that he was giving his guest due attention.

"I am telling you these things," Jen Sar said, keeping his voice gentle, "because you live in one of the compromised apartments. In theory, you have access to this rogue AI. Should this situation be discovered, your scholarship, your conclusions, and your standing as a Scholar Expert all are cast into doubt." He bowed slightly, as if in sympathy. "The work of a lifetime, tarnished by mere proximity."

"I think you overstate the case," Appletorn said, doubtless meaning to sound assured. "My work is well-known; certainly the earliest monographs predate the arrival of this . . . rogue AI, as you care to style it."

"Is that so? I have myself no firm date for the onset of the infection." Jen Sar murmured. Appletorn's face paled. "But, no! Doubtless you are correct. You have not always lived in that apartment; your earliest work would, in fact, escape doubt . . . as long as your former residence was free of the old wire."

The other man closed his eyes. When, at the count of twelve there was no further response forthcoming, Jen Sar set the next hook.

"Come, we both know that these things can be managed. The trick is to be in control of the information and its revelation, rather than allowing it to be discovered impromptu and subjected to dismaying interpretations by persons ignorant of the actual facts."

"I have never used this 'old wire,' " Appletorn said, which was . . . perhaps . . . true. "This rogue AI is unknown to me. I am, therefore, not in its logs, nor listed among its users."

"Ah. That, you see, is the genius of the program. Asked, it helpfully provided a map of those places to which it potentially has access. A second request, this to our own Concierge, produced the names of those currently residing in the compromised apartments." He smiled, sympathetically. "It is so difficult to prove a negative."

Another lengthy silence was the reward of sympathy, and at last a sigh.

"You say that you have the means to contain this malignancy and shut it down at the source."

Jen Sar tsk'd lightly. "I say that I have a pointer to a person. In all truth, this is likeliest to be an intermediate contact. As to finishing quietly—perhaps not. I do not despair of quickly, however, granted able and advertent assistance. And surely we shall emerge both politically stronger for our defense of Delgadan scholarship, and more able to control the flow of information to the ignorant."

Monit Appletorn was not a fool; the tension in his face and shoulders was ample evidence that he understood the stakes. It remained only to see if he was ruled by fear, or by melant'i.

"I'll do it," Appletorn said, and nodded toward the nearest chair. "Pitch that stuff on the floor and tell me what you plan."

* * *

"Waitley?" a tall stout woman with a pink band around her left bicep shouted from the bottom of the ramp.

"Yes, ma'am." Theo went carefully down the ramp, pulling her case behind her.

"I'm Instructor Tathery. You're on my roster. Class is over for the day and you're a little late for supper. I'll show you to your room; the kitchen's already been told to send up a tray when you arrive." She looked over Theo's head.

"You'll be Professor Waitley?" she asked.

"Theo's mother," Kamele agreed coming off the end of the ramp to stand next to Theo. She held her hand out. "I'm very pleased to meet you, Instructor Tathery."

The bigger woman blinked, then took the offered hand, Kamele's fingers vanishing inside the large grasp. "A pleasure, Professor," she said gruffly.

"I don't mind talking while we walk," Kamele said, after her hand was returned and the other woman hadn't said anything else.

"Yes, well . . ." Instructor Tathery looked up the ramp, to where Gidis stood in the doorway of the bus.

"I'm not a Government Chaperon," the big woman finally produced. Kamele looked puzzled, but Theo suddenly understood.

"You can't go anywhere on Melchiza without a Chaperon," she said. "And if Gidis comes with us, then the rest of the team will be without a Chaperon."

Kamele sighed and shook her head. "I am not acclimated as yet," she said ruefully, and looked to the instructor. "I apologize for having placed you in an uncomfortable position and thank you for your patience. What I wish to say can certainly be said here, though I would have liked to see Theo's room and the learning areas."

"It is suggested, Professor Waitley," Gidis said from his position on the high ground, "that you speak quickly. The schedule—we must not fall behind."

"Maybe on your way back, ma'am," Instructor Tathery said, "you and the rest of your party would like a tour of the facilities."

"That would be very pleasant," Kamele said, keeping her eyes on the instructor's face; not even acknowledging Gidis by a glance. "I only wanted to explain—because I know custom varies from world to world—that, according to the custom of our homeworld, Delgado, Theo is yet a minor child, under the care of her mother. We wish to preserve our customs as nearly as possible while visiting Melchiza." She paused, but Instructor Tathery didn't say anything.

"If you will call me," Kamele said, "should there be any difficulty, or misunderstanding, and before any remediation is applied, that would satisfy our customs."

"I understand." There was a pause. "I'll do the best I'm able, Professor, as far as the customs of Melchiza allow."

Theo expected Kamele to argue, or press for a firmer agreement. Instead, her mother nodded gravely.

"Thank you," she said. "I appreciate your care of my daughter."

"The schedule, Professor Waitley!" Gidis called from the top of the ramp.

He might as well have been on Delgado for all the attention Kamele gave him. She turned, opening her arms. Theo stepped into her hug, leaning her forehead against her mother's shoulder.

"You have everything?" Kamele asked quietly.

"Everything" in this case, Theo knew was more than her school book, her clothes and her ID. It also included the emergency backup ticket that she was to use without prejudice, as Professor Crowley had it, if she felt her safety was compromised. Theo was pretty sure that undertaking a starship voyage to a place she'd never heard of would compromise her safety more than anything she could imagine happening at school, but he and Kamele had looked so serious, she hadn't bothered to argue. The ticket was in the secure pouch hanging 'round her neck by its string.

"Yes ma'am," she said now, her nose filled with the scent of Kamele's hair, feeling her mother's arms around her, strong and firm. She raised her head and looked into serious blue eyes.

"Be careful, Kamele," she said impulsively.

Her mother smiled. "I will be as careful as I can and still pursue my duty," she said. Her arms tightened slightly and they exchanged one of their rare kisses before Kamele stepped back, ruffling Theo's hair, like she was a littlie.

"Learn well, Daughter!" she said, loud enough for Gidis to hear at the top of the ramp.

"Keep well, Mother," Theo answered. "I'll—see you soon."

"You'd better go," Instructor Tathery said, low voice. "It'll be points off for the driver and the Guide if they're late on the schedule."

"Professor Waitley!" Gidis sounded somewhere between angry and anxious.

"Coming," Kamele called, and ran lightly up the ramp.

Gidis stepped back to let her in, the door closed and Theo gulped, eyes stinging.

"All right, Theo Waitley," Instructor Tathery said. "Let's get you settled and some dinner in you. Tonight's study work will be on the comdeck. Breakfast at four bells, and a map of the school . . ."

* * *

"We are agreed, then?" Jen Sar Kiladi asked Monit Appletorn.

The long scholar leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his hair, staring at the ceiling. Finally, he sighed.

"We're agreed," he said, meeting Jen Sar's eyes. "When do you propose to move?"

"Tomorrow, if your schedule can accommodate me." Jen Sar said. "The weather is predicted to be very fine."

* * *

The Treasure House Hotel had provided them with a suite—four private rooms around a common parlor-and-kitchen combination. In Kamele's room, the single wide bed served to remind her that she was—alone. No daughter tucked into an alcove bed, or showering in the 'fresher. No lover leaning on his elbow under the sheets, watching her with a half-smile on his interesting, unbeautiful face. No one, in fact, to testify to her existence, should she suddenly vanish from this place.

She took a shower, trying to take pleasure in the luxurious soaps and lotions provided by the hotel. Alas, her depression was not so easily vanquished; rather than relaxing her, the shower seemed only to soften her resolve, so that all of her doubts ambushed her the moment she slipped into the bed and waved the room lights out.

What kind of mother was she, she asked herself, breath coming short against the heavy darkness, to leave her minor daughter in the care of strangers? How could she simply have turned her back and gotten back on the bus, not knowing the conditions of her child's welfare? A mother had her duties, and Theo—

Theo, she thought deliberately, had demonstrated an . . . astonishing level of self-sufficiency aboard the Vashtara, as befit a young woman who was soon to accept the responsibilities of adulthood.

But a mother's duty—

In the chill embrace of the wide bed, Kamele closed her eyes and took a deep breath—and another, keeping her attention focused on the mere act of breathing. An old lesson, this one, learned from her first singing instructor: Breathe, and when your foolish panic has passed, affirm yourself!

Another breath, deep and calming. Another. Her muscles were warming now, and she could smell the subtle aroma of the bath lotion, clinging softly to her skin.

Another breath, and she was calm, drifting on the edge of wakefulness.

"I am," she whispered, "a scholar of Delgado."

Another breath, and she slipped over the edge, into sleep.

 

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