Anne McCaffrey Acorna 2 Acorna's Quest

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but it was Calum this time who grabbed her.
"No. You are going back to sleep," he said firmly. "Your horn is practically
transparent, and the rest of you doesn't look much better."
"There are still people in need-"
"Nothing our own medics can't handle," said Andreziana, who had been calling
up reports from the infirmary while they talked. She backed Calum up. "You
have done too much, Acorna . . . and we have other problems to solve now that
you cannot help with."
"What?" "First, we must repair the damage to the Haven. Then, Dr. Hoa has
promised to work on his weather program, to see if there is some way he can
control it so as to correct the damage done by our ship and his science to
Rushima ... if they will accept the offer." Andreziana's emotional and
physical exhaustion made her look, briefly, much older than her chronological
age. "Whether by use of Dr. Hoa's technical expertise, or by the work of our
own hands, we must make what reparations we can to the settlers of Rushima.
That is our problem, not yours."
"The Shenjemi Federation . . ."
"Have realized that the situation is critical, yes," Johnny Greene said, "and
help is on its way. But 'Ziana is right. The First-Gen Starfarers were men and
-women of honor who would have done everything possible to repair the damage
caused by use of their ship. I'm proud to see these kids following in the
tradition."
With this assurance, Acorna felt justified in taking a few extra hours for
rest. Hours turned into several days, as she fell into a deep healing sleep
from which she awakened at intervals only long enough to consume immense
quantities of the most mineral-rich greens the Haven could provide. "I wish I
could get her dirtside," Calum fretted. "Rushima's a mess, but she needs to
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run, and breathe air that hasn't been recycled, and eat something that didn't
grow in a vat."
"I think that can be arranged," Markel told him. Calum had been watching over
Acorna too obsessively to pay much attention to the repair work on the Haven
or the ongoing discussions with the Rushimese. "Hoa's ready to work his
weather magic now, but we're going to need to temporarily resettle the
Rushimese from the worst flooded area while he arranges a few minor cataclysms
to fix things up."
"Good idea," Calum approved absently. "Now, Acorna-"
"Is going to have to be with our resettlement party," Markel said. "Otherwise,
they won't go anywhere with us. Acorna's the only one they trust. In fact, we
were hoping that you and she would be willing to use the Aca
settlers-because they have a pronounced, if justifiable, aversion to any of
our landing craft."
"Sounds good to me," Calum said. "Soon as she's really awake, we'll get
started."
Acorna was clearly healing herself in these periods of deep sleep, restoring
the energies depleted by her efforts on behalf of the Starfarers and their
wounded ship, and he had no intention of interrupting that process. He
returned to watching over her obsessively, feeling more relieved than anything
else that their friends on Maganos did not know to transmit queries to the
Haven. After sending a "Disregard previous message, everything's all right,"
from the AcaSecki immediately after they were sure the countercoup had
succeeded, he'd shut down \heAca
the Haven. He did not particularly want to communicate with Maganos again
until he could assure them Acorna was perfectly well. Call him a coward, but
there were some things he'd rather not tell Gill and Rafik, much less Delszaki
Li and Uncle Hafiz. This-an Acorna too worn-out to stay awake-was definitely
one of those things.
Laboue, Unified Federation Date 53^. 05.22
afiz had never been so long out of communication with his various colleagues
and interstellar financiers. No amount of pacing up and down his underground
refuge would ease his churning mind.
"There is really NO point at all in such ferretlike isolation. There hasn't
been a single explosion registered on the equipment. There haven't been any
landings anywhere. Am I a slave, to live in prison, or a woman, to dwell in
purdah?"
His pacing had brought him back once again to that portion of the garden where
the Skarness Stones were located. Although his establishment was completely
underground, and shielded by formidable appliances, he could actually stand
just beneath the position of the Stones.
He clapped his hands to summon a human servant. "Bring me a thin rod, of
metal, not silver nor gold, but base metal, of two arm-spans' length. No,
misbegotten -whelp of a djinni's basest lusts, how should I know where such a
thing is to be found? Inquire of the steward, and do not trouble me with such
matters." Once the rod had been located, he demanded a ladder. Now position
it... no, never mind. Guard the door to this corridor, and let no one enter
until I give permission. I shall be ... at my devotions." No need for any to
observe the procedure which he had invented for communicating with the Stones
from this underground refuge; and if they wondered what sort of devotions
required this equipment, why, let them wonder!
The manual labor of placing a stepladder was beneath his dignity, but by great
good fortune he hit the D Stone with his first try. Then, placing his forehead
and both hands on the rod, he tapped out his urgent query.
"Has Laboue been invaded?"
There was no immediate answer. He hadn't expected a prompt reply-but he
expected some reaction. Besides, it was undignified for a man of his eminence
and prestige to remain in this semisubservient posture, even if he had taken
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care not to be observed. Also, the metal rod was beginning to wear a groove
into his forehead. He daren't relax either his grip or the contact with the
rod because he had to catch the rhythm of whatever message the Skarness Stones
had for him.
"Clear sky."
Hafiz thanked them and stood upright, dropping the rod with a clang as he
alternately rubbed the ridges on his hands and forehead. Then he wondered just
what that cryptic message did mean. "Clear skies" because the weather was
fair; "clear skies" because these monsters had landed; or "clear skies"
because whatever had been headed toward Laboue had gone around the planet?
He convinced himself the last interpretation was the most likely, since no
detection equipment known to mankind could have pierced the shell currently
protecting the inmates-and there was no truer definition of those who resided
on, or under, Laboue right now. So it had to be safe. The Stones would not
have lied to him. They didn't know how.
Hafiz did get in touch with Quiabriel as protocol required.
"I'm going above, Quiabriel. I mustbe in touch with my people, to reassure
them. I will report on the condition of the surface once I have ascertained if
any damage has been done. But I must surface."
"If you must, you must," Quiabriel replied in a grudging tone. "However, do
not respond if there is any change in the surface at all. And a thorough scan,
please."
"Has not the Second Prophet admonished us, 'Do what thou shalt do, but do all
in order and as fitting My children'?" Hafiz replied genially, while vowing
that some day Quiabriel would pay for the tone of voice he had just used to
the Head of House Harakamian.
The process of unshielding and rising took time. Hafiz had the ladder placed
in one of the upper rooms, at the tallest window near the ceiling so that he
could countermand the action if he found reason to do so.
He saw no danger, as his dwelling made a stately ascent into the fresh, clear
air of Laboue. All around, of course, -where other gardens should be, and
other dwellings hidden within them, there was blank and featureless space. For
the Shielding provided Laboue with a sterile desert surface in some places or
rampant, impenetrable jungle vistas which clearly said to any observer that [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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