“I hope this is urgent, Vincio.”
“Ma’am, a patrol picked up a native heading for Port Central. She’s here. Calls herself Sehanol, says she’s a messenger, from a place called Scatterdell.”
“Between the Huipil and swamplands, two days south of here,” T’orre Na interjected.
“Ma’am, she says she has a message from Marghe, I assume she means Representative Taishan, who is at Ollfoss. I think. It’s hard to understand her. The bad news is that the vaccine didn’t work. Apparently, Taishan got the vir–”
“Enough, Vincio.” It had taken Danner a second to understand what Vincio was blabbing all over the net. She gathered her wits too late. “Is the messenger still there?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’ll send an escort for her. I want a code five on this, effective immediately.”
The code‑five silence was bolting the stable door after the horse had run. Damn T’orre Na, damn Cassil. If she had not been thinking about this trata, she might have stopped Vincio in time. Now the spy would already have the information on its way to the Kurst: the vaccine did not work. Already, Company would be making decisions. It was all over now. No more time.
T’orre Na opened her mouth with a question. Danner held up a hand. “A moment. I need to think.” She punched in Lu Wai’s code. “Lu Wai? Detail Kahn to go to my office, to escort a native, Sehanol, to my quarters. I want you to implement start of Operation Ascent. Immediately. It’s happening, Lu Wai.”
She got hold of Dogias next. “This is Danner. Top priority. Track and jam any off‑world communication, excluding my channel to Estrade. Move fast, Letitia. It may already be too late.” She signed off and punched in Sara Hiam’s code, drumming her fingers impatiently.
The doctor looked tousled, sleepy. “What–”
“Sara, it’s happened. I don’t have all the details yet, but I’m setting things in motion at my end. Are you ready?”
Watching Hiam absorb the news was like seeing a slow‑motion picture: the doctor’s face seemed to contract muscle by muscle until it was hard and tight. “There’s no way I could be ready for this. But we’ll manage.”
Danner knew how much it must be costing the doctor to not ask questions; Hiam had worked hard on that vaccine. She must be as full of professional curiosity and disbelief as Danner would have been if she had heard that a fully armed troop had been routed by five‑year‑olds armed with sticks. Danner could not think of anything comforting to say.
They looked at each other helplessly. Danner cut the connection and stared at nothing. It was really happening.
She lifted her head, saw the quick compassion in T’orre Na’s eyes, and wondered what her face must look like. She felt ravaged, bereft. If only the vaccine had worked. This was it. All over. The full weight of what would happen next fell on Danner like a boulder. She felt as though her world were whirling away out of reach.
“How long will it take Sehanol to get here?” T’orre Na asked.
“What? Oh, twenty minutes.”
“And how long would it take me to find and bring back refreshments?”
“Refreshments?”
“Eating or drinking is good for shock.”
“I’m not hungry. But if you need something”–she waved her arm vaguely–“I can have someone bring it.”
“I would rather go myself.”
“Fine.”
“But I need directions.”
Danner pulled herself together briefly. “Left. About four hundred… paces. Third door. Any argument about payment, have them call me.”
When T’orre Na was gone, Danner sat and stared at nothing. There was so much to do. So much. Later, later. For now, she wanted to grieve but felt nothing, nothing at all. It was as though she were swaddled in cotton wool.
T’orre Na came back with a hot rice dish and four cans.
Danner looked at it incredulously. “Beer?”
“I like Terrene beer.” T’orre Na popped the can efficiently, drank deep. “Here, the rice is for you.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Have some beer, then.”
It suddenly struck Danner as funny. Why not? There was nothing else to do for the moment. They sat in contemplative silence, drinking.
“Try some rice. You might be too busy later.”
T’orre Na was right, of course, it just seemed… inappropriate to eat and drink and make merry as everything threatened to fall to pieces around her. But there was no good reason why she should not.
They both ate. Danner felt better for the food, more in control. “Perhaps when the messenger comes, T’orre Na, she would respond better to questions from you.”
Danner was glad T’orre Na was there. She had a working knowledge of the basic language, but the messenger’s accent or dialect was so thick Danner could barely understand one word in six. She made a mental note to ask Day which would be the most important dialects to learn–yet another thing Marghe could have helped them with.
After several minutes of question and answer, the messenger accepted a beer, tasted it cautiously, and put it down. Danner noticed she did not drink from it again. Not all natives liked beer, then. She was obscurely glad, though she could not have said why. Perhaps she was already experiencing the faint beginnings of the need to keep her culture separate, like all immigrant peoples on all worlds. For that’s what she and the other Mirrors and technicians were now–immigrants.
She listened harder.
It seemed that the messenger was uncertain about something, and the journeywoman was questioning her hard. Eventually, T’orre Na seemed satisfied, and had the messenger repeat something twice. She nodded and turned to Danner.
“The message goes like this. Marghe Amun, now of Wenn’s family at Ollfoss, to Danner, at Port Central. Greetings. I became ill with this world’s sickness during the Moon of Aches–that’s the Moon of Rain, as we would reckon it, some sixty or seventy days ago– and made myself with child thirty days later. The viajera Thenike and I will bear soestre next spring, I am well and happy. Give my regrets and apologies to the healer.” She repeated it while Danner taped it, for the record.
“Sehanol says the message knot came via ship to Pebble Fleet. Message stones were left by the banks of the Huipil by one of their herders and read by her daughter, Puiell. The stones had been disturbed. Sehanol thinks that some of the message may be missing.”
“Not the important part: Marghe got the virus; the vaccine didn’t work.” The end of everything. “ Marghe Amun,” Danner said slowly. “I wonder why she did that.” Perhaps the virus had affected the representative’s mind. Danner had heard vague rumors of Company personnel going crazy when they contracted the virus. They were usually the ones who died.
“Marghe Amun. And she’s with child. Soestre to the viajera Thenike.” Danner could not identify T’orre Na’s expression. It looked like something akin to wonder.
Sehanol said something.
“She wants to leave now,” T’orre Na said. “There’s work to be done in Scatterdell.”
Danner looked at Sehanol, whose eyes were very bright and who had obviously been following what they said. Danner spoke clearly and carefully. “Before you leave, Sehanol, I want you to know that you have my personal thanks and gratitude. If you and yours at Scatterdell need some small favor in the future, ask.”
“We will. You are gracious.”
T’orre Na punched the door lock. It hissed open and the native slipped through and was gone.