“Fool,” Paeia said.
“That’s two that have told me,” McGee said, and backed off from the speartip and walked away, expecting it in her back. But they let her pass.
lx
Message: Base Director to E. McGee
Repeat: Urgent you report: we have Bureau representatives incoming. They’re bringing Unionside observers. There will be data essential to your work…
lxi
Notes, coded journal Dr. E. McGee
Elai’s no worse. No better. Paeia hasn’t come through the door. I did one thing, at least, with my meddling–They’re waiting. They’re just waiting to know what the calibans are going to do now that I’ve done what I did.
I didn’t think it through. I tried to tell the calibans they couldn’t lose Elai, that was all, tried explaining she could make the Base itself rational‑tried to explain starmen. Tried to tell them about their world and what they were missing, and O dear God, I did something no one’s ever done: I went and did a human pattern in terms they could read. I tried to say there was good in starmen, that there’s life outside–and they took it away from me, the Cloudsiders, they started telling it their way, their own legends–they were talking about themselves.
No one’s moving. The calibans have gone off–most of them. Elai’s eating again, at least I got her to take a little soup this morning; that was a triumph. Dain helped. Everyone’s going about quiet, really quiet.
And across the river there’s building going on, within sight of the towers. The calibans are in debate. I think they must be. Patterns rise and fall incomplete. There’s no reason in it that makes sense yet. They reform the old pattern and then tear it up again in new elaborations, and they do things I don’t make sense of.
Paeia’s been forestalled. This is no time to upset the calibans.
lxii
Message: station to Base
AS Wyverninbound from Cyteen. Visitors aboard.
lxiii
Cloudside
There was restlessness that night. McGee heard it starting in the depths, vague echoes of movements, stirrings and slitherings down below, and she shivered, lying on her bed, on the earthen ledge in her own quarters, wrapped in her rough blankets.
It grew. Her heart began beating in a panic like night fears, and she scrambled up, threw on her clothes without seeking any light: she went blind as she had learned to do, running up the spiral turns of the hall–So others came, men and women running either way, some down toward the exit from the tower, some few up, as she ran, up toward the hall where they kept firelight these last nights, since it had become Elai’s refuge.
Elai was there, awake. Dain was; and young Din; and Maeri, and others, pale and distressed faces. They brought no weapons; their calibans had deserted them, save for Din’s.
The access gave up a flood of ariels, like a plague of vermin scrabbling across the floor, like the first feeling outward of some vast beast; in that flood a few grays hove up through the access pit, up the ramp, casting their heads about, putting out their tongues.
What came then was huge, was bigger than Scar had been, a caliban that, up on his legs, was halfway to the ceiling–No one’s, that brown. The riders gave back from it, even Dain; McGee stood sweating, out of its convenient path, lacking the courage to fling herself for a mouthful in its direct route to Elai.
Elai sat still, image‑like in her wooden chair. Her hands were in her lap. It put out a tongue, leaned forward, leaned, put out a foot and made that a step and a second pace, that closed the distance. The tongue investigated, barely touched Elai’s robes; and other calibans were coming, invading all the halls, a noisy scrabbling flood below.
We’ll fall, McGee thought, imagined First Tower in collapse, them dying in a cascade of earth at the same time as every other human on the Cloud, the Base under attack, Styx going under yet again.
The big brown’s collar crest went down. He turned himself, his long tail sweeping their circle wider, but that was a settling at Elai’s side, half up on his forelegs. The crest went up again.
“Dear God,” McGee breathed, when she remembered to breathe, but they were half the hall deep in calibans now, and there was hissing and snapping as the calibans defined territory, as Dain’s brown moved in clearing rivals, and Maeri’s showed up, and young Din scrambled for cover in McGee’s arms, the young brown Twostone hissing and lashing its tail in front of them, holding its ground against larger ones.
There was order made. Elai put out a hand and appropriated the big brown. His crest flicked, in something like pleasure.
McGee caught another breath. Her chest hurt. She clenched Din in her arms and the boy struggled. She let him go, remembering he was Cloudsider, and at most times independent. No one moved beyond that for a very long time, until calibans had stopped milling and crests were down.
A gray came to the middle of the floor and spat up a fish. The big brown leaned forward and ate it. The gray got out of the way in haste.
“Paeia will be disappointed,” Elai said, and looking at McGee: “So, MaGee?”
McGee ignored her limbs which still felt dissolved and the sweat that was running on her skin, lifted her chin and managed a grand indifference. “You had old Scar a long time; you never figured he wasn’t important of his kind? He picked you from way back. You’re not a warleader. If they wanted one they’d have had Jin just as easy. They wanted you, First, for some reason.”
Elai just stared at her, her hand resting on the big brown’s shoulder. Jaw set, eyes hard. The First of First Tower was not prone to displays.
“His name’s Sun,” she said.
Message: Base Director to E. McGee
Repeat: urgent you respond. We have a shuttle landing. We have a Dr. Ebhardt, Unionside, with aides, coming in. This is an official instruction: this office is taking the position that some damage to the com must have occurred and therefore no reprimand will be lodged. I add to this an earnest personal plea: I am concerned with your welfare and urge you to consider your professional and personal interests and to respond to this message by whatever means may be accessible to you. Dr. Mannin’s brief report of you indicates that you are well and in a position to have gathered valuable material. I am sure that the arriving mission will make every effort to accommodate you within its policies and I am sure will not wish to interfere in your work. It would, however, be of great help if we could have your direct input.
lxiv
Message: E. McGee to Base Director
transmitted from Cloud River
This is not a time or place for interference. I regret the misfortune of the Styx River mission. Keep your observers at a distance. Calibans are very uneasy just now. Report follows.
lxv
205 CR, day 298
Cloudside
The thing grew on the riverside, taking shape out of the reeds they had floated down. Calibans had nudged it this way and that, still prowled round it of nights to see what new thing it was becoming, with their tying and their braiding, not an easy matter; but MaGee had unbent enough to give some advice, being less pure a starman than she had been. The sun came up on a new thing every morning; and Elai watched this business of boatbuilding from the crest of First Tower with a certain forlorn distress.
Dain would try this thing. MaGee persuaded her the First of First Tower was too important to be laughed at if it was a little cranky at the start; and when it was proved, then she would try it.
She looked out over all the land, toward the horizon this morning; and saw a thing before any sentry saw it.
Metal flashed in the sun, in the sky. It was a ship from the Base, but not going up. Coming their way. It had gone crazy, was going to fall. She could hear the sound of it now, a sound like distant thunder.