To Trade the Stars (41 page)

I found the
Heerama'
s bridge familiar. If it weren't for the blue-green antennae instead of the purple-pink of the Makii, I'd have sworn I was on the
Makmora.
I supposed duplication was the best approach, since this crew could be Makii after they returned to Drapskii. It would be, if I had any say about it. I wondered, but didn't ask, if the ship's name would be changed.

Heeru had assigned a member of his crew, Heeroki, to be my constant companion. As I'd been told in no uncertain terms to stay on this stool on the upper level of the bridge, and no other Drapsk approached me, Heeroki was my only source of information.

Unfortunately, he seemed in training to become a Skeptic.

“Don't you think it might be helpful if I understood more of what the Heerii need from me?” I asked. It was the latest incarnation of the question and I had little hope for it.

Sure enough, Heeroki—droll even for a Drapsk—sucked a tentacle thoughtfully, for a very long moment, and then said: “No.”

I contained my temper, but my hair was never tactful. I could feel it rising and an agitated lock or two whipped the air beside my cheek. “My dear Heeroki,” I said as calmly as possible. “Do you know who I am?”

“You are the Mystic One. You are Clan. You are Sira di Sarc and Sira Morgan. You are the life and business partner of Captain Jason Morgan, Human. You are—”

“Fine,” I interrupted. “Do you know what I did for Drapskii? Were you there?”

“You helped reconnect Dapskii to the Scented Way,” he said, antennae becoming still for the first time, as if Heeroki suddenly paid more attention to me than the Drapsk com traffic flowing overhead. “I was there.” Just as I began to feel I'd made progress, his voice turned stern. “You put the Makii in ascendance on Drapskii.”

“Everyone seemed to be celebrating, Heerii as well as Makii,” I countered. “Why?” Morgan had frequently cautioned me about leaping to misunderstandings about alien cultures. At this point, well beyond potential misunderstanding and probably into its consequences, I required information more than tact.

“Drapskii is all Drapsk,” Heeroki stated, as if obvious. “What you did benefitted us all—but it wasn't finished.”

“That's why I sent Rael and Barac, the other Mystic Ones, to Drapskii. To complete what I started.”

“They arouse Drapskii,” he nodded, plumes waving gracefully. One tip tickled my nose, and I forced back a sneeze. “This is essential and we are grateful. But only you can offer completion.”

A careful rephrasing. I had no doubt I'd just been told something important, something significant. Unfortunately, one probably had to be Drapsk to understand what it was. Still, I filed the information away. “So you are taking me back to Drapskii,” I deduced, feeling better already.

Three tentacles slipped into his mouth. Then a fourth. No reply. I lost a bit of my confidence. “You are taking me to Drapskii, aren't you?”

“You have many questions, Mystic One,” Captain Heeru stepped up beside Heeroki. He summoned a stool and sat down. “I don't understand. Why do you not simply seek the pleasure offered and be done?”

I lost patience. “Because, Captain, the pleasure you speak of—in total ignorance, I might add—will kill me. Do you wish that?”

He raised his small, chubby hands in protest. “Not so! Our friends assure us you will be safe.”

“Your friends.” I wished I had a tentacle to consult. “The Rugherans.”

“Of course. You are to be their long-sought Mystic One.”

The Heerii had been the first beings to find the Rugherans. I wondered, abruptly, who had found whom. Had the Rugheran I'd encountered on Drapskii been the Heerii's Contestant—or had it come for reasons of its own? Disturbing thoughts. Morgan had told me a Human fable, about someone who foolishly grabbed what they thought was a small snake, only to find they had the tail of a dangerous predator.

Did the Drapsk know what they held?

“What do you know about the Rugherans, Captain?”

“Simple, yet good-hearted creatures,” he replied promptly. “Eager to help Drapskii return to the Scented Way.”

Captain Heeru might have been an excellent liar, but he made the mistake of doing so in front of other Drapsk. Something in what he said sent three crewmembers into
eopari—
clear warning.

“Why, Captain?” I asked. “Have you given any thought to that? I'm a suspicious creature—Ossirus only knows how I became that way—and I find myself very curious. These Rugherans are much closer to the Scented Way than your species or even mine. I wouldn't be surprised to learn they exist more in that other space than they do here. So doesn't it seem logical that their interest in Drapskii is based in that other space? What will they gain if Drapskii is reconnected?”

The bridge was completely silent. Then, Heeru and Heeroki turned to face one another, both moving together until they could touch. Their antennae fell over their backs while their tentacles disappeared into each other's mouths...

“No!” I protested. “Not now!”

But the two Drapsk weren't listening, well into
gripstsa.
If I opened my awareness to the M'hir, I'd likely feel it. When they were done, I would be dealing with the much less informative Captain Heeroki.

That wasn't all. I looked around the bridge.

Every Drapsk was locked to a partner.

My search for information might be temporarily frustrated, but I wasn't about to waste the opportunity. I went over to the Drapsk com station, easing past the two mutually occupied Drapsk in front of it, and began to hunt for familiar controls.
There.
A sob rose my chest as I keyed in the
Fox'
s ident and waited.

And waited. It shouldn't be taking so long. Then I saw what I should have noticed immediately. Drapsk put indicator lights on pretty well everything—another oddity for a species without obvious eyes. None of those lights were blinking. None of the systems on the bridge were active—or accessible.

It seemed the
Heerama
was waiting for her crew to finish
gripstsa.

Subtle,” Bowman pronounced, inspecting the crater that marked Ren Symon's alleged hideout. Former hideout. “Saves a lot of waiting around, negotiating, that sort of thing.”

“The children are safe,” Terk offered. He wasn't about to approve Huido's methods; he did admire their efficiency. So much less administration.

“There's that,” she agreed. “Where's the Carasian—and are we sure this one is Huido Maarmatoo'kk?”

‘Whix panted unhappily. “I wish you would accept my resignation, Sector Chief Bowman. It's unconscionable that I would make such a misidentification.”

She waved one hand dismissively. “If I lost constables for every mistake, ‘Whix, your partner here would be long gone. I know I can rely on you from now on.” It wasn't a question. Those assigned to Bowman learned from their mistakes, or found themselves transferred.

The Carasian was waiting for her beside the
Conciliator'
s aircar. Rosietown's Port Authority had been remarkably cooperative, moving to clear the streets and generally keeping out of the way. It had helped, Bowman knew, that Drapsk were involved. The Human majority of Ettler's Planet had reacted with predictable alarm when she'd informed them that there was the potential for inter-Tribe strife to spill over on their world.

Mind you, no one in the Trade Pact had known there was any strife among Drapsk. They were always so—polite.

Few in Rosietown had realized that Drapsk came in any color but blue-green. Now, Makii were everywhere underfoot, those who weren't taking their turn to climb over Huido with small moist sponges, hunting—she'd been told—for grains of sand.

Bowman had seen the Drapsk react to Huido before this, and did her best to ignore the ongoing grooming and patting. “Hom Huido. I'm so pleased to catch up with you at last.”

A dozen eyestalks rolled lazily in her direction. “You missed the fun,” he said calmly.

“That's probably just as well, don't you think? Besides,” Bowman added with a wicked gleam in her eye Terk recognized. “I had my hands full with Plexis security. Really, Huido. First bodies everywhere—then those explosions in the restaurant?”

Every eyestalk shot her way, and the Carasian rose to his feet, dwarfing the smaller Human. Three Drapsk fell off his back, but didn't seem otherwise upset. “What explosions!?”

Terk took a quick step to insert himself in front of his chief. She frowned at the wall of his back and pushed him aside with one finger. “No one was hurt, and the damage was confined to your kitchen and staff quarters. Your apartment walls are unusually robust.”

Huido laughed. “My poor nephew. He wasn't too badly scorched, I hope.”

“Intact when we left—and intent on watching your place for you. Such,” Bowman hesitated, “devotion.”

“Exactly. I knew I could count on him!” Huido sank back down. He was reasonably “scorched” himself and close to exhaustion—not that he'd admit it. The Drapsk kept up their fussing over him.

Bowman was quite sure they were also listening to the conversation. Fine. It saved her an extra briefing. “We've contacted Acranam. They refuse to admit the children are theirs. The pair won't talk to any of us—an understandable reaction to what's happened to them at the hands of Humans. Are there any Clan in Rosietown?”

“Barac sud Sarc,” Huido said, several of his eyestalks careening about as if expecting the Clansman to magically appear. Not, Bowman thought, a totally unlikely expectation. “He took another of the Acranam fosterlings, a child named Ruti di Bowart, away for safekeeping.”

“Good. Let's contact him. I don't want to leave the two youngsters in the hands of Port Authority any longer than necessary.”

A claw snap. “We've tried,” Huido admitted. “Barac went off in a Drapsk aircar that wasn't modified for humanoid use. Scent-based com system. A small oversight by our friends here.” Huido shook his head carapace absently, apparently to dislodge a Drapsk who'd boldly climbed on it. “There isn't one where he went either. But Morgan knows the coordinates. He can go and get them when all this is wrapped up. Where is Morgan, anyway?”

Bowman pursed her lips unhappily. “My next question for you, Hom Huido, was exactly that.”

The eyestalks resumed their unnerving focus. “He was waiting on the Fox for information about Ren Symon.”

Terk came to attention. “Then Symon wasn't in there?” he waved at the smoking ruin across the street.

“Of course not. Symon has another hiding place—one where he has taken Sira. You do know about Sira being kidnapped on Plexis?”

“Yes,” Bowman snapped. “Believe me, we're looking into that as well. Plexis has a great deal to explain. But Morgan? He left a message for me, claiming the Heerii had taken Sira offplanet.” She never let anything slip without a reason, Terk thought smugly, gazing around at a tableau of now-motionless Makii Drapsk, every antennae oriented toward Bowman, even the ones perched on the Carasian. “The Fox lifted shortly before we and the
Makmora
arrived insystem.”

“Meaning Symon is still here,” Terk said hungrily.

“Does it?” Bowman looked thoughtful.

“We are going to hunt for him, aren't we?” Huido rumbled. ‘Whix shifted from foot to foot, expressing his own agreement.

Bowman eyed the Drapsk. “Be my guest,” she said casually. “Meanwhile, I'd like to talk to the
Makmora's
Captain...”

She wasn't surprised when the Drapsk who'd been standing nearest to her spoke up: “Captain Makyra at your service, Sector Chief Bowman. However, I don't have much time for conversation. The
Makmora
must return to Drapskii immediately, in case the Heerii succeed.”

 

There couldn't be anything as frustrating as a ball of Drapsk, Rael decided, pacing around Copelup. They'd been left alone in the com room since the Skeptic committed
eopari.
The others refused to move him. The Clanswoman stopped and lifted her foot, then put it down again. Sira had kicked Copelup awake; Rael couldn't bring herself to do it.

Sira. Morgan would find her. Rael had heard the determination in his voice. A relief to know he was so close and an even greater relief, she confessed to herself, that it was only Drapsk involved. They were the most obstinate, annoying, difficult aliens in the universe—but she couldn't believe them a danger. Rael bent down and ran her fingers along the curve of Copelup's back, feeling its soft warmness. Not fur, not quite skin...

And suddenly very awake. She jumped back as the Drapsk unrolled, his antennae the last to extend to full height, his mouth wide open and emitting a horrible shriek that turned into a furious series of questions.

“AHHHH! Who am I today? What's happened? How is time? Where is this? And who are you!?” he stopped to take a breath.

“Rael di Sarc,” Rael told him, knowing this confusion was temporary. “Did I—wake you?”

“Thank goodness! This is no time to contemplate the curvature of the universe. We must... we must...” three tentacles disappeared for a moment, then shot out violently, “get busy!”

“Doing what?”

Copelup rubbed his hands together, his white globe of a face oriented toward her. “Stopping the Heerii, of course. They are misguided, Mystic One. They have listened to the Enemy and believed its lies.”

Rael sank into the nearest chair, bringing her closer to his level. “Copelup. I know you've only just awakened, but you aren't making any sense. Listen to me. Morgan is following the Heerii—he'll settle whatever's happening—”