Grail - Elizabeth Bear [111]
The considering silence on the other end of the connection was anything but reassuring. “She is the ham radio hobbyist. She might have her own plans. Public opinion is not in favor of welcoming the offworlders, currently, and she seems to be feeding that isolationism. There’s a lot of talk of ‘contamination,’ and frankly, we’ve had some demonstrations. Civil unrest, and I would not be surprised if it is being arranged by agitators. Also, we’ve got preliminary instructions from the homeworld. They basically amount to Stall.”
“Crap. Well, that’s useful.” Danilaw pressed his temples. “Thanks, Jesse. Watch your back, okay?”
“It unsettles me that you feel the need to say that.”
“Not as much as it unsettles me.”
Danilaw paused a moment to let Jesse sign off. He hit the kill on his own q-set before raising his voice to address the air. “Nova? Can you find or make me a musical instrument?”
His own guitar had been lost with the Quercus, and as weird as it felt to be asking thin air for favors, Danilaw suspected he needed something to do with his hands.
The air spoke back. “Easily. What would you like?”
“Guitar,” he said. “Six string. Acoustic.”
Nova materialized before him, just long enough for him to realize that he was getting over his discomfort at dealing with an anthropomorphized artificial intelligence faster than he ever would have imagined possible, and handed him a hard black case as he stood to greet her. “Your wish, etcetera.”
“Thank you,” he said. “Nova?”
She hesitated in the midst of dispersing, streamers of her image blowing off her shape like ribbons in the wind. “Yes, Administrator?”
“Please tell the First Mate or the Captain I would like to speak with them.”
There was no perceptible delay, but Danilaw knew she must have checked with both before she answered. “Of course. The First Mate will see you on the Bridge.”
When Danilaw reached the Bridge, not just Tristen but also Perceval was waiting for him. And Amanda, seated on the grass beside the Captain’s chair, a cup of some hot beverage in her hand. She smiled at him; he winked back. There, at least, was one unexpected and happy outcome of the entire situation.
The Bridge was bright with increased sunlight. Even filtered—as it must be now—it filled the space with warmth and a honeyed glow. The handle of his new guitar case rough against his palm, Danilaw breathed deep—violets, lily of the valley. Alien Earth flowers he had only learned the scents of recently.
In the forward screen, a three-dimensional image of Fortune and its secondary, Favor, fell endlessly one around the other. They were magnified, but even in their magnification Danilaw could feel how close they were. A day or two out now. So close.
So close to home.
So close to irrevocable decisions.
The worst of it was, he had come to like the Jacobeans, in all their sophipathic insanity. They might be grotesques, caricatures, larger than life and full of violence—but they were also shockingly generous and, sometimes, shockingly funny.
Whatever happened next, he thought, he was not going to enjoy it.
“Tea?” Amanda said. She held up her cup and gestured to a pot half hidden in the grass beside the Captain’s chair.
“Please,” Danilaw said. He sat beside her and opened the guitar case; he saw her considering look, and her decision to accept the obvious without asking questions.
The guitar was cool and smooth in his arms. It fit perfectly in the cradle of his torso and thigh. It was, in fact, in tune.
He found a G chord and strummed it. It didn’t have the mellow resonances and tonal quirks of an age-seasoned, handmade instrument, but the intonation was clear and bright. “I see I didn’t need to call a council—”
“The news just came from Aerospace,” Amanda said. “There’s a lighter coming up to meet us. It should be here in twelve hours.”
Danilaw felt his muscles flex involuntarily, digging his thighs and buttocks into the soil where he sat. He breathed out, pushing the tension away, and tried not to let relief dizzy him. Home. Clean, thick air. Full gravity.
A day away.
Tristen, on the