The Garden - Melissa Scott [61]
"Really?" Paris's interest sharpened. Even if he was expected to ask-and could expect to get rehearsed answers-it would be very interesting to know more about the Kirse defense system. "Our sensors didn't pick up any buildings, no silos or anything like that."
"Oh, there aren't any," Grayrose answered. "The shuttles are either working or under the hills until there's an attack, and then the working ones go to their launch points. Each pilot collects them there." She paused, still staring at the hill. "In the old days, the repairs were all done from the ground, by remote control. But then the Andirrim developed their jamming system, and since then the platforms have had to be tended in person. They're clever, the Andirrim."
Paris nodded. The Kirse system was obviously highly efficient, or they wouldn't have lasted this long, and it was obviously designed to make use of a small population, but it was deeply vulnerable at several points. If you could somehow get past the orbital barrier, the Kirse would have to concentrate on defending the citadel itself, an obvious and unmistakable target. And with the Kirse busy there, the Andirrim would be able to steal as much as they wanted.
"But we should see the fields," Grayrose said,
regretfully, and turned toward the nearest stand of gold.
"And if you're thinking what you might be," Revek said, softly, "I wouldn't. The Andirrim tried attacking the citadel last time-right, Grayrose?"
The Kirse nodded. "It was difficult for a little. They sent down a thousand dronecraft-some stolen from here, I might add-and nearly a hundred crewed machines, all to attack the citadel, to keep the shuttles from lifting. But Adamant called the shuttles in and they were driven off planet and out of the system."
Paris blinked. Even allowing for the usual pilot's boasting, it was an impressive achievement, and somehow Grayrose didn't seem the kind to brag. But the Kirse remained vulnerable, as any remote system was vulnerable, and the idea bothered him more than he liked to admit. And the worst of it is, he added silently, / don't know if it bothers me because I like them, or because I think we could make use of it.
They spent the next three hours moving from field to field. Grayrose intoned the Kirse names for the plants, a series of trilling whistles that the Universal Transla tor rendered into long descriptive names and Revek corrected to shorter and inevitably more appropriate ones. Revek's names tended to be as amusing as they were descriptive-like the lily with three pink stamens that he called Patty, Maxine, and Laverne-and Paris found himself warming to the man. And to Grayrose, too, he acknowledged, watching the Kirse stretch to reach the leathery pod of a wallet-tree. She was a comfortable companion, and as beautiful in her own way as the planet that had reared her-and that, he told himself firmly, was no way to think. He took the pod that Grayrose held out to him, split along its seam to reveal vivid orange fruit, and trained the tricorder on it without really seeing the
readings. The last thing he needed was to get too friendly with one of the Kirse, especially since they hadn't established trading rights yet.
He glanced up at the cloudless sky, and saw that the sun had declined below the meridian. He checked his chronometer, realizing that he was due back at the citadel in less than an hour, and touched his communicator. "Paris to Kim. You there, Harry?"
There was a little pause, and then Kim's voice came through clearly, sounding slightly out of breath. "Kim here. Everything all right, Tom?"
Paris's attention sharpened, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder. Revek was well out of earshot, sitting against the trunk of one of the low-growing fruit trees, a half-peeled tart-apple in his hand. Gray-rose was closer, but her attention seemed to be focused on something on the ground at her feet. "We're all fine here, thanks. What's up with you?"
"We're finishing