Part 37 (1/2)
Straif snorted. ”Yes.”
Tinne nodded. ”I heard you called him a distant relative. That will give the man pause.”
”It's the truth.”
”Then Stachys will really be thinking hard about his place in life. Excellent strategy.”
Smiling, Tinne blew a kiss from his fingertips at Mitch.e.l.la. ”And praises to you for flus.h.i.+ng the man out so we can deal with him as he deserves.”
”Spilling his blood?” Mitch.e.l.la said faintly.
”Straif will just nick him, you'll see.” Tinne smiled.
”I'm invited?” She didn't think she wanted to go.
”Of course, always nice to have one's woman around when one is going to show his fighting prowess,” Tinne said.
Mitch.e.l.la rolled her eyes. Men.
Tinne grinned. ”G'Uncle Tab will contact you tomorrow. Be guided by him. Blessings on you both.” Whistling, he left the Residence.
Twenty-eight.
Straif teleported to Landing Park, then strolled through the spring-scented trees and fragrant high gra.s.s before going to the s.h.i.+p's eastern entrance.
A ramp extended, the iris-door swiveled open, and Straif braced himself. As soon as he pa.s.sed through this airlock, he'd start losing Flair. The atmosphere of the s.h.i.+p was set to olden Earth standards, and it functioned on a different system than the psi-technology the Celtans had developed.
With a brisk step that belied his wish to drag his feet, he entered Nuada's Sword, strode through the airlock and into the surrounding, gleaming metal corridors. He hesitated.
”Blackthorn!”
Straif turned to see Ruis Elder, Captain of Nuada's Sword and Null, trotting down the hall. He had a small bulging pouch strapped to his chest. When Ruis reached Straif, he realized the pouch held the new Elder baby. He froze. He hadn't been close to an infant for fifteen years. Two Blackthorn babies had been the first to succ.u.mb to the horrible virus. Had he remembered to carve their names in the ballroom floor? Yes.
Ruis must have mistaken Straif's horrified stare as deep interest, because he opened the carrier to expose a tiny face and minuscule fingers. ”Beautiful, isn't she?”
”Very.”
”Ailim is at JudgementGrove, of course, so s.h.i.+p and I watch Dani Eve until Grove breaks for midday recess, then Ailim will come home to feed the greedy girl.”
Straif couldn't believe such a small sc.r.a.p of humanity contained anything like greed. He touched the tip of his index finger to a rounded baby cheek. So soft. Incredible. ”You are very lucky.”
”Yes, I am. When you found me here that day three years ago, I thought my life was over.”
All of Celta would remember that day when the first firebombspell was set off in the Council Chamber forever.
Ruis said, ”But I have a lovely wife, a child. A daughter who is a Null and won't be scorned.” He said it like a vow.
”No. She won't. She's lucky in her father, too.”
”Thank you.” Ruis hesitated, sighed. ”s.h.i.+p wants me to take you to Fern's Garden in the Great Greensward.” Ruis squeezed Straif's upper arm. ”It prefers to deliver bad news in beautiful surroundings.”
”s.h.i.+p stated that it had found a remedy for the Blackthorn Curse.”
Ruis winced, gestured Straif into the omnivator. Straif had only been in the little moving cubicle a few times.
”Greensward,” Ruis said.
A moment later they were in the greens.p.a.ce that comprised a third of the s.h.i.+p. Every time he saw the Great Greensward it was more beautiful. The garden Ruis led him to was as well kept as any FirstFamily estate, blooming with ancient flowers. In the distance, Straif could see little mechanical beings trundling along, grooming the greensward.
He narrowed his eyes. ”Do you hire those out?”
Ruis laughed. ”No, I'm unsure how they'd fare outside.”
Straif pulled up a chair and sat. The gardens were beautiful, but inside he was wary and bleak. He raised his voice. ”What do you need to tell me, s.h.i.+p? Have you found some way to fix my heritage so the Blackthorns don't perish from the Angh virus, or not?”
A low hum came, then the s.h.i.+p's male voice. ”You spoke about a genetic flaw, but the impairment involves several interconnected systems, your blood, the construction of the cells lining your veins. The matter is trickier than we thought.”
Straif stared at the beautiful garden. ”Do you have a fix for my problem, or not?”
”Your immune system magnifies the effects of a common Celtan virus until it is fatal.”
”Have. You. Found. A. Cure?”
”We have a remedy.”
He still felt wary. ”But?”
”It is complicated.”
”How complicated?”
”There is no permanent fix at this time. We have processed your genetic samples and placed them in storage for future regeneration when our knowledge or Celtan knowledge progresses to a point where your DNA can be altered to produce a child of your line without the current flaw you carry.”
”Right. We discussed this before. Get to the point.”
”We can provide you and your descendants with a temporary, ongoing immunization to the Angh virus.”
”The Healers said it couldn't be done.”
”The Healers still do not have complete knowledge of or access to our Earth plants.”
Straif licked dry lips. ”What do you mean by temporary?”