The Owling, page 14
The probes, now that they had intimidated these workers, made no other warnings but slowly retracted their attack arms and assumed a watching position several meters away.
“Just trying to help,” Oriannon mumbled. Her poor left hand tingled with a thousand needles, and she could hardly move her fingers, but she dusted herself off with her good hand and hurried toward the Temple once again.
She just hoped she could stop from dissolving into tears, this time in one of the impressive, high-ceilinged Assembly meeting chambers where her father met her five minutes later. Here the wood-paneled walls were lined with holo-portraits of elders from past generations, and Oriannon couldn’t help thinking they were watching her. She took a deep breath and slipped her hand behind her back as her father waved the sliding door closed.
“They told me you were on your way.” Elder Hightower stood by one of the portraits, looking paler than the holo-image. “Actually, I hate to say it, but I’m expecting Sola here in a couple of minutes.”
He must have seen her stiffen at the name. But this time she would not be sidetracked, she would not be interrupted, and she would definitely not cry, no matter what.
“Father, they’re calling you a former elder. What are they talking about? Security can’t just fire you, can they?”
“Oh. Is that why you came?” He offered a weak smile as he glanced toward the closed door. Sola, of course, could come marching in at any time. “I hope you’re not worried about rumors.”
“It’s not just rumors, Father. But how can I know? You never tell me anything.”
She fingered the Pilot Stone in her pocket, which reminded her she carried secrets as well. He looked so worried, she couldn’t bear to give him more to think about.
“Look, I wish I could explain, Oriannon. All I can say right now is that the elders are going to be working with Security in a new way. It’s mostly politics. Trust me. It’s all going to work out.”
Oriannon studied her father, trying hard to keep her jaw from dropping in disbelief.
“That’s all you can tell me? Father, every time I turn around, something bad happens, then something worse.”
“I know how it looks. I saw the interview, and I know a lot of things seem confusing right now.”
This time Oriannon held her head in her hands, wishing she could scream.
“I don’t think it’s so confusing anymore. I just passed three Owlings out in the courtyard, working like slaves. But then a bunch of probes come down and nearly killed them, just because I was trying to give them a stupid bottle of water. That’s not confusing. That’s just evil!”
“Ori, Ori.” He looked around the large chambers and sighed before lowering his voice. “I know you’re concerned about those people, but you can’t blow it out of proportion. It’s Sola’s Plan, and there’s not much we can do about it right now. It’s the Maker’s will besides. You can’t ask a lot of questions.”
“But it’s not right, and I don’t think the Maker would want stuff like this to happen. Would he want all the Owlings brought over here as slaves? I’ve seen things, Father. I know it’s not the way Jesmet would want it.”
“Jesmet? You’ve got to let that go, dear. It’s over and done. You’ve got to face the fact that Jesmet is dead.”
“No, he’s . . .” She shook her head as tears now filled her eyes, wondering how she could tell him. If only he could see for himself that Jesmet lived! If only she could prove it to him! Instead she reached into her pocket, pulling out the scorched piece of wood from the ruins of Wist’s home.
“This is from Lior, and it proves something.” She held it out for him to see. “See? These scorch marks are from disruptor beams. I’m giving Margus a piece too. He could test it to make sure.”
He took it from her hand, which by now was shaking noticeably. But she wasn’t finished.
“See, I don’t think the city was ruined from earthquakes or fires, the way the media — or Sola — have been telling us.”
He narrowed his eyes at her and crossed his arms.
“I’m not sure what you’re saying, Oriannon, but if you think Coristan vessels — ”
“Attacked.” She filled in the word. “What if they attacked the Owlings, just like the probes attacked those Owlings out in the courtyard? That’s what I think happened. That’s what I’ve heard. And now Sola is telling everybody about her big rescue, but it’s a total lie. You have to know it’s a lie. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but — ”
“No, you stop right there.” He raised his voice and held up his hand. “Stop. You can’t go accusing Sola this way. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
The holo images on the wall seemed to lean even closer, as if generations past wanted to hear her story too.
“But what if it’s true?” She pointed to the evidence in his hand.
“What if we can prove it? Can’t you do something about her? What if . . .”
She just couldn’t make herself ask him, What if Jesmet was really alive?
“It’s not that simple, honey. Believe me, I . . . I wish it were.”
For a moment he seemed to soften, as if he truly wanted to tell her something more. But then he dropped the charred wood on the floor and reached for his head as the horrible, faraway look crept into his eyes once again.
“Father?” Once again she wasn’t sure which father she was talking to. The firm, loving father who always knew what to do — or the pained, distant father who shook in fear and who spoke in whispers. She wished she knew what she could do to keep him from slipping away.
“Daddy,” she whispered, “please tell me what to do.”
For a moment he was silent, until a soft chime sounded and the conference room door slipped open to reveal an aide pushing a large lev-cart stacked high with probes. Oriannon gasped softly at the sight of so many, so close, though obviously they had not yet been powered up.
“Sir. Sola here to see you. We’re going to be stationing more of these around the Temple.”
Oriannon’s father focused his eyes and seemed to return to himself for a moment. He waved at the aide and nodded.
“Please tell her I’ll be just a moment. Park that cart right inside here.”
The aide raised his eyebrows and sputtered something about remembering what happened last time when she was kept waiting.
“I said I’ll be right with her, all right? Now park it over there.”
He motioned to the corner of the room, and without another word, the aide did as he was told and hurried back out the door, allowing it to slide closed. When Oriannon’s father spoke again, his voice sounded barely above a whisper. He gripped her by the shoulders, desperation in his eyes.
“I’m sorry I let you get involved with her, honey. That’s all I can tell you right now. Just be careful.”
He pointed toward the back corner of the room where the new probes were parked on their lev-cart, and for the second time that day someone asked her to leave. First the Owling woman, and now her father.
“Father,” she couldn’t stop the tears anymore. “You know I — ”
“No more, Ori.” Urgency filled his voice that she had not heard before. “I’m getting you out before she gets here. For your own protection.”
He marched her past the carved conference table to the far wall, though it seemed to Oriannon he might be even more confused than he appeared. As they brushed past the cart, he accidentally knocked one of the probes loose with his shoulder, sending it bouncing to the floor. Instead of picking it back up, he closed his eyes and held his forehead.
“Where are we going?” She looked up at him to understand.
“There’s no way out here.”
“It’s a portal. Do you know what that is?”
“I’ve read about them, but I wasn’t sure they were real.”
Behind them the chime at the door sounded again, warning them Sola was about to step in. Her father trembled as he guided her toward the wall, and his words came in short bursts between breaths.
“They’re real enough. Now go.”
And then she stiffened in fear — not because of any portal, but realizing she had not finished what she’d come to tell her father. She dug in her heels and almost tumbled to the floor.
“Father,” she blurted out. “I know you might not want to hear this, but — ”
“Not now. Just hold on, all right? It may be a bumpy ride, because — ”
“Father, I’ve seen him. Jesmet is alive!”
“ — because the portal may not be quite calibrated for someone your size.”
“Did you hear me, Father? I said — ”
“Did you hear me, Father? I said “But I’m sure you’ll be safe.”
“Jesmet — ”
“Yes, I know.” He guided her straight towards a portion of the paneled wall, his hand on her elbow. “We’ll talk about it later. I’ll be home when I can. Now go!”
“But, Daddy — ”
This time she managed to trip over the stray probe. She put out her hands to keep from slamming into solid wall. Instead she felt her hands literally sucked into the wall, and she could only stare at the disappearing stubs of her arms. But before she could wonder too much, her shoulders followed into the fast-moving current, then the rest of her.
The effect was less orderly than she hoped. The portal pulled and yanked at her mercilessly, sending her spinning head over heels, off balance in a twilight in between the Assembly chambers and the outside world.
She instinctively grabbed for a handhold, but found nothing except dimly lit empty space that quivered and shimmered the more she tried to grasp it. Something hard and metallic slammed into her back, sending her spinning even more. She cried out as the portal spun her into the kind of dizziness that squeezed the breath out of her.
A moment later she tumbled out of the portal, literally spit out into a thick growth of bushes, still tumbling. She winced at stone and brick flying past from all directions, almost materialized but not quite, until she felt solid cobblestone beneath her.
Oriannon had somehow materialized in the middle of a city street, and while her arm twisted behind her, she managed to keep rolling and sliding until finally skidding to a rest on her back. A cushioned bump of air and a soft jolt of hair-raising energy told her a lev-scooter had nearly run over her.
“Where did you come from?” A woman looked straight down over her handlebars at Oriannon. Oriannon tried to sit up, but her aching head would not cooperate. “I nearly ran you over.”
“Nearly?” Oriannon couldn’t tell the difference. Finally she managed to lift her head slightly, just in time to see a stream of lev-scooters and other transporters zip by. Each one laid on its warning buzzer; several drivers suggested with startled yells that she immediately remove herself from the middle of the avenue.
“I was just driving along, and — ” The white-faced scooter driver snapped her fingers. “Just like that, you rolled out of nowhere.”
“Sorry!” Oriannon reached to pull herself up and took a quick look around. The chic boutiques and leafy street trees told her she’d materialized right in the middle of Ossek Way, Seramine’s busy main avenue.
Behind her, the Temple stood bathed in a pink afternoon sunlight, and a quick visual measurement told her the portal had ended only a couple of hundred meters from where she’d entered. She got to her knees, tried to clear her head as she apologized again, and looked for a way through the crowded traffic. In the process she discovered what had bumped into her so hard in the middle of the portal. The probe that had fallen off the cart back in the Temple had rolled through and followed her here.
“Out of the way!” Another angry commuter yelled.
“Believe me, mister,” she told him, but he had already zipped by. “I don’t like this any more than you do.”
“You need help,” the woman finally decided, moving slowly back into traffic. “I’m calling Security.”
“No!” That gave Oriannon all the motivation she needed. “I mean, don’t bother them. I’m sure they have enough to do without worrying about kids who fall down in the middle of the street. I’m getting out of here.”
She glanced down at the wayward probe again, and for a moment thought about leaving it there, but then had a better idea.
I wonder what Margus could do with it.
So she snatched it up, tucked it under her arm, and covered it as much as she could with the folds of her tunic. With one last look back at the Temple, she hopscotched her way through traffic, and headed straight for the only safe place she could think of to meet her friends — the Glades.
17
This is the absolute coolest thing you have ever done, Oriannon.” Margus grinned and poked at the shiny black probe. Despite its rough ride through the portal, it still looked brand new when Margus laid it out on a blanket in the middle of the Glades. “But I still can’t believe you actually had the nerve to steal it right out from under Sola’s nose.”
Oriannon was starting to think she should have left the thing back in the avenue.
“Well even if I had taken it,” she told him, “would that have been so bad? At least it’s one less probe to harass us, or attack the Owlings. And you know what else? I was thinking maybe we could use this thing to get closer to the prison camp, maybe see what happened to Wist.”
“I agree with Oriannon,” said Carrick.
“You always agree with Oriannon,” countered Margus. “She could say you’re a furry blue treb bear, and you’d say ‘I agree with Oriannon.’ ”
“You think she’s wrong?” For once Carrick wasn’t letting Margus walk away with the argument so easily. “Nobody else has a probe like this.”
“True, but do you have any idea what it’s going to take to reconfigure this thing? And even if we do, then what?”
“Simple.” Oriannon thought as she spoke, which was different than making it up as she went. “First we find other probes flying into the camp, and we steer this one into the group. Then when we’re in there, we just search tents until we find her.”
“No problem, out of ten thousand tents, right?” Margus never took his eyes from his work. “Then Wist hops on the probe and rides to freedom, along with every other Owling who’s been captured.”
“Get serious, Margus,” Oriannon told him. “We’re talking about our friend in a prison camp.”
“I am serious. I’m working on this thing, okay? I just don’t think it’s going to be that simple. Oh, and you know that piece of charred wood you showed me?”
He pulled it out of his pocket and tossed it back at Oriannon, offering his verdict. “It’s coated with disruptor particles. Off the scale.”
Oriannon nodded and pressed her lips together. Of course it didn’t surprise her, but Margus still didn’t look satisfied.
“So can you explain all this yet?” he asked.
Oriannon had no quick answers as Margus ticked off point by point on his fingers. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I think. First, Sola and her securities go in and level all the Owling cities. You think just for the water? Maybe. Or maybe that was just an excuse.
“Two, they round up all the Owlings and bring them back to a fortified camp. Nobody’s complaining yet. Not even the Owlings.”
“They don’t usually complain about anything,” Oriannon explained. “They’re not like that.”
“Maybe they should learn. But anyway, three, Sola starts bringing in a few of the Owlings for work teams. She makes it look like they’ve been rescued from earthquakes or whatever, and she even asks people to adopt some of the orphans. Pretty sweet deal.”
“Except for the Owlings,” added Carrick.
“Except for the Owlings. Meanwhile, Sola takes down the Assembly of Elders, maybe so no one will get in her way. Everybody in Corista thinks Sola is their hero. End of story.”
Not even a leaf rustled in the Glades around them. For a moment, Oriannon could say nothing about the awful truth of his words. She wondered where Jesmet fit in, or if the Stone had anything to do with it.
“And after all that,” he added, “we’re going to send in a stolen probe to look for one girl we think might be in the camp. Makes sense to me.”
“How come you’re always so sarcastic?” Oriannon thought she’d ask. “At least we’re doing something. So do you know how to adjust the frequency so we can use it, or not?”
He sighed as he studied a set of instructions that flashed at him from his e-reader, the ones he’d hacked from his dad’s work network.
“Just give me a few minutes, okay? You guys are so impatient.”
It wasn’t that they were impatient, really. Oriannon just hoped that after three hours of tinkering, he might be able to put it back together without leaving a handful of parts behind.
“Those are just extras.” Margus tried to explain ten minutes later as he clicked the other half of the shiny black cover into place. “I don’t think they do anything.”
Whether they did or not, they were ready to test their borrowed probe — this time on a new control frequency. Margus held up a remote that had a keypad and a small screen, while he toggled a cursor for guiding the probe left, right, up, and down.
But Carrick still had her doubts. “You sure it’s not going to wake up and, you know, hurt us?” she wondered. She stepped backward, putting a buffer between her and the probe.
Margus rolled his eyes.
“Look, I’m throwing it into a control frequency nobody else uses.”
“Nobody?” Carrick obviously wanted to be sure.
“Of course.” He paused. “Well, seems to me maybe city garbage collectors use it to talk to each other. But they hardly do that very much, so it’s not an issue. We’re totally safe.”
“Hmm. Garbage collectors, did you say?”
“Right. But what I’m saying is that we’re going to control this one. Not Security or anybody else. We can leave the weapon system offline, so this thing can’t hurt anyone. Here — I’ll do that right now.”
“You’re sure?” Carrick wasn’t taking any chances.
“I told you, all right?”
Oriannon hoped he was right too. Because unlike Carrick and Brinnin, she had ridden along on one or two shuttle flights with Margus Leek at the helm. More than anyone else, she knew the considerable gap between what Margus said and what Mar-gus could actually do. Maybe she knew even better than Margus himself.
