Duty Bound by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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kit built into each of the
conning seats held a pair of individual Cloaks, as well. Out of an
original eight eights to start there were now five dozen and two to
go.
Math is a relentless discipline: It took
Shadia down the rest of the path almost automatically. Each Cloak
was designed to last an average sized Terran just over 24
hours--Momson Cloaks were, after all, standard issue devices on
cruise ships plying the crowded space of the Terran home
system--but they were conservatively rated at 30 hours by the
Scouts.
Perhaps 40 standard days then, Shadia
thought, if usage was equal and none of the units bad, if...
She saw the flutter of a hand at the edge of
her vision as Clonak signaled for attention; he leaned forward and
they touched shoulders as he spoke:
"Not as bad as all that, Shadia--we've got
some ship stores too, and the spacesuits themselves, if need be,
and there might be a way to..." She glanced at him sharply and he
pointed toward her right hand.
"I'm not a wizard, child. You were counting
out loud."
Shadia rolled her eyes. It was true. She'd
been waiting for the battery powered gyroscope in the auxiliary
star-field scope to stabilize with half her mind and with the other
half she'd been doing math on her hand.
She bowed carefully amid a sea-noise of
crinkling. "Thank you for your notice," she said formally, while
her free hand chuckled out the sign for "Why me?"
His reply in finger-talk, also with the
underlying ripple of a chuckle, was simply "Breath's duty." He
pulled away, a rough-trimmed wire conduit clutched carefully
through the transparent Momson Cloak, and floated toward the open
overhead panel. Shadia likewise turned back to her task in
progress.
The ship's tiny forward viewports were
automatically sealed by Jump run-up; they were blind unless they
could get power back to those motors or use the auxiliary scope to
see straight away from the ship.
And now the star-field scope was stable
enough to run: Despite Clonak's protestations, he'd managed to
perform wizard's work on the back-up electrical system and the
device was ready to operate. It was not what one might hope to be
using to determine one's position after an interrupted Jump-run,
but she'd used less in training.
As she bent to the scope she sighed a
breath--and then another. Breath's Duty, indeed. Every child on
Liad was made by stern Delm or fond grandfather to memorize the
passage, which had come virtually unchanged through countless
revisions of the Code. Unbidden, portions came to her now, recalled
in the awkward rhythms of childish singsong.
"Breath's duty is to breathe for the clan as
the clan allows, Breath's duty is to breathe the body whole,
Breath's duty is to plan for the clan's increase, Breath's duty is
to keep the Balance told, Breath's duty is to..."
Carefully, she adjusted the star-field
scope. To be useful, she needed to recognize any of the several
dozen common Guides--her usual choice was the brilliant blue-white
Quarter main giganova--or find a star within disc-view. Disc-view,
of course, was optimum. With the auxiliary scope even a basic scan
could take a day.
"Breath's duty is to keep the Balance told,"
she muttered, and noted the gyroscope's base setting. There were a
lot of degrees of space to cover, and time moved on.
* * *
IT WAS L'IL ORBIT and not Ride The Luck that docked
at Delgado's smallest general-flight orbiting docks; and Professor
Jen Sar Kiladi it was who made a series of transfers to and from
accounts long held in reserve. The shuttle trip to the larger
commercial center, as well as the various library connections and
downloads, were made by a student invented some years before by the
professor; and the tools purchased at the local pawn establishment
were paid for, in cash, by a man with a brash Aus-Terran accent and
super-thin gloves.
"I'm here to fix your nerligig," the little
man told the morning guy behind the bar.
"Ist broke?" the bartender wondered. The
device sat in its place,
conning seats held a pair of individual Cloaks, as well. Out of an
original eight eights to start there were now five dozen and two to
go.
Math is a relentless discipline: It took
Shadia down the rest of the path almost automatically. Each Cloak
was designed to last an average sized Terran just over 24
hours--Momson Cloaks were, after all, standard issue devices on
cruise ships plying the crowded space of the Terran home
system--but they were conservatively rated at 30 hours by the
Scouts.
Perhaps 40 standard days then, Shadia
thought, if usage was equal and none of the units bad, if...
She saw the flutter of a hand at the edge of
her vision as Clonak signaled for attention; he leaned forward and
they touched shoulders as he spoke:
"Not as bad as all that, Shadia--we've got
some ship stores too, and the spacesuits themselves, if need be,
and there might be a way to..." She glanced at him sharply and he
pointed toward her right hand.
"I'm not a wizard, child. You were counting
out loud."
Shadia rolled her eyes. It was true. She'd
been waiting for the battery powered gyroscope in the auxiliary
star-field scope to stabilize with half her mind and with the other
half she'd been doing math on her hand.
She bowed carefully amid a sea-noise of
crinkling. "Thank you for your notice," she said formally, while
her free hand chuckled out the sign for "Why me?"
His reply in finger-talk, also with the
underlying ripple of a chuckle, was simply "Breath's duty." He
pulled away, a rough-trimmed wire conduit clutched carefully
through the transparent Momson Cloak, and floated toward the open
overhead panel. Shadia likewise turned back to her task in
progress.
The ship's tiny forward viewports were
automatically sealed by Jump run-up; they were blind unless they
could get power back to those motors or use the auxiliary scope to
see straight away from the ship.
And now the star-field scope was stable
enough to run: Despite Clonak's protestations, he'd managed to
perform wizard's work on the back-up electrical system and the
device was ready to operate. It was not what one might hope to be
using to determine one's position after an interrupted Jump-run,
but she'd used less in training.
As she bent to the scope she sighed a
breath--and then another. Breath's Duty, indeed. Every child on
Liad was made by stern Delm or fond grandfather to memorize the
passage, which had come virtually unchanged through countless
revisions of the Code. Unbidden, portions came to her now, recalled
in the awkward rhythms of childish singsong.
"Breath's duty is to breathe for the clan as
the clan allows, Breath's duty is to breathe the body whole,
Breath's duty is to plan for the clan's increase, Breath's duty is
to keep the Balance told, Breath's duty is to..."
Carefully, she adjusted the star-field
scope. To be useful, she needed to recognize any of the several
dozen common Guides--her usual choice was the brilliant blue-white
Quarter main giganova--or find a star within disc-view. Disc-view,
of course, was optimum. With the auxiliary scope even a basic scan
could take a day.
"Breath's duty is to keep the Balance told,"
she muttered, and noted the gyroscope's base setting. There were a
lot of degrees of space to cover, and time moved on.
* * *
IT WAS L'IL ORBIT and not Ride The Luck that docked
at Delgado's smallest general-flight orbiting docks; and Professor
Jen Sar Kiladi it was who made a series of transfers to and from
accounts long held in reserve. The shuttle trip to the larger
commercial center, as well as the various library connections and
downloads, were made by a student invented some years before by the
professor; and the tools purchased at the local pawn establishment
were paid for, in cash, by a man with a brash Aus-Terran accent and
super-thin gloves.
"I'm here to fix your nerligig," the little
man told the morning guy behind the bar.
"Ist broke?" the bartender wondered. The
device sat in its place,
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