Skyblaze by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller Page A
Authors: Steve Miller, Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
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on out and let a girl get something ta
eat.''
The door opened at her elbow. Vertu reached
into the pocket of her coat, fished out the few coins she found
there and put them in the pass-tray.
''Hey --''
''For the cab,'' she said, overriding
Jemie's protest. ''The cab costs, and those costs must be
covered.'' She pulled her coat around her and exited.
''Thank you!'' she called and closed the
door.
*
The man was Terran and grizzled, and he'd
hauled himself out from beneath an obscenely large and smelly piece
of something that appeared to be an engine of some sort, the while
complaining, ''Whoever used this scooter last is gonna have to
learn to adjust it proper!''
Vertu heard the same thing three times and
was still not sure if ''this scooter'' was the item with wheels
that he rode flat on his back as he came out feet first or if it
was the object he'd been under.
''I'm Mack,'' he said brusquely. ''These are
rescues, eh? I guess someone thinks that's important, but it ain't
like I don't got a hundred dozen other rescues to deal with
--''
He looked at the knotted kerchief she held,
and let her continue to hold it while he stretched several times,
as if being under things was not what he was best at.
''This thing's a rescue,
too,'' he muttered, ''and damned if I know why they found it now
and not a generation ago when we might still've had parts somewhere
here or in half the ports near-space. But no, now they find it, and it's up to me
to get it running.'' He shook his head, glared at her and demanded,
''Who'd you say sent you?''
''Scout Lieutenant
ter'Volla sends me. These --'' she held up the kerchief, ''are
rescues. They are all from the pockets of a crime victim. They are
important because they belong to a galan'ranubiet .''
Andy Mack blinked.
''I got lotsa vocabulary,
young lady, but that's one I don't know. And who are you , by the
way?''
''Vertu dea'San,'' she said, biting the clan
name away.
He shook his head again. ''Everybody's
important, you ever notice that, Ms. Vertu?'' He shook his head
once more. '''specially when they want somebody else to do
something for them.''
Vertu inclined her head, the smile coming.
''Scout ter'Volla gave me to say that, yes he did know that you
were very busy and that you might call upon him for Balance.''
He snickered, waved one hand toward the
ceiling.
''ter'Volla, is it? Well then, I can see
who's climbing the gantry next time I need some lights
changed!''
Vertu laughed, which was needful: such
sounds had not come willingly to her since her son had dropped her
and her scant luggage at Solcintra Port in obedience to the
Council's order.
''All right, then, since the Scout's willing
to pay. Bring what you got over here and I'll take a look . .
.''
Vertu bowed then, thanks to a master, but if
he noticed, or knew, he offered no bow in return because he was
already striding toward a room-side table. The place echoed with
their steps, and there were other noises in constant background hum
-- heaters and blowers, perhaps, and maybe a device compressing
air, and perhaps the hiss of air leaking from someplace that was
not the cold outside but a spherical tank.
''Ms. Vertu,'' he said
over his shoulder, ''what is a galan'ranubiet , and what's it doing
owning a handkerchief full o'junk what needs repair?''
She strode with him, impressed that for one
who claimed not to know the word he'd managed to both recall it and
pronounce it. True, it was not a Solcintran accent he used, but
he'd been taught by a native speaker. The clicks and sounds of the
place were not sufficient to hide a facility with language.
''A galan'ranubiet is a person, Andy
Mack, a person with an extreme melant'i . . . an earned
recognition, that would be. Someone with, let us say, knowledge or
skills of importance to a whole community.''
''Well, hand it over,'' he said, ''and if
that's the case, I pity the person because no doubt they got more
to do and less to do it with than they ever did.''
Vertu placed
eat.''
The door opened at her elbow. Vertu reached
into the pocket of her coat, fished out the few coins she found
there and put them in the pass-tray.
''Hey --''
''For the cab,'' she said, overriding
Jemie's protest. ''The cab costs, and those costs must be
covered.'' She pulled her coat around her and exited.
''Thank you!'' she called and closed the
door.
*
The man was Terran and grizzled, and he'd
hauled himself out from beneath an obscenely large and smelly piece
of something that appeared to be an engine of some sort, the while
complaining, ''Whoever used this scooter last is gonna have to
learn to adjust it proper!''
Vertu heard the same thing three times and
was still not sure if ''this scooter'' was the item with wheels
that he rode flat on his back as he came out feet first or if it
was the object he'd been under.
''I'm Mack,'' he said brusquely. ''These are
rescues, eh? I guess someone thinks that's important, but it ain't
like I don't got a hundred dozen other rescues to deal with
--''
He looked at the knotted kerchief she held,
and let her continue to hold it while he stretched several times,
as if being under things was not what he was best at.
''This thing's a rescue,
too,'' he muttered, ''and damned if I know why they found it now
and not a generation ago when we might still've had parts somewhere
here or in half the ports near-space. But no, now they find it, and it's up to me
to get it running.'' He shook his head, glared at her and demanded,
''Who'd you say sent you?''
''Scout Lieutenant
ter'Volla sends me. These --'' she held up the kerchief, ''are
rescues. They are all from the pockets of a crime victim. They are
important because they belong to a galan'ranubiet .''
Andy Mack blinked.
''I got lotsa vocabulary,
young lady, but that's one I don't know. And who are you , by the
way?''
''Vertu dea'San,'' she said, biting the clan
name away.
He shook his head again. ''Everybody's
important, you ever notice that, Ms. Vertu?'' He shook his head
once more. '''specially when they want somebody else to do
something for them.''
Vertu inclined her head, the smile coming.
''Scout ter'Volla gave me to say that, yes he did know that you
were very busy and that you might call upon him for Balance.''
He snickered, waved one hand toward the
ceiling.
''ter'Volla, is it? Well then, I can see
who's climbing the gantry next time I need some lights
changed!''
Vertu laughed, which was needful: such
sounds had not come willingly to her since her son had dropped her
and her scant luggage at Solcintra Port in obedience to the
Council's order.
''All right, then, since the Scout's willing
to pay. Bring what you got over here and I'll take a look . .
.''
Vertu bowed then, thanks to a master, but if
he noticed, or knew, he offered no bow in return because he was
already striding toward a room-side table. The place echoed with
their steps, and there were other noises in constant background hum
-- heaters and blowers, perhaps, and maybe a device compressing
air, and perhaps the hiss of air leaking from someplace that was
not the cold outside but a spherical tank.
''Ms. Vertu,'' he said
over his shoulder, ''what is a galan'ranubiet , and what's it doing
owning a handkerchief full o'junk what needs repair?''
She strode with him, impressed that for one
who claimed not to know the word he'd managed to both recall it and
pronounce it. True, it was not a Solcintran accent he used, but
he'd been taught by a native speaker. The clicks and sounds of the
place were not sufficient to hide a facility with language.
''A galan'ranubiet is a person, Andy
Mack, a person with an extreme melant'i . . . an earned
recognition, that would be. Someone with, let us say, knowledge or
skills of importance to a whole community.''
''Well, hand it over,'' he said, ''and if
that's the case, I pity the person because no doubt they got more
to do and less to do it with than they ever did.''
Vertu placed
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