Honour's Knight (12 page)

And that was the height of excitement for the day. The fine weather lured everyone out of the ship. Even Hyrek went outside. When I asked him only half jokingly if his leaving the ship voluntarily was a sign of the apocalypse, he’d given me a superior look and told me he wasn’t afraid of aeons.

“Why not?” I asked. “They can shoot, too.”

But they usually don’t
, Hyrek typed, his sharp teeth gleaming in the sunlight.
Though they are now far removed from their roots, humans were originally predators. Aeons, however, are prey through and through. Most humans will react with violence if startled or threatened. Birds always run.
His toothy smile widened.
It’s very entertaining.

“Well,” I said. “Try to keep the stampede away from the ship.”

I’ll see what I can manage
, Hyrek replied, strolling out across the grass in long, ground-eating strides.

In the end, the only person who didn’t go out was Basil. At first, I thought he was just being a grump like normal, but when he wouldn’t even come down for lunch, I began to suspect that he was hiding. Other than my curiosity, though, our bird’s behavior wasn’t inconveniencing me, and I didn’t give it much thought until just before sunset when three trucks drove into the field and parked beside the
Fool
’s ramp.

Not surprising considering where we were, the drivers were aeons. Beautiful ones, too, with electric blue and green feathers that looked much too fine for farmwork. The vehicles were aeon designed with the cab on top, which put the drivers nearly eleven feet off the ground. Still, the birds made the jump down with casual grace, flapping to a delicate landing at the foot of the
Fool
’s ramp.

There were six aeons in all, two for each truck. Once they were out, they grouped up in a tight knot and strolled into the cargo bay like they owned it. As they got closer, I saw that their talons had been painted to match their feathers, and several of them wore gold rings on their necks, almost like necklaces. It was a very striking look, and I smiled as I walked out to greet them.

“Can I help you?”

The largest of the birds, a huge, beautiful creature with a dazzling crest of aquamarine feathers, whistled at me, a long series of notes followed by a chirp that sounded like a question. I asked again, but all I got was more whistling, and that was when I realized these birds didn’t understand Universal.

It had been so long since I’d met anyone who didn’t speak the universe’s second language that I wasn’t sure what to do, and then I remembered I had a bird of my own. Basil was extremely put out about being asked to play translator, but I didn’t have an aeon language program in my suit and I wasn’t about to make these birds run everything they said through the ship’s computer when I had a perfectly good aeon on board. I won in the end, and Basil came down, though from the way he trudged into the cargo bay, you’d have thought I was sending him to face a firing squad.

All the birds perked up when Basil appeared, their heads swiveling as one to watch him walk down the steps. A few of them even raised their wings a little, making them look larger. By contrast, Basil looked shrunken, so much so that I didn’t realize he was actually slightly taller than all but the largest of the new birds until he was standing next to me.

The aeon’s leader began to whistle at once. Basil whistled back and turned to me. “They’re here to deliver our shipment.”

“I guessed that much,” I said, glancing at the packed trucks. “Tell them to go ahead and load it into the bay.”

Basil began to whistle again, but the other bird cut him off with a sharp whistle that sank to a delicate trill accompanied by a shake of its feathers, almost like a girl tossing her hair. Basil’s eyes went wide at the motion, and he took a step back. The bird followed him, trilling again as it gracefully spread its wings to reveal the beautiful splash of orange across the inside.

Basil shivered like he’d been dunked in ice water, but I was grinning wide behind my visor. I might not know squat about aeon culture, but it didn’t take a genius to guess what was going on. The beautiful feathers, the painted talons, the jewelry, the soft trilling … clearly, our little Basil had caught the eyes of some lovely local lady birds on the prowl for some fun.

When the first bird spread her wings wider and ducked her head, looking up at Basil through her short, spiky lashes, I decided it was time to stop being a buzz kill and leave Basil to his admirers. Who knew? Maybe getting lucky would chill him out a bit. I nodded politely at the birds and started down the ramp toward the trucks to get a look at the cargo, but before I’d taken two steps, Basil said, “Don’t go, Morris.”

I froze. It was hard to identify emotions other than scorn in the aeon’s chirping voice, but I could have sworn Basil sounded afraid. The other aeons must have heard it too, because suddenly they were all moving forward with their wings spread, their beautiful whistles turning to angry squawks. Basil squawked back, pulling himself up straight for the first time since he’d entered the cargo bay.

I’ve never wished I’d sprung for a translation program as much as I did at that moment. I would have paid a month’s wage to know what Basil had just said, because it hit the other birds like a match to a firecracker. All at once, the aeons were right in Basil’s face, pushing him with their large wings. He stumbled back under the onslaught, tripping over his normally graceful legs. The others closed the distance in a flash, their painted claws lashing out to slash Basil’s wings, only to hit my suit as I stepped into the fray.

“That’ll be enough of that,” I said, hand dropping to Sasha.

The aeons glared at me, and then the shortest one said, in perfect Universal, “This is none of your affair, monkey.”

Rage shot through me. These damn chickens had been faking the whole time. But I knew better than to let my anger show. I rested my hands casually on my hips instead, thumb moving easily over my gun. “I’m afraid it is,” I said, letting my Paradoxian drawl through nice and thick, just to make sure they knew exactly what kind of monkey they were dealing with. “Now, are you going to move along, or am I going to have myself a turkey shoot?”

And then, just for effect, I popped Sasha’s safety.

The birds shrank back at the metallic click, and the biggest of them shot me a nasty look. I responded with a nice, predatory smile, and like the prey Hyrek claimed they were, the birds turned and ran, their painted claws clicking on the metal as they trucked double time down the ramp. I could see Basil getting back on his feet through my rear cam, but he didn’t move an inch from my shadow until all the aeons were back at their trucks.

“Unload it neatly,” I warned.

The aeons squawked at me, but they were already pulling hover platforms around to get the crates. I watched until I was sure the birds weren’t going to screw us over before clicking Sasha’s safety back into place. “You mind telling me what that was all about?”

“Yes,” Basil answered.

I arched an eyebrow as I turned to face him. “What did you say to those girls, anyway?”

“I told them what I thought of their display,” Basil said, resettling his feathers with a shake. “And they aren’t girls. Those are males.”

I blinked. “But,” I said stupidly, “they’re so pretty.”

Basil rolled his huge yellow eyes. “I know it is difficult to lift your mind out of the rut of your humancentric expectations, but what you call
pretty
aeons call
macho
. The brighter the plumage, the more macho the male, and as you could see from that incredibly garish display, those are very aggressive males. Thugs, you might say.” He turned up his beak. “Painted claws and
jewelry
, ugh. How much tackier can you get?”

While he was talking, I was looking over Basil’s chocolate feathers with a new eye. “So,” I said. “If aeon males are brightly colored, what’s your story? Did your feathers never grow in or something?”

Basil puffed up into an angry ball. “
Of course my feathers grew in!
What kind of idiot are you?”

“The kind who just saved your drumsticks,” I said, giving him a flat look.

Basil snapped his beak closed, and for the first time since I’d met him, our bird looked almost ashamed. “It’s dye,” he said at last, swiveling his head so that his rust-red crest bobbed. “I dye my feathers to a female shade every molt.”

My face must have been a sight, because Basil got even poofier. “It’s not like I go around cross-dressing or anything!” he snapped. “I don’t pretend to be female, it’s just a personal choice. There are certain expectations put on males that I’m uncomfortable meeting.”

“You mean like being an aggressive, macho asshole?” I said, glancing back at the aeons, who were still whistling insults at me as they worked. “But you’re yourself, aren’t you? Can’t you just, I don’t know, not be a jerk?”

Basil heaved an enormous sigh. “You are
so
human.”

“Thanks,” I said. “You don’t mean that as a compliment, do you?”

“No,” Basil said.

I rolled my eyes, and Basil gave a long, whistling sigh.

“Look,” he said with uncharacteristic patience. “You’ve heard how all aeons can feel the Seval, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, it’s more than just knowing where the planet is,” Basil said. “‘Seval’ is a human transliteration of—” He chirped sharply, and he was right, it did sound like he was saying
seval
.

“There’s no actual corresponding word in Universal,” he went on. “But ‘flock’ is close enough. And the nearer I am to the aeon homeworld, the stronger the seval, the flocking urge, is. You’re human, so it’s easy for you to say ‘just don’t be that way,’ but I don’t have a choice. When we’re around other aeons, it becomes harder and harder to be an individual, to make your own decisions. The flock pulls at you until you become what the majority expects, whether you want to or not.”

I cringed. That did sound pretty horrible. “So you dye your feathers to get out of what’s expected of you?”

“I dye my feathers because I don’t want to look like a tacky, oversexed moron,” Basil snapped. “I get
out
by working a job that keeps me well away from the Sevalis. Most of the time, anyway.” He shot a death glare at the other aeons.

“Well,” I said with a grin. “At least that explains why you’re on the
Fool.
After dealing with a flock full of jerks, even Caldswell’s madhouse would be a step up.”

Basil turned on me so fast I almost fell over. “Listen, simian,” he said, the words whistling with anger. “I don’t know where you think you get off talking like that about the captain, but Brian Caldswell is a
good man
. I realize you Paradoxians have a hard time appreciating that idea since it doesn’t have anything to do with shooting, stabbing, or drinking, but try to get it through your thick helmet. I owe the captain my life and I will not tolerate you slandering him any further, do you understand?”

“God and king, Basil. It was just a joke.”

“Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said, putting up my hands.

Basil nodded and whirled around, his claws clicking on the metal as he climbed the stairs two at a time. “I want to be informed the moment the captain or Nova gets back,” he announced. “In the meanwhile, make sure those idiots don’t eat the nuts they’re supposed to be loading.”

“Yes sir,” I said again, but the bird had already vanished into the lounge. I sighed at the empty stairs then turned back to the cargo ramp, yelling at the aeons to get a move on.

Despite the rocky ending of our escapade in the cargo bay, Basil was actually much nicer to me than usual when we prepped the ship for takeoff that evening. We had everything packed in and secured by the time the crew got back. Rashid kept me posted on arrivals, but I took care to stay on patrol and out of the way. I’d successfully avoided the cook since our incident last night, and I wasn’t about to break that streak now. Fortunately, he seemed to be tied to Ren. The two of them vanished into the captain’s quarters as soon as they got back, much to my delight.

It was full dark by the time Mabel and Caldswell returned. We had the ship warmed up and ready to fly when they got on, but we never actually made it into the air. When Basil called the tower for final departure clearance, the flight control office informed him that all flights were restricted due to a magnetic storm in the upper atmosphere. The sky was perfectly clear and full of stars, so I didn’t see what the fuss was about. Neither did Basil.

“There’s less interference here than there was on Wuxia,” he was shouting when I poked my head into the bridge to see what was going on. “What are they waiting for, a bribe?”

“Maybe,” Caldswell said. The captain was lounging in his worn chair with his feet up on the new instrument board in front of him. “Relax, Basil. So long as we get moving by dawn, we’re still on schedule. There’s nothing wrong with a peaceful night every now and then.”

Basil folded his wings in a huff, but he didn’t argue. Considering how he’d been acting all day, I’d expected a full-blown tantrum, but Basil’s demands about respecting the captain apparently went for himself as well. That, or he knew it was pointless to try to push Caldswell around. The man was about as movable as a mountain range.

It was kind of nice to have a peaceful night, and, other than our run-in with the thug birds, Ample certainly was peaceful. Even the automated harvesters had shut down for the night, leaving nothing but dark and the sound of the wind in the fields. We’d already locked the doors for liftoff, so I just left them sealed. With Rashid on the roof, there was no point in patrolling outside anyway. Anything hostile that got within a hundred feet of the ship would be shot before I could reach it.

Since I was avoiding the cook like the plague, I asked Nova to bring me up two plates from the lounge. She was confused by the request but did as I asked, bringing me two plates loaded down with delicious-looking food. I thanked her profusely and ate mine in a rush before taking the second up to Rashid.