The Parafaith War (16 page)

“Here.” Elsin extended the heavy mug to his son, then sat and set his own mug on his knee.

“Thank you. ” Trystin let the steam waft around his face for a moment, savoring the scent and warmth of the tea and the fresh lime-far better than the translation-faded tea that had been so exorbitant on Mara.

Elsin sank onto the cushion with a sigh. “Let’s see. How much translation distortion this time?”

“It wasn’t bad. A little over one week. Transports have more distortion, they say.” Trystin took a sip of tea, which tasted as good as it had smelled. “I miss things like this.”

“I did. I’m not surprised that you do, too. No matter what people say, we do have an affinity for the land and its products.”

Trystin nodded, thinking about the limes, the tea, and the garden-and the more than five generations the house and gardens had passed through, if greatly changed by each.

“You look a little thoughtful … even disturbed.” “Well … a woman I know said I was an idealist who didn’t care much for people. She said I was just like the revs. She was really upset, too.” “It bothered you.”

“I guess so.” Trystin shrugged, ”in some ways … well … you just wonder.” “Do you know why she upset you?” “The people bit. I mean, I rode the surtrans from the tube station, and two girls rode one station with me, and one of them looked at my uniform, and she got off the train and broke down. I wondered who she’d lost. That was what I was thinking. And I think about Quentar. He was concerned when I had to make a run to his station because mine had been totaled. At the same time, he was talking about how he wished he could kill more revs, as if they weren’t people. He’s dead now. Instead of him killing them, they killed him. I don’t know. I’ve always assumed that the revs were people, but that they weren’t in a way. Quentar was honest about it. To him they weren’t. I was. But I had to interrogate some revs, and most acted like machines, but one didn’t. He said something like, while he believed, nothing I could say would shake him, as if faith were a choice.” Trystin shrugged.

“You think that faith is something blindly imposed on people?” asked Elsin.

“I just hadn’t thought about it. And I guess I was reminded of it because Ezildya accused me of blind faith, in a way. She said that if I put any sort of duty above human feelings I wasn’t any better than the revs. In fact, she blamed my nonexistent rev heritage. If I look like one, I must be one. Does it mean I’m not human if I don’t wear my heart on my tunic? Does it mean I’m a machine because ideals are important?”

Elsin laughed. “No. It means you’re young and human. The young are cruel, and allowing others to see what you feel makes you vulnerable, and the young hate to be vulnerable. That’s a luxury of age.” “Thanks …I think.”

“I won’t dwell on it. First, if I did, you wouldn’t believe me, yet. And second, you’ll see. Beware of women who want you to parade your emotions, and be equally careful with those who shy away from your feelings.”

“That sounds like I should avoid them all. “Trystin took another sip of tea. “I’ll try to remember your sage advice.”

“You won’t. I didn’t listen to my parents until I was older. No … that’s not quite right. I listened to their words, and I could recognize their wisdom, but that wisdom didn’t seem really applicable to me. I suspect that’s true with every generation, but none of us live long enough to confirm that-not beyond our children’s children, anyway.”

Trystin nodded. There didn’t seem to be much to add to his father’s words, even as they seemed to slip away, for all their trite truth.

“Your message said that you’d been offered orders and training as a pilot officer, and that you’d decided to take it.” Elsin took a sip from his own mug. “If you do much deep spacing, maybe you will live long enough to see the patterns in life.”

“The translation effect is getting less.” Trystin pursed his lips and shifted his weight in the chair, for some reason thinking about Ezildya’s mother’s work with the Farhkans. “I got the impression that the Farhkans were giving some help to our translation engineers.”

“Occasionally, that has happened. You might ask your mother. I don’t know much about it.” “What do you know about the Farhkans?” “They’re dangerous.” “Why?”

“Trystin, you’re in the Service. So was 1. You know everything I did, plus a lot more. Why don’t you tell me? Besides, why do you want to know? Do you think I know something you don’t?” “You usually do,” pointed out Trystin. “All right. ” Elsin sighed. “They manage translation with virtually no time lag. Second, no one or thing invades their systems. We don’t say anything, and the revs don’t say anything, and the Farhkans don’t say anything, but while the official line is that we lost one ship, we lost more than that. The difference is that we stopped trying. The revs didn’t, not for a long, long time, and I’m not convinced that they ever have.”

“What else?”

“The Farhkans are probably a lot better at integrating biotech and hardtech than we are.” Elsin grinned and looked at his son. “You have that look on your face that says you know something, but I won’t ask.”

“Thank you.” Trystin tried not to squirm in his seat. How had his father caught his thoughts about the Farhkans’ ability to tap into his military implant? Had the Farhkan mental images been technology or an unknown physical ability?

“They have an agenda, and I’m not convinced that any alien agenda is necessarily for our benefit.” Elsin rose. “Who could say? It probably isn’t.” “Since they’re alien. I’d have to agree.” Elsin cleared his throat. “This pilot business brings up something else.” “I know … the separation …”

“There’s that. I know you must have thought about it, and I’m not one to try and bring up anything to make you feel guilty. That’s not what I meant. I am an integrator, and I want you to consider how to protect yourself from the downsides. I mean in cold, hard financial terms.” “What?” Trystin shook his head. “You’re young, and you’re healthy, but what happens if your translation engine cooks its mainboard, and throws you forty years into the future? The Service will, of course, pension you off with the standard retirement, or let you stay on for another few objective years and do the same thing. You need to be prepared for that.” “Oh…”

“It may not happen, but the chances are about one in ten that you’ll have at least one translation error of more than two standard years if you stay for a career. If it doesn’t … good. But … if it does …” “I hadn’t thought about that.”

“The Service will gladly hold your back pay, and provident in a lump sum, which, after taxes and inflation, will make it worth little enough.” Trystin spread his hands. “What do I do?” “We set up a ‘translation trust,’ except we make it more general than that. Your pay goes directly into an institution where the funds are split into several accounts-an immediate credit account against which you can draw just like your regular credit account-but you specify a cap on it. Any funds received in excess of that level go into a diversified program. That way, if you’re on extended duty, or not around, you can set up the program to pay any obligations and have the principal grow. It’s more complicated than that, but fairly simple.” “How did you know this?”

“I didn’t.” Elsin shrugged. “When I got your message and thought about it, I started doing research.”

Trystin took another sip of tea. He hadn’t even considered what his father had seen nearly instantly.

“Hold on a minute. I need to check that casserole.” Elsin slipped from the room.

Trystin looked back out the half-open window, letting the spring breeze flutter through his regulation-short hair. A few clouds were piled up to the east, above the Palien Sea, but not enough for a storm, not anytime soon.

A moment later, his father returned. “Things should be ready about the time Nynca gets here.” “She is regular,” laughed Trystin. “Someone around here has to be.” “You know. Dad. I’ve had some time to think. I still don’t know what you do. You’re a freelance systems integrator. I understand every one of the words, and then I come home, and you pull something else up, like this translation trust, or I look at those screens, and they still look like Greek, or revvie gibberish.”

“Sometimes they do to me, too.” Elsin nodded. “I was working on waste-nutrient integration-“

“For Safrya?” Trystin’s eyes strayed to the window, caught by the green flash of a passing heliobird.

“Slowships, no! It’s a system for a place called Verintka, out your way, on Mara.”

“That’s on the south continent-but it will be another century before the atmosphere’s really breathable.”

Elsin grinned. “Maybe not. We’re trying to do some tinkering. Newsin has a new bug that they think can use hydrocarbons and CO2 and fix oxygen in the process.” Trystin nodded.

“It creates a gummy awful green sludge, plus a lot of water and oxygen. I’m trying to find a way to use the green sludge. I just might have it-but that’s going to take more work.”

Trystin heard a faint footstep and stood. “I think Mother’s home. Someone just came in.”

“Even without all that biohardware, you still had ears like a hawk. Now nothing can move without your hearing it.” “A hawk?”

“Predator of ancient earth. Supposedly could hear small rodents from kays away.”

The woman who slipped into the office was stocky, but not heavy, with short hair half blond, half silver. Her green eyes smiled as she took in Trystin. “You look good.”

Trystin stood quickly, stepping toward her, but his leg dragged ever so slightly. “It’s good to be home,” he admitted, bugging her tightly.

After a time, she stepped back. “Careful. I’m a fragile woman.” “Ha!” snorted Elsin. “Not very.” “Compared to your son, I am.”

“My son? He’s yours too, last time I heard.” “Poor man, he’s starving. Can’t you see that?” Nynca winked at her son. Then her expression turned serious. “What’s wrong with your leg?”

“Projectile injury. The doctors say it’s fine, just stiff. I need to keep exercising it.” “You didn’t mention that in the message.” “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“So I have to worry now?” Nynca shook her head. “You and your father.” She turned to Elsin. “He still needs to be fed. He’s too thin.”

“Dinner has been waiting for you, honored professor.” “Were you still working on that sewage project?” asked Nynca, stepping over to her husband and kissing him on the cheek. “Of course.”

She shook her head. “Can you afford to?” “Not for money, but for Trystin and Salya.” “Always the idealist.” “How about dinner?” asked Trystin. “I’ll get dinner. You wash up,” suggested his father. By the time Trystin, still carrying his cup, entered the dining area that overlooked the middle garden, Elsin was setting the casserole on the ceramic and wood holder in the middle of the circular table. Greens and sliced fruits, topped with seasoned and crushed groundnuts, filled the big wooden bowl before Trystin’s plate. Across the table, by the empty fourth place, was a basket filled with steaming dark bread.

Nynca opened the wood-framed sliding glass door, lifting the door frame slightly to ease it over a rough spot. “I can see I need to do some repair work here.”

“Always the engineer.” Elsin seated himself and turned to Trystin. “Help yourself. It’s simple. Bread, salad, and casserole.”

“It smells wonderful.” Trystin waited for his mother to seat herself before settling into his chair.

“Isn’t it always?” she asked. “I’ve gotten spoiled over the years.”

Trystin waited until she had served herself, then heaped several serving spoons full of the churkey and rice casserole on the wide brown stoneware plate, followed by an equally generous helping of the greenery.

Elsin poured Nynca’s tea and then helped himself to the food.

“Now… first things first. So I can get my worrying done. How did you get hurt?” asked Nynca. “Start from the beginning.”

“That’s what she always says.” Elsin laughed. Trystin finished the last of the tea in his cup. “The revs have been stockpiling equipment in the Maran badlands for almost three years, covering the stockpiles with continual off-and-on attacks on perimeter stations… .”

As Trystin outlined the background and the attack, Elsin refilled Trystin’s cup.

“… in the end, I really didn’t have much choice besides staying in the armor. Then, while I was in the med center, I was offered the orders for pilot training and decided to take them. Part of it was the business about extending everyone.”

“But not all of it. I’m not surprised.” Nynca nodded. “Much as you love the house, it wouldn’t be enough for you. Not now.” Elsin cleared his throat.

“Besides… we’ve talked about this….” Nynca looked at Elsin.

“Talked about what?” Then Trystin nodded. “You mean that Salya will come back someday, and she really does love it enough to be happy here?”

His father nodded. “You, for years anyway, will be out there pushing the limits. You didn’t want to hide away even when you were wounded, did you?”

“No,” Trystin admitted with a short laugh. “I guess not.”

“You’ve always liked being in control.” “And you haven’t?” asked Nynca, looking at her husband. “Trystin will want to settle down sometime. You did.”

“He might be ready in another half century.” Elsin grinned. “It’s a good thing we’ve got young people like you.” He took a mouthful of the churkey and chewed. “Turned out good this time.” “It always does,” Nynca said with a smile. Trystin frowned. “What did you mean about having people like me? 30 that not everyone stays home and …” Since he couldn’t figure out how to finish the sentence, he didn’t.

“The situation with the Revenants.” His father took another mouthful of casserole.

“What does that have to do with me? Or the house? Or Salya?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Trystin? We’re losing.” “How do you figure that?”

“Because I’m an integrator, and I don’t say much because there’s no point in it. Everyone’s doing everything they can. You don’t help matters by screaming in a smoldering building. You just try to find more water.” He shook his head. “I know. It’s a bad analogy.

“On the surface, we’ve reached a stalemate. Our borders with the revs are stable, and we don’t attack their fully habitable planets, and they don’t attack ours-although we both could. Their population is growing-“