Grass

“What is ‘Galaxy class’?” Mayor Bee wanted to know.

“It’s a Sanctity ship,” one of the port controllers said. “Called the Israfel. I’ve never seen one like it.”

They were in the winter quarters of the order station. From the adjacent rooms came the moans of someone wounded and the wail of frightened babies. Someone bustled down the hall and the moans ceased. The babies went on crying.

The man at the tell-me paid no attention. “Warship,” he said, staring at a diagram on the screen. “Sanctity navy. Big son-of-a-hound.”

“It’s a troop carrier,” said Rigo, staring narrow-eyed across the operator’s shoulder at the diagram. “And a battleship. Old. All their vessels are old.”

“No matter how old, it carries a thousand men,” the port controller agreed. “With real combat weapons.”

“Dr. Bergrem has to go,” Marjorie said. “On the Star-Lily. She can’t stay here.”

“Dr. Bergrem doesn’t intend to go anywhere,” said the woman’s voice from behind them. “What is all this?”

The doctor divested herself of her cloak and sat down as though to stay awhile. “I was on my way into town to pick up some book I need, and I hear my name being taken in vain.”

“Sanctity’s new Hierarch is about to arrive,” Marjorie told her. “Cory Strange. You don’t want to be here when he gets here.”

“Why in hell not?” The woman settled herself firmly into her chair.

“Do you have a cure?”

“Not yet, no. But I think I’ve happened on a line of inquiry. If I just knew—”

“Then you must go,” Rigo snapped.

The doctor flushed angrily.

“Shh,” said Marjorie. “Dr. Bergrem, no one is trying to push you around. Read this.” She took a copy of the note to Jhamlees Zoe from her pocket and handed it to the woman.

Lees Bergrem read it, then again. “I don’t believe this!”

Rigo started to retort. Marjorie covered his lips with her fingers. “What don’t you believe?”

“That anyone could — This must be faked…” She looked into their faces, finding nothing there but apprehension. “But why would — Damn!” She handed the note to Alverd Bee.

“You have to go,” Marjorie repeated. “You may be close to finding a cure, or something that will lead to a cure. You said so yourself. If you find the answer here, with that ship in port you’ll never get a chance to tell anyone. A thousand troops can put us all under house arrest. We were going to send our son to Semling with copies of this letter. But you could disseminate it even better. You’re known at the University there “

“You send me off-planet, I can’t do any good at all,” Lees Bergrem said. “I need tissue samples and soil samples. I need things that don’t exist on Semling. Forget it.”

Alverd Bee looked up from the note, his face strained and angry. “If you won’t go off-planet, then we’ll have to hide you somewhere, Lees. That means moving your equipment. Tell us fast what you need. We have about six hours to get you hidden and Star-Lily away. After that, it’ll be too late.”

“The new Hierarch won’t know anything yet,” Rigo said. “Jhamlees Zoe can’t tell him anything until he lands on Grass.”

“Jhamlees Zoe can’t tell him anything, period,” said Persun Pollut as he entered the room. “Sebastian and I’ve been out to the Friary to see if they’d changed their mind about being evacuated. The Hippae have hit the place. We saw the flames all the way from Klive. Half this piece of Grass is burning.

“So this Hierarch won’t know,” the doctor announced, turning around as though to renew the argument. “I’ve moved out of the hospital once already. We just got set up again. I can stay there. The Hierarch won’t know what I’m doing.”

“He won’t care what you’re doing,” Marjorie pleaded. “Once he’s here on Grass, you’ll do what he says, or else. Dr. Bergrem, you haven’t dealt with Sanctity. Rigo and I have. Believe me! Even their own people have few rights against Sanctity; unbelievers have none at all except what they can enforce for themselves. If the Hierarch chooses to deploy a thousand troopers, we couldn’t enforce the coming of summer!”

“Oh, all right, all right. I’ll hide! Tissue samples, Alverd. I need snips from whatever bons have survived. I’ll send one of my people to get those. Samples from the children, too. I need soil samples. From in here and out there. Persun, come with me and I’ll describe what I need. I’ll pack up my stuff. It’s heavy. Send some men over to load it.”

And she was away.

“What about you two?” asked Alverd.

Rigo drew himself wearily to his feet. “There’s nothing we can do just now. Tony’s asleep down below, and there’s no point in waking him until he needs to board the Star-Lily. I think we’ll try to get some sleep. When the ship from Sanctity arrives, we need to be alert. At that time, some misdirection may be in order.”

The Israfel bloomed like a star, and like a star remained in the heavens. One small shuttle came down to unload a small detachment of men commanded by a Seraph with six-winged angels on his shoulders. He was met by Mayor Bee.

“The Hierarch wishes to speak to Administrator Jhamlees Zoe at the Friary of the Green Brothers. We have been unsuccessful in reaching the administrator through your communications system.”

Mayor Bee nodded sadly. “The Friary was wiped out by prairie fires,” he said. “We’re searching now for survivors.”

There was a thoughtful silence. “The Hierarch may want to come down and verify this for himself.”

“We evacuated the Port Hotel for the Hierarch’s use,” the Mayor agreed. “The fires have burned great stretches of grassland and seven villages. The town is full of refugees.”

“The Hierarch may choose the town, nonetheless,” said the Seraph.

“Well, certainly, if he wishes,” said Mayor Bee, nodding. “Though there is sickness in the town which we assumed the Hierarch would wish to avoid.”

The Seraph’s expression did not change, though something wary came into his voice. “The office of the Hierarch will advise you. Any particular kind of sickness?”

“We’re not sure what it is,” said Mayor Bee. “People breaking out in sores…” Rillibee had told him what it looked like. Rillibee had told them a good deal more than any of the commoners had wanted to know. The small detachment made room for themselves at the empty hotel, but the Hierarch did not come down to Grass. Instead, he sent for Rigo. Marjorie insisted upon going along.

“For verisimilitude,” she said. “We came here together. Let us support one another.”

“I need you. Marjorie.”

She gave him a thoughtful look “You have never said that to me before, Rigo. Did you often say it to Eugenie?”

He flushed. “I may have.”

She said wonderingly, “It’s a different thing, being needed, from being wanted, which you often said to me, though that was long ago. I think the Seraph is waiting for us.”

“Seraph,” he snorted. “Why can’t they call him a colonel or a general? Seraph!”

“We mustn’t betray our biases! This Hierarch is not your uncle. and he may already be suspicious of us simply because we’re outsiders.”

The Hierarch betrayed no suspicion, though it would have been difficult to detect, since he greeted them from behind a transparent partition, calling their attention to it as though they could not see it for themselves. “My advisors,” he said in an annoyingly satisfied though self-deprecating tone. “They won’t allow me to expose myself to possible risk.”

“Very wise,” said Rigo.

“Is there risk here, Ambassador?” The Hierarch was clad in white robes with golden angels embroidered at the hem and in a wide border up the front. Their metallic wings threw a coruscant flicker around him, like an aureole. His face was ordinary. It had no feature more distinguished than the others. It was a face one could