House of Reeds

'Hurt?' Alarmed, Gretchen pushed past Maggie and into the bedroom, where she stopped and stared at the pilot, who was buried under a pile of quilts. 'He doesn't look hurt to me,' she declared. 'He is smoking in my bed, and has plenty of colorful magazines filled with interesting pictures to entertain him.'

'Hi, boss.' Parker took a long drag on his tabac and offered her a pained smile. 'They're for my health – the tabacs, I mean. A restorative! All these' – he gestured at the native magazines scattered on the coverlet – 'are really Maggie's. I'm just trying not to move too much.'

Anderssen leaned over him, eyeing the bandages taped to the side of the pilot's head, his neck and the visible part of his shoulder. 'What happened to you?'

Parker grunted, his lips a little white. 'The side of a train kind of, uh, hit me, boss.'

'You are injured.' Gretchen gently peeled back the top of the quilt. The pilot's chest, arm and side were a dark, angry purple under a layer of quickheal gel. She hissed, concerned. 'How bad is this?'

'I can't walk,' Parker said, watching her nervously. 'My leg and arm are…uh…broken. The doc said I've got a concussion and I chipped some teeth.' He grinned. Two of his bicuspids were jagged. 'I'm kind of doped up right now, so I hope you don't need me to fly anything…'

Gretchen shook her head, looking pale. 'You were hit by a train?'

'No.' Maggie wrapped her arms around Gretchen's shoulders, holding the anguished human close. 'We were in the train and there was a wreck. Parker can't land on his feet, so he used his side and leg and arm instead.' The Hesht blew mournfully through her fangs. 'We were lucky – many passengers were killed.'

'Ok-ke.' Anderssen patted the Hesht's furry arm and sat down in a chair beside the bed. Feeling dizzy, she put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. 'Is…is there anything to eat?'

Malakar shifted in the doorway, looking expectant. 'Even gruel would be welcome,' the Jehanan said softly. 'We had pies yesterday…'

'I will find food,' Magdalena announced, bustling out. 'Silly kits, going all wild and forgetting to hunt! You would all perish in a forest filled with fat juicy marmosets if I wasn't…' Her voice faded into the hallway.

'She doesn't even know what a marmoset is,' Parker said from the bed in a sulky tone. 'She never goes to get me food…'

Gretchen began digging in her pockets, hoping to find a threesquare but instead her fingers closed on her survey comp and she pulled the battered device out with a sigh.

'So much trouble you caused…' she muttered, staring at the blank-faced device. 'And for what?'

Parker stirred, staring at her hopefully. 'Did you find the tree of gifts, boss? Was it really a First-Sun artifact? Did you get me any presents?'

Anderssen looked up, running her hands over the comp. 'Yeah, we found the kalpataru.' She nodded at Malakar, who was now squatting in the corner, damp tail wrapped around her feet. 'Malakar led me into the heart of the Garden and…it was real, Parker.'

'What?' The pilot sat up slowly, eyes wide. 'It was real? A real First-Sun device?'

Gretchen nodded, and then started to laugh. 'All you had to do was see the thing and…it was so old, Parker. Like it had seen the first light of the first star to condense out of the birth- caul of the universe. You could just…feel the weight of millennia in the metal, pressing on the world around the device. It felt like so much time had passed, every atom had collapsed…'

'Oh.' Parker took a drag on his tabac. 'Sure, a feeling. Like, that time in the cave- shrine on Shimanjin when you felt where the little girl was, or…or when we were at the Resident's party and you felt the way to the door?'

Gretchen looked up, fixing the pilot with a sharp stare. 'What do you mean?'

The pilot shrugged. 'Just, you know…we've noticed that from time to time you can…um…you can tell where things are without seeing them, or, uh, you can find your way when there's just no way you could know the proper path…'

Anderssen made a face and avoided looking at him. In the corner, Malakar's head rose slightly, her dark eyes bright with interest.

'I'm lucky sometimes…'

'Sure, boss. Whatever.' Parker pointed with his tabac at the comp. 'So, did you get enough data on this eldest tree-thing to make the trip worthwhile?'

'No.' Gretchen hefted the comp with a bitter expression. 'There was so little time. I had this on broadband scan, but we were outside when the sky lit up – I'm sure this comp, and all the data, are minging dead. My medband went crazy with radiation warnings…and these little hand- helds aren't shielded against EMP flash.'

'Crap.' Parker stubbed out his tabac and held out a hand. 'Lemme look.'

Gretchen tossed him the comp and slumped back in her chair, watching the pilot wince with pain as he fiddled with the device. She was feeling worse and worse with every passing moment. Oh, Mother Mary, I nearly got poor Parker killed. I nearly got myself killed, I ran Malakar out of her home, dragged Maggie all over the back of beyond…for what? For a prize beyond price I had to destroy.

'Does look kind of fried,' Parker admitted, turning the comp over. He pressed a tab on one side of the unit, popping the back cover free. The data cartridge fell out on his chest. 'I've got a spare in my kit, can you hork it over here?'

'Sure.' Gretchen got down on the floor and began rummaging in the filthy, oily mess of odds and ends in the pilot's spare duffel. 'God, Parker, don't you ever clean this stuff up?'

'Never,' he said, keying a self-test on the cartridge. 'Rusts if you keep it clean. Gotta protect the tools, right?'

Anderssen found a working comp and handed it over. Malakar watched them intently, snout hidden behind crossed arms. Parker popped out the data cartridge in the new unit, swapped in the old one and thumbed the unit awake. The comp beeped, made a squeaky sound and the screen glimmered awake.

'See…might have something left to say.' The pilot thumbed through to a diagnostic screen. 'We'll just let it check itself out.' He smiled wanly, tired just from using his hand. 'Maybe we'll get a bonus after all!'

'We do not have gruel,' Magdalena declared as she bustled in with a tray heavy with covered bowls. 'But there are edible things to eat.'

Gretchen accepted a warm plate covered with freshly cut vegetables, a bowl of murky-looking broth and hunks of brown bread. A little amazed at the Hesht's ability to produce something other than reprocessed threesquares, Anderssen made an amused face. 'What, no chocolatl?'

'Do not complain, wet-nose, about the food on your plate,' Maggie said testily, curling up on the end of the bed with a head-sized bowl of red meat swimming in a dark oily sauce. 'Unless you have caught and skinned the prey yourself!'

'I'll bet these were hard to catch,' Parker mumbled, mouth full of food. He waved something like a bright-green carrot at the Hesht. 'Tasty, tho'. Is there butter for this bread?'

'No,' Maggie said, lips wrinkling back from her fangs. 'There is no butter. There are no cows on this planet.'

'But they have cheese…' Parker's voice trailed away at the expression on the Hesht's face.

'Ahhhh…' Malakar breathed in the aroma of her bowl, which was filled with noodles slathered in black paste. Gretchen's nose twitched, assailed by an astringent smell of salt, pepper and garlic. 'You are kujena of tasty foods,' the Jehanan said, pressing her snout to the floor in respect. 'I have not had such a delicacy in many years.'

Maggie winkled her nose, watching the gardener inhale the noodles. 'Gruel! Indeed.'

The comp sitting beside Gretchen chirped to itself, announcing the completion of its tests. Parker and Malakar stopped eating. Anderssen put down her bowl of soup and picked up the device. The screen displayed her usual set of tools and interfaces.

Well, she thought, tabbing into the archive of sensor logs. What did we see?