Lois Bujold - Komarr

The last gleaming sliver of Komarrs true-sun melted out of sight beyond the low hills on the western horizon. Lagging behind it in the vault of the heavens, the reflected fire of the solar mirror sprang out in brilliant contrast to the darkening, purple-tinged blue. When Ekaterin had first viewed the hexagonal soletta-array from downside on Komarrs surface, shed immediately imagined it as a grand Winterfair ornament, hung in the sky like a snowflake made of stars, benign and consoling. She leaned now on her balcony overlooking Serifosa Domes central city park, and gravely studied the lopsided spray of light through the glassy arc overhead. It sparkled deceptively in contrast to the too-dark sky. Three of the six disks of the star-flake shone not at all, and the central seventh was occluded and dull.

Ancient Earthmen, she had read, had taken alterations in the clockwork procession of their heavens-comets, novae, shooting stars-for disturbing omens, premonitions of disasters natural or political; the very word, disaster, embedded the astrological source of the concept. The collision two weeks ago of an out-of-control inner-system ore freighter with the insolation mirror that supplemented Komarrs solar energy was surely most literally a disaster, instantly so for the half-dozen Komarran members of the solettas station-keeping crew who had been killed. But it seemed to be playing out in slow motion thereafter; it had so far barely affected the sealed arcologies that housed the planets population. Below her, in the park, a crew of workers was arranging supplemental lighting on high girders. Similar stopgap measures in the citys food-producing greenhouses must be nearly complete, to spare them and this equipment to such an ornamental task. No, she reminded herself; no vegetation in the dome was merely ornamental. Each added its bit to the biological reservoir that ultimately supported life here. The gardens in the domes would live, cared for by their human symbiotes.

Outside the arcologies, in the fragile plantations that labored to bio-transform a world, it was another question altogether. She knew the math, discussed nightly at her dinner table for two weeks, of the percentage loss of insolation at the equator. Days gone winter-cloudy-except that they were planetwide, and going on and on, until when? When would repairs be complete? When would they start, for that matter? As sabotage, if it had been sabotage, the destruction was inexplicable; as half-sabotage, doubly inexplicable. Will they try again? If it was a they at all, ghastly malice and not mere ghastly accident.

She sighed, and turned away from the view, and switched on the spotlights shed put up to supplement her own tiny balcony garden. Some of the Barrayaran plants shed started were particularly touchy about their illumination. She checked the light with a meter, and shifted two boxes of deerslayer vine closer to the source, and set the timers. She moved about, checking soil temperature and moisture with sensitive and practiced fingers, watering sparingly where needed. Briefly, she considered moving her old bonsaid skellytum indoors, to provide it with more controlled conditions, but it was all indoors here on Komarr, really. She hadnt felt wind in her hair for nearly a year. She felt an odd twinge of identification with the transplanted ecology outside, slowly starving for light and heat, suffocating in a toxic atmosphere Stupid. Stop it. Were lucky to be here.

Ekaterin! Her husbands inquiring bellow echoed, muffled, inside the residence tower.

She poked her head through the door to the kitchen. Im on the balcony.

Well, come down here!

She set her gardening tools in the box seat, closed the lid, sealed the transparent doors behind her, and hurried across the room into the hall and down the circular staircase. Tien was standing impatiently beside the double doors from their apartment to the buildings corridor, a comm link in his hand.

Your uncle just called. Hes landed at the shuttleport. Ill get him.

Ill get Nikolai, and go with you.

Dont bother, Im just going to meet him at the West Station locks. He said to tell you, hes bringing a guest. Another Auditor, some sort of assistant to him, it sounded like. But he said not to worry, theyll both take pot luck. He seemed to imagine wed feed them in the kitchen or something. Eh! Two Imperial Auditors. Why ever did you have to invite him, anyway?

She stared at him in dismay. How can my Uncle Vorthys come to Komarr and not see us? Besides, you cant say your department isnt affected by what hes investigating. Naturally he wants to see it. I thought you liked him.

He slapped his hand arrhythmically on his thigh. Back when he was just the old weird Professor, sure. Eccentric Uncle Vorthys, the Vor tech. This Imperial appointment of his took the whole family by surprise. I cant imagine what favors he called in to get it.

Is that your only idea of how men advance? But she did not speak the weary thought aloud. Of all political appointments, surely Imperial Auditor is the least likely to be gained that way, she murmured.

Naive Kat. He smiled shortly, and hugged her around the shoulders. No one gets something for nothing in Vorbarr Sultana. Except, perhaps, your uncles assistant, whom I gather is closely related to the Vorkosigan. He apparently got his appointment for breathing. Incredibly young for the job, if hes the one I heard about who was sworn in at Winterfair. A lightweight, I presume, although all your Uncle Vorthys said was that he was sensitive about his height and not to mention it. At least some part of this mess promises to be a show.

He tucked his comm link away in his tunic pocket. His hand was shaking slightly. Ekaterin grasped his wrist and turned it over. The tremula increased. She raised her eyes, dark with worry, in silent question to his.

No, dammit! He jerked his arm away. Its not starting. Im just a little tense. And tired. And hungry, so see if you cant pull together a decent meal by the time were back. Your uncle may have prole tastes, but I cant imagine theyre shared by a Vorbarr Sultana lordling. He thrust his hands into his trouser pockets and looked away from her unhappy frown.

Youre older now than your brother was then.

Variable onset, remember? Well go soon. I promise.

Tien I wish youd give up this galactic treatment plan. They have medical facilities here on Komarr that are almost as good as, as Beta Colony or anywhere. I thought, when you won this post here, that you would. Forget the secrecy, just go openly for help. Or go discreetly, if you insist. But dont wait any longer!

Theyre not discreet enough. My career is finally on course, finally paying off. I have no desire to be publicly branded a mutant now.

If I dont care, what does it matter what anyone else thinks? She hesitated. Is that why you dont want to see Uncle Vorthys? Tien, hes the least likely of my relatives or yours, for that matter to care if your disease is genetic or not. He will care about you, and about Nikolai.

I have it under control, he insisted. Dont you dare betray me to your uncle, this close to the real payoff. I have it under control. Youll see.

Just dont take your brothers way out. Promise me! The lightflyer accident that hadnt been quite an accident: that had ushered in these years of chronic, subclinical nightmare waiting and watching

I have no intention of doing anything like that. Its all planned. Ill finish out this years appointment, then well take a long overdue galactic vacation, you and me and Nikolai. And it will all be fixed, and no one will ever know. If you dont lose your head and panic at the last minute! He grasped her hand, and grimaced an unfelt smile, and strode out the doors.