* * * * *
“Now, little girl, what’s all this about?” asked the commissioner for the city of Refinery, regarding Carol across his desk with what he probably thought was an expression of fatherly benevolence on his face. Carol thought it made him look like he was sucking on a sour candy, but she knew better than to say so. What she had to tell him would be hard enough to get out without starting off by making herself sound even younger than she was.
She had barely slept the night before, or paid attention in school that morning, for thinking about her problem. Should she spend one last afternoon with Sundance, sharing music and laughter through a glowing shield, and then let the Rover fly away from Moria forever without doing anything to help her friend’s people? Or should she go to the authorities, tell what she knew, and accept her punishment for engaging in music as the price of making sure the Lurans went free?
Her answer had come to her unexpectedly at lunch, as she tapped the rhythm of yet another song she and Sundance had shared against the table, counting on Layna’s loud and giggly conversation with her gang to cover the noise.
He came down to earth from heaven,
Who is God and Lord of all,
And his shelter was a stable,
And his cradle was a stall…
She had always known that Christmas had started as the celebration of a very special birthday, but paying attention to the words of her mother’s songs had taught her a lot more about the person who was being celebrated. While she didn’t understand everything about it—she thought there were probably pieces of the story she was missing, pieces that either hadn’t been put into the songs or just weren’t in the songs she knew—she knew the difference between heaven and a smelly, dirty stable.
And the baby who was born on Christmas gave up the one for the other. Because people needed him to save them.
Just like the Lurans need somebody to save them now.
So, after five minutes of frantic scrambling, four policemen she’d dodged on the streets, three flights of stairs she’d climbed to the commissioner’s mansion, two secretaries she’d used her uncle’s name and position as head of their neighborhood’s wellness committee to bluff her way past, and one deep breath to try to calm her nerves, here she was.
“Come on, now, let’s have it.” The commissioner tapped the ends of his fingers together. “It must be important, to bring you rushing in here on the night before the night before Christmas!” He chuckled at his own wit. “Let me hear it and see if anything needs to be done about it right now, and then we can all go home for our half-day.”
“Yes, sir,” Carol whispered, thinking of her aunt and uncle’s house, so long hated but at the moment looking like a haven of refuge—
Stop that. Think about Sundance and her family. The regal Luran woman she had seen inside the “typical dwelling” on the day she’d met Sundance, the little boy who seemed to follow her friend everywhere, floated through her mind. How they can’t even call their homes their own because people can come peeking in at them any time they please. You’re going to put a stop to it. That’s what matters now.
Clasping her hands in front of her, she looked up at the commissioner. “Yes, sir,” she repeated in a stronger voice. “It started when I went with my cousin and her friends on the tour of the exhibit-ship that’s in orbit here, the Rover…”
“The Rover, eh? Let me see here.” The commissioner tapped a few codes into the keyboard on his desk. “Yes, here we are, the Rover. Owner, K.D. Kolesar, crew, L.N. Doyle, S.D. Rioghan, M.S. Xiao. Purpose of visit to Moria, emergency repairs and refueling. Function of ship, traveling cultural science exhibit, to wit, village and population of quasi-human anthrofelinoid species known as Lurans…”
“But that’s just it, sir,” Carol broke in, her heart quailing as the commissioner frowned at her but the thought of Sundance’s soft, subdued smile as she arranged herself carefully shy of the safety shield’s shock zone giving her strength to continue. “The Lurans. They aren’t quasi-human at all. They are human. Whoever the man is on board with them, whichever of those names on the crew list he is, he’s done this to them, he took them from their homes and locked them up on the ship because they look a little different from regular human beings and they don’t speak Vershal, so he thought no one would ever realize that they really were human, and he could make a lot of money showing them to people…”
“Whoa now, slow down there, little girl!” The commissioner chuckled, holding up a hand. “That’s quite a story. How do you know these…Lurans are human, if they can’t even tell you so?”
Carol gulped. This was the true point of no return. I might still be able to get out of this, if I say it was just a joke to see if I could make him believe me, a prank for a story to tell to my friends—
But Sundance was her friend, and Sundance needed her now.
“Music, sir,” she said very softly. “They make music.”
The commissioner, who had been leaning back in his chair, sat bolt upright. “Now how would a young girl like you—oh, no, I understand.” He chuckled again, but Carol could hear the brittle undertones in the laugh. “You’ve heard them making some sort of silly noises, like animals will—that doesn’t mean it’s music, I can’t imagine you’d really know anything about that—”
“I know the song,” Carol whispered, the words chilling her blood as she spoke them, but she had made up her mind and she wasn’t going to change it now. “My mother sang it to me, a long time ago. Before she died.”
“I see.” The commissioner flipped a switch on his desk and spoke, the small device clipped over one of his ears beginning to blink blue. “Norma, send the staff home. Go on home yourself, for that matter.” He glanced at Carol meaningfully. “But buzz the police station for me, would you? Let them know they should probably be expecting a call from me within the next hour or so. And see if you can locate…” He tapped at his keyboard again. “K.D. Kolesar anywhere, on planet or off. Shoot that information over to my terminal, and then get going. Early Christmas present.” He paused, listening to the tiny speaker. “You’re welcome, and you too.”
Flipping the switch again, he exhaled a long breath, then looked down at Carol. “You realize the gravity of what you’re saying, young lady,” he said, his tone less jovial, more judicial. “No matter what this Kolesar, or whoever he turns out to be, has or hasn’t done, you’re admitting to illicit knowledge of music. Even using it to stop a crime, assuming a crime actually has been committed here, doesn’t mean we can overlook it. You’re in for some very serious penalties.”
“I understand, sir.” Carol squeezed her hands so tightly together that she was surprised her knuckles weren’t cracking. “But what’s happening to the Lurans isn’t right, and I had to stop it if I could. No matter what that meant for me.”
“Good for you. Courage of your convictions.” The commissioner shook his head sadly. “Shame to see such a bright young lady caught by such a vicious addiction…ah well, you’ve come looking for help, that’s the important thing, and we’ll just have to hope the reformatory can clean you up before it’s too late. Now, then.” He tapped a few more keys, set his chair straight upright, and poised his hands over the keyboard. “Pull up a chair, and tell me everything.”
Just as Carol was describing Sundance’s harp (and wishing the commissioner wouldn’t keep flinching every time she said the word “music” or something related to it), his earpiece flashed blue again. He held up a finger, halting Carol, and pressed a button on his desktop. “Go ahead,” he said aloud.
“I found Kolesar for you, sir,” said the tinny voice of the commissioner’s secretary. “Inbound now. We’ve also got a Mr. Xiao, Mikala Xiao, out here asking about an expedited departure permit for the Rover?”
“Flash me a picture, would you, Norma?” the commissioner requested, and a moment later turned his screen around so that Carol could see it. She stared at the face of the man she’d known as the guide, then looked up at the comm
issioner and nodded.
“Send him in,” the commissioner said, spinning his screen back to normal. “And then get yourself home. Leave the door unlocked and the lights on, Kolesar can find his own way in when he gets here.”
“But sir—” the secretary began.
“Ah-ah!” The commissioner actually wagged his finger at the screen, though Carol knew the secretary couldn’t see him. “No buts, Norma. Home, and tell that husband of yours Merry Christmas from me.”
“Thank you, sir.” The secretary cut the connection with a click.
“Now you wait back there, Carol,” the commissioner told her, motioning her to the far corner of the office. “Stay nice and quiet, and let me do the talking. We’ll get to the bottom of this, never you fear.”
Carol slid off her chair and went to the designated corner dutifully. Her throat was too tight to speak even if she’d wanted to.
I did it. Well, not yet, but it’s started. Mr. Xiao will have to tell the truth about what he did to Sundance and her people, and then he’ll have to pay for it, and the Lurans will all go home again.
Why don’t I feel happier about that?
The door of the commissioner’s office slid open. Mr. Xiao stepped inside, his gait as usual a little halting on one leg, and inclined his upper body in a polite bow. “I’m told you wanted to see me, sir?” he asked. “I’m not quite sure why, since all I need is our departure permit moved forward twelve hours—your very fine workers have completed our repairs a little ahead of schedule, and our two detached crew members are back on board, so we can leave as soon as you’ll allow it.”
“Yes, as soon as I allow it.” The commissioner laid one hand flat against his desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Xiao. We’ll discuss that.”
Mr. Xiao hesitated for an instant, then bowed once more and seated himself in the chair Carol had been using. As he did, his eyes went to the back corner of the room, and Carol knew he had seen her, though he made no outward sign.
I ought to hate him. I ought to be angry and spiteful, and glad that he’s going to get what he deserves. Instead I’m just… I don’t know what I am. She edged herself further back into the corner. Why does everything have to be so complicated?
With a humming hiss, the safety shields built into the armrests of Mr. Xiao’s chair activated, pinning his arms down, holding him in place. He jerked a little in surprise, but his voice, when he spoke again, was calm and collected. “An interesting way you have of opening discussions on your planet, I see.”
“When we have reason to believe a crime’s been committed, we don’t fool around.” The commissioner maneuvered a few items on his desk screen, bringing up a picture of what looked to Carol like a crystal ball, swirling with green mist. “That chair’s set up to feed my screen biodata, by the way, so don’t waste my time with lies. Now, let’s begin. State your full name.”
“Mikala Kenneth Xiao.” A tiny bubble of red burst through the green and was gone. “Legally, that’s correct,” Mr. Xiao added at the commissioner’s raised eyebrow. “Or should I give you my wife’s little pet names for me as well?”
The commissioner snorted. “I think we can dispense with that. Your purpose in coming to Moria?”
“My ship suffered an accident which needed immediate repair. Yours was the closest world capable of performing it.” The green rippled but remained uncontaminated by red.
“And your ship’s usual function?”
“Entertainment,” Mr. Xiao said smoothly, the green mist untroubled. “The great disease of civilization is boredom. The Rover carries a cure from planet to planet, as partial and temporary as it may be.”
With a slight “Hmph,” the commissioner dismissed this. “You told young Carol Fuhrman here that one of the creatures on your ship was named Sundance. How do you know that?”
“Because I named her, as was my right and duty.” Green, steady and bright.
“Your right and duty? How so?”
A spike of red, sudden, shocking, but fading quickly to green again. “I won’t answer that.”
“I see.” The commissioner made a note. “And could this Sundance, to the best of your knowledge, have exposed little Carol to…” He wrinkled his nose, as though the very term were distasteful to him. “Music?”
“That…should not have been possible,” Mr. Xiao said slowly, green mist roiling like the surface of the sea but showing only the faintest hints of red imaginable. “Did it happen?”
“I’m asking the questions here,” the commissioner snapped. “Answer yes or no. Could it have happened?”
Mr. Xiao glanced once at Carol, his narrowed eyes unreadable, then returned his gaze to the commissioner. “It could,” he said, as the green darkened towards a muddy brown. “And if Miss Fuhrman says so, I am sure it did.”
You did know, then. Carol clenched her teeth against a spate of tears, only now realizing how much she had wanted to believe this was all some terrible mistake, that everything could end happily with no one being punished for it except herself. You knew they were human, you knew it all along, and you didn’t care, you went ahead and did what you wanted to do anyway—
“But understand this,” Mr. Xiao went on without prompting, the brown now churning furiously within its boundaries on the commissioner’s screen. “I have never, in my life, harmed another human being without reason. Nor have I deprived anyone of life, liberty, or property unless they most thoroughly deserved it. Those who live aboard the Rover are well taken care of, they have no reason to complain, and they will not so long as I am there. And in the case of Sundance…” A wash of green poured across the brown, obliterating it without a trace. “I love her with all my heart and soul. I would sooner die than I would harm her.” Another glance at Carol. “Or any child like her.”
“Very poetic,” the commissioner remarked dryly. “Not terribly helpful to your case, but prettily said.”
Mr. Xiao lifted his chin, smiling faintly. “As you seem determined to convict me without trial, I thought I might help you along,” he said. “Surely if you outlaw music, poetry cannot be far behind.”
“It’s restricted, but not against the law. Not yet.” The commissioner rose. “But I do think we have enough to proceed on here. You’ll be detained pending an independent examination of your ship and these, what’re they called, Lurans of yours, and if they’re found to be human, of course you’ll be charged with kidnapping and unlawful restraint—though even if they’re not, we still have corruption of minors as a viable charge, not to mention aiding and abetting the performance of music in a public venue—”
The door swished open, cutting the commissioner off in mid-sentence and bringing both his and Mr. Xiao’s heads around. A woman and a man, both dressed in off-world attire, stepped into the office.
Carol blinked as the biodata screen erupted, kaleidoscoping patterns of green-red-green blurring faster than her eye could follow. Clearly Mr. Xiao knew this woman, with her rich brown hair clipped close to her head just under her earlobes, and this man with his brooding good looks, his black curls cut almost as short as the woman’s, his surprising golden eyes scarcely different from the color of his skin—equally as clearly they meant something startling to him, something unsettling, as though he had not expected them to be here—
“I’m K.D. Kolesar,” the woman announced in a clear, carrying voice. “Owner of the Rover. My colleague here is Doyle.” She hooked a thumb towards the dark man. “I believe you were looking for me?”
“We certainly were, er, Miss Kolesar.” The commissioner seemed thrown by the idea of a woman owning a starship, but recovered quickly. “I’m afraid one of your crewmen has gotten himself into some rather serious trouble.”
“So I see.” Miss Kolesar cast an unfriendly look at Mr. Xiao, sitting quietly in his suspect’s chair with Mr. Doyle now standing behind him. “May I be informed of the charges?”
“Of course, of course.” The commissioner swiveled his screen towards her, pointing. “They’re all right her
e, if you’d care to have a look…”
Carol leaned back against the wall, relief making her knees wobble. It’s going to be all right now. She must have been away for a while and just didn’t know what Mr. Xiao was doing with her ship. But now she’s come back, she’ll make everything all right, and Sundance and her family will get to go home for Christmas…
“Stars above us, he’s a one-man crime wave.” Miss Kolesar shook her head sadly. “If I’d only known what a desperate character he was, I’m sure I never would have signed him aboard. Thank you, Commissioner, for being sure I was informed of this deplorable state of affairs,” she glowered at Mr. Xiao, who returned her look blandly, “as soon as possible.” She held out her hand to the commissioner.
“Not at all, Miss Kolesar, not at all.” The commissioner closed his hand around hers and pumped it vigorously. “We know our duties here on Moria, our duties to one another and to the law, and we take them…” He paused for a yawn. “Please, excuse me. We take them very sherious—very serioush—very sherioushly.” He blinked in confusion. “Whass thish—whass wrong w’me—”
“Nothing’s wrong, Commissioner,” Miss Kolesar said smoothly, withdrawing her hand from the fat man’s. Nestled in her palm, Carol saw with dawning incredulity, was the business side of a sleeper patch, the sort doctors and medics used on belligerent patients or recalcitrant children. “You’re just a bit overtired, and no wonder, with all this crime-fighting.” Stripping off the patch and tossing it into the wastebasket in the corner, she caught the commissioner by the shoulders as he started to slump and eased him down into his chair. “Why don’t you have a nice long rest.”
“Rest,” the commissioner mumbled as Miss Kolesar set his chair to recline. “Yesh, rest—all’f you, under ‘rest…”
“I’m sure we would be, if we stuck around,” said Mr. Doyle, speaking for the first time. His voice, the single working corner of Carol’s mind noted, matched his looks, deep and smooth like a nibble of the chocolate her aunt kept hidden in the back of the cold box. “Sadly for you, that’s not an option we’re interested in exploring.” He popped open a panel on the side of Mr. Xiao’s chair, peered at it for a moment, and yanked two or three cords free. A loud snap and a shower of sparks resulted, and the safety shields holding Mr. Xiao in place flickered and died.
“So how is my very law-abiding big brother suddenly a criminal?” inquired Miss Kolesar, coming back around the desk as Mr. Xiao stood up, rubbing one of his wrists. “Though if that last specification really is a crime around here, I have a guess—”
“You’d be right, and we don’t have time just yet,” Mr. Xiao interrupted. “Nights, call D.D. Tell her to get the engines warm, we’re leaving. Now.” His eyes fell on Carol. “Or rather, after I finish one piece of business.”
“Piece of business?” asked Mr. Doyle, pulling out a tripad and tapping a code into it without looking, as his own gaze was fixed on Mr. Xiao. “Suncrest, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the kid who was trying to—”
Mr. Xiao—Suncrest? Carol found an instant to wonder—flicked a single finger, cutting off the flow of words from the other man, and advanced on Carol, reaching into his pocket as he came. She knew she ought to run, ought to scream, ought to do something, but she was frozen in place by the impossible swiftness of the reversal.
They’re all in it together, all three of them, they all know what’s going on, they must’ve done it together in the first place—now they’re going to put me to sleep like they did the commissioner, and I’ll still be sent to the reformatory but they’ll get away with the Rover, Sundance and her people will never be free, all of this was for nothing—
“I’m not going to hurt you, Carol,” Mr. Xiao said quietly, stopping in front of her and showing her the patch he held in his hand, one like Miss Kolesar had used on the commissioner, but smaller, for her smaller size, Carol guessed. “But I can’t let you give us away. Too many people’s lives depend on it.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “Unless…”
Greatly daring, Carol reached out her own hand to touch one of Mr. Xiao’s fingers, and her nerve endings confirmed what her eyes had thought they’d seen. There was a toughened patch of skin on one of Mr. Xiao’s fingertips, and on the next one, and the next.
Right where I saw the very same thing on Sundance. Sundance, who looks like Mr. Xiao, like Suncrest. And he said he loved her, that he’d rather die than hurt her, and he wasn’t lying. I thought, when I first met him, that he was kind, and now he says he doesn’t want to hurt me.
I know it must all mean something, but what?
“Let me tell you a little story,” Mr. Xiao went on, still in that same quiet tone. “Once upon a time there was a girl, and that girl looked at what she’d been told were animals and saw people there instead.”
Miss Kolesar’s head came up, her eyes alert, as though she had heard the first notes of a song she knew well. Mr. Doyle leaned against the corner of the commissioner’s desk, tucking his tripad away again, listening with his entire body.
“Now I know that girl must have been a little bit afraid to tell someone what she knew.” Mr. Xiao pinched his fingers together, showing the amount of afraid he meant, though it would have been more accurate for the pounding of Carol’s heart if he had spread his arms as wide as they would go. “Especially because she couldn’t explain how she knew it without giving away a big secret of her own, one that could get her in a lot of trouble. So…” He looked directly into her eyes. “Why did she?”
“Because…” Carol flattened her hands against the wall behind her, trying to stop them from shaking. “Because people shouldn’t be locked up in a prison forever and ever, even if it means they’ll be taken care of.” She flung the words into his face, daring him to tell her she was wrong. “People shouldn’t be watched every minute of the day and night so they can’t even breathe without somebody else knowing. And people shouldn’t be called animals and told they aren’t worth anything.” The knowledge that all this and more was surely in store for her, now that she’d admitted to the unforgivable crime of knowing music, edged her words with anger as harsh and biting as a Morian sandstorm. “Not ever. And especially not at Christmastime.”
“Reminds me of somebody else I used to know,” Mr. Doyle murmured to Miss Kolesar, who stuck out her tongue at him. “That’s good enough for me,” he said more loudly. “Do what you’re thinking of, and let’s get gone.”
“Seconded.” Miss Kolesar shot the snoring commissioner a disdainful glance. “Let’s give a certain person what she deserves for Christmas, and get out of here before my holiday spirit’s ruined for good.”
“Agreed, and done.” With one swift motion, Mr. Xiao pressed his hand against Carol’s, the patch cool and smooth against her skin. “Don’t be afraid,” he murmured, leaning over her, his words swimming in her ears as the drug began to work on her. “You’re safe now, and there’ll be good news when you wake up…”
Carol wanted to snarl and swipe at him, wanted to ask him what safety and what goodness there could ever be for her now, now that trying to do the right thing had ruined her life forever, but her voice wouldn’t respond and her limbs were heavy, her eyelids sinking shut. She thought she felt strong arms around her, lifting her up and holding her close, thought she saw Miss Kolesar smile at her and felt the pressure of a slender hand squeezing her fingers, thought she heard Mr. Doyle laughing softly and sensed a brush of fur against her cheek…