The Balance of Silence Read online

  Eyes impossibly wide, and jittering nervously around the corners of the room, never meeting anything head on, he seemed to be having trouble even remaining in his chair. Hard to imagine him staying calm when the chips were down.

  “Absolutely not,” Marta said firmly. “I know you’ve all been screened, but if any of you think this is a good way to die a hero, or whatever it is idealists thrive on these days, you can march your ass right back to the shuttlepad and wait for the next offworld pickup to come in. You want to kill yourself, do it on your own damn time, and don’t drag my mortality rates down with you.”

  Even jittery guy laughed.

  Marta snorted. “You think I’m kidding. These statistics mean a lot to us. Means we get into places that other aid agencies can’t. Mess up our reputation and I’m liable to do my best to ensure that there’s no search and recovery for your body, and I’ll see that your records disappear just as thoroughly.”

  It was impossible to tell if she was serious or not, but to be sure, Riv struggled to stifle his grin. “So, uh, can you tell us what to expect when we get out in the field?”

  “A lot of jungle.”

  This time he let himself grin. “I was thinking more along the lines of the people we might be running into, actually.”

  “There weren’t any native humanoid species on Maltana until the corporations moved in to terraform, so the people who lay claim to the land here are mostly still holding out under old Galactic homesteading laws. Especially on the deeper jungle routes, don’t expect to be met with anything but suspicion and hostility, and watch your back. Just because you’re there to help doesn’t mean anyone trusts you.”

  “So you’re really going to do this?” Del made no move to disguise the tone of her voice, consternation plain as she alternated between nibbling a cookie and glaring at him on the vid screen.

  “I would have thought that was evidenced by the fact that I took a leave of absence and a flight to Maltana, princess,” he replied evenly.

  “If you get yourself killed in the middle of the jungle, don’t expect me to come save your ass.

  Although Bin just might, so he could yell at you about this a little more.”

  Riv tried to peer past her on the screen, but he didn’t see her husband lurking around in the corner, so he stuck out his tongue. “Do you enjoy being married to an old woman?”

  “I heard that, Riversong,” Bin’s disembodied voice chimed in, and Riv winced a little, before Del’s raucous laughter nearly unseated her. Still giggling, she held up her notepad and pressed the screen for him, and the same phrase played.

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  11

  S. Reesa Herberth and Michelle Moore

  “I had him record it for me. It was the best idea ever. The look on your face, Riversong.” And she was off again, laughing until she was clutching at her stomach, a bit of an overreaction by his estimate.

  “I’m glad I can provide you with this much entertainment, and me so far away. You don’t need me back on the Mel at all, do you?”

  It was actually a little scary to see Del go from laughing to sober that quickly. “That’s not true at all.

  And it’s not the point, either. We’re just…we’re worried about you.” Del scrubbed her face, frustration evident in her voice. “There’s a whole lot of places that you could be helping, places that need you just as much. Places that won’t get you killed.”

  “But this is where I need to be right now.”

  “I know,” she said ruefully. “But I don’t have to like it.” She dropped out of sight for a second, and then came back into view holding a cup of tea in both hands. “Believe it or not, I do understand needing to do something.”

  Riv smiled. “I know you do, sweetheart. And I want you to know how much I appreciate you trying to explain it to Bin. I expect that wasn’t easy.”

  “How did you know? Did Bin tell you?”

  Riv nodded, letting the rumble of an incoming ground crawler fade as it noisily traveled past the visitor barracks. “Not in so many words, of course. There was some grumbling about how certain matters had become clear to him. I figured that meant you’d used short sentences.” He grinned, matching the one that she gave him.

  “Sometimes I forget that you know my husband better than I do.” Setting down her mug, she stared into the screen, eyes narrowed. “Are you sure there wasn’t something more between you two before I came along?”

  He choked on his laugh, eyes watering. “For all that’s holy, Del, don’t even think things like that.”

  “You can’t blame a girl for being suspicious.”

  “I most certainly can.” He shuddered exaggeratedly. “Just the thought is giving me hives, right now.”

  “Well, I like him just fine, thank you.” The toss of her auburn curls was so familiar to him that he couldn’t help but smile, and she drank her tea in silence for a moment before pressing on. “You’re coming back to us, remember that. And when you do, retribution will be swift, my friend.” Hesitation wasn’t like her, and Riv tried to diffuse her mood with another smile when she finally spoke. “I know how seriously you take your pacifism, Riv, and I know we’re all dancing around what happened, but it wasn’t like you were acting out mindless violence. You were defending Denny—”

  “This isn’t about that,” he said, cutting her off swiftly. “I just need to know that I can make some kind of difference for someone.” He pretended to hear something out in the hallway, hoping the audio wasn’t good enough that she’d know he was lying. “I have to go, Del, I think they’re calling us for dinner. I’m 12

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  The Balance of Silence

  heading out in a couple days, and I don’t know if I’ll have a chance to vid again before then, so I’d best say my goodbyes for now. You take care of yourself, princess. Keep Bin in line while I’m gone, okay?”

  “You’re an infuriating man.” She snorted, glaring resolutely down at something he couldn’t see. “I love you, and if you get in trouble, I’ll fly down there myself and find you, so be careful. I’ll talk to you in a month or so, I guess.”

  Riv beamed at her, knowing how hard-won any expression of affection was from Del. “I’ll be healthy and whole, and you can yell at me all you want, I promise.”

  “See to it,” she muttered, and the vid screen went dark, but not before he saw her reach up to wipe her eyes.

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  13

  Chapter Two

  Like most bars in this part of the country, Hayuk’s was little more than a couple of tin roofs and plasti-siding. Smoke drifted away into the trees behind it, and the thought of food made Riv’s mouth water.

  It wasn’t as though he was going to get much farther that evening anyway, so he killed the engine in his jungle hopper and made sure his security code was set before heading into the dim establishment.

  Two things were immediately apparent. One, that there was indeed food being served, and two, that the music he’d heard outside wasn’t a recording after all. He settled himself unobtrusively near the door and ordered food and drink, a feat that was made easier by the lack of selections available to him.

  The man sitting at the piano was stooped in the shoulders, his slightly ragged blond hair sticking up at angles that defied gravity. The only time he seemed to look up from the keys was when someone brushed too near, and then it was only a quick darting of his eyes before he dropped them back to the piano. He’d never play a concert hall, but he was good, surprisingly good, for a run-down dump in the middle of nowhere.

  The arrival of the food, mostly fruit-based, low on meat and hardly worth getting excited over, was still enough to distract him momentarily from the mystery of a piano in the middle of a jungle. It wasn’t the best he’d ever had, but there was something to be said for fresh mango chutney and steamed rice, and even the tiny bits of fish he occasionally happened upon weren’t too bad.

  Riv worked his way throu
gh the plate slowly, letting the day’s aches and pains settle down. He was in no hurry to leave, especially since the only bed waiting for him was amidst the fuel cells and supplies in the hopper. He closed his eyes and focused his breathing, letting each sense find its own way for a few minutes as he unwound. The piano made the otherwise drab surroundings comfortable, and he ignored the obviously out-of-tune keys.

  All too soon, he was scraping the last grains of rice off the bottom of the bowl. The thought of requesting seconds was a fleeting one, dismissed almost instantly when he saw the decidedly unfriendly glare the serving girl was sending his way. No sense pissing her off. Chances were good he’d be scrounging up breakfast here as well.

  “It was great, thanks.” Riv smiled and handed her the bowl.

  The snort could’ve been appreciation, or perhaps shy gratitude, but he had his doubts. “Kitchen’s closed, there ain’t no more, so don’t even ask.” Nope, no mistaking that for anything but irritated dismissal.

  “No, of course not, I wouldn’t think of troubling you. But tell me, are you open for breakfast?”

  The Balance of Silence

  The incredulous stare spoke volumes. “This is a bar.” The girl spoke slowly, mouth twisted in an unpleasant grin. “You want a freakin’ restaurant, then you need to be a good long ways from here. You’re at the end of the world.”

  The “asshole”, or whatever the local equivalent would be, was muttered at the end. That was the nice thing about basic—even when the natives picked it up, the regional insults were still easy to spot. It made planning for an eventual beating that much easier.

  Not that Riv was looking for a beating. Failed pacifist that he was, he still wasn’t interested in cleansing himself with pain. Rather than rankle the woman further, he just smiled and lifted his glass.

  “Thanks for the hospitality.” If she caught the sarcasm, good on her, but he couldn’t tell and didn’t care much either way.

  Glass in hand, he ambled around the place for a few minutes, hearing the far-off roll of thunder as the night storms made their way across the rainforest. There were a couple dated posters on the walls, and some pictures of what he assumed was the family who owned the place. They were all some variation on the local standards of short and dark, and apparently the scowling was genetic. Nowhere in any of them did he see a stray blond child, but there was always some tide of missionaries leaving behind unfinished business, and he’d been witness to stranger things.

  When the song wound to a close he found himself near the piano. The man playing it didn’t look up until Riv leaned one elbow on the top of the aging instrument, and then only a slightly fearful dart of his eyes gave away that they were blue.

  “Do you take requests?”

  No answer, but another song started up almost immediately, and Riv took that as a no. Shrugging it off, he left a stray coin from his dinner on the piano lid and stood a little farther away, enjoying the music.

  “He don’t talk.” He nodded at the bartender, taking a refill of the local rotgut, which tasted pleasantly of fruit punch when it wasn’t trying to kill you.

  “We found him like that one day. Just sitting there at the piano, happy as a clam. No ID, and he won’t tell us a damn thing. I’d turn him over to the clinic in Patchous, but he doesn’t hurt anything and he keeps people drinking.”

  Riv wondered about the explanation, then remembered that he was still wearing his ReliefCorp tags. It was amazing how many people thought he had some kind of authority just because he trucked vaccines and seeds through the forest.

  “You’re kidding. You just found him sitting at the piano?” Incredulity made him repeat the statement, and he stole a look back towards the silent blond man.

  “Thought that’s what I said.”

  And that was why he generally tried to avoid repeating himself, especially around people with no discernable sense of humor. “So did he walk in or did somebody drop him off?”

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  “Don’t know. Don’t really matter, does it? He’s here now.”

  Considering it had taken him a good four hours in a well-equipped hopper to get here, and the trip had been anything but easy, it did seem like a relevant question, just not one Riv was sure he wanted to ask again. “Did you look around to see if he left a truck or a hopper somewhere?”

  The derisive sneer was followed by a laugh. “Think we would’ve noticed one, if that was the case.

  Spotted you as soon as you showed up.”

  Curiouser and curiouser. That meant Piano Man had either come in under his own power, a feat not to be taken lightly, or that someone had dumped him in this town at the end of the world. Beyond the how was the why, although if you were looking to disappear, this wouldn’t be a bad place to do it.

  It wasn’t a bad place to help someone else disappear, either.

  “Why don’t you go ask him yourself if you’re so interested?” Turning back, the barkeep started wiping down the greasy counter, apparently considering the conversation closed.

  Riv thought about pressing the matter, but it was a brief moment of insanity. He didn’t know anyone here, and a hopper could disappear into the jungle faster than you could blink. No sense pushing his luck and becoming one of Marta’s cautionary tales. Instead, Riv shrugged, carefully schooling his face into studied indifference. “Not really my business anyway. I’m going to finish what I need to do and be on my way.”

  “And when exactly would that be?”

  He wasn’t used to this level of hostility. Most places were glad enough to see him and the meds he trucked in. A good number actually managed gratitude. “I’ll be meeting up with some folks tomorrow, make my deliveries and then I guess I’ll see.”

  The spark of interest this inspired was hardly comforting. “What sort of deliveries would that be?”

  The barkeep’s eyes narrowed, dirty rag in his hand slowing and then stopping its movement.

  “Aid supplies, meds mostly. Why?”

  “Wondering’s all. Don’t see many outsiders here. Haven’t seen anyone from ReliefCorp in almost a year. Anyway, I suppose you need a place to doss down tonight then.”

  This sudden friendliness wasn’t doing anything for Riv’s comfort level. In fact, if the hair on his neck rose any higher, he’d be able to comb it. “Yeah, I suppose I could,” Riv said cautiously. “You have a suggestion?”

  The man jerked a shoulder in the direction of the piano. “He’s in a lean-to across the street. Nothing fancy, but since he ain’t paying for it, you can stay there.”

  “He doesn’t seem really eager for the company,” Riv muttered under his breath. “Thanks. It’s been a long day.” He got a grunt in reply, which was enough, and he sat there finishing his drink as the place filled up.

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  The Balance of Silence

  Most of the customers paid no mind to the piano man, and on occasion the drone of voices outclassed the music. He hardly seemed to notice, moving from one song to the next. Apparently he knew that Riv was watching him though, and would look up for half a second between one song and the next.

  “You want another?” The bartender’s voice woke Riv out of his pleasant doze, and he was about to reach for the refill when the music changed again. It took him a second to recognize it, since it wasn’t normally a piano piece, but the planetary anthem of Karibee was fairly hard to mistake. He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see blue eyes meeting his for just a second. His accent was nowhere near as pronounced as it had been when he’d left, but it was still there, caressing every word he spoke. Obviously it had been recognized, and Riv wasn’t so oblivious as to not notice the attempt to garner his attention.

  “Thanks, but I think I’m gonna head for that promised bed. I assume it isn’t locked?”

  “Nope, just let yourself right in. He won’t be much longer, so you’d better stake your c
laim to the bed fast.”

  Riv nodded, swaying a little more than he needed to as he got up and made his way to the door with exaggerated care. The wet heat of the night struck him almost immediately—within seconds he was drenched to the skin. In the slanted spill of light given off by the doorway behind him he could just make out the structure across the way. Calling it a lean-to was generous, as it was decidedly more lean than to.

  The whole thing creaked ominously when he pushed aside the scrap of tin serving as a door, and he glanced behind him to see if anyone had followed him from the bar.

  Satisfied that he was alone, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded bag, dumping two small black tablets into his palm and swallowing them dry with some difficulty. He couldn’t be certain the food had been drugged, but he was also used to going with his gut instincts. Riv waited, riding out the immediate wave of dizziness, and when he couldn’t keep it down any longer he slipped back outside and bid a fond farewell to his dinner in the bushes. He was quiet as he could be, kicking dirt over the mess when he was done and heading back into the hovel to find that somewhere in the intervening minutes he’d gained company.

  “Bad mangos,” he said uneasily, trying to leave space between himself and the man edging unhappily into the far corner.

  No response, but then he hadn’t really expected one. But he hadn’t expected the flash of fear either.

  “Look, I’m sorry for invading your place like this. The barkeep, he told me I could crash here.” The excuse definitely sounded as lame as he was afraid it would. Admitting that curiosity had been a good part of it would probably sound worse. “I’ll just sleep over here.” Riv gestured vaguely. “It’ll be out of your way, hopefully.”

  This time he got a shrug, or at least it looked like one. The movement was so faint that he couldn’t be sure, and he wondered briefly just how much the man understood. There was fear, but he hadn’t seen that marked blankness he usually associated with the mentally ill.