Thursday, June 26, 2014

32 - Sandals. Sandals Would Have to Do




He sighed, heavily.  “I’m not saying you’re my father coming to whip me out of bed.  But give me a moment.”  He dragged himself out of the clutch of pillows, pulling his trousers on completely, fastening his cuffs.  He didn’t feel terribly guilty about leaving her to sit outside while he put himself together because Agador had designed the overhang and waiting area of his little cave pocket.  He hadn’t cared much as long as the machines left his refuge alone but the tiny lip of rock hid a miniature pool and a place to sit and more Earthan green plants than would normally have sprouted here by themselves.  It was a tiny puddle of shade, green and cool.

He slid out of the pile and stepped to the door, barefoot, running a hand through his hair to push it back off his face.  That was one thing he missed from home.  In the back garden of the townhouse there was a carefully tended patch of green grass, smooth and clipped, just for the express purpose of walking on, barefoot.  Only in private though. He wiggled his toes and just couldn’t make himself drag anything over them.

“Come in,” he said grouchily.

“Thank you,” she said and stepped through the mist wall that blocked that strange, glaring light.  Another thing.  Surely the sunshine was the same… but on Xanadu there was so much green it was possible to rest one’s eyes.  Here everything was sullen orange, eye-searing yellow, tear inducing white, a red strong enough to make one sneeze.  She was wearing a cool looking blue-green veil that was very easy on his eyes and her eyes over the edge of it crinkled at him as she smiled.  “Terence.  I’m so sorry that we can’t let you work through your discomfort with our life here.”

He closed his eyes and waved at a cushion.  “Please, do sit down, Haraklez,” he said firmly, even as his head ached with how different everything was.  “I quite understand that your fathers need me to be ready to subvert Station if I can.  Surely they don’t need my actual presence until the attempt to actually get me to the Station…” he hesitated.  “I mean you’re not ready to send me up now are you?” He looked around a little frantically.  If that was the case…

“—No! Oh no, Terence, we’ve just come up with a couple of possible ideas… actually Mom proposed them.  If they work I’m sure we’ll test them tomorrow.  We won’t be ready for any kind of attempt for at least two days!”

“You realize that is phenomenally fast development of something so complicated,” he said.  “Two days?”

She shrugged.  “That’s why I came to get you.  We don’t want to just do this and set you into Mom without having any kind of input into the whole process.”

He stared at her and then just flopped back onto the cushions from where he stood.  “Set me into Mom… just strap me in and away I go…” he chuckled at that… the image of him being bundled into the emergency vehicle as though he were a drunk being hurried into a carriage just suddenly tickled him.

“All right.  I’ll get ready and come with you.  I have no argument with any of that… oh… that murderous child. Is she?”

“The school has her locked down tight.” Hara tried not to twitch at the thought of Alissa.  “Amardad has recovered enough to begin finding out what kind of lessons she’ll need. Apparently she’s absolutely enamoured of Homa, and keeps giving her what she thinks are sweet little bone toys.”

“Oh dear.” He really didn’t want to think of the monstrosities the child was apparently building, even cut off from the planetary programs as she was.  Hara’s absolutely smooth tone told him more than he wanted to know.  “Well…” he couldn’t manage to pull on his boots over sweaty feet.  They were riding boots for horses anyway.  What did he need them for?  To hurt his feet on the roads and sand and rocks here?  Sandals.  His sandals would do.  And his hat.  He set the overly warm thing on his head, snapped his sun-goggles over his eyes.  “Shall we go?”

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