Singing the Dogstar Blues (7 page)

Refmol bowed again. Mavkel's ears had perked up a bit. We were in the clear.

‘The official reception for Mavkel will be during the introductory lecture tomorrow morning,' Camden-Stone told me. ‘You should both take the opportunity to get to know one another and settle in. I believe an official introduction to the rest of the class is important. You might do well to stay here until then.'

Translation: don't leave this room until I've organised proper protection for Mavkel.

‘Diana Rosso-Pike is still on-line,' the computer said.

‘I'll take that,' Camden-Stone said.

While he calmed Rosso-Pike down, Mavkel sang its apology to the Elders. They ignored it. Refmol touched my arm.

‘Refmol has felt the resonance,' it sang. ‘The universe has prepared for the pairing of our peoples and Refmol is vowed to help.'

I was getting sick of these cryptic messages. Just as I was about to ask ‘what resonance?', Refmol was called over by Gohjec. Very convenient. If you want to be mysterious, always have someone call you away at the critical moment. That way you never have to explain yourself.

The posse was leaving. Gohjec and Jecgoh turned away from a low bow from Mavkel. Refmol gave me a cryptic mysterious look. I nodded back. Hopefully, it was a mysterious nod. Finally they all left the suite. Mavkel and I were alone again.

‘That was a close call,' I said.

‘Yes. My ears were heavy with their silence.' It stroked my arm quickly. ‘Mavkel thanks Joss-partner.'

‘I think we should both be thanking Refmol,' I said, moving away from its insistent hand. ‘I'm going to unpack. I'll see you later.'

I picked up my duffel. Mavkel followed close on my heels.

‘Joss-partner will try the thought cube now?' it asked, holding the cube out on its outstretched hand.

‘No, not now. I want to unpack. You should too,' I said, stepping into my room and reaching for the door sensor. ‘We can get together later.'

Mavkel started to hum an eerie low monotone, its ears collapsing until they looked like limp pigtails. My hand found the sensor plate and the bedroom door shut between us. I leaned my forehead against the cool plasboard, slowly rolling my head until my ear was against the door. Mavkel was still humming on the other side. The lonely sound snapped at my nerves like an alarm that no one turns off.

I reached over to the sensor pad again, but dropped my hand. I needed to block Mavkel out, to block everything out. I dumped my duffel on the bed and wormed my hand through it. Of course my harp was at the very bottom. I can screen out the world when I'm playing the blues. I just slide behind the melody until the harp sings in my head. No more spooky humming. No more unanswered questions. No more Camden-Stone. The harp just fills in all my gaps.

I stretched out on the bed and stormed out some percussive tonguing, the fuzzy hard sound used in blues solos. I bent an A down to an A flat and let the note reverberate through my bones. It was the start of the blues duet I was writing. The whole idea was to make the two melody lines weave around each other like a Chorian harmony. I was even going to call it the
Chorian Blues
until that stupid group with the freckly singer stole the name for their pop song. How did it go?

Don't be an alien to me, baby,

Don't be an alien,

Don't be an alien to me, baby,

Cause aliens don't have lips.

What a load of tox and it wasn't even blues. Anyway, I had come up with another name:
The Dogstar Blues.
Not bad, if I say so myself.

The band at the Buzz Bar said they'd give
The Dogstar Blues
a go when it was finished. I'd even talked Jonas, the alto sax, into playing the second harp. The only problem was that I couldn't work out how to finish the damned thing.

I played the trill that I thought might work as the lead-in to the final section for the first harp. It sounded good, but I needed to hear the whole song to make sure it worked. So I started from the beginning, mentally humming the second harp part to check the movement. That's probably why I yelped when Mavkel ran into the room. It harmonised a sound that dug straight through my melodies, souring the chords. I felt like I'd been doused with cold water.

‘Is Joss-partner ill?' Mavkel shrilled, its ears flat against its head. ‘Mavkel will call Refmol. Refmol will chant.' It ran over and cupped its hands over my ears.

‘I'm fine,' I said. ‘For God's sake stop patting my ears.' I pushed its hands away.

‘Why does Joss-partner make healing sounds?' Mavkel had flicked back its second eyelids to peer closely at my left ear.

I moved my head away. ‘I'm just playing some blues.'

‘What are blues?' it sang, its hands were still hovering near my ears. Mavkel didn't give up easily.

‘It's a kind of music. Here listen.'

I played the chorus of
The Dogstar Blues
, ready to block Mavkel's hands with my elbows. It wasn't necessary. Mavkel was completely still as I played.

‘Ahh, this blues has many of the sounds Mavkel uses to heal minds,' it sang as the last note faded.

‘You use music to heal people?'

‘Yes, Mavkel and Kelmav were Chanters. What do humans use music for?'

‘We use it for lots of things. Mostly for fun and relaxation.'

Mavkel sat back. I didn't need to understand ear-speak to see that it was appalled.

‘Then how do humans heal?'

‘We've got doctors who learn how to heal. They use drugs and surgery. Things like that.'

‘Doc-tors.' Mavkel repeated the word a few times. ‘Doctors heal?'

I nodded.

‘Then Mavkel and Kelmav were learning to be doc-tors.'

‘You were going to be a doctor?'

‘Yes. Mavkel and Kelmav were learning the chants until the pair became a one.'

I wanted to ask more, but Mavkel was backing out of the room.

‘This is a time for apology, yes? Sorry for disturbing,' it said. The door closed behind it.

How come no one had told me about the Chorian's using music as medicine? Or that Mavkel was one of their Chanter-doctors? I felt like I was picking my way through a VR maze without the help icon. I tapped out my harp and slipped it back into its case. Maybe there was more information on that Reader I'd downloaded. I pulled it out of my duffel bag. Time to start studying.

The next morning I was whacked. Serves me right for reading until four. But I did find some very interesting articles and interviews about Camden-Stone and Sunawa-Harrod.

The first thing I came across was a twenty-year-old Netnews article that reported a terrible explosion at the university. A young post-grad student, Joseph Camden-Stone, was critically injured during an experiment. His friend, Daniel Sunawa-Harrod, pulled him from the inferno and saved his life. Camden-Stone was reported to be in a critical condition with massive face and head injuries.

Maybe that explains Camden-Stone's strange mouth. Total reconstruction.

Then came thirty articles about how Daniel Sunawa-Harrod returned to the scene of the accident and discovered the time-continuum field. About fifty more articles reported his Nobel-Takahini Prize and his directorship of the new Centre for Neo-Historical Studies. I skipped most of them since I'd had the history of the Centre drummed into me during the intro courses.

Then I opened the most interesting file. It was a three part vid-interview with Sunawa-Harrod, dated fifteen years ago.

The interviewer was a woman named Joanna Tyrell-Coombes. She looked like the prototype for Ingrid: a glossy blonde with big curves and a bigger mouth. She seemed very high profile, but I'd never heard of her before. She was sitting across from Sunawa-Harrod in some director's idea of a ‘serious science' lounge suite.

Sunawa-Harrod looked a lot younger than his holo picture. He was kind of tired, but still exuded energy and confidence on the small reader screen. Most of the interview was pretty boring except for one strange moment when Sunawa-Harrod lied.

‘Of course,' Joanna Tyrrell-Coombes said, ‘it was that awful accident involving Joseph Camden-Stone that resulted in you discovering the time-continuum field.'

Sunawa-Harrod nodded. Wary. ‘Yes, one of my fusion reaction experiments went wrong.'

Joanna leaned forward. Her smile was in place, but her eyes were ripping his throat out. I'd seen Ingrid in the same pose when she thought she had someone pinned down.

‘Your experiment? My sources suggest that it was Dr Camden-Stone's experiment that resulted in the explosion.'

Sunawa-Harrod's eyes flickered for a second. He shifted his feet on the plush carpet. Ingrid used to say that if they fidget their feet, they're talking screte.

‘No,' Sunawa-Harrod said. ‘I was conducting the experiment. Poor Joseph was just assisting me.'

Joanna suddenly glanced to someone offscreen. She frowned slightly then changed the subject.

In my mind there was no doubt: Sunawa-Harrod had lied. However, it seemed to be such a small thing to lie about that I
nearly dismissed it. It was lucky I decided to check out part two of the interview, screened the following week.

Joanna Tyrrell-Coombes was gone. Replaced by some dreary man who blatantly read the questions off a vid-cue. The third interview was the same. There was no mention of what had happened to Joanna.

So, at about half-past three in the morning, I trotted over to my console and looked it up in the archives. After that series Joanna Tyrrell-Coombe's career went downhill fast. She never interviewed again and got stuck presenting some wildlife show. Hopefully a spyder would get back to me soon. Every bone in my body told me that something had been zelcroed tighter than a pair of cling jeans.

 

I was still on my first coffee when Mavkel's four bodyguards arrived to take us to the lecture theatre. I swear every one of them could have won Mr and Ms Hardbody. Not a bad way to travel. It took the pressure off me too since five pairs of eyes on the lookout for an assassin is better than one. Although, according to Lenny, it was a bit early for Suka to strike yet.

The Centre for Neo-Historical Studies is the only school in the university that has no Net students. Everyone has to be on campus and most of the teaching is done by old style lectures and classes. Camden-Stone says it builds better partnerships and invokes camaraderie.

Mavkel was very quiet. Ears low, secondary eyelids closed. It was leaning towards me, but I kept on edging away until I bumped into one of the guards. He swung his gun around out of reflex.

‘You're a bit jumpy,' I said, holding up my hands.

He lowered his gun.

‘I've been ordered to be jumpy,' he said, smiling.

‘Do you really think someone will try something?' I asked.

He shrugged, checking out a group of students who stared at Mavkel as we walked past.

‘There're a lot of whackos out there. You never know if death threats are for real or just screte.'

Mavkel jangled, his ears jumping all over the place. The guard's pill-tanned skin went red.

‘I'm sure your friend will be all right,' he said hurriedly.

He leaned over to Mavkel.

‘Don't worry, mate, we'll look after you.'

Mavkel bowed.

‘This pair is honoured,' it said.

‘Do they reckon I'm a target too?' I asked softly.

The guard hesitated, glancing at his sergeant who was walking in front of us.

‘Come on, I've got a right to know,' I said.

‘No, they say you're not really a target. The emphasis is on the flap … I mean your friend. I suppose in the end you're pretty replaceable.'

‘Thanks for making me feel special,' I said.

He laughed. ‘Better to be alive than special and dead.'

I liked this guy's style.

‘Hey, what's your name?' I asked, but we had just reached the lecture hall where the welcoming committee was waiting. Camden-Stone was up front, ostentatiously looking at his armscreen. I quickly checked out his face. Whoever had done the reconstruction job must have been good.

I felt Mavkel stiffen beside me as we approached the doorway. I didn't blame it. After going through twelve schools, I knew what it was like to walk into a new classroom.
The first few minutes were always agony. Everyone's eyes on you, assessing, judging, testing. At one rich-kid school, I just gave them all the finger and walked out. It was the shortest enrolment that school had ever known.

The guards dropped back into a line as Camden-Stone stepped forward, Refmol beside him. For a second I thought Refmol winked at me, but maybe it was only adjusting its opaque eyelid against the light.

‘Thank you, Sergeant Wolfendon. I'd like one of your team to keep watch inside and the rest on the perimeter positions,' Camden-Stone said.

He pushed me towards the door.

‘Aaronson, you and Mavkel take the two front seats that are vacant. We're running a bit late.'

Mavkel dropped in close behind me, clipping my heels with its clawed feet. It was humming the same monotone from last night. A worried hum.

‘Remember, just be cool,' I whispered over my shoulder.

The humming stopped.

‘Pretend again?' it whispered back, its breath hot on my ear.

I nodded.

‘You pretend much, do you not?'

Mavkel didn't know the half of it. Right at that moment I was pretending not to see Chaney. He was looking at me, sniggering at something Jorel had said. Tonio was sitting in the row behind them and waved quickly. Sara smiled nervously beside him.

The lecturers sat in the front row in full academic dress, flat hats and all. Hartpury was sitting beside Lindon. She was chewing at her bottom lip. I'd be worried too if I was wearing that piece of black cardboard on my head.

Each of the classes sat together. The sixth years were up the back. I caught Kyle Sandrall's eye and he nodded. Lisa gave me a thumbs up from the fifth year section until Derry pushed her hand down, motioning towards Camden-Stone.

I led Mavkel to the vacant seats in the front row as Camden-Stone began to speak.

‘Today is the official start of the academic year,' he said. ‘As you are now aware, this year brings us many changes. Two special partnerships have been forged. Firstly, a partnership between Joss Aaronson and Mavkel, our first Chorian student.'

He beckoned to us. Mavkel looked at me, reluctance in every line of his ears. We were obviously having the same reaction.

‘What does Mavkel pretend here?' it asked softly.

‘Just smile,' I said.

As we stood and turned to face everyone, I wondered if the rest of humanity was ready for one of Mavkel's double smiles? To the school's credit, the clapping only faltered for a few seconds. Chaney was screwing his face up in disgust until Camden-Stone squashed him with a look. Mavkel and I sat down.

‘I am sure you will all join me in extending a friendly and courteous welcome to Mavkel and endeavour to make it feel part of our family,' Camden-Stone said, glancing at Chaney.

‘We also have another partnership to celebrate. The partnership between Earth and Choria. This alliance will enable us to swap our technologies and our Centre is at the forefront of that information exchange. Beside me is Chanter Refmol, who is the official Chorian Ambassador. Chanter Refmol will be observing our operation and assisting Mavkel in its integration. Please make Chanter Refmol feel welcome.'

So Refmol was sticking around for a while. That should make Mavkel happy. I stood up with the rest of the school as we clapped.

Refmol bowed and stepped up to the lectern, catching Camden-Stone by surprise. He moved aside awkwardly, motioning for everyone to sit down.

‘Refmol thanks the Centre for the welcome. Choria is pleased to be allied with Earth and sees much alike. Before our contact to you, Choria had visited many other peoples. We visited one peoples who did not have time like Choria or Earth. Another did not move in space as we do. But Choria and Earth have much in common. To find you who understand the universe in many ways as we do is the joining of a pair.'

Refmol bowed as we clapped.

‘Thank you, Chanter Refmol,' Camden-Stone said. He cleared his throat, deepening his voice. ‘Unfortunately, I also have some distressing news. The founder of our Centre, Professor Daniel Sunawa-Harrod, is battling a serious illness. I have just found out he has taken a turn for the worse. I am sure you all join me in hoping for his speedy recovery.'

‘Not with that thing in his head,' someone whispered behind me.

Dr Lindon turned and scowled at the whisperer. I remembered the vid of Sunawa-Harrod and felt kind of sorry he was dying. After all, he'd made time-jumping possible. Camden-Stone seemed sincerely cut up about the news too. Maybe Joanna Tyrrell-Coombes had it all wrong and there was no conspiracy. Then again, she did lose her job.

‘Now, it's time to start work,' Camden Stone said. ‘Would all first year students please remain seated for their introductory lecture. All other students, please go to your first class.'

The classes stood up, moving towards the door. I noticed Lisa pushing her way towards us, Derry following reluctantly.

‘Hi Joss. I'd love to meet your partner,' Lisa said. She smiled at Mavkel, who bowed. Derry was standing back, nervously watching the guard at the doorway.

‘Mavkel, I'd like you to meet Lisa …' then I realised I didn't know her last name.

‘Sholmondy-Rale,' she said. She held out her hand. Mavkel took it in the peculiar grip Hartpury had shown me.

‘Mavkel is honoured to learn of your line,' it sang.

‘As I am to learn of yours,' Lisa said. Mavkel's ears lifted at the courtesy. So, Lisa had studied up on the Chorians. A kindred spirit.

‘Come on, Lis, we gotta go,' Derry said urgently.

Lisa nodded, placing a soothing hand on Derry's arm. She was tiny compared to her partner, but she had ten times more presence. And it looked like ten times more guts.

‘Okay. Just a sec.' She turned to Mavkel. ‘I hope I'll have the pleasure of speaking with you soon. I'm very interested in your culture.'

Mavkel bowed again.

‘This pair looks forward to the meeting.'

Derry pulled Lisa into the queue to leave the room. She looked back over her shoulder until a tall sixth year blocked her view.

‘Looks like you've got a new friend,' I said.

Mavkel's ears did a quick affirmative flip.

We watched as the time-jumpers filed out of the room. The queue was slow because Refmol was doing a bit of PR work on the door. I leaned over to Mavkel.

‘How come Refmol's birth pair isn't around?' I asked.

‘Molref stays on Choria,' Mavkel said. ‘Refmol travels to other worlds with the Elders and Molref stays home to receive its thoughts. The pair is very strong.'

‘I thought they were doctors.'

‘Yes. Chanters are always strongest in the minds.'

‘So you guys can also telepath across space. That's incredible.'

‘Only some can. Only strong pairs. But even a strong pair loses contact. There is a problem with the time and the space.'

‘What happens then?'

‘When a pair loses contact, they die.'

‘But you didn't.'

‘Mavkel is a freak,' it said harshly. ‘Birth pairs should die together.'

I sat back. Maybe Hartpury was right. Mavkel was tiptoeing at the edge of Deathwish Canyon. It brushed at its heavy jacket, its face turned away.

‘The Elders are hoping that the time knowledge from Earth will solve the problem,' it finally sang, flatly.

‘I bet Refmol is hoping it will too,' I said.

Mavkel looked over at Refmol. The Chanter was talking earnestly with Camden-Stone and Hartpury.

‘Mavkel hopes too.'

‘Hey, Aaronson,' Chaney said.

I turned around. Chaney had moved to the seat behind me, his feet on the back of my chair. ‘Maybe you can settle an argument. Is it true a comp can't ever trace her bloodlines?'

What was he up to? Everyone knew that most comps can't really trace their family tree. It's one of the drawbacks of being tailor-made. You could have a hair-colour gene from
Mr A, skin pigment from Dr B and IQ strings from Artists X, Y and Z. Splice it all together with a virus and what have you got? A major headache for a genealogist.