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TWO

Alae put the portable environment pack on the ground beside the armored man and looked up at the descending point of light. Oomalo joined them, and the dome hatch shut swiftly behind. "Take him to our ship?" Alae asked.

"Let the others take care of him," he said. "We have to establish our claim now."

The armored man stared steadily at the ground and took a deep breath.

"You mean he has a claim?"

"That's what it amounts to. He was here before us."

"That's insane."

"This is going to be contested by everyone who sets foot here. We just keep silent and maybe things will work out for us. But we don't dare touch him or we'll be accused of—"

Even through the bubble of air around them, the sound of the landing craft drowned out his voice. Alae's gray eyes looked over the armored man coldly.

"Let's go, then," she said. They resealed their suits and slipped out of the bubble.

The second shuttle's engines had stopped. There was a mark on its side Oomalo didn't recognize, though it bore a resemblance to the family crest of a man he had once free-lanced for—Traicom Nestor. Alae boarded their lander ahead of him. The ramp swung inboard just as another piercing whine cut through the thin atmosphere.

"What's her registry?" Oomalo asked, going to the shuttle's computers and calling up lists of symbols. Alae watched over his shoulder. "Anna Sigrid Nestor," he said finally. "United Stars won't be far behind. Finalists into the stretch."

The second shuttle's outer shields flickered off, and a ramp swung out from the base. Immediately a bubble of air poked down and nestled around the landing vanes. A crowd of humans in colorful costumes exited from the cargo lock. For a moment it looked like a circus had come to the Perfidisian planet. The passengers milled in the environment bubble, blinking in the washed-out light, adjusting their elegant capes and swirling ropes. The austere black and gray suits of three androgynes stood out, along with the russet fur of several tecto alters. One last figure, a woman in an orange and red gown, watched from the top of the ramp, carrying her own environment pack.

The third ship landed in a copper halo of light.

The woman in orange and red nodded to someone behind her and stepped down into the crowd of twenty passengers. She left the bubble and began walking over the featureless pavement to the dome, skirting the Waunters' lander.

The third ship dropped a ramp, and immediately a tall, well-muscled man with bright red hair ran out of lock. He was wearing the uniform of a United Stars loytnant. His environment trailed after him with some difficulty as he ran to catch up with the woman. Breathless, he merged his bubble with hers, and they walked on together.

She paid him no attention. "Heiress, have you riddled what I've riddled?" he asked nervously.

"No riddles," she replied. "Plain as sky. I'm going to talk to the owner of this planet." She was well formed but not exceptionally beautiful, not to his eyes at that moment, with a hard-edged, masculine face, large eyes, arched brows indicating amusement, narrow jaw, and a sensuous mouth.

"I'm Elvox," the man said. "Julio Elvox, senior officer in charge of this landing."

"Good for you," the woman said.

"And I recognize you—you're Anna Nestor."

She nodded and arched one brow further, but still didn't look at him. They were approaching the dome.

"We don't know who he is," Elvox said, indicating the man, "or where he came from."

"Nor I. Shall we be careful and courteous?"

"What language does he speak?"

"I haven't any idea. I've got a translator tapas with me. I suppose you do, too. If he speaks any terrestrial language, we'll understand each other."

"You're sure he's human?" Elvox asked.

Anna Nestor gave him an amused, ironic smile, looking him over for the first time with a single up-and-down scan. She nodded to herself as if making a note. "You're only a loytnant," she said.

Elvox opened his mouth to reply but nothing came out.

The armored man watched without apparent interest as they approached him. "Careful," Elvox said. "He's wearing a sword and another knife." The armor was dented as if it had seen combat. The three environment bubbles merged, and Anna stopped a few paces in front of the man.

"Hello," she greeted him casually. He turned his forlorn face toward her and blinked, but said nothing. He looked very young, perhaps twenty-five—a few years younger than Nestor or Elvox. His skin was light brown and his eyes were black, with epicanthic folds, which marked him as a fairly pure Oriental. Racial purity wasn't unheard of on human worlds, but it was rare enough for remark. "How long have you been here?" He didn't answer. He seemed lost in some inner tragedy.

Anna looked his costume over.

"If that's an example of Perfidisian daily wear—assuming he's been held prisoner or under study—they must be pretty limited in their technology," Elvox said.

"It's beautiful," Anna said. "He's no native."

"Then they captured him," Elvox said.

Nestor looked at the loytnant as if he wasn't entirely useless. "When?"

"A long time ago. Perhaps a thousand years."

"Where did they catch him?"

"Earth." The full implications hit them both at once.

"If you're right, he's the oldest living human," Anna said. "He's valuable regardless of this planet. Say something to us," she addressed the armored man, pretending to drag words from her mouth with a hand.

"My name is Kawashita Yoshio," he said. His English was doubly accented, by time and by the fact that it wasn't his native tongue, which made him hard to understand. Nestor's translator tapas went to work and described his nationality and time period.

"He's Japanese," she read from the display. "Twentieth century."

"His clothes put me off five hundred years," Elvox said.

"Yes, Japanese," the man affirmed. "For you, my first name is Yoshio, my family name Kawashita."

"When were you born?" Elvox asked.

"Christian year one thousand nine hundred and eighteen."

"When were you captured?" Nestor asked.

"Christian year one thousand nine hundred and forty-two."

"Where?"

He shook his head and glanced between them, then looked down at his feet. "Forgive me, do not wish to offend, but I have many things of asking, perhaps will trade, point for point, neh?"

"Fair enough," Nestor said. "You'll have to understand the situation clearly before you make any commitments." She pressed her tapas and the device translated her speech into Japanese. "You're very important now. Many people will want to talk to you."

"Why?" he asked. "I have lost."

"By no means," Nestor said. "You're very lucky. You probably own this planet now."

"He may not know what that means," Elvox said.

"I am not ignorant," Yoshio said defensively. "I was let to read, many years."

"It means that for a time you were the only being on this world. That probably makes you the owner."

"Cannot own all this," Yoshio said. "They own it."

"They're gone." Nestor swept her arms around the empty prairies of concrete. "They took everything but you and your habitat."

"I am desolate," Yoshio said, hanging his head. "I have lost."

Nestor and Elvox looked at each other with obvious questions. The man was unable to fend for himself. Who would be his adviser and guardian?

"There's not much you can objectively do for Yoshio Kawashita," she said in a formal tone. "You represent a consolidation with concerns of its own."

"And you don't?" Elvox said, indignant.

"I didn't say that. I'm just excusing myself if I look after his interests before you do." She extended her bubble to encompass Yoshio's, picked up the portable environment pack the Waunters had left near him, and grasped his arm gently. "Come with me." He did as he was told. Their environments broke away from Elvox's with an audible pop. Elvox frowned, seeing his promotion march away after them.

 

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