by Glen Cook
Marika replied by raising both paws, then indicated Bagnel. Bagnel put his communicator aside, produced pen and paper.
“How well have you learned their language?” Marika asked. Not well at all, she knew, but she had to say something to vent some of her nervousness.
“Not well. I don’t know if it’s the right one. What I’m hearing spoken here doesn’t sound like what we’ve been hearing aboard the starship.”
Marika fought to keep her ears from twitching, though she was sure the aliens could not read her body language.
The alien senior examined what Bagnel printed out so laboriously, frowned, summoned another alien. They chattered briskly. Then the second alien wrote something upon paper he carried. Bagnel studied it for a long time.
“Problems, Marika.”
“What?”
“I am almost convinced that these creatures do not use this language. Or if they do, I am using it entirely wrong. But if I understand what this note says, then our starship belongs to their enemies.”
“Trouble?”
He shrugged.
“Make it clear that we are enemies of no one. In fact, try to get across the notion that we do not quite understand what an enemy is. Also tell them that we never saw those starship folk alive.”
“That is a lot to get across at a reading-primer level.”
“You’re a genius.”
“I wish I had your faith in me.”
“You can do it.”
“I’ll try. That’s all I can promise.”
“And tell them that all that deadly hardware makes me nervous. Tell them who I am.”
“You expect them to understand or care?”
“No. But if you do it right they might be impressed.”
“You expect too much of me.” He resumed writing in curiously blocklike letters, passing small sheets of paper after each few sentences. “I’m telling them who I am too.”
“Of course.”
It was slow work. The strange-colored sun of that world moved. It, too, was slow, as the world moved more slowly than that which had given Marika birth. Not, she reflected, that she was much familiar with sunrises and sunsets anymore. How many of the homeworld’s sunrises had she seen in the last twenty years?
The bath began to relax. Several stepped down from the darkship and began prowling. Marika reached with the touch. Remain alert. Do not allow any of these creatures to place themselves between you and the darkship.
Their response did not go unnoticed. Bagnel said, “They’re full of questions about us. Especially about how we can take a ship through the void while exposed to the breath of the All.”
“We have questions about them too,” Marika said. “Evade. Ask them about them. There’s something not right here.”
“I am. I’m not stupid, Marika. But neither are they. I am certain they intend to be evasive too.”
Marika grunted. She was growing more unsettled by the minute. Rest! she sent to the bath. We may need to get out of here at any moment. There was a wrongness here that had little to do with these creatures’ alienness.
She shrugged. Maybe she was imagining it. She climbed aboard the darkship while Bagnel struggled on, rummaged through a locker, and found the photographic equipment he had brought. She loaded a camera and began photographing the alien beings.
They became very agitated.
“Bagnel, what’s the matter with them?” Some had begun shouting and shaking weapons.
“I’m trying to find out. Stop bothering me.” After a minute he said, “They don’t want you taking photographs.”
“Why not? They’ve been photographing us.”
Bagnel exchanged notes rapidly. It did seem to be getting easier for him. “They say this is a secret installation. They want no photographs to leave the system.”
“Oh.” Marika settled on the arm of the darkship and considered the implications for a moment. “Bagnel, what do you think of them?”
“I’m not sure. I have the feeling they’re hiding more than we are. I have a growing feeling that they may be more trouble than they’re worth. I am trying to be neutral but I find myself beginning to dislike them.”
“Yes. There’s something in the air here. An aura that reminds me of those places where rogues hide. Did you ever get down into one of those underground… No. Of course not. We may have made a mistake, coming here without looking at them more closely first. But keep talking. See what comes of it.”
“Stall?”
“Some. But learn whatever you can. I want time to rest the bath.” She touched the silth again, ordered them to rest. They boarded the darkship, stretched out near their stations, performed rituals of relaxation, went to sleep. Marika pushed herself into a half sleep, leaving everything in Bagnel’s paws.
The sun of that world eventually set. The aliens kept the landing site brightly illuminated. Some of the curious drifted away and were replaced by others. Always there were weapons in evidence. Marika went past half sleep into little naps several times. Bagnel continued valiantly, facing the same aliens who had come to the fore at the beginning. The speed of communication continued to improve.
Soon after the morning sun rose Marika asked, “Have we learned anything significant?”
“They’re rogues of a sort. They have tried again and again to explain, but the situation is beyond my comprehension. It’s something like what we would call bloodfeud, only every member of their society is a participant. Without choice. There are cognates with the Serke situation, in that one group is trying to take territory from another, but the motives make no sense.”
“I did not expect to understand them that way. What else?”
“I have established that their society includes nothing like sisterhoods or brethren, or even our bond working castes. Their thinking vaguely resembles that of the brethren who joined the Serke in exile. It may have affected the thinking of those rogues back when they first entered the derelict.”
“We suspected that.”
“They have no consciousness of the All, the touch, nor any silth skills, except as the contrivance of fantasy. Their words. I have betrayed nothing by mentioning such skills because they refuse to believe they can exist. They call such skills superstition and directly accuse me of lying. They believe, and fear, that we are greatly advanced beyond them technically.”
“What is their interest in the ship we found?”
“It belonged to their enemies. They suspect it was searching for their hiding places. They aren’t interested, really. It vanished long ago by their standards. They’re very interested in us, though. They have never met another dark-faring race. I suspect they would like to find a way to manipulate us into helping them in their struggle.”
“No doubt. Just as the Serke would have enlisted them. But I have no interest in that. Especially if they’re rogues. We’re going to leave, Bagnel. I made a mistake. These are not creatures with whom I care to be associated. Our search will have to lead elsewhere. Did they tell you much about their enemies?”
“They’re very reticent on the subject.”
“That is understandable.” She extended her touch, wakening those bath who remained asleep. She sent the strongest to their stations. The senior passed the bowl. Wearily, Bagnel continued his exchange. Marika said, “You will make certain you are soundly strapped down. You are exhausted and I may be forced into violent maneuvering.”
“They want to know what we are doing, Marika.”
“Express our regrets. Tell them we have decided that we made a mistake in pursuing this contact. Tell them we do not wish to become embroiled in the affairs of an embattled race. Tell them we are going home. Then get aboard and strap down.” She passed the bowl to him, let him sip, then consumed what remained and took her station at the tip of the dagger. Strap securely, she sent to the bath.
Bagnel concluded his final note, passed it over, and climbed to his place at the axis. The aliens did not understand until Marika lifted the darkship.
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They began shouting and running around and making threatening gestures.
Marika ignored them.
There were a few wild shots from handheld beamer weapons. They came nowhere near.
Marika took the darkship up fast.
She could not climb nearly as swiftly as the alien aircraft. A flight overtook her before she reached fifty thousand feet. She was in no mood to play. She sent ghosts to still their engines. They fell toward the surface. Their pilots eventually left the craft to float toward the ground on parachutes.
Rockets leaped up. Marika was prepared for them. She stopped them long before they neared her. After a dozen tries the aliens stopped sending them.
Above, voidships moved to intercept her. She did not want to make enemies needlessly, but they seemed determined to stop her, and that she would not permit.
She reached out to the fringe of the system and summoned the great black. It came to her struggling, wriggling, protesting, never having encountered silth before. She held it in abeyance, not loosing it till the starships fired upon her.
She silenced three ships in fifteen seconds, then shifted her course. Dimly, she sensed Bagnel laboring over his communicator, sending crude messages, trying to assure the aliens that the meth meant them no harm, that they wanted nothing but to return home and forget the whole thing.
The strike of the great black paralyzed the aliens’ decision makers long enough for Marika to reach orbital altitude and gather ghosts for the Up-and-Over. Bagnel was apologizing for their having defended themselves when she climbed into it.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I
Trouble did not end with escape from the alien world.
The homeward journey became an epic of endurance and determination, and there were moments when even Marika doubted she would have strength enough to bring the darkship safely to the starship.
She succeeded—only to learn that her absence had been noted and someone had tried to take advantage.
She was barely able to stand when she came through the airlock, to be greeted by Grauel and Barlog, who had remained in a frenzy days after the event. They stumbled over each other explaining. “Someone tried to sneak in on us. We did not know what was happening till the killing started. We fired back, but if we had not gotten help from silth who were here, visiting… We managed to destroy them. Barely. At least fifty died here. We have not accounted for everyone yet.”
“You did well,” Marika said, leaning against a passageway wall. “But did you have to keep shooting till there wasn’t a fragment of darkship left with identifiable witch signs?” She had spied the debris during her approach and had wondered about it.
The huntresses were not overcome with remorse. Grauel said, “We know who it was. We saw their witch signs. They were Serke.”
“Serke? You must be mistaken. Or it was someone who had assumed the guise of Serke? There aren’t any Serke…”
“Tell that to the dead brethren, silth, and voctors. They were Serke, Marika.”
“Or masquerading as Serke,” Marika insisted. But who would?
“It is a ruse that might make sense,” Grauel admitted, sounding as if she believed nothing of the sort. “But even pretending to be Serke, what other sisterhood would unleash such indiscriminate slaughter? Any other order would want the starship for what it contained, and that has to include the minds of those who have been unearthing its secrets. Not so?”
“I suppose. I guess I just don’t want that old haunt lifting its head again.”
How many Serke remained unaccounted for? Starstalker and one, possibly two darkships. But it had been years. Even she had forgotten them. They all had to be old, possibly on the edge of becoming harmless. But if the attackers had come from the dozen or so surviving Serke silth, then they must have some contacts inside the meth civilization. Else how had they known she was away?
“I should return to the homeworld,” Marika mused. “What I learned among and about the aliens is important enough to be reported directly. And I really should see what is happening with the rogues. I did not catch Kublin. He must be up to something. But I dare not go, do I? This could happen again.”
Bagnel had been muttering with one of his associates. Scarcely able to contain his grief, he said, “I fear we have flown our last probe among alien stars, Marika. I have lost thirty of my best meth. It might not have happened had I remained here. I will not go out again. Not while meth remain meth and silth remain silth. It is… What do you silth call ritual suicide? Kalerhag? It is an invitation to kalerhag. Exposing your back to the knife. I am too old to run through the snow with the grauken baying at my heels.”
Marika nodded curtly. She drew herself together, willing her weariness away, and stalked off. She went into her quarters and isolated herself there, and opened to the All, and stayed opened longer than ever she had before. Despite her exhaustion, when she returned into herself she went looking for Grauel and Barlog.
“I have a mission for you two,” she announced. “A tough one. Feel free to refuse it if you like.”
They eyed her expectantly, without eagerness.
“I want you to accompany Bagnel to the homeworld. I want you to watch over him as you would me while he reports on our visit to the aliens and recruits brethren to replace those lost in this attack. I also want you to assess the situation there. Especially as regards the warlock.”
Barlog remained as still as stone, not a ghost of expression touching her face. Grauel exposed her teeth slightly.
They were not happy.
“I know no one else I can trust. And I dare not send him unprotected.”
“I see,” Grauel said.
And Barlog said, “As you command, Marika.”
“I command nothing. I ask. You can refuse if you wish.”
“Can we? How? We are your voctors. We must go if that is what you want.”
“I could wish for more enthusiasm and understanding, but I’ll take what I can get. I’ll assemble a crew and talk to Bagnel. I am certain he will be as thrilled as you are. But you must go soon. Quickness may be essential.”
She spent a long time with Bagnel, wobbly with weariness, first convincing him—he was more stubborn than Grauel and Barlog—then detailing what she wanted said and what she wanted investigated.
“You will do fine,” she said to his latest protest of ineptitude.
“Fine or not, I do not want to go. I have work to do here. Have you seen what they did to my meth?”
“I know, Bagnel. I know. And I think you will be better for recruiting replacements personally and bringing them out to undo what has been done. You’ve already agreed to go. Stop trying to change my mind.”
“All right. All right. Will you get some rest now? Before they find you collapsed in a passageway somewhere?”
“Soon. Soon. I have one more thing to do.”
She assembled the bath with whom she had ventured to the alien world. They were little more rested than she, though they had been sleeping. She told them what she needed, and told the strongest of the bath she now had her own darkship and a mission to fly it on as soon as she was ready.
All of the bath volunteered to accompany her, though a passage with a Mistress of the Ship who was not completely tested was risky. They all wanted to see the homeworld again. For several it had been years.
They bickered about who had the most right.
“All of you go,” Marika said. “What’s the difference? There are six of you and four will have to go to make a crew. What could I do with the two who are left?”
That settled, and everything she could do anything about done, she was able to rest at last.
It was a long time before she came out of her quarters again.
II
Marika became intolerable to those who remained aboard the starship and to those who came to visit, though visitors were not common. Few silth believed the attack had been delivered by the Serke who had survived Marika’s capture of the derelict.
The dark-faring Communities all eyed each other suspiciously and poked around in the shadows seeking those with guilty knowledge.
Bagnel did not return, and still did not return. She became more difficult after he became overdue, and the longer overdue he was, the more intolerable was she. More than once she caught herself on the brink of taking a darkship out alone, in a mad effort at limping through the homeward passage by herself. But that was impossible even for one of her strength.
She was strong enough to make a short passage, one star to another, on her own. But she would need long periods of rest between passages, and there were no resting places at many of the homeward milestars. Moreover, rests would consume too much time. Bagnel, Grauel, and Barlog, even with a weak Mistress, could make the journey several times over while she limped along.
A daring silth came to her quarters while she slept and wakened her. Marika did not so much as growl. Something dire had to be afoot if the female dared this. “What is it?”
“Darkship just came out of the Up-and-Over, mistress. Your darkship. It is in trouble.”
Marika leaped up. “Send out…”
“Every darkship available is headed that way, mistress. We expect to save them, but it will be close. They came through with only two bath.”
Marika settled her nerves carefully, turning to old rituals seldom used since her novitiate. She reached with the touch, lightly, for it would not do to rattle a novice Mistress in trouble.
She found the darkship drifting inward, unstable in flight, damaged. Bagnel was not aboard. Neither was Grauel. Three bath were indeed missing. Barlog was there, at the axis, lying down, apparently injured. The darkships rushing to help had skipped through the Up-and-Over and were closing in. Marika remained close till all four meth had been transferred to safety aboard other darkships.
Her ship. Her precious oddball wooden dark-faring ship. It had been crippled. The signs were unmistakable. Someone had attacked it.
She began stalking the passageways of the alien starship, boots hammering angrily. This was it. This was the end of all patience. She would not tolerate any more. Those responsible for this would pay. “I am the successor to Bestrei. Would they have dared this with her? No.” She would make them remember. That fact would become painfully apparent to those responsible. The silth would change if she had to send half the sisterhoods into the dark…. Rage sapped by vigorous exercise began to fade into worry. Where was Bagnel? What had become of Grauel?
