Li-Jared acknowledged her words with a grunt. “I suppose there is anger and fear enough on both sides,” he said, pausing his drumming and lifting his fingers to inspect them, as though they were wayward extensions of himself. “But both our homelands are right now in peril. We have no choice. We really have no choice.”
Ruall floated by on her way to speak with Jeaves. “One way or another,” she intoned ominously, with a spin of her head, “there will be peace.”
Akura felt a chill. She gazed after the Tintangle, trying to assess Ruall the way she did others; but she could get no reading on the creature. Li-Jared had twitched at Ruall’s words—even he was uncomfortable with the strange being—but now he was gazing silently into space. Akura sensed that while he didn’t like it, he agreed with Ruall’s pronouncement.
Beside Akura, Sheeawn was stirring; the words he was translating had given him a lot to think about. We all have that, she thought silently.
***
Karellia grew steadily until it was a large globe in the viewspace. From time to time, the display changed to show different views. Sheeawn didn’t really understand them, something called different wavelengths. In one view, the Heart of Fire looked like a banked fire in the sky, impressive and beautiful, but not necessarily threatening. Ultraviolet, Copernicus said. In another, it looked much more frightening, like a leering monster shooting off emerald and crimson rays. X-ray, Copernicus said. In still another, strangely graceful webbed lines curled down from the clouds to dance with similar strands that arced up from the top of the world and looped around it to rejoin it at the bottom. Magnetic lines, said Copernicus.
Ruall conferred with the robot, then spun across the deck in front of them all and announced, “We will shortly be crossing the planetary protection zone. You may feel some disturbance. Please find a comfortable place to sit. We will engage motion restraints as soon as you are seated.”
That got Sheeawn’s attention. He tried to settle into a comfortable position against the bench seat cushions. Being scared made it hard to feel comfortable. That feeling wasn’t helped when suddenly he couldn’t move his arms, except in slow motion, as though he were deep in syrup. His emotions weren’t slowed, though, and he felt panic rushing into his chest. The Watcher must have sensed it, because she murmured, “Do not show fear. That is your job now: to not show fear. You must observe. All there is to see.”
Yes. Yes. Somehow that was enough to steady him, and instead of clamping his eyes shut, he opened them wide. They were about to see their adversary’s defenses at work. Watch and learn. Watch and learn.
***
Almost as if he had heard Sheeawn’s and Akura’s thoughts, Li-Jared spoke. “I am sorry, but we must now turn off the view, until we have passed through the protection zone. As long as a state of war exists, we cannot permit a view of the defense mechanism.”
Sheeawn muttered to himself in annoyance. Well, he still wasn’t going to show fear. If there was anything at all to see, he would see it.
Just before the viewspace went dark, he thought he glimpsed the image of Karellia go into soft focus and shimmer a little. Then the outside view was gone. He felt a little lurch. Was that the ship, or his stomach? He shut his eyes as a wave of queasiness passed over him. When he heard a little cry from Akura, he snapped his eyes open to see the planet swimming before them, but visibly closer.
What had just happened? Apparently they had passed through whatever it was they weren’t permitted to see, and they were close enough now that a landing on the demon world really seemed possible.
***
Li-Jared could make out some of the continental shapes, and the mist-shrouded oceans. He felt a rush of homesickness such as he had not felt even on their brief first visit. Home of the beautiful, perilous sky. If I had known way back then just how perilous . . .
They were already closer to the planet than on their earlier approach.
Ruall was floating nearby, speaking to him. “Li-Jared, could you work with Copernicus to ensure identification of visible landmarks—and to handle communications?”
“Of course—” Li-Jared began, as the restriction of movement on his body fell away, and he nearly fell forward off his seat. He staggered to his feet and strode forward to peer at the slowly scrolling landscape of Karellia. Land masses, oceans, clouds. How many hundreds of years? How much has it changed?
He burst out with loud clicks of laughter. He’d never actually seen his world from space until this mission. How was he supposed to be any more an expert than anyone else here?
***
Karellia Space Command started right in being annoying, just as before.
Li-Jared growled under his breath and repeated, “Yes, we are the same ship, and the same crew, who visited before. If your memory hasn’t failed you, you might recall that we said we were going to pay a visit to the world you are engaged in hostilities with. Do you remember that? Well, we did, and we now have on board representatives from that world, which by the way is called Uduon.”
He gave them a few moments to absorb that. When there was no meaningful response, he continued, “We have brought them not to fight, but to talk. To parlay. Because—well, let’s just say it’s in the interests of both planets. Now, I have promised these officials safe passage in our ship. I have promised them fair treatment when they visit Karellia. I have promised them a chance to explain their position to the highest officials of my homeworld. That’s you. That’s Karellia.”
“Excuse me, please,” said Sheeawn, leaning with one ear toward Akura to hear her question. “Can you explain why they are so unwelcoming to you, if you are from this planet, as you said?”
Li-Jared tapped his fingers on his lips before answering. “It’s because they’ve forgotten me,” he said finally. “Because I’ve been gone for such a long time that they don’t know me, and they think they have no reason to trust me.”
Bandicut stepped up beside him. “Is it time to remind them that you are a world-renowned scientist? How long would it take to look that up?”
Li-Jared made a noise deep in his throat. Bong. “I don’t know about world-renowned, but still. I suppose it depends on the state of historical records after hundreds of years.” He had told them to check records at the Holdhope Academy in Watskland for reference to a Li-Jared, Gamut Professor of mathematical physics, possibly listed as having vanished without a trace in the year Eight Hundred Thirty, Shadow Era, the eighth year of the Second Soldani reign in Moramia. They had sounded dubious, but promised to check.
A voice erupted from the long-range communicator. “We have received this question to ask you: Are you related to the Li-Jared known for discovering the principle of spectrum synchrony harmonics, two hundred seventy-six years ago? Are you descended from that Li-Jared?”
Li-Jared was momentarily speechless. That was indeed his work. But no one had been crediting him with the discovery of a “principle” while he was there, laboring in obscurity. He saw Bandicut staring at him in amazement. He coughed and answered, “You could say I am related, yes. That was precisely my work—in fact, much of it was on the physics of how the energy belts offered planetary protection from cosmic hazards.”
The voice sounded stunned. “You may be asked to demonstrate your knowledge in that area. In the meantime, you say you have been traveling in space? We have no record of anyone ever traveling beyond the radiation belt.”
“You may ask all you want about that, but it will have to wait until more urgent matters are settled. Suffice it to say I was given a lift by some off-worlders.” Li-Jared paused and thumped a fist against his forehead. Then he leaned forward. “Listen, it is our intent to descend shortly in a landing craft. Are you willing to provide an escort?”
It took Space Command half a minute to reply. When they did, it was to repeat their demand that The Long View present itself in low orbit for inspection. “Planetary security requires—”
“No, if you are asking permission to board us, the answer is st
ill no,” Li-Jared said brusquely. “An inspection will not be possible at this time. Perhaps later. I assure you we are not here to threaten your space forces, or Karellia itself—” at least if you listen to reason and don’t push us! Instead of voicing those words, he continued, “I repeat: We bring information about a major threat to Karellia—a far bigger threat than anything you have faced yet—and coming from a different direction.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “That is why I need to speak to authorities!”
“Yes, you said that before. We are consulting our superiors on that request. But it takes time—”
“Time is what we do not have,” Li-Jared snapped. “Please listen. We intend to land, with or without your help. But it would be helpful to both of us if you would provide safe landing coordinates close to the planetary leadership. We welcome, with great gladness, any escort you might care to provide. Our main ship and a portion of our crew will remain here in higher orbit. Please be mindful of their safety.” Don’t even think about attacking them. You will not like the results if you do.
The answer to that took even longer, but in the end, Space Command seemed to decide that they would take what they could get. And yes, they would provide an escort. A very close escort.
***
“This is nonsense,” Akura said. “You must take us with you. For our sakes, if not for your mission.”
Bwang. “What’s that? We’re trying to protect you, in case we encounter trouble,” Li-Jared said. “We’ll introduce you when we’re sure it’s safe.”
Akura laughed in short, sharp coughs. “You would assure our safety by leaving us here? Suppose they take you hostage. What would we do then?” Akura had laughed, but there was fear in Sheeawn’s voice as he translated.
Li-Jared winced. He had to concede that her objection had merit, and there was no mistaking her mood; she was angry. “I came with you on your promise to let me see those who have attacked our world,” she said. “You told me they are not what we imagine. But why now do you say it is too dangerous for me to go?”
“I have to introduce myself to them,” Li-Jared said. “Until they trust me, I cannot properly prepare them to meet you.” Even as he said that, he felt his resolve weakening.
Akura snorted and prodded Sheeawn, who said, “You said we need to see them as they are. Well, they need to see us. Let us do that, and not delay.”
Li-Jared glanced at Bandicut, who shrugged and said, “We did just insist that time is short, with Mindaru probably on the way.”
“So I did.” Li-Jared sighed and gestured to the Uduon. “Are you packed and ready?”
***
Aboard the lander, Li-Jared paid little attention to the details of their departure. His head was full of cascading emotions: fear that this could all go wrong; hope that it would not; sympathy for the Uduon, who were clearly apprehensive; dread at what his homeworld might have become. But most of all, joy. After all this time, he was going home! Was it still home? What would they think of a 300-year-old star traveler? Was it only three hundred years? Would they believe he was who he said he was?
He glanced nervously over his shoulder, where Jeaves was stowing their gear behind the two Uduon. Bandicut noticed and flashed him a grin that he was pretty sure was feigned. “You suppose we’ll find Bria in our luggage again this time?”
Li-Jared shivered, trying not to imagine the havoc the gokat could wreak on Karellia. He had forgotten to speak to Ruall about it. “Let’s hope not. Can we get this thing moving?”
Three minutes later the scout dropped from The Long View, began decelerating, and descended toward the cottony white clouds of Karellia.
Chapter 3
Making Sense
RINGS-AT-NEED gonged softly, leading the company of Julie, Ik, Antares, and Napoleon away from their meeting with the translator. The lizard-being who had helped escort them here was nowhere to be seen. Did that mean they were now trusted to follow Rings, and not run off? Julie wondered if Rings had been able to listen to their troubling conversation with the yaantel.
“Where are we going?” she asked, as they strode down a corridor with deep red and orange swirls on the walls.
“To a place where you may rest in privacy, before you report back to the Galactic Core team,” Rings said, burring softly. “I requested it, because I thought you had earned it.”
Privacy! Julie thought. Rest! Was this too good to be true? Was Rings starting to look out for them? “Thank you,” she said to the Tintangle.
A short walk and a ride down a drop-shaft brought them to a balcony overlooking a wooded park. They weren’t headed to the park, though. Rings led them around the arc of the balcony, and through an archway into what looked like a hyper-modern apartment complex, all curved glass, cut into horizontal sections like a sliced orange. If there were any other people about, Julie didn’t see them. A private lift requiring a code from Rings took them up a level, to the front of a clear-walled suite that curved away from them to the right. Rings touched a spot on the near end of the curve and a door paled open. “You will stay here.”
“Nice,” Julie said, surveying the space. They were standing in a living room fitted with sleek furniture obviously designed for bipeds of their approximate size. A curved staircase led up to a series of glass-walled rooms half a level higher. “But, um, privacy?”
“It’s all see-through,” Antares said, echoing Julie’s thought.
“Oh—you can change the wavelengths!” Rings said. He extended a paddle hand toward the glass front wall. “Just stroke the glass like so . . .” and his flat hand slid down the wall. The glass turned smokily translucent, cutting off a view of the outside. “You can do the same with your sleeping rooms upstairs.”
“Hrah,” Ik remarked, strolling the length of the room. “Is there food?”
Rings showed them how to work the concealed kitchenette food dispensers, and how to launder their clothes—no need to take them off—and how to call if they needed him. Then he spun a few times and vanished.
Julie sighed. “I’m going to go freshen up. Maybe Rings was hinting at something when he told us how to launder our clothes. Meet you back here for a bite?” She chose the rightmost room on the upper level, which turned out to be smaller inside than she’d expected. She stepped fully clothed into the personal freshener chamber, which was barely the size of a shower stall back on Triton. Before the mist enveloped her, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She shuddered. Her hair was a breathtaking mess; she looked as though she’d just straggled in from a wilderness ordeal. The image disappeared in a cloud of mist, which caressed her face and body, making her feel refreshed in a matter of seconds. When she stepped out, three minutes later, she felt clean for the first time in a billion years. As promised, her blouse and slacks—still on her body—were fresh and pressed. And her hair—well, she still needed a trim, but her hair was clean and looked brushed. How had that happened?
She met Ik and Antares back downstairs. The kitchen produced bread and cheese, seemingly the universal easy dinner on Shipworld, and passable red wine. Hungry, they ate without talking much; afterward, Ik excused himself. “I must meditate or I will not function well. I guess that you, my friends, have things to talk about.”
Don’t we just, Julie thought, as Ik strode up the stairs and disappeared into the sleeping room on the left. The walls of his room turned opaque. Napoleon, meanwhile, had found a datanet panel at the end of the room and settled in to charge. Julie found herself seated in silence across the table from Antares. The alien woman’s gaze, with those black and gold eyes, was unnervingly direct. Her hair looked good, too—spectacular, actually, a glorious auburn mane cascading down the back of her neck. Julie offered her a refill of wine, which Antares graciously accepted. As she sipped the wine, the Thespi woman appeared to be sizing up her human companion. “You have strong feelings concerning me, Julie Stone. I can sense them, and I wish I could put you at ease. You are uncertain what to think of me, and I guess I understand why.”
Julie cleared her throat. “Well, um—am I right about you and John?”
Antares made a low sound in the back of her throat, and at the same time, Julie experienced a feeling of . . . what? Was Antares trying to create a wordless connection? Are you telepathic? Julie wondered again. She felt a complex of emotions, not all hers, brushing against her: regret and sympathy and maybe a little defensiveness and jealousy, and probably others she couldn’t identify. Not telepathic, exactly. Empathic?
Antares spoke finally. “I do not know exactly what you think. But if you are wondering if John and I have been intimate friends . . .”
Julie nodded slowly.
“Then, yes. You are right.” As she said those words, her golden eyes closed, and Julie felt another surge of emotional contact. Antares’ face tightened momentarily, and when she opened her eyes again, Julie felt an almost electric connection. She tried to shiver it off. When she couldn’t, she said stiffly, “Could you please not do that?” Antares looked puzzled. “That thing you’re doing?” Julie said, pressing her fingertips to her temples to mime what she was feeling.
“Oh. I am sorry,” Antares said. Julie felt a sudden wave of regret, as Antares continued, “I am truly sorry. I do not wish to intrude. But it is, uhhl, what I was born to do, you see.”
Julie’s hands twitched, and she clasped them together to still them. “What? I don’t see, no. What do you mean?”
Antares let her breath out with a sigh, and suddenly seemed more vulnerable. “My destiny from birth was to be a third. It’s a little hard to explain. Would you mind if I just showed you?”
“Huh? I suppose not. What do you—?”
Antares made a hushing sound. “May I touch your forearms? I will not harm you, I promise.”
With a reflexive shiver, Julie started to pull her elbows back. Then she thought, Don’t be such a coward. If she’s a friend of John’s—if he trusts her—are you really afraid of her? Without speaking, but feeling foolish, she slid her forearms forward on the table surface again, to where Antares could reach. No, not afraid of her. Afraid of myself—afraid of what she’s going to show me about myself. Julie was suddenly ashamed, not just of her fear of what Antares was about to do, but of her jealousy toward the woman, John’s friend. Intimate friend. It wasn’t as if she, Julie, had a lifetime, all-galaxy claim on John. He had literally been half a galaxy away.
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