To Sleep in a Sea of Stars

by Christopher Paolini

  “Clever trick.”

  “Unfortunately,” said Nielsen, “it’s a single-use device. At least until we can get into dock and have a new one installed.”

  “So what’s the name we’re flying under now?” Kira asked.

  “The Finger Pig,” said Falconi.

  “You really like pigs, don’t you?”

  “They’re smart animals. Speaking of which … Gregorovich, where are the pets?”

  “They are again blocks of furry ice, O Captain. The UMC decided to return them to cryo rather than deal with the hassle of feeding and cleaning up.”

  “How considerate of them.”

  The Wallfish jolted as it disconnected from the docking ring, and then the maneuver alert sounded seconds before the RCS thrusters kicked in and shoved them away from the station.

  “We’re going to give Orsted an extra dose of radiation today,” said Falconi, “but I think they earned it.”

  “With interest,” said Sparrow as she sailed past Itari by the doorway. She snared a seat of her own. The Jelly braced itself against the floor, preparing for the upcoming burn.

  Vishal’s face appeared in the holo-display. “We’re good to go in sickbay, Captain. Hwa-jung is here as well.”

  “Roger that. Gregorovich, get us the hell out of here!”

  “Yes, Captain. Proceeding to ‘get us the hell out of here.’”

  With a rising roar, the Wallfish’s main rocket slammed Kira back into her seat as they hurtled away from Orsted Station. The thrust forced a laugh from her, though the laugh was lost in the sea of sound. They’d actually made it. The realization seemed almost absurd. Now maybe they could keep the Seventh Fleet from destroying any chance of peace.

  A bell-like tone sounded, and her elation curdled.

  With an effort, she craned her neck to see the display, wishing that she still had her contacts. The holo switched to a view of Saturn as a large cloud of red dots appeared close to the gas giant.

  Fourteen more nightmares had just dropped out of FTL.

  CHAPTER IV

  NECESSITY II

  1.

  Itari moved closer to the display, tentacles braced against the deck. “Kira,” said Falconi in a warning tone.

  “It’s okay,” she said, hoping she was right.

  Nielsen zoomed out in the holo, and for the first time, Kira could see what was happening throughout Sol. In addition to the nightmares by Orsted, and the fourteen by Saturn, dozens of other nightmares had entered the system. Some were on a hard burn toward Mars. Others were out by Neptune, harassing the planet’s defense network. Still more were heading toward Earth and Venus.

  A bright line flashed across the holo, from a satellite near Jupiter over to one of the nightmares’ vessels. The ship vanished in a flare of light. The bright line stabbed outward again and again, and each time, another of the intruders exploded.

  “What’s that?” Kira asked.

  “I’m … not sure,” said Sparrow, frowning as she studied her own overlays.

  Gregorovich chuckled. “I can explain. Yes, I can. The League has built a solar laser. Energy farms by Mercury collect sunlight and then beam it to receivers throughout the system. Most of the time the energy is just used for power production. But in the event of an exogenic intrusion, well, you can see for yourself. Pump the energy through a giant-ass laser, and you have yourself a proper death ray. Yes you do.”

  “Clever,” said Falconi.

  Sparrow grinned. “Yeah. Having the local receivers cuts down on the light lag. Not bad.”

  “Is anyone following us?” Kira asked.

  “Not yet, my pretties,” said Gregorovich. “Our ersatz credentials continue to hold firm.”

  “So what the hell is a Finger Pig?” said Kira.

  “Thank you!” said Nielsen, with an exasperated tone. She gestured at Falconi. “See?”

  The corner of his mouth quirked. “It’s a finger that’s a pig.”

  “Or a pig that’s a finger,” said Sparrow.

  In the holo, Vishal raised his eyebrows. “My understanding is that it’s slang for a pork hot dog.” Then his face vanished as he signed off.

  “You’re saying we’re in a flying hot dog then?” said Kira.

  Falconi chuckled with false humor. “Maybe.”

  A snort came from Sparrow. “That’s not how we used the phrase in the Marines.”

  “What did you use it for?” Kira asked.

  “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”

  “Enough chitchat,” said Falconi. He twisted in his chair to look at Kira. “There’s more going on than we know, isn’t there? That’s why you were so insistent we rescue the Jelly.”

  Kira tensed. Escaping had been easy compared with what she had to do now. “Did the UMC tell you what they decided to do?”

  “Nope.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not a damn clue.”

  “… Okay.” Kira took a moment to prepare, but before she could open her mouth, an incongruously cheery chirp sounded from the display.

  Gregorovich said, “Orsted Station is broadcasting a message on all channels. It’s Colonel Stahl. I think it’s meant for you, O Spiky One.”

  “Play it for us,” said Falconi. “Can’t hurt to hear what he has to say.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as that,” Sparrow mumbled.

  An image of Stahl replaced the holo of the system. The colonel appeared harried, out of breath, and there was a bloody scrape on his left cheekbone.

  “Ms. Navárez,” he said. “If you can hear this, I’m imploring you to turn back. The xeno is too important to the League. You are too important. I don’t know what you think you’re going to do, but I promise it won’t help. If anything, you’re going to make the situation worse. If you get yourself killed, if our enemies get ahold of the xeno, it could be the death of all of us. You don’t want that on your conscience, Navárez. You really don’t. I know the situation isn’t what you wanted, but please—for the survival of our species—turn back. I promise you and the crew of the Wallfish won’t face any additional charges. You have my word.”

  Then the transmission ended, and the holo returned to a view of the system.

  Kira could feel the weight of everyone’s gazes upon her, even Itari with its many small, button-like eyes strung round its carapace.

  “Well?” said Falconi. “It’s your call. We’re not going back, but if you want, I’ll cut the engine long enough for you to jump out the airlock without getting fried. I’m sure the UMC would be happy to pick you up.”

  “No,” said Kira. “We keep going.” Then she told them, including Itari, about the Premier’s decision to betray the Knot of Minds and attack the gathering Jelly fleet.

  Sparrow made a sound of disgust. “That’s what I hated the most about the service. Damn politics.”

  The Jelly’s skin roiled with greens and purples. Its tentacles twisted with seeming distress. [[Itari here: If a Knot cannot be formed between your kind and ours, the Corrupted will overswim us all.]]

  After Kira translated, Falconi said, “What do you have in mind?”

  She looked at Itari. “I was hoping Itari might be able to send a warning to the Knot of Minds before the UMC’s hunter-seekers get there.”

  She repeated the thought for the Jelly and then said, [[Kira here: Can you use our transmitter to warn the Knot of Minds?]]

  [[Itari here: No. Your farscent is not fast enough. It would not reach the meeting point in time to save the Knot of Minds.… The Seventh Shoal your conclave has sent cannot kill the great Ctein of their own. They need our help, and they need us to take the leadership and to guide the Arms in the proper direction. Without the Knot of Minds, your shoal will be doomed, as will we all.]]

  A sense of despair threatened to unbalance Kira as she felt her plans unraveling. Surely there had to be a way! [[Kira here: If we swam after the Seventh Shoal, could we get close enough to the meeting place that we could warn the Knot of Minds in time?]]
/>
  A flush of crimson ran the length of the Jelly’s limbs, and nearscent of confirmation suffused the air. [[Itari here: Yes.]]

  That wouldn’t solve the larger problems between the Jellies and the League. But those problems were far too large for anyone on the Wallfish to fix.

  Kira did her best to keep emotion out of her voice as she translated for Falconi and the others.

  In a far more subdued tone than normal, Sparrow said, “You’re talking about flying right into enemy territory. Aish. If the other Jellies caught us, or the nightmares…”

  “I know.”

  “Stahl wasn’t wrong,” said Nielsen. “We can’t afford to let the xeno fall into the wrong hands. I’m sorry, Kira, but it’s true.”

  “We also can’t afford to stand around and do nothing.”

  Sparrow rubbed her face. “We’re already criminals in the eyes of the League, but this is treason. Aiding and abetting the enemy will still earn you the death penalty in damn near every territory.”

  Falconi leaned forward and tabbed the intercom. “Hwa-jung, Vishal, come up to Control as soon as you can.”

  “Yessir.”

  “Be there directly, Captain, yes, yes.”

  Anguish twisted in Kira’s gut. The Soft Blade was the problem. It had always been the problem, even going back into the distant past. Because of the Soft Blade, millions—if not billions—had died, humans and Jellies both. Because of the Soft Blade, the nightmares threatened to spread their sickness throughout the galaxy, overrunning every other form of life.

  Although that wasn’t entirely true. The xeno wasn’t the only one to blame for the nightmares. She had played a role in the creation of the devouring Maw. It had been her fear, her ill-judged violence that had loosed so much pain upon the stars.

  Kira groaned and covered her face with her hands and dug her fingers into her scalp until it hurt nearly as badly as her insides. The xeno seemed confused; she could feel it hardening and thickening around her, as if preparing for an attack.

  If only she could rid herself of the Soft Blade, things would be easier. They would have many more options then. The Knot of Minds had safeguarded the xeno for centuries; it could safeguard it again.

  Another groan clawed its way out of Kira’s throat. Absent the Soft Blade, Alan would still be alive, and so many others besides. All she wanted—all she had wanted since the Soft Blade had first infested her—was to be free. Free!

  She slapped the release on her harness, shoved herself out of the chair, and stood. In 2.5 g’s, she stood. The suit helped hold her upright, but her arms felt like leaden weights, and her knees and the balls of her feet began to throb.

  She didn’t care.

  “Kira—” Nielsen started to say.

  Kira screamed. She screamed as she had when she’d first realized Alan was dead. She screamed, and she spread her arms and used everything she had learned while training with the Soft Blade—every ounce of hard-fought mastery gained during the long, dark months spent in FTL—to shove the xeno away from herself. And she poured all of her anger and sorrow and frustration into that single, primal desire.

  The xeno sprang outward. Spikes and ridged membranes extended in every direction, vibrating in response to her mental assault. But only to a degree. She constrained it with her mind, leashed it so the xeno couldn’t threaten the others.

  Even so, it was a risk.

  In the hollows between the protrusions, she could feel the suit thin and retract, and then air struck her exposed skin—air cold and dry and shocking in its intimacy. Her flesh prickled as the bare patches spread, islands of pale nakedness amid the jagged darkness.

  By the doorway, Itari recoiled, holding up its tentacles, as if to shield its carapace.

  Kira pushed and pushed, forcing the xeno to withdraw until only a few tendon-like strips connected her to it. A handful of fibers and nothing more. She concentrated on them, and she tried to will them to part. She raged at them to part. She urged them to part. She commanded them to part.

  The tendons squirmed before her eyes, but they refused to give. And in her mind, she could feel the Soft Blade resisting. It had retreated and retreated, but no more. Any farther, and they would be separated, and that, apparently, it would not accept.

  Enraged, Kira bore down even harder. Her vision flickered and went dark around the edges from the effort, and for a moment, she thought she would pass out. She remained standing, though, and still the Soft Blade defied her. From it, she had strange thoughts, obscure and barely understandable, worming their way from the depths of her mind into the upper regions of her consciousness. Thoughts such as: The uncleft making was not to be wrongwise cast. And: The time was off-balance. The manystuff graspers still hungered, and no cradle was close. For now, the making had to hold.

  The words may have been odd, but the gist of them was clear enough.

  Kira howled and threw herself against the Soft Blade with every bit of remaining strength, holding nothing back. One last attempt to drive it away. One last chance to free herself and regain something of what she had lost.

  But the Soft Blade held firm, and if it empathized with her, if it felt any sympathy for her plight or regret for its opposition, she could not tell. From it came only a sense of resolute purpose, and a sense of satisfaction that the making would stand true.

  And for the first time since she’d realized Alan was dead, Kira gave up. The universe was full of things she couldn’t control, and this, it seemed, was one of them.

  With a choked cry, she stopped fighting and collapsed to her hands and knees. Soft as falling sand, the xeno flowed back over her, and the coldness of the air disappeared everywhere but on her face. She could still feel the floor, still feel the currents of the ship’s atmosphere tickling the small of her back, but only filtered through the artificial skin of the Soft Blade. And it blanked any discomfort, removed the bite of the cold and the sharpness of the ridges beneath her knees, so that all was warm and comfortable.

  Kira squeezed her eyes shut, feeling tears leak out the corners, and her breath hitched.

  “Father above,” said Vishal from by the doorway. He staggered over and put an arm around her. “Ms. Kira, are you alright?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, forcing the words out past the lump in her throat. She’d lost. She’d tried her utmost, and it hadn’t been enough. And now all she had left was bare necessity. That was the phrase Inarë had used, and it fit. Oh how it fit, like shackles of black wire wound round and round.…

  “You sure?” said Falconi.

  She nodded without looking, and tears fell on the backs of her hands. Not cold. Not warm. Merely wet. “Yeah.” She took a shuddery breath. “I’m sure.”

  2.

  As Kira got back to her feet and returned to her chair, Hwa-jung came stomping through the doorway. The high thrust didn’t seem to impede her in the slightest. Indeed, the machine boss moved with a natural ease, even though Kira knew their burn was stronger than the gravity back on Shin-Zar.

  “I take it we’re stuck with the xeno,” said Falconi.

  Kira took a moment to answer; she was busy reassuring Itari that she was okay. Then: “You would be right.”

  “Excuse me, Captain,” said Vishal. “But what is the matter of concern? We must decide where to go, yes?”

  “Yes,” said Falconi in a decidedly grim tone. For the benefit of the doctor and Hwa-jung, he outlined the situation with a few terse sentences and then said, “What I want to know is whether the Wallfish is up for another long haul.”

  “Captain—” Nielsen started to say.

  He cut her off with a sharp gesture. “I’m just trying to get a sense of our options.” He nodded at Hwa-jung. “Well?”

  The machine boss sucked on her lower lip for a moment. “Ah, the lines need to be flushed, the fusion drive and the Markov Drive both need to be checked.… Water, air, and food are still mostly full, but I would restock if we were going out for a long time. Hmm.” She bit at her lip a
gain.

  “Could we do it?” Falconi asked. “Three months’ travel in FTL, round trip. Assume three weeks out of cryo, just to be on the safe side.”

  Hwa-jung dipped her head. “We could do it, but I would not recommend it.”

  A bark of laugh escaped Falconi. “Most of what we’ve done over the past year falls under the category of ‘I wouldn’t recommend it.’” He looked back at Kira. “The question is, should we?”

  “There’s no profit in it,” said Sparrow, leaning forward, elbows on her knees.

  “No,” Falconi admitted. “There isn’t.”

  Nielsen said, “There’s a good chance we’d get killed. And if not killed—”

  “—executed for treason,” said Falconi. He picked at a patch on his trousers. “Yeah, that’s my read on it too.”

  “What would you do instead?” Kira asked, quiet. She could feel the delicacy of the moment. If she pushed too hard, she would lose them.

  At first, no one answered. Then Nielsen said, “We could take Trig to a proper medical facility, somewhere outside the League.”

  “But your family is still here in Sol, isn’t it?” said Kira. The first officer’s silence was answer enough. “And yours too, right, Vishal?”

  “Yes,” said the doctor.

  Kira let her gaze roam across the others’ faces. “We all have people we care about. And none of them are safe. We can’t just go and hide.… We can’t.”

  Hwa-jung murmured in agreement, and Falconi looked down at his clasped hands.

  “Beware the temptation of false hope,” whispered Gregorovich. “Resist and seek your validation elsewhere.”

  “Hush,” said Nielsen.

  Falconi lifted his chin toward the ceiling and scratched the underside of his jaw. The sound of nails rasping against stubble was surprisingly loud. “Ask Itari this for me: If we warn the Knot of Minds, would there still be a chance of peace between Jellies and humans?”

  Kira repeated the question, and the Jelly said, [[Itari here: Yes. But if the Knot is cut, then the cruel and mighty Ctein will reign over us until the end of this ripple, to the detriment of all.]]