To Sleep in a Sea of Stars

by Christopher Paolini

  [[Lphet here: No, Idealis. We need your help because we cannot do it ourselves. After the events of the Sundering, and after Nmarhl’s failed uprising, the wise and clever Ctein saw to it that all Wranaui, even we the Tfeir, were altered so that we will not and could not harm our great Ctein.]]

  [[Kira here: Do you mean you are physically incapable of hurting Ctein?]]

  [[Lphet here: That is exactly the problem, Idealis. If we try, a sickness stops us from moving. Even just thinking about causing harm to the huge and mighty Ctein causes us immense distress.]]

  A deep frown pinched Kira’s brow. So the Jellies had been genetically modified to be slaves? The thought filled her with disgust. To be bound by one’s own genes to bow and scrape was abhorrent. The intentions of the Knot of Minds were making more sense now, but she wasn’t liking the shape of them.

  “You need a human ship,” she said, looking at Tschetter.

  The major’s expression softened slightly. “And a human to pull the trigger, literally or metaphorically, at some point along the process.”

  Fear uncoiled inside Kira. “The Wallfish isn’t a cruiser, and it sure as hell isn’t a battleship. The Jellies would tear us apart. You can’t—”

  “Slow down,” said Falconi. “Context, please, Kira. Not all of us can talk smells, you know.” Behind him, the crew was looking nervous. Kira couldn’t blame them.

  She ran a hand over her scalp, trying to marshal her thoughts. “Right, right…” Then she told them what Lphet had told her, and when she finished, Tschetter confirmed and explained a few of the points Kira herself was fuzzy on.

  Falconi shook his head. “Let me get this straight. You want us to let the Knot of Minds fly us right into the heart of the Jelly fleet. Then you want us to attack the ship carrying this Ctein—”

  “The Battered Hierophant,” Tschetter helpfully supplied.

  “I don’t give two fucks what it’s called. You want us to attack this ship, whereupon every single Jelly stationed there at Cordova is going to descend upon us with furious hellfire, and we won’t stand a damn chance. Not a single chance.”

  Tschetter seemed unsurprised by his reaction. “The Knot of Minds promises they will do everything they can to protect the Wallfish once you launch your Casaba-Howitzers toward the Battered Hierophant. They seem fairly confident of their ability to do so.”

  A mocking laugh escaped Falconi. “Bullshit. You know as well as I do it’s impossible to guarantee anything once the shooting starts.”

  “If you’re looking for guarantees in life, you’re going to be sorely disappointed,” said Tschetter. She drew herself up, no mean feat in zero-g. “Once Ctein is dead, the Knot of Minds claims—”

  “Wait,” said Kira, as an unpleasant thought occurred to her. “What about the Nest of Transference?”

  A flicker of confusion appeared on Tschetter’s face. “The what?”

  “Yeah,” said Falconi. “What?”

  Dismayed, Kira said, “Didn’t you read my write-up about the conversation I had with Itari on the way out from Bughunt?”

  Falconi opened his mouth and then shook his head. “I—Shit. Guess I missed it. There’s been a lot going on.”

  “And Gregorovich didn’t tell you?”

  “It didn’t come up.”

  Tschetter snapped her fingers. “Navárez, fill me in.”

  So Kira explained what she knew about the Nest of Transference.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” said Falconi.

  Sparrow popped a stick of gum into her mouth. “So you’re saying the Jellies can resurrect themselves?”

  “In a way,” said Kira.

  “Lemme get this straight: we shoot ’em, and they pop back out of their birthing pods, fresh as daisies and knowing everything that just happened? Like where and how they got killed?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Christ-on-a-stick.”

  Kira looked back at Tschetter. “They didn’t tell you?”

  The major shook her head, appearing displeased with herself. “No. I guess I never asked the right questions, but … it explains a lot.”

  Falconi tapped the grip of his blaster in a distracted way. “Shit. If the Jellies can store backups of themselves, how are we supposed to kill this Ctein? Kill it for good, that is.” He glanced at Kira. “That was your question, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded.

  Nearscent of understanding flooded the air, and Kira remembered that the Jellies had been listening the whole time.

  [[Lphet here: Your concern is reasonable, Idealis, but in this case it is unfounded.]]

  [[Kira here: How so?]]

  [[Lphet here: Because no copy exists of the great and mighty Ctein’s pattern.]]

  “How can that be?” Nielsen asked as Kira translated. Kira was wondering that herself.

  [[Lphet here: In the cycles since the Sundering, Ctein has indulged the worst excesses of its hunger, and it has grown beyond all normal bounds of Wranaui flesh. This indulgence prevents the proud and cunning Ctein from using the Nest of Transference. The Nest cannot be built large enough to copy Ctein’s pattern. The currents will not hold at that size.]]

  Sparrow popped her gum. “So Ctein is a fatass. Got it.”

  [[Lphet here: You would do well to be cautious of the strength of Ctein, two-form. It is unique among Wranaui, and none there are among the Arms that can match it. This is why the great and terrible Ctein has grown complacent in its supremacy.]]

  Sparrow made a dismissive noise.

  [[Kira here: To be clear, if we kill Ctein, that will be the end of it? Ctein will die a true death?]]

  A distressed nearscent, and the Jelly flushed a sickly color. [[Lphet here: That is correct, Idealis.]]

  When Kira finished translating, Tschetter said, “Going back to what I was saying … Once Ctein is dead, the Knot of Minds will be able to assume control over the ships at Cordova. You wouldn’t have to worry about anyone blowing up your precious ship then, Captain.”

  A grunt from Falconi. “I’m more worried about us getting blown up.”

  Irritation pinched Tschetter’s face. “Don’t be dense. You wouldn’t have to be on the Wallfish. Your pseudo-intelligence could fly it in. The Jellies can give you room on their ships, and after Ctein is dead, they can transport the lot of you back to the League.”

  Hwa-jung cleared her throat. “Gregorovich.”

  “Yeah,” said Falconi. “There’s that.” He returned his gaze to Tschetter. “If you didn’t realize, we’ve got a ship mind on board.”

  The major’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Long story. But he’s here, he’s big, and we’d have to disassemble half of B-deck in order to remove him from the ship. It would take at least two days’ work in dock.”

  A crack appeared in Tschetter’s self-control. “That’s … not ideal.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, the corners of her eyes wrinkled as if she were fighting off a headache. “Would Gregorovich agree to pilot the Wallfish alone?” She looked toward the ceiling. “Ship mind, you must have an opinion on all this.”

  “He can’t hear you,” Falconi said shortly. “Also a long story.”

  “Back up a moment,” said Sparrow. “If taking out the Battered Hierophant is the objective, why not just tell the Seventh? Admiral Klein is a hard-ass, but he’s not stupid.”

  Tschetter made a sharp motion with her chin. “The Jellies won’t let the Seventh get anywhere near the Hierophant. Even if they could, the Hierophant will just fly Ctein out of the system, and there isn’t a ship in the League that can keep up with the Jellies’ drives.” It was true, and they all knew it. “In any case, I think you might be overly optimistic about Admiral Klein’s willingness to listen to anything I have to say at this point.”

  [[Lphet here: Because of our compulsion, the Wranaui will protect the great and mighty Ctein with every last bit of our strength. Believe me on this, Idealis, for it is true. Even if it costs us all our lives, so it would be.]]

  At th
e word compulsion, a shiver wormed its way down Kira’s back. If what the Jellies felt was in any way similar to the yearning ache that had driven the Soft Blade to respond to the ancient summons of the Vanished … she could understand why deposing Ctein was so difficult for them.

  “We need to talk about this among ourselves,” Kira said to Tschetter. She glanced at Falconi for confirmation, and he indicated agreement with a tilt of his head.

  “Of course.”

  Along with the rest of the crew, Kira retreated into the hall outside the airlock antechamber. Itari stayed behind.

  As the pressure door clicked shut, Falconi said, “Gregorovich is in no shape to be piloting the Wallfish. Even if he were, there’s no way I’d send him off on a suicide mission.”

  “Would it be, though? Really?” said Nielsen.

  Falconi snorted. “You can’t tell me you think this crazy plan is a good idea.”

  The first officer smoothed back a lock of hair that had sprung free of her bun. She still looked as if she was wrestling with a certain amount of pain, but her eyes and voice were clear. “I’m just saying that space is big. If the Wallfish could kill this Ctein, it would take the Jellies time to react. Time that the Knot of Minds could use to keep them from attacking the ship.”

  To Sparrow, Falconi said, “And here I thought you were supposed to be the tactical one.” Back to Nielsen, then: “We’re talking about the biggest, baddest Jelly of them all. The king or queen or whatever of the squids. They probably have escorts all around the Battered Hierophant. As soon as the Wallfish opens fire—”

  “Boom,” said Hwa-jung.

  “Exactly,” said Falconi. “Space is big, but the Jellies are fast and their weapons have a hell of a long range.”

  Kira said, “We don’t know what the situation will be at Cordova. We just don’t. The Battered Hierophant might be surrounded by half the Jelly fleet, or it might be all by itself. There’s no way to tell ahead of time.”

  “Assume the worst,” said Sparrow.

  “Okay, so it’s surrounded. What do you think the odds are the Seventh Fleet can take out the Hierophant?” When no one answered her, Kira looked at each of the crew, studying their faces. She’d already made her decision: the humans and Jellies had to join forces if either of their species were to have any hope of surviving the all-consuming Maw.

  Vishal said, “There are two questions that are important here, I think.”

  “What would those be?” Falconi asked, respectful.

  The doctor rubbed the pads of his long, round-tipped fingers together. “Question one: Can we afford to lose the Seventh Fleet? Answer: I think not. Question two: What is peace between us and the Jellies worth? Answer: Nothing is more valuable in all the universe right now. Yes, that is how I see it.”

  “You surprise me, Doc,” Falconi said quietly. Kira could see the gears of his brain turning at a furious speed behind his shrouded eyes.

  Vishal nodded. “It is good to be unpredictable at times.”

  “Somehow I don’t think we’d be paid anything for peace,” said Sparrow. With one red-painted nail, she scratched at her nose. “The only wages to be earned out there are paid in blood.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of also,” said Falconi. And Kira believed him. He was afraid. Any sensible person would be. She was afraid, and the Soft Blade gave her far more protection than anyone else on the ship.

  Nielsen had been staring at the deck while they talked, her face turned inward. Now, she said in a low tone, “We should help. We have to.”

  “And why is that?” Falconi asked. His tone wasn’t mocking; it was a serious question.

  “Do tell us, Ms. Audrey,” Vishal said kindly. He was, Kira noted, using her first name now.

  Nielsen pressed her lips together, as if fighting back her emotions. “We have a moral obligation.”

  Falconi’s eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “A moral obligation? Those are some awfully high-minded words.” A hint of his usual sharp-edged style began to creep back in.

  “To the League. To humanity in general.” Nielsen pointed back at the airlock. “To the Jellies.”

  Sparrow made an incredulous noise. “Those fuckers?”

  “Even them. I don’t care if they’re aliens. No one should be forced to live a certain way just because someone messed with your DNA before you were born. No one.”

  “That doesn’t mean we’re under any obligation to get ourselves killed for them.”

  “No,” said Nielsen, “but it doesn’t mean we should ignore them either.”

  Falconi picked at the butt of his gun. “Let’s be clear. Sparrow’s right: we’re under no obligations. None of us are. We don’t have to do anything Tschetter or the Knot of Minds says.”

  “No obligations but those dictated by the bounds of common decency,” said Vishal. He stared at his feet, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded far away. “I like to sleep at night and not have bad dreams, Captain.”

  “I like to be able to sleep, and it helps to be alive for that,” Falconi retorted. He sighed, and Kira saw a shift in his expression, as if he’d reached a decision of his own. “Hwa-jung, thaw out Gregorovich. We can’t have this conversation without him.”

  The machine boss opened her mouth as if to object and then closed it with an audible slap of her lips and grunted. Her gaze zoned out as she focused on her overlays.

  “Captain,” said Kira. “You spoke with Gregorovich before we left. You know what he’s like. What’s the point?”

  “He’s part of the crew,” said Falconi. “And he wasn’t completely out of it. You said so yourself. He could still follow what you were saying. Even if he’s half out of his mind, we still have to try. His life is on the line too. Besides, we’d try if it were any one of us down in sickbay.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “Alright. How long will it take to wake him up?” Kira asked.

  “Ten, fifteen minutes,” said Falconi. He went to the pressure door, opened it, and said to Tschetter and the Jellies waiting on the other side, “We’re going to be about a quarter hour. Have to get our ship mind out of cryo.”

  The delay obviously displeased Tschetter, but she just said, “Do what you have to. We’ll be waiting.”

  Falconi gave her a loose salute and pulled the door closed.

  3.

  The next ten minutes passed in silent anticipation. Kira could see the others thinking hard about everything Tschetter and Lphet had told them. So was she, for that matter. If Falconi agreed with the plan—regardless of what Gregorovich said—there was more than a small chance that they would end up stuck on one of the Jelly vessels without a ship of their own and at the mercy of the travel decisions of the Knot of Minds. It wasn’t an appealing prospect. But then, neither was the destruction of the Seventh Fleet, a continuation of the human–Jelly war, and the nightmares overrunning both their races.

  When almost fifteen minutes had elapsed, Falconi said, “Hwa-jung? What’s going on?”

  The machine boss’s voice sounded over the intercom: “He is awake, but I’m not getting anything from him.”

  “Have you explained the situation?”

  “Aish. Of course. I showed that one the recording of our conversation with Tschetter and the Jellies.”

  “And he still hasn’t answered?”

  “No.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  A brief pause before she answered. “I don’t know, Captain.”

  “Dammit. I’m on my way.” Falconi unstuck his boots from the deck, kicked himself over to the nearest handhold, and hurried off toward the storm shelter.

  In his absence, an awkward silence filled the corridor. “Well this is fun,” said Sparrow.

  Nielsen smiled, but with a hint of sorrow. “I can’t say this is how I imagined spending my retirement.”

  “You and me both, ma’am.”

  It wasn’t long before Falconi came hurrying back along the corridor, a troubled expression on his face. “Well?” Kira a
sked, even though the answer seemed obvious.

  The captain shook his head as he planted his feet back on the deck and allowed the gecko pads to fix him in place. “Nothing I could make sense of. He’s gotten worse. Vishal, you’ll have to look at him as soon as we’re done here. In the meantime, we need to decide. One way or another. Right here, right now.”

  None of them seemed willing to say what Kira felt sure they were all thinking. Finally, she took the initiative and—with false confidence—said, “I vote yes.”

  “Yes what exactly?” said Sparrow.

  “That we help Tschetter and the Knot of Minds. That we try to kill their leader, Ctein.” There. She’d said it, and the words hung in the air like an unwelcome smell.

  Then the low rumble of Hwa-jung’s voice sounded: “What about Gregorovich? Are we supposed to abandon him on the Wallfish?”

  “I would not like that,” said Vishal.

  Falconi shook his head, and Kira’s heart sank. “No. I’m captain of this ship. There’s no way I’m sending Gregorovich—or any of you for that matter—off on a mission like this all alone. I’d have to be twelve days dead before I’d let that happen.”

  “Then—” Kira said.

  “It’s my ship,” he repeated. A strange gleam appeared in his cold blue eyes: a look that Kira had seen on plenty of men’s faces over the years. Usually right before they did something dangerous. “I’ll go with Gregorovich. It’s the only way.”

  “Salvo—” Nielsen started to say.

  “You’re not going to talk me out of it, Audrey, so don’t even try.”

  Sparrow made a face, her delicate features wrinkling. “Ah, shitballs.… When I enlisted in the UMCN, I swore to protect the League against all threats, domestic and foreign. You couldn’t pay me enough to go back into the service, but, well, I guess I meant those words when I said them, and I think I still mean them, even if the UMC is a bunch of self-righteous assholes.”

  “You’re not going,” said Falconi. “None of you are.”

  “Sorry, Captain. If it’s our choice not to go, then it’s also our choice to go. You’re not the only one who gets to make a grand gesture. Besides, you’ll need someone to watch your back.”