"You can find me if you want me!"
"I started to. But you acted like you wanted time alone. I can't read your mind, I-"
He stopped, upset and confused.
"I can't read yours, either, Satoshi," Stephen Thomas said quietly.
"No," Satoshi said. "I know you can't. Look, I'm sorry about- We have to talk. I'm afraid you-" He glanced away, to reply to Victoria, outside the area of his image. "Be right there," he said over his shoulder. "Will you meet us at the dock?" he asked Stephen Thomas.
Stephen Thomas had no idea how he would react when he saw J.D. again. One temper tantrum was plenty for any twenty-four hour stretch.
It's not her fault, he told himself. None of this is her fault. Or Victoria's,- or Satoshi's.
"Come on," Satoshi said, his tone uncharacteristically edgy. "The weather's not that bad."
"Okay," Stephen Thomas said quickly. "I'm on my way."
J.D. asked Arachne to notify the rest of the faculty and staff of Nemo's message, but she put no emergency flag on her communication. There was no point to rousing people out of their warm beds, just to sit around waiting till she reached the planetoid. In an hour or two they would wake up, admire the snow, drink their morning coffee, and watch whatever she was able to send back.
J.D. waded through the drifts. Zev leaped along beside her. She smiled. She loved to watch him. He scooped up a loose handful of snow and threw it, the way he had flung the oranges. It scattered into J.D.'s hair. She decided not to show him how to make a snowball. She was sure he would figure it out for himself soon enough.
"It snowed once when I was a kid," he said. "But not very much."
He was wearing his suit and his shoes. Divers enjoyed cold water, but Zev was neither acclimated nor adapted to arctic conditions. The snow caught in the cuffs of his pants, forming icy pellets.
J.D. looked up, hoping for a break in the clouds, a glimpse of the other side of Starfarer. All she could see was snow falling from the luminous grayness of the night sky.
Arachne guided J.D. to an access hatch. Knee-deep snow covered it, pressing it down so it could not open automatically. J.D. kicked the snow away. The hatch buzzed and groaned, trying to rise.
"Help me, Zev." She groped for the emergency handle, grasped it, and pulled. Zev hunkered down, grabbed the edge, and pushed.
The hatch popped open. Wet clumps of snow avalanched into the entrance. J.D. and Zev climbed into the warm service tunnels of the starship, the veins in its skin that led to its underground organs, and all the way to the outside. More snow fell in with them and around them and on top of them. J.D. brushed it from her shoulders and hair, and did the same for Zev. She stamped her feet, leaving a patch of slush on the rockfoam floor.
J.D. continued toward the docking end of campus. She squelched along in snow-soaked shoes that grew wetter, but no less cold, as the snow melted. She hurried, anxious to reach Nemo before the squidmoth emerged from the chrysalis.
We should have stayed, she thought. If we'd stayed, the whole alien contact department would be there. Not just me.
She and Zcv met no one. Hardly anyone ever had the need to come down here. Infinity did, J.D. knew, and Kolya, when they went out on the skin. Even if people did often use the access tunnels, anyone with any sense would be asleep. She hoped everyone would wake up in time to see the snow, because it was beautiful. She also hoped it would be melted by the time she returned.
"You can tell me what Starfarer looks like," she said to Zev, "when the clouds have snowed themselves out, but before the snow melts. It will be pretty, with everything covered in white."
"I'd rather come with you."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Squids never do what you tell them," Zev said.
"They don't?"
"No. They make terrible pets." He considered for a moment. "I guess it's because they're always afraid you'll eat them."
When J.D. and Zev floated into the waiting room at the Chi's dock,
Victoria and Satoshi had already arrived. There was no sign of Stephen Thomas. J.D. wondered if he was still trying to avoid her.
Victoria kicked off from the handhold, brushed against J.D., and hugged her. As they spun slowly across the waiting room, J.D. held Victoria, bending to rest her head on her shoulder. When she finally drew back from their embrace, she kissed Victoria's cheek, her lips. Victoria laid her hand along the side of JDA face and looked into her eyes.
"Good luck," she said. "I hope . . . I don't know. Just good luck."
"I want you all with me," J.D. said. "I don't understand . . ."
"I wouldn't want a lot of people hanging around staring at me if I were changing my shape," Satoshi said, just as Stephen Thomas arrowed in through the doorway.
"I don't know," Stephen Thomas said, his tone careful, brittle, and offhand, his sapphire eyes shocking and intense against the new bronze of his skin. "As a life experience, it's got its points."
"I didn't mean-" Satoshi said, flustered. "I was talking about Nemo." Stephen Thomas shrugged and touched the far wall, bringing himself to a stop. His thin damp clothes clung to his body. He ran his hands along the sides of his head, slicking the curling tendrils of his wet hair. He separated two thick strands from the temples and twisted them at the nape of his neck to hold back the rest of his hair.
"You must be freezing!" Victoria said.
Stephen Thomas glanced at Satoshi. "What do you mean, the weather isn't that bad? How bad does it have to get?"
"If you dressed in something more than underwear-"
"You used to like my clothes."
"J.D.," Nemo said in JDA mind.
Nerno's voice slid smoothly along JDA enhanced link, following the surface of a four-dimensional melody onto a fifth dimension.
"It is time."
"I have to go." Still caught in Nerno's melody, J.D. could barely whisper. "I'm sorry ......
"How long will you be gone?" Victoria asked.
"I have no idea."
"We're going into transition in a few hours! You've got to come back before then."
"But . . ." Her voice trailed off. She glanced around, from Victoria, to Satoshi, to Stephen Thomas and quickly away, finally to Zev. "I have to "
"Nemo must understand the problem," Stephen Thomas said. "Maybe it'll hurry up-"
J.D. glared at him angrily. "Hurry up and die?"
He shut up. J.D. wished she had overlooked his careless comment; surely he had not meant to sound so inconsiderate.
"I'm sorry-" J.D. said.
"Never mind." His voice was hard; he sounded the way he had yesterday, just before he stalked away from the AS repair. "You're right. Of course."
"I'm going," J.D. said. "I only wish you were all coming with me. You know that, I hope."
"Of course we do," Victoria said, worried. She kicked off gently toward her and embraced her again. They parted reluctantly. Satoshi's hug was friendly, Stephen Thomas's brief and cool. Zev hugged her and kissed her cheek, her lips, the base of her throat.
And then the hatch was closing behind her and she was alone in the Chi. J.D. hurried to the observation circle and strapped herself into her couch.
The hatch access retracted with a loud, mechanical clang. Arachne finished the launching check and gave over control to the onboard computer, an expert system that would ferry her to Nerno's ship, and back, without her intervention. She had not given it a second thought when she was on board the Chi with her colleagues; now, alone, she was worried.
How silly, she thought. No one in alien contact is a pilot. If the computer failed we'd all have been in trouble.
As far as she knew, Esther Mein was the only person on Starfarer who knew how to fly spaceships. Every time someone proposed to save money by eliminating human
pilots from the transport runs, the proposal failed. Now J.D. understood why.
The edge of the dock slid past the transparent surface of the observers' circle.
J.D. was free in space.
Starfarer loome
d, first a rock face, turning, beyond its support structure, then resolving into a pair of huge rock cylinders that faced her end-on, one spinning clockwise, the other counter-clockwise. Off to one side, the stellar sail gleamed in the sunlight. The sail powered Starfarer's headlong flight from Sirius, toward the cosmic string, toward its plunge into transition.
The Chi's engines vibrated. Their subsonic moan surrounded her. The acceleration pressed her gently toward the straps of her couch. The Chi spun so the observers' circle faced forward, away from Starfarer. The effect was of the acceleration moving around her, pushing her first from the back, then from the side, finally settling her into the cushions. The couch folded at her hips and knees, moving halfway to its chair configuration.
Starfarer fell behind her.
She could not yet pick Nerno's dark little planetoid from the starfield. She felt alone, and isolated.
During her two previous trips on the explorer, she had often come to the circle and sat alone in the transparent chamber to watch the stars. The darkness and the beauty had been soothing. Now, riding the deserted ship away from Starfarer and her colleagues, she felt alone and apprehensive. Her veneer of confidence dissolved, revealing the bravado behind it.
She could feel the presence of her colleagues, watching her, as the public access transmitted her image back to the starship. Instructing the computer to focus the exterior camera on Nerno's ship, J.D. transferred the image-to the public access transmission. Once she herself no longer occupied the center of public attention, she felt easier.
The PA channel reproduced Nerno's planetoid in the center of the observers' circle. Stark white light gleamed
from the silk-filled craters and threw the rocky surface into deep relief. Victoria's image appeared before J.D. The Milky Way shone faintly through the translucent image. The effect intensified J.D.'s impression that she was riding in a ghost ship.
"Want some company?" Victoria said.
"Yes.,,
"About Stephen Thomas Victoria said. "I'm
sorry. There's no excuse for his behavior."
J.D. could think of lots of excuses, or at least lots of reasons, and it surprised her that Victoria apologized for him instead of defending him. But, of course, Victoria did not even know the real reason. J.D. supposed she should tell her, but she could not bring herself to do so.
"He's under a lot of stress." Trying to be tactful, J.D. ended up feeling evasive.
Victoria laughed. "But he thrives on stress. If he doesn't have enough in his life, he does something to stir more up."
J.D. smiled. "A useful trait, thriving on stress. I wish I had a touch of it myself."
"Everything will be all right," Victoria said. "I trust your instincts about Nemo. You were right about Europa and Androgeos."
"I guess I was," J.D. said. "I wish I'd been wrong."
J.D. was the one who had realized how desperately Europa wanted Victoria's transition algorithm: so desperately that she was willing, in effect, to steal it.
"Would you do me a favor?" J.D. asked.
"Of course."
"Ask Zev to stay with you while I'm gone? Divers don't spend much time away from their families."
She remembered how desperately lonely she had been on Starfarer at first, before Zev arrived, before Victoria first kissed her. She had felt like she was starving to death through her skin.
"As good as done," Victoria said.
"Thanks."
"J.D . . ." Victoria said.
"Hmm?"
"Please come back before Starfarer goes into transition."
"I will if I can."
"You have to! It's too risky otherwise. Something might go wrong. You might end up anywhere."
"Victoria, you're scaring me. I'll do my best. I promise."
"I know you will."
Victoria looked like she was about to burst into tears. The change was so sudden and so unexpected that J.D. involuntarily reached toward her. Toward her image. Feeling foolish, J.D. pulled back. It would not have surprised J.D. to be having this conversation with Zev; it did surprise her to be having it with Victoria.
Victoria wiped her eyes. Her chin stopped quivering.
"Sorry," she said, trying to smile. "I didn't mean to do that. I miss you already. I can't imagine She stopped.
"Then don't," J.D. said, chiding her gently. "Imagine me coming home."
Infinity opened the access tunnel, expecting night, and emerged into a white-out.
Thick sloppy clumps of snow slid through the opening onto his face. He was so surprised that he ducked back into the tunnel and let the hatch thunk shut over him.
Snow? It was far too late in the year for snow on Starfarer. When it did snow, it frosted the ground with a light sugar-coating of small, dry, sparkling flakes that sublimed at the first touch of the sun.
Infinity brushed away the clusters of heavy wet snow melting on his shoulders. He touched Arachne, asking for a way to change the weather, demanding an explanation.
What a mess, he thought, when he saw the reply. Arachne tried to cool things down-but now the weather's oscillating between extremes. We're in trouble. If we don't get to 61 Cygni soon, and stay there for a while . . . we're dead.
Arachne could open the sun tubes early and pour heat into campus. The snow would stop . . . and a monsoon would start. Rain and melting snow would saturate the land. The result would be floods, erosion, mudslides. He could tell Arachne to shut off all heat transfer into the ship, to starve the weather of energy. Then they would get a hard freeze. Probably an ice storm. That would be disastrous for the vegetation and the animals.
As far as Infinity could tell, letting the snow fall till the clouds exhausted themselves would cause the least damage.
He was glad the planting had only just started, that the seeds had not had time to germinate. Some of the crops would survive.
They'll survive if this doesn't happen again later in the spring, he thought. Arachne's got to get a chance to stabilize the weather.
He climbed out of the hatch into the snow.
The oranges, Infinity thought. The damned oranges . . . if they freeze, Gerald will love saying "I told you SO."
The snow fell hard and fast. Infinity was only fifty meters from his front door, but he would have been lost without Arachne to guide him home.
He stumbled into his house and closed the door quickly. Esther slept, her snoring a soft buzz. The lights rose.
"Dim!" he whispered.
Esther sat up in bed, blinking in the twilight.
"Hi," she said sleepily. "What happened? You're all wet."
"It's snowing."
He started to shiver. Esther jumped up and hurried to him, pulling the blankets with her. She took off his sodden shirt. He fumbled at the buttons of his jeans. The cold had numbed his fingers, though he had been outside only a few minutes. Esther pushed his hands
away, helped him finish undressing, and wrapped the blanket around them both.
"You're so cold!" She rubbed his back, and warmed his hands between his body and her own. "Come to bed and get warm."
"I can't," he said. "We need to call out everybody, and call in all the slugs-"
He paused long enough to tell Arachne to sound the alarm.
"We have to go around and knock the snow off the plants. It's too heavy, it'll break the branches. The citrus trees . . . if we open the access tunnels, and force warm air out around them, maybe we can keep them from freezing."
Esther slumped against him, resting her forehead against his chest. She had spent another whole day in the basement of the administration building. "Open all the access tunnels," she said. "What about the sun tubes? Spotlight the orange grove."
"I wish," he said.
He showed her Arachne's report. Esther took in the risk at one glance and whistled softly. Warming a single spot with the sun tubes in this weather would not start a monsoon. It would start a tornado.
"Damn." She sighed. "I've been lying in bed for the last
hour, I kept falling asleep and waking up and thinking how cold it was and how nice it would be when you got home and got in beside me."
His hands felt warm, now, nestled against her belly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. His long hair, still wet, swung forward and touched her cheek. A drop of icy water flicked from the end of one lock and dripped on her face.
"When this is done, we can stay in bed all day."
Esther giggled.
"What?"
"I was griping this afternoon that I had to work inside." She quoted an aphorism favored by transport pilots: "Be careful what you wish for, you might get it."
A few minutes later, dressed in dry clothes-the
warmest he had; Esther wearing one of his flannel shirts under her jacket-they hurried out into the deepening snow. Arachne guided them to the access tunnel. The snow formed a curtain, as featureless and impenetrable as full darkness. The flakes turned sharp and hard and dry.
If they froze, it might be better to risk rain and floods.
Infinity just did not know,
As they passed through his garden, he wondered, briefly, if his cactus would survive.
Infinity's message spread through Starfarer's night, asking people for help and alerting them to the danger of the snow's beauty.
Stephen Thomas followed a medium-sized silver slug into a young apple orchard. The trees bent beneath the snow. Infinity had recommended knocking away the snow if the tree leaned over, if it looked like it might break.
The slug burrowed through to the ground and pushed itself forward, ploughing the heavy wet snow to either side. Stephen Thomas walked in the cleared path, grateful that he did not have to break trail. He was wearing his warmest clothes, but his warmest clothes did not amount to much.
At least the snow had stopped failing.
Following the slug at a respectful distance, Stephen Thomas used its trail to get to the saplings. If he pulled the outer branches gently, he could knock off the snow without standing beneath an avalanche. He could not tell if the apple blossom buds were damaged.
Being so near the silver slug made Stephen Thomas wary. He knew, intellectually, that this one had no reason to turn on him. The one that had pinned him down had been protecting Chancellor Blades. But if-if-the slug did attack, Professor Thanthavong might not come along this time to release him.
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