Into the Void s-2

by Nigel Findley

  He glanced around him. There was nobody else on the forecastle. With the ballista wrecked, there was no call for a weapon crew. All the other crew members he could see were busy preparing the Probe for the unknown.

  He pulled the hood of the cloak up over his head and forward so that it shadowed his face. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath.

  What face should he take? For the first time this was a relevant question. Up until now in his practice, he'd been assuming the face and form of others that he knew on board the hammership. Obviously, this wasn't a good idea; how would Garay-for example-react if he ran into his own twin?

  Unbidden, the image of his rather came into his mind. He paused. Why not? He let the image build in intensity, then started making minor changes. His rather was too old. Remove some of the lines from around his eyes, then. His eyes were the same rich blue as Teldin's own. Too much of a similarity; change them to dark brown. Finally, remove the gray streaks from the black hair. He mentally examined the picture he'd built up and was satisfied. As to the body, change the frame a little, but not so much that his clothes didn't fit right. Broaden the shoulders slightly, make the chest a tad deeper, and that was it.

  Teldin's daily practice had paid off. The whole process took no more than a couple of heartbeats. He opened his eyes again.

  Aelfred shook his head and rumbled deep in his throat. "I'll never get used to that." Teldin reached up to remove the hood, but the first mate's hand stopped him. "No," Aelfred said, "keep it on. No reason to draw attention to the fact that somebody else is wearing Teldin's clothes." He paused in thought. "For the same reason, don't talk unless you have to, all right?"

  Teldin nodded.

  Aelfred's distinctive grin returned. "Good. You can stay here and watch if you want, but if things get nasty, either get belowdecks out of the way-" he slapped Teldin's shoulder " -or, if it strikes your fancy, feel free to fry as many of the bad guys as you like."

  The Probe maneuvered cautiously closer to the unidentified ship. It wasn't long before Teldin could pick it out against the blackness of wildspace. At first it was just a small, faint dot reflecting the distant sun's light with changing intensity. Presumably it fluctuated because the ship was tumbling and the surface area it presented to reflect the sunlight was constantly changing. Slowly it started to show detail.

  The ship was tiny, Teldin could tell at once, much smaller than the hammership, and while the hammership resembled a great fish or shark, the other vessel looked much more like an insect. Its hull was thin and elongated, tapering to a delicate, upswept point at the stern. It had slender legs, as did the pirate wasp ships that had attacked the Unquenchable: four extended below the hull, presumably as landing gear, while the aft two legs were bent up and back, extending above the body. Delicate wings of a thin, silklike material arced aft over the hull, and a long, thin spine extended forward from the bow. Overall, the term that Aelfred had used for the vessel was absolutely appropriate: mosquito.

  The ship showed no lights that Teldin could see, and it certainly wasn't moving in any controlled way. In fact, it was tumbling slowly, end over end, making one rotation in about a minute. There was no movement on deck-if the small ship hid a deck. For all Teldin could tell, the mosquito was either dead or deserted.

  As it turned out, the tumbling motion of the ship proved the greatest obstacle to finding out more about it. The Probe couldn't draw too near without running the risk of getting struck by a leg or wing, or by the extended stern of the hull itself.

  As the hammership cautiously approached, Estriss and Vallus joined Aelfred on the forecastle. Teldin, his cloak hood still pulled forward to partially hide his changed features, stood well back from the group, hoping that nobody would pay him any notice. Estriss glanced his way and gave him a slight nod, as if to confirm the wisdom of what he'd done. Vallus, however, studied him a little more intently. Teldin was afraid that the elf would say something to draw attention to him, but after a few seconds of scrutiny, Vallus contented himself with a raised eyebrow and an aloof smile and turned back to the others, behavior quite out of character for the elf.

  Aelfred put the problem into words. "Normally we'd fire a grappling iron with a rope attached," he explained, "take up the slack, and slow the ship that way, but without a ballista that's out of the question." He turned to the elven mage. "Vallus, any ideas?"

  The wizard thought for a moment. "How heavy is that ship?" he asked eventually.

  "I'd guess around six tons," Aelfred answered. "Can you slow it down with magic?"

  "No," Vallus said firmly, "it's much too heavy for that." He paused in thought again. "I could fly over to it with a rope, and tie it off to the hull."

  Aelfred shook his head. "And if there's something aboard that's hostile? You'd be a sitting duck."

  The elf greeted that with a somewhat condescending grin. "I assure you, I can take good care of myself."

  "I'd rather you didn't have to," the first mate shot back. "Could you fly somebody else-me, for example-over there?"

  "I could," the elf confirmed, "but the same objection applies, doesn't it? There is, however, another option." His voice became more businesslike. "Have the crew prepare the grappling iron and rope you mentioned earlier. You won't need the ballista after all."

  Aelfred barked orders, and the crew hurried to obey. Down on the main deck, amidships, a long rope was tied to the eye of a grappling iron, and the rope coiled on the deck. Twenty-five crewmen stood ready to do whatever was necessary. Vallus climbed down to the main deck and joined them.

  When all was in readiness, the elf looked up expectantly at Aelfred.

  "Go," the first mate ordered. "Deck crew, stand ready."

  The elf s long fingers wove intricate patterns in the air before him. From where he stood on the forecastle, Teldin couldn't hear the incantation the mage was murmuring under his breath.

  On the deck, the grappling iron quivered like something alive, then silently lifted from the planking. Slowly, trailing the rope behind it like a tail, it floated toward the tumbling mosquito. The coiled rope paid out smoothly.

  The iron neared the angular vessel. "Rope crew ready," Vallus instructed quietly.

  One crewman laid out the remaining rope across the deck. The other crew members spat in their palms, took up the rope, and braced themselves.

  Carefully, the mage adjusted the position of the grappling iron. As the mosquito's slender stem swung up and over, the iron flicked into position. Its sharp tines bit into the wood near the aftmost end. "Take up the slack," the elf instructed.

  Twenty-five men groaned as one as the rope crew took the load. The mosquito's tumbling slowed noticeably, but the ship was still moving.

  "Give me some slack." The crew did as Vallus instructed. Under the elfs mental control, the grappling iron repositioned itself, this time near the mosquito's bow. "Take up the slack," Vallus ordered again, and again the men groaned, again the small ship slowed.

  "Once more." The grappling iron moved again to the stern. This time the elf didn't have to give the order. As soon as the iron was positioned, the crew took up the load, then they relaxed, stretching strained muscles and muttering congratulations to one another. The mosquito lay at rest beside the hammership.

  Vallus rejoined the others on the forecastle. "I thought that would work," he said mildly.

  "Good job," Aelfred told him. The first mate called down to the rope crew, "Bring her alongside. Slowly."

  Now that the mosquito wasn't moving, and because speed wasn't an issue, only a dozen men were needed on the rope.

  The others picked up weapons and stood along the rail. Those with bows had arrows nocked and ready, but didn't draw.

  Silently the mosquito inched nearer. Still nothing moved on board the small ship. Eventually the hammership rocked slightly as the two hulls met.

  "Boarding party," Aelfred roared. "Two people. Julia and Garay."

  The red-haired officer and the muscular crewman drew their swords a
nd clambered over the rail. Cautiously they moved about the mosquito's tiny deck.

  "Nobody on deck," Julia called back. "Maybe below, but the air's fouled. I don't hold out much hope."

  "Check it out," Aelfred ordered, "but no heroics. I want you both back."

  Julia flipped the first mate a quick salute. She and Garay moved from sight.

  Almost immediately they reappeared. Julia was in the lead, Garay following, with a large bundle in his arms. With a twinge, Teldin recognized the shape of that bundle: another body. Julia swung quickly back over the rail aboard the Probe. Garay handed his burden up to another crewman and followed.

  Aelfred and the other officers hurried down to the main deck. Teldin followed, a little hesitantly. As he drew closer, he knew he'd been right in his identification of the bundle. Lying on the deck, it was unmistakably a human body, wrapped in a heavy green traveling cloak. Aelfred knelt beside it, and slowly reached out a hand to pull the cloak back from the face.

  The body sat up. With a slender hand, it pulled the cloak back from its face and shook out its long blonde hair. "Well," the body said in a rich contralto voice, smiling into Aelfred's astonished face, "if this is death, it's not as bad as I expected."

  *****

  The officers' saloon was as full as Teldin had ever seen it. Aelfred, Sylvie, and Julia-as Aelfred's second-in-command after the death of Sweor Tobregdan-sat around the central table. Estriss was notably absent, but presumably the illithid had decided his presence might disrupt the proceedings.

  Teldin was present, too, though he'd pulled a chair away from the table and sat in a back comer. Nobody had actually invited him, but neither had he been excluded from the meeting, and-as his grandfather had always told him-it's easier to get forgiveness than permission, so he'd tagged along with the others. At first he'd considered keeping the hood of his cloak in place, then had decided Sylvie and Julia would have more important things on their minds than his changed appearance. He'd been right; neither woman had given him so much as a second glance. Their attention was focused totally on the sole inhabitant of the mosquito ship.

  His own attention was focused pretty much in the same place, Teldin had to admit. He also had to admit that it was warranted.

  The newcomer sat at the table, her back to the large port that looked out to the star-studded blackness of wildspace. She'd removed the heavy cloak she'd been wrapped in, and Teldin thought that was a great improvement. She was tail-almost as tall as Teldin himself-and slender, but her movements seemed to imply there was considerable strength in her supple body. She wore a jerkin and tights of forest green, not too different from the clothes worn by most aboard the Probe, but her garb was well-tailored to show off the curves of her figure. On her feet were boots of soft mahogany-brown leather that came halfway up shapely calves. Her face was slender, but her features were more rounded than sharply chiseled, and her small nose was slightly upturned. When she smiled-which was often-the tanned skin around her green eyes crinkled in what Teldin thought of as "laugh-lines," and she became even more beautiful than when her face was at rest. When she spoke, her warm voice seemed to have an undercurrent of laughter.

  She was speaking now, brushing shoulder-length curls of honey-blond hair back from her face. "My name is Rianna Wyvernsbane," she said, "and, first thing, I want to thank you all for saving me. I thought I was dead."

  Aelfred gave a half-smile and shook his head as though to dismiss the thanks. "What happened to your ship?" he asked.

  "I was inward bound from Garden," Rianna answered.

  "For Toril?" Sylvie put in.

  "For Dragon Rock, in the Tears of Selune. I live on Tori], but I keep my ship-the Ghost-on the Rock."

  "Toril to Garden's a long flight in a mosquito," Sylvie remarked.

  "Not really," Rianna replied with a throaty chuckle, "not if you don't mind your own company. I make my living as a message-runner. If you need a message delivered to any planet in Realmspace-fast, with no complications-I'm your girl."

  "You were telling us what happened," Aelfred reminded her.

  Rianna favored him with a smile. "That's right, I was." She sat back in her chair. She seemed completely relaxed, Teldin thought, totally unconcerned that she was aboard a strange ship surrounded by potential enemies. Was she so brave that the thought didn't bother her, or so stupid that the danger hadn't even occurred to her? Or was her apparent relaxation just a facade?

  "I'd delivered my message to the party in question," Rianna went on, "and I was climbing away from Garden when I saw another vessel coming up ahead. A deathspider."

  Aelfred cursed. "Neogi again."

  Rianna shot him a curious look, but he waved her on with her story. "The Ghost isn't much to look at," she continued, "and she's not much in combat, but I've stripped her for maneuverability, and she's fast…." She grinned wryly. "The long and the short of it is, I ran, down toward Garden again. If you know Garden at all, you know it's a cluster of large rocks in one atmosphere envelope. I ducked in among the rocks to lose the deathspider. It worked. Just." She grimaced. "Those neogi are nothing if not persistent. They got a few shots away, and the poor old Ghost took a bad hit…."

  "I didn't notice any damage," Sylvie pointed out.

  "Take a look at the starboard wing root," Rianna suggested, "you'll see it's held on by rope, a little wire, and a whole lot of good intentions. The keel is cracked, too, ready to give way, I think."

  "Go on," Aelfred prompted.

  "They followed me down," the woman continued, "right on my tail, until they had to break off or slam full into one of the rocks. I went on through. They had to reverse course, then take the long way around, so I had a good head start, enough to get away."

  "What were the neogi doing there?" The question slipped out before Teldin could stop it.

  Rianna's green-eyed gaze settled on Teldin for the first time. I wish I'd made myself more handsome, he caught himself thinking. Now where did that thought come from?

  "I don't know," she replied with a smile, "I didn't stop to ask them."

  "And then?" Aelfred prompted.

  "Then I headed for Toril. I pushed the Ghost as hard as I could, for as long as I could keep my mind clear. I was well away from Garden, and I couldn't see the neogi anymore. That's when my helm died. No warning. One moment I'm tearing along at full spelljamming speed, the next, I'm moving at a crawl with no control over the ship at all."

  Teldin felt a current of sympathy around the table. He could understand why. Vallus Leafbower's comments about distance in wildspace were still with him. The idea of being stranded in that vastness was terrifying.

  "Bad," Sylvie commiserated, echoing the feelings of everyone else in the saloon. "What was wrong with the helm?"

  Rianna shook her head, and her blond tresses swung. "I'm not an arcane," she chuckled. "I can run a helm. I can't troubleshoot one. It was just dead."

  "And then?" Aelfred prompted again.

  "Then I drifted. What else could I do? I was too far from Garden for its gravity to affect me, but I did still have some speed-though not much-and I was heading toward the sun. I figured the best thing-the only thing-was to conserve the air I had. No work, no movement that I could avoid. Just hope that some ship would find me before I suffocated." She bathed everyone at the table with a warm smile. "I slept a lot, but I didn't enjoy the dreams."

  "The air was foul aboard your ship," Julia noted. "How long were you adrift?"

  "Twenty-three days."

  The female officer looked at her uncertainly. "You had food and water for twenty-three days? On a mosquito?"

  "Water, yes," Rianna replied. "I don't do cargo runs, so I load the Ghost's cargo space with as much water as I can. You never know, do you? But food, no. I've been on very thin rations, and for the last couple of days nothing at all. So maybe when we're finished here… ?" She patted her stomach.

  "We're almost finished," Aelfred said briskly, "then you can get something to eat. Your destination is Toril?"
>
  "Dragon Rock," Rianna corrected him, "if you're going near there…"

  "Our destination is Toril," the first mate told her.

  She shrugged. "Close enough."

  "About your ship," Aelfred pressed on. "We can't take her aboard."

  "Tow her?" Rianna suggested.

  The first mate shook his head. "Not practical. If the keel is cracked, she'll break up. Plus, we can't land with a ship in tow."

  Rianna digested this in silence, eyes lowered. "Ah, well," she sighed eventually, "I suppose I knew the Ghost and I had taken our last voyage together. Cut her loose if you have to."

  Sylvie reacted to the woman's sadness. "We'll post a salvage claim on the hull," she said reassuringly. "That way maybe you'll recover something from her."

  The newcomer nodded her thanks, then she turned back co Aelfred. "What port on Toril?" she asked.

  "Rauthaven. Naturally, we'll give you passage to there."

  "Nimbral?" She looked somber for a moment, then brightened. "Well, it could be worse. I should be able to get passage to Dragon Rock from Rauthaven, then maybe another ship, and I'm back in business." She smiled at Aelfred. "If we're through here, maybe we could do something about that meal… ?"

  *****

  As the Probe drew closer to Toril, Teldin came to realize that Rianna Wyvernsbane's status aboard ship was almost as ambiguous as his, though for quite different reasons. Almost immediately after she'd eaten, Rianna had sought out Aelfred and insisted that he assign her duties in return for passage to Toril. She'd offered to take shifts on the hammership's helm- after all, she was mage enough to run the Ghost- but the Probe already had enough helmsmen. Instead he assigned her to assist Sylvie with plotting the approach to Rauthaven.

  The crew knew that Rianna was at least nominally an officer- by virtue of her assignment alone, though she couldn't officially give orders-but they couldn't help but respond to her on a nonprofessional level as well. She was, after all, strikingly beautiful, and it was apparent that she had no close friendship-or any other relationship-with anyone on board. That was just another factor that set her apart from most of the other women on board. There were no rules aboard the Probe that prohibited relationships or even casual liaisons between crew members-as long as they didn't interfere with the smooth running of the ship-and the hammer-ship's female crew members were generally as glad to enjoy the benefits of this freedom as the males.