Alternate Realities

by C. J. Cherryh

  Nonsense, I thought. Neither one of them was taking it that calmly: we saw.

  “I have good company,” she said. And she patted Griffin’s hand on the tabletop and patted Lance’s, and I swallowed hard at my wine, having about as much as I could stomach. I unfocused my eyes and looked at the plate. I knew that I ought not to look on Lance’s face just then; I gave him that grace.

  “Lancelot, and I,” Griffin said, “passed time in the gym today. We should meet again tomorrow. It’s been a long time since I found a match my size.”

  “Sir,” Lance murmured.

  “Not sir,” Griffin said. “Not down there. You don’t hold back. You really fight. I like that.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lance whispered back.

  “Be there tomorrow,” Griffin said, “same time.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said again.

  Dela looked at Lance suddenly. She was frivolous at times, our lady, but she was not stupid; and she surely knew Lance better than she knew any of us. A frown came over her face and I knew what did it, that meek softness in Lance, that quiet, quiet voice.

  There was a little silence in the party, over the taped music, in which Gawain’s letting a knife slip against his plate rang devastatingly loud.

  “We can’t let it get us down,” Griffin said. “We’re here, that’s all; and there’s no getting out again; and we’re going to live for years.”

  “Years and years,” Dela said, winding her fingers with his. “All of us.” She looked on us. “We’re—very glad not to be quite alone. You understand that, all of you? I’m very glad to be able to trust my staff. However long we stay here—there’s no law here; we’ve talked about that, Griffin and I: there’s no law-—no fortieth year. Even if we reach it here. You understand me? We’re together in this.”

  It took a moment, this declaration. It hit my stomach like a fist even when I felt happy about it. A shift like that in the whole expected outcome of my life—it was a change as bizarre as dropping through the hole in space, and demanded its own sensory adjustments. Not to be put down. To live to be old. Old was not a territory I had mapped out for myself. I looked at Lance, who looked somewhat as dazed as I, and at the others—at Vivien, who had wanted this for herself and thought she was exclusive in her privilege; at Modred, whose face never yet showed any great excitement, only a flickering about the eyes; at Gawain and Lynette and Percy, who looked back at me in shock.

  Of course, I thought, of course my lady needed us. It was insanity for them to put any of us down. They’d be alone then. It made sense.

  “Thank you,” I said, finding my voice first, and the others murmured something like. It was an eerie thing to say thank you for. Dela smiled benevolently and lifted her glass at us. She was, I think, a little drunk; and so perhaps was Griffin, who had started on the wine when Dela had. Both their faces were flushed. They drank, and we did, to living.

  And something hit the ship.

  Not hard. It was a tap that rang through the hull and stopped us all, like the stroke of midnight in one of Dela’s stories, that froze us where we sat, enchantment ended.

  And it came again. Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap.

  “O my God,” Dela said.

  VI

  He names himself the Night, and oftener Death,

  And wears a helmet mounted with a skull,

  And bears a skeleton figured on his arms,

  To show that who may slay or scape the three

  Slain by himself shall enter endless night.

  We ran to the bridge, all of us in a rush, Gawain and Percy first, being nearest the door, and the rest of us on their heels, out of breath and frightened out of our minds. The hammering kept up. Gawain and Lynn slid in at controls, Percy and Modred took their places down the boards, and the rest of us—the rest of us just hovered there holding on to each other and looking at the screens, which showed nothing different that I could tell.

  Modred started doing something at his board, and com came on very loud, distantly echoing the tapping.

  “What are you doing?” Dela asked sharply.

  “Listening,” Lynette said as the sounds shifted. Other pickups were coming into play. “Trying to figure out just where they are on the hull.”

  Dela nodded, giving belated permission, and we all stayed very quiet while Modred kept sorting through the various pickups through the ship.

  It got loud of a sudden, and very loud. I flinched and tried not to. It went quiet of a sudden, then loud again, and my lady Dela swore at Modred.

  “Somewhere forward,” Modred said with a calm reach that did something to lower the sound. “About where we touch the mass.”

  “Trying to break through,” Gawain muttered, “possibly.”

  “Wayne,” Percivale said abruptly, urgently. “I’m getting a pulse on com; same pattern. Response?”

  “No!” Dela cried, before ever Gawain could say anything. “No, you don’t answer it.”

  “Lady Dela, they may breach us.”

  “They. They. We don’t know what it is.”

  “He’s right,” Griffin said. “That they out there counts, Dela; and they’re trying a contact. If they don’t know we’re alive in here, they could breach that hull and kill us all—at the least, damage the ship, section by section. And then what do we do?—That area forward,” he said to the crew. “Put the emergency seals onto it.”

  “Presently engaged,” Lynn said.

  “Don’t you give orders,” Dela snapped. “Don’t you interfere with my crew.”

  Griffin no more than frowned, but he was doing that already. My lady pushed away from his arm, crossed the deck to stand behind Gawain and Lynn. “Are there arms aboard?” Griffin asked.

  “Stop meddling.”

  “Tapes never prepared your crew for this. How much do you expect of them? Are there weapons aboard? Have they got a block against using them?”

  Dela looked about at him, wild. She seemed then to go smaller, as if it were all coming at her too fast. I had never imagined a born-man blanking, but Dela looked close to it. “There aren’t any weapons,” she said.

  The hammering stopped, a dire and thickish silence.

  “Are we still getting that signal?” Griffin asked.

  “Yes,” Percy said after a moment, answering Griffin. It made me shiver, this yes-no of our lady’s, standing there, looking like she wanted to forbid, and not. Percy brought the sound from the com up so we could hear it, and it was a timed pulse of static. One. One-two. One-two-three.

  “Maybe—” Dela found her voice. “Maybe it’s something natural.”

  “In this place?” Griffin asked. “I think we’d better answer that call. Make it clear we’re in here.—Dela, they know, they know this ship’s inhabited if it’s whole: what are ships but inhabited? And the question isn’t whether they breach that hull; it’s how they do it. Silence could be taken for unfriendly intentions. Or for our being dead already, and then they might not be careful at all.”

  Dela just stared. The static pulses kept on. I held to Lance’s arm and felt him shivering too.

  “Answer it,” Griffin said to Percivale.

  “No,” Dela said, and Griffin stared at her, frowning, until she made a spidery, resigning motion of her hand.

  “Go on,” Griffin said to Percivale. “Can you fine it down, get something clearer out of that?”

  The whole crew looked round at their places, in Dela’s silence. And finally she nodded and shrugged and looked away, an I-don’t-care. But she did care, desperately; and I felt sick inside.

  “Get to it,” Griffin snapped at them. “Before we lose it.”

  Backs turned. Percy and Modred worked steadily for a few moments, and we started getting a clear tone.

  “Answer,” Griffin said again, and this time Percy looked around at Dela, and Modred did, slowly and refusing to be hurried.

  “Do whatever he says,” Dela murmured, her arms wrapped about her as if she were shivering herself. She rolle
d her eyes up at the screens, but the screens showed us nothing new.

  And all of a sudden the com that had been giving out steady tones snapped and sputtered with static. It started gabbling and clicking, not a static kind of click, but a ticking that started in the bass register like boulders rolling together and rumbled up into higher tones until it became a shriek. We all jerked from the last notes, put our hands over our ears: it was that kind of sound. And it rumbled back down again—softer—someone had gotten the volume adjusted—and kept rumbling, slow, slow ticks.

  “Not human,” Griffin said. “Not anything like it. But then what did we expect? Send. Answer in their pattern. See if it changes.”

  Hands moved on the boards.

  “Nothing,” Percy said.

  Then the com stopped, dead silent.

  “Did you cut it?” Griffin asked, ready to be angry.

  “It’s gone,” Modred said. “No pickup now. We’re still sending.”

  The silence continued, eerie after the noise. The ventilation fans seemed loud.

  “Kill our signal,” Griffin said.

  Percy moved his hand on the board, and the whole crew sat still then, with their backs to us, no one moving. I felt Lance’s hand tighten on mine and I held hard on to his. We were all scared. We stood there a long time waiting for something ... anything.

  Dela unclasped her arms and turned, flinging them wide in a desperately cheerful gesture. “Well,” she said, “they’re thinking it over, aren’t they? I think we ought to go back down and finish off the drinks.”

  Her cheer fell flat on the air. “You go on back,” Griffin said.

  “What more can you do here? It’s their move, isn’t it? There’s no sense all of us standing around up here. Gawain and Modred can keep watch on it. Come on. I want a drink, Griffin.”

  He looked at her, and he was scared too, was master Griffin. Dela had let him give us orders, and now whatever-it-was knew about us in here. I felt sick at my stomach and probably the rest of us did. Griffin didn’t move; and Dela came close to him, which made me tense; and Lance—Griffin might hit her; he had hit me when he was afraid. But she slipped her white arm into his and tugged at him and got him moving, off the bridge. He looked back once. Maybe he sensed our distress with him. But he went with her. Percy and Lynette got up from their places and Lance and Viv and I trailed first after Griffin and my lady, getting them back to the dining hall.

  They sat down and drank. We had no invitation, and we cleaned up around them, even Lynette and Vivien, ordinarily above such things, while my lady made a few jokes about what had happened and tried to lighten things. Griffin smiled, but the humor overall was very thin.

  “Let’s go to bed,” my lady suggested finally. “That’s the way to take our minds off things.”

  Griffin thought it over a moment, finally nodded and took her hand.

  “The wine,” Dela said. “Bring that.”

  Viv and I brought it, while Lance took the dishes down and Percy and Lynn went elsewhere. My lady and Griffin went to the sitting room to drink, but I went in to turn down the bed, and then collected Vivien and left. We were free to go, because my lady was not as formal with us as she had us be with her guests. Whenever she left us standing unnoticed, that meant go.

  Especially when she had a man with her. And especially now, I thought. Especially now.

  We went back to our quarters, where Lynn and Percy and Lance had gathered, all sitting silent, Lynn and Percy at a game, Lance watching the moves. There was no cheer there.

  “Go a round?” I asked Lance. He shook his head, content to watch. I looked at Vivien, who was doing off her clothes and putting them away. No interest there either. I went to the locker and undressed and put on a robe for comfort, and came and sat by Lance, watching Lynn and Percy play. Viv sat down and read—we did have books, of our own type, for idle moments, something to do with the hands and minds, but they were all dull, tame things compared to the tapes, and they were homilies which were supposed to play off our psych-sets and make us feel good. Me, I felt bored with them, and hollow when I read them.

  We would live. That change in our fortunes still rose up and jolted me from time to time. No more thought of being put down, no more thinking of white rooms and going to sleep forever; but it was strange—it had no comfort. It gave us something to fear the same as born-men. Maybe we should have danced about the quarters in celebration; but no one mentioned it. Maybe some had forgotten. I think the only thing really clear in our minds was the dread that the horrid banging might start up again at any moment—at least that was the clearest thought in mine: that the hammering might start and the hull might be breached, and we might be face to face with what lived out there. I watched the game board, riveting my whole mind on the silences and the position of the pieces and the sometime moves Lynn and Percy made, predicting what they would do, figuring it out when expectation went amiss. It was far better occupation than the thoughts that gnawed round the edges of my mind, making that safe center smaller and smaller.

  The game went to stalemate. We all sat there staring blankly at a problem that could not be resolved—like the one outside—and feeling the certainty settling tighter and tighter over the game, were cheated by it of having some sort of answer, to something. Lynn swore, mildly, an affectation aped from born-men. It seemed overall to be fit.

  So the game was done. The evening was. Lance got up, undressed and went to bed ahead of the rest of us, while Viv sat in her lighted corner reading. I came and shoved my bed over on its tracks until it was up against his. Lance paid no attention, lying on his side with his back to me until I edged into his bed and up against his back.

  He turned over then. “No,” he said, very quiet, just the motion of his lips in the light we had left from Viv’s reading, and the light from the bathroom door. Not a fierce no, as it might have been. There was pain; and I smoothed his curling hair and kissed his cheek.

  “It’s all right,” I said. “just keep me warm.”

  He shifted over and his arms went about me with a fervent strength; and mine about him; and maybe the others thought we made love: it was like that, for a long time, long after all the lights but Viv’s were out. Finally that one went. And then when we lay apart but not without our arms about each other, came a giving of the mattress from across Lance’s side, and Vivien lay down and snuggled up to him, not because she was interested in Lance, but just that we did that sometimes, lying close, when things were uncertain. It goes back to the farms; to our beginnings; to nightmares of being alone, to good memories of lying all close together, and touching, and being touched. It was comfort. It put no demands on Lance. In a moment more Percivale and Lynette moved a bed up and lay down there, crowding in on us, so that if someone had to get up in the night it was going to wake everyone. But all of us, I think, wanted closeness more than we wanted sleep.

  I know I didn’t sleep much, and sometimes, in that kind of glow the ceiling let off when eyes had gotten used to the dark, I could make out Lance’s face. He lay on his back, and I think he stared at the ceiling, but I could not be sure. I kept my arm about his; and Percy was at my right keeping me warm on that side, with Lynette all tangled up with him; and Viv sleeping on Lance’s shoulder on the other side. No sex. Not at all. All I could think of was that sound: we had fallen into something that was never going to let us go; we clung like a parasite to something that maybe didn’t want us attached to it at all; and out there ... out there beyond the hull, if I let my senses go, was still that terrible chaos-stuff.

  If this was death, I kept thinking, remembering my lady’s mad hypothesis, if this was death, I could wish we had not tangled some other creature up in our dying dream. But I believed now it was no dream, because I could never have imagined that sound out of my direst nightmares.

  It came again in the night, that rumbling over com: Gawain came on the intercom telling Percy and Lynn so; and all of us scrambled out of bed and ran for the lift.

  So had Grif
fin come running from my lady’s bedroom. He stood there in his robe and his bare feet like the rest of us; but no word from my lady, nothing. It left us with Griffin alone, and that rumbling and squealing came over the com fit to drive us all blank.

  “Have you answered it?” Griffin asked of Gawain and Modred, who sat at controls still in their party clothes; and Percy and Lynn took their places in their chairs wearing just the robes they had thrown on. “No,” Modred replied. He turned in his place, calm as ever, with dark circles under his eyes. “I’m composing a transmission tape in pulses, to see if we can establish a common ground in mathematics.”

  “Use it,” Griffin said. “If the beginning’s complete, use it.”

  Modred hesitated. I stood there with my arms wrapped about me and thinking, no, he wouldn’t, not with my lady not here. But Modred gave one of those short, curious nods of his and pushed a button.

  The transmission went out. At least after a moment the transmission from the other side stopped. “I should see to my lady,” I said.

  “No,” Griffin said. “She’s resting. She took a pill.”

  I stood there as either/or as Modred, clenched my arms about me and let this born-man tell me I wasn’t to go ... because I knew if my lady had taken a pill she wouldn’t want the disturbance. This terrible thing started up again and the crew asked help and Dela took a pill.

  An arm went about me. It was Lance. Viv sat near us, on one of the benches near the door.

  “You’d better trade off shifts,” Griffin said to the crew, marking, surely, how direly tired Gawain and Modred looked.

  “Yes,” Gawain agreed. He would have sat there all the watch if Griffin hadn’t thought of that, which was one of the considerate things I had seen Griffin do ... but it gave me no comfort, and no comfort to any of the rest of us, I think. It was Dela who should have thought of that; Dela who should be here; and it was Griffin instead, who started acting as if he owned us and the Maid. Until now he had looked through us all and ignored us; and now he saw us and we were alone with him.