He’d had to retreat deep within himself to escape, so far he’d needed help to climb out again.
Yihtor di Caraat was dead.
And he wasn’t the same. Since then, he’d been trained by the best, honed in battle, and had his Chosen’s incalculable strength at his call, always.
“Lights. Full.” Morgan sat up in the hammock, took slow, deep breaths. To his relief, the golden warmth along his link to Sira remained undisturbed. Not so his thoughts.
He’d heard Rael in the M’hir.
What did “dead” mean to the Clan?
“Captain. We have a problem.”
Jacqui, not Barac, hovered in the doorway. Wan and anxious, she flinched at a rattle from the nearby engine. The rattle wasn’t serious; what brought her here could be. Morgan rose to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you leave—come to the control room?”
The control room he’d left locked, coded to admit only him or Sira. Not that locks stopped the Clan. Instead of answering, the Human went by her, half-running the corridor to the lift, pausing only to let her catch up before closing the door and sending it up.
He glanced down at Jacqui. “What’s going on?”
“I—” She closed her mouth, looking miserable, then held out her hand as if words would be too difficult.
When he touched her, fear and dread poured through. Ruti tried to do something to the ship. Barac’s with her, stopped her. He sent me to bring you.
He replied with calm, feeling none of it himself. The lift opened.
Five steps to the yes, locked, control room door. Morgan keyed it open and took a quiet step inside, waving Jacqui to remain where she was.
He closed the door behind him. Barac cradled Ruti’s unconscious form in his arms. Her hair streamed down, limp and lifeless, but her chest rose and fell with steady breaths.
“The baby?” the Human asked.
“She’s fine.” The Clansman jerked his head at the console, then carried his Chosen to the copilot’s couch, laying her there gently.
Blood cold, Morgan hurried over. Course disks were strewn everywhere, as if someone unfamiliar with their organization had tried to find a specific one. She had, he realized an instant later, spotting a disk on its own. For all her efforts—and there was sufficient damage to suggest Ruti’d tried some kind of hammer—she’d been unable to make the Fox eject what the ship’s captain had installed.
He held up the solitary disk. “Plexis.”
“It wasn’t Ruti.” Barac ran his fingers lightly over her forehead, his face bleak. “Someone dared enter her sleeping mind, Morgan. Dared control her. Who? Why?”
Because there were Clan outside any laws but their own, the Human thought grimly, willing to take advantage of any disaster. He’d had that nightmare—or had it been more?
“First things first,” Morgan stated, evading the question. “Teach Ruti how to protect herself at all times—and Jacqui.” A First Scout would have that knowledge.
The Clansman nodded. “Of course. I should have—I never thought—”
“Why would you?” He should get back to the engines, but Morgan hesitated.
“What is it?”
“Why Plexis?”
“I think my brave one fought back the only way she knew how.” Barac offered a finger to Ruti’s hair; it rose, sluggishly, to wrap around it. “Wherever this invader wanted her to go, Plexis would be Ruti’s choice.”
Morgan hoped so, but the station could easily have been the invader’s choice also, being a hub of transport, legal and otherwise. “Take her to the cabin and keep her there. I’ll clean up.”
“You don’t trust her.”
“Right now, do you?”
The Clansman’s answer was to take his Chosen in his arms, then disappear.
“Thought as much.”
Morgan collected the loose disks. A few had been dropped on the floor in front of the console, but one had been thrown clear to the wall, as if Ruti’d wanted it as far from her as possible. He picked it up, reading the coordinates with a growing frown. Snosbor IV. Had this been where the invader wanted to send the ship?
Troubling, if so. Before all this, an age ago, Snosbor IV had been listed on the trader boards as their next destination.
Or the disk had bounced. Still, it’d be worth asking Ruti. If she remembered.
Plexis, now.
Risking more time from the engines, Morgan keyed in the com and waited.
“Claws and Jaws-Complete Interspecies Cuisine,” boomed a familiar voice. “We regret we cannot take—”
“Huido, please.”
“This is Hom Huido!” The voice paused, then asked coyly. “Can you not tell?”
Morgan almost smiled. “Hello, Tayno. This is Captain Morgan of the Silver Fox. I need to speak to your uncle.”
“Captain Morgan.” The deep voice resonated self-importance. “I’m to tell you, and you alone, that my esteemed uncle has left Plexis. I have assumed his place.”
Huido, leave his home and wives unguarded? The Human was, to be honest, just as shocked to hear his old friend would leave the repair crews unwatched. “Where did he go?”
“Hom Huido did not inform me. He received a message, but I don’t know from whom. That was when he left.” A considering pause. “I could ask those in the pool. You can open their door, can you not, O most-trusted of allies?”
Why, the rascal. Morgan grinned. “Locked you out, did he?”
The clatter-clank of a heartfelt sigh. “He always does.”
You had to feel for the lad. “I’m sure you’re where your uncle wants you to be,” the Human assured him. “Protecting the family during such perilous times.”
By the uneasy rattle during the next brief pause, he’d given the young Carasian food for thought. “Do you really think so?” With dawning enthusiasm.
“I do. Huido’s put all his trust in you, young Tayno. There could be more assaults. Be on your guard.”
“I shall be Vigilant! I shall never leave my Post! I shall—”
“Let me know if Huido gets in touch,” Morgan interjected before the bellowed exhortations could become any louder and alarm the restaurant’s other staff. “Fox out.”
Ominous, that a single message had made Huido haul orbit. Without contacting him first.
Who knew what had gone through that thick-plated head? Morgan snorted. Knock on that head when he saw him next.
If he saw him. Perilous times.
Impetuous Huido might be, but no fool. He’d take precautions. So would he, Morgan told himself. No one was going to steal his ship.
The Silver Fox had her secrets, among them the mental locks he’d added after a successful trade on Omacron. One released the scantech console that should have been removed when the starship was decommissioned from the patrol.
Another? Standing at the wall to the right of the consoles, Morgan concentrated, fingertips touching one another, sending a special command. A section of what appeared solid slid back and away revealing a cavity as deep as his arm. After putting the course disks inside, Morgan relocked it, waiting until the wall was featureless again.
A course could be manually input, but it would take a trained pilot and codes only he and Sira knew.
The ship safe, the Human went to check on his passengers.
A painful swell of outrage met him at his cabin door. Morgan knocked and entered.
Ruti was sitting up in bed, dark hair writhing around her head, her face flushed. Barac gave Morgan a grateful look. “She doesn’t believe me.”
“I had a bad dream—”
How he wished that were true. Morgan shook his head gently. “Someone used you. Look at your hands.”
Ruti lifted her hands and gasped. Her nails were broken, a few severely enough that the fingertips bled. Her eyes w
ent to Barac, filled with dread.
Then fury.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and jumped to her feet. “I won’t be a puppet! I won’t!”
Barac held out his hand. “You won’t,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion. “I swear it.” Without taking his eyes from Ruti, he said to Morgan, “I’ve summoned Jacqui. We’ll do this together. Now.”
Morgan left, heading for the galley. Jacqui passed him in the corridor. She didn’t say a word, only gave a determined nod.
Well enough.
Passengers secure, he stuffed a pocket with e-rations and returned to the engine room.
Next stop, Stonerim III and Sira.
The Fox labored, pouring out her aged mechanical heart for him. Slowing would be as dangerous now as continuing with all speed.
It was going to be a long night.
Chapter 20
“I’VE TOLD YOU.” Times without count, no matter how I attempted to contact whatever it was. “All it says is ‘here.’”
And all it wanted was in. That I didn’t tell them, certain they’d agree.
“Ah.” Deni hummed to himself, then nodded. “Let me consult.”
Again.
After their initial excitement, my mother’s group had morphed into remarkably disciplined scientists, checking me—and the crystal—with instruments, consulting in small groups, their privacy assured by touch and mind.
Conversations I could overhear if I wished.
I didn’t. Much as I wanted—needed—answers, time was running out. I’d heard from Morgan. The Fox was insystem, bound for the Norval shipcity, a docking tug called and prepaid. If I reached to him now, all I’d sense would be the depth of his concentration.
Much as I wished to be there, my more sensible self knew I’d be of greater help here, searching for answers. I accepted a cup of sombay and worked on my patience.
Deni returned. “We think the Presence might respond in a different environment.”
I looked up at the lean Clansman, ready to suggest the ship, only to find him, along with my mother and others, ready for something else entirely. They’d summoned portlights to hover at shoulder height. Holl and Leesems had coils of rope over their shoulders, while Tle had slung a bag over hers. Mirim let me see her tuck the box with the unsettling crystal inside her jacket.
“What environment did you have in mind?” I asked. I wasn’t going anywhere that required rope.
Until Tle smiled. Ready for the truth?
The first truth I discovered was that the laboratory sat on an upper floor of what had been a maintenance building. We went down a lift that moved with reassuring smoothness, each of us locked in our own thoughts.
Mine having more to do with why this was a bad idea and what Morgan would say this time, I rocked back and forth on my feet.
Andi took my hand. She’d waited at the lift door to join us, something everyone else accepted without question. “I won’t leave you,” she said quietly. “If that’s all right?”
Birth Watchers. The instinct was stronger than I’d realized. This child was stronger. I looked down at Andi, thought of the strangeness inside me, and didn’t hesitate. “Thank you. I accept.”
She nodded, her face serious.
The doors whooshed open. A portlight flew politely ahead.
Just as well. I’d been in a parking garage before, just not one abandoned. Beyond the circle of light was utter black and the cold air entering my nostrils reeked of machine. With the tower of waste piled against the outside walls, I thought it safe to assume the lift behind us was the only working exit.
For Clan who refused to ’port, other than Tle, they were brave.
Or foolish. Both, in my informed opinion. I kept hold of Andi’s small hand; if anything went awry, I’d no compunction about ’porting her to safety with me.
“This way.”
Mirim and Tle went first and I followed, the others behind. Our footfalls echoed, hiding any other sounds. The darkness folded in behind.
>Here<
As only I heard the insistent whisper, I did my utmost to ignore it. Ignoring my hair was less straightforward. It had become sly, reaching when I didn’t notice for my mother—and the crystal.
Tle had braided her hair, it being limp and lifeless as suited a Chooser. My mother’s behaved, immured in its net. I’d have threatened mine, for what good it would do, but knew better. There was a saying, “A Chosen’s hair is desire’s mirror.” What my hair expressed came from me, however emphatically I disagreed.
Ahead, the lead portlight reflected from something long and lean. Two somethings, resolving as we came close into a pair of battered groundcars, their roofs removed. I turned to Mirim. “How far are we going?”
“Under Norval,” she answered, lifting her light to reveal the opening of a dark tunnel.
It resembled nothing so much as a gaping mouth. Morgan wasn’t going to like this.
“It’s quite safe. We keep the system cleared, Speaker,” Leesems said quickly. “As best we can.”
Tle lifted a challenging eyebrow. “There are cave-ins. Rare, but some.”
Morgan wasn’t going to like this at all.
Interlude
FINGERS SCRABBLED, GRIPPED. They found the latch, fought it. Flipped it. As the lock released, the lid and case parting with a puff of chilled air, the hand dropped back to the ground. It subvocalized a complaint.
Then scurried out of the way of a frost-crusted boot.
Ambridge Gayle crouched and spun, weapons drawn. After a careful survey of her surroundings, she stood and allowed herself the luxury of a stretch, bits of ice shattering free of her envirosuit. She’d been glad not to be in full stasis; relieved to have weapons to hand and the ability to use them should her case be misplaced in shipping.
After a day, she’d changed her mind.
Done now. She’d arrived, alive and unseen. Time to get to work. “Hurry up,” she told the Assembler, there being no point talking to pieces. Once the hat and head snicked into place, she snapped, “Where’s Bowman?”
“Remember, we want the world, must have the world, must find the Hoveny world!”
“I’m aware,” Gayle said dryly. The Brill had been clear on his payment: the location of the Hoveny world. In other words, capture Bowman, retrieve what information she had about the Hoveny, then dispose of the corpse.
Been a while.
She rolled a shoulder, felt a familiar, almost visceral anticipation. Not so long at that. “What resources?”
“You ask, we have.” The Assembler wheezed with excitement. “After the Clan. Nest here. Burn it!”
“Your business, not mine.”
“Our business. All! Hoveny world. Treasure. Clan. All!” An overstimulated hand fell off and climbed back up.
Gayle regarded the creature. “Like it or not—” and she didn’t, but matters were as they were “—the Brill has the ships. Your job’s the mindcrawlers. He’s sent me after Bowman. He knows what I can do,” with a slow smile.
At that smile, the Assembler known as Magpie Louli fragmented and scrambled in search of hiding places, larger pieces shoving aside the smaller in their haste.
“I see you do, too.”
Chapter 21
THE TUNNEL PROVED to have a guidance rail down its center. Given we traveled beneath the collapsed rubble of an entire city—and familiar with aging machines—I distrusted my companions’ touching faith in the system. On the other hand, staying down here any longer than we must was worse, so I hung on to the provided strap and endured a speed more suited to flying through open air without protest.
A protest I would have had to send, the whine of the groundcars at full power deafening, let alone the grind of their track beneath. Fortunately there were airshields that rose once we were underway. They wouldn’t save us fr
om being crushed, but at least we could breathe.
Andi sat next to me, Mirim on her other side. Deni, who seemed to share her leadership, was in front, beside what would be the driver’s seat, if anyone was driving who did breathe. But no, the group installed a boxlike servo in each ’car, revealing yet another chasm between these Clan and the ones I’d known.
The Fox was controlled by similar machines, tucked under her consoles and throughout her inner hull. I knew that.
I just didn’t quite believe it.
Usually, it didn’t matter if I did or not. Morgan had shown me how to communicate with the ship until, on my own, I could input commands with reliable results. Usually. Every so often, I suspected the Fox of being deliberately obtuse or worse, jealous of her master’s affections and out to get me.
Not a suspicion to express aloud.
To my further dismay, we traveled through not one tunnel, but a series, expanding the possibilities for failure. Widened sections offered choices and, each time, our vehicles reoriented to enter a particular opening without slowing.
I eyed the servo box, guessing its true purpose was to navigate this maze. That should have been reassuring—after all, course disks took the Fox from world to world—but I’d no idea where we were going.
The Presence had an opinion. >Here . . . here . . . here<
The Presence being either insane or some ghost of the M’hir—or both—I kept ignoring it.
Andi squeezed my hand. We’re almost there.
I wasn’t ashamed to be grateful for her comfort. What’s ‘there’ like?
A moment’s concentration, then an image filled my mind.
Now I knew why they’d brought rope.
Granted the child viewed the world from a smaller stature; that didn’t make her view of a gaping black hole any less terrifying. Keeping that reaction to myself, I did my best to understand what she shared.
This Gulf of Time and Stars Page 18
