Dragon Rigger

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  Jarvorus saw his opportunity and took it. One of the ifflings was venturing closer to the human presence, a little apart from the others. It was whispering, trying to send words of encouragement.

  Jarvorus flashed across the gap and caught the iffling in his burning flame. It took only a moment to focus his energies on the startled being; it took only a moment to send the thing on to oblivion. Its fellows, reacting at once, dove toward him—but by then, he was already flying back to the company of his remaining fellow warrior. The ifflings retreated, wailing.

  Just two of them left, Jarvorus said to his companion.

  Shall we strike now?

  Wait. The time will come.

  The other warrior was eager, restless, sorry to have been so slow as to have missed out on the kill. But Jarvorus, while rejoicing, was thoughtful. He had caught a glimpse of the iffling-creature's thought as he had destroyed it. And what he had seen puzzled him.

  It was not the iffling's intelligence or knowledge or purpose that disturbed him; it was something else. He had sensed in it . . . a willingness to sacrifice its life. Not a lack of love for its life, but a willingness to give it up if required to. He thought he sensed echoes of that same willingness in the human, as well—and he didn't understand it.

  Who were these enemies, these strange beings, the ifflings? The question troubled him. He thought he might like to know more about them before he killed them all.

  * * *

  The days passed with excruciating slowness. The voices never quite seemed to go away, but neither did their owners become visible again. Jael's dreams were like turbulent waters—troubled and restless, but never taking a clear course. The next time she saw Kan-Kon, he was drunk; but he looked at her with frightened eyes that said he hadn't forgotten. Mostly, she spent the time alone, hoping for word from Ar.

  When he finally did arrive, she almost missed him. She'd checked with the registry early in the morning; and unable to stand the thought of waiting around, had bought a ticket for a day trip out of town. Her train was late, and tiring of the wait, she went to a com booth in the depot and called the dispatch office one more time.

  There was no word on the arrival of Corona, the ship Ar was supposed to be flying for Mariella Flaire. But there was a node message from Ar: "Arriving 1130 today on train from New Tilly. Meet me?"

  Jael's breath went out in a rush. Arriving on the train from New Tilly? That was a port halfway across the continent. Had he been diverted? Eleven-thirty: that was fifteen minutes ago! She bolted out to see if the hi-speeder from New Tilly had come in. It had—just—and was beginning to pull out again. She watched the silver cars glide past on their magnetic cushion, accelerating, as she looked frantically up and down the platform. "Ar!" she shouted. Most of the passengers were already on their way out of the depot. She rushed back to the lobby.

  "Jael!"

  Ar was standing out front, waving. His tall Clendornan form was impossible to miss: the nearly wedge-shaped head, flat on top with grey hair, the triangular face with silver-blue skin, the zigzag smile. As she ran toward him, his crystal-orb eyes glowed, and he strode forward to meet her. She threw her arms around him and hugged him ferociously. Ar laughed with a hiccuping sound. They broke their embrace and held each other at arm's length. Ar's face was cracked by his zigzag smile. "It is good to see you, my partner," he said as he studied her.

  Jael, ready to explode with words, could only grin. She broke away from him and spun around in joyous relief.

  "You received my message?" Ar asked.

  Jael shook her head helplessly. "What happened? Why did you come in on a train?"

  "Well, I had to take a different ship back, with another crew." And the way Ar said it, she knew that he had a story to tell.

  She interrupted him. "Did Mariella change your assignment? Did you see her? Oh, Ar, we have to talk! We might have to ask Mariella to do us a huge favor. Do you think she'd be willing?"

  His eyes flickered with puzzlement, then dimmed. His expression brought her words to a halt. This time, Ar's tone was subdued. "I doubt she'll be able to. That's why I had to come back on another ship, Jael. Mariella's company has gone bankrupt."

  Chapter 12: Riggers Without a Ship

  It took Jael several heartbeats to regain her breath. Mariella's company, out of business? "Ar—that can't be!" she gasped.

  Ar cocked his head sympathetically. "I'm sorry to drop it just like that. I'd wanted to celebrate our reunion first."

  Celebrate? Jael could hardly find her voice. "What are we going to do?" she whispered.

  The Clendornan made a purring sound. "Don't worry, we'll find other people to fly for. We have a good record, so it shouldn't be too hard." He gave a rippling shrug and hefted his duffel. They began walking toward the glideway that would take them to the rigger quarters. "I feel worse for Mariella than I do for us. She hit some tough economic conditions, and I think her partners made some bad decisions while she was traveling and out of contact." Ar sighed. "I guess we knew it couldn't last forever."

  Jael's heart pounded in misery as they walked. Everything she'd been bursting to tell Ar was now sunk in a swamp of hopelessness. What Ar was saying was true, of course. Two years ago, Flaire had endured some hard times with her company. But she had recovered, and continued employing them on a regular basis ever since. But Jael, who as an adolescent had watched her father's business fail, should have known that no business was immune to bad luck—or bad judgment.

  "That's my only news," Ar said, trying to sound a cheerful note. "It is very good to see you again, Jael."

  She nodded, not looking at him. All of the joy of their reunion had been robbed from her. She didn't know what to say. They rode the glideway to the rigger dorm, and walked to Ar's quarters. She perched on the end of his rigid, almost unpadded bunk while he unpacked some of his things. "Do you want a little time alone?" she murmured.

  Ar's mouth crinkled in a smile. "Perhaps ten minutes for a mist and a change? Then would you like to go for a walk? I haven't been outside much in a long time."

  Jael's heart was heavy as she rose. "Meet you downstairs."

  * * *

  By the time Ar rejoined her, she'd managed to get her thoughts in order. As they walked toward the lake, she told him her news—first, about Kan-Kon and her decision to break their long silence about the dragons. Ar listened thoughtfully. "I hope this fellow isn't adding our story to his public exhibition," he remarked. They sat down near the lake's rippling surface. Ar began humming a dissonant tune, and Jael trembled at the sound. Ar's predilection for off-key tunes had once nearly driven her to distraction; now it was comforting.

  "I don't think so. Ar—"

  "You have more to tell me?"

  "Yes—" And she related, in stumbling words, what had happened one midnight, such a seemingly long time ago. She told him what the ifflings—or voices, at any rate—had said to her. Windrush needs you. Go to him. The words resonated out of her memory of that dark night, and when she actually spoke them aloud, she felt as though she were giving freedom to something that was alive. Giving freedom so that the pain of keeping it in could stop.

  Only the pain didn't stop. Windrush was in trouble, and there seemed nothing she could do. By the time she finished she was crying, rocking backward and forward, her eyes squeezed shut against the noonday sun. She could not stop shaking.

  Ar laid a hand on her shoulder and made muttering sounds that she knew were supposed to soothe. But really, nothing could soothe her except finding a way to go, a way to answer the ifflings' plea. And she knew that Ar had no way to give her what she needed.

  * * *

  Back in her room, Jael nicked on the holo projector. "Ed!" Ar boomed. "How are you, my feathery friend?"

  "Scrawwwww!" The bird flashed his colors and took to wing from the stondai tree. He batted about the room in jubilation before circling to land on Ar's shoulder. "Back! Rawk! Back—you're back! Scrawww!"

  "I am indeed back, and I missed you. I tr
ust you've been keeping Jael good company," Ar said, making a tickling gesture under the parrot's holographic chin.

  "Yep, yep. Good company." Ed sat back and cocked his head about the room. He gazed at Jael and then at Ar. "She tell you? Awk! She tell you? Graggon-things here! Haww!"

  Ar gave him a crinkly smile, his eyes glowing purple at the parrot. "You mean the ifflings?"

  "Ifftings, ifftings—haww! That what they were?"

  "Apparently so. I guess she told you about them?"

  "Rawwk! Ed saw. Ed saw! Strange things, awk—talking. Woke Ed up! Scary—hraww! Scared Jayl, scared Ed!" The bird fluttered his wings.

  Ar cocked his head to peer at the bird. "You saw it, too, Ed? Are you sure?"

  "Hawwwwk! Ed sure, all right! Scared Ed!" The parrot launched himself from Ar's shoulder and whirred about the room before landing on Ar's knee.

  Jael looked at Ar with a wry smile. She remembered a time, a couple of years ago, when Ar had doubted her story of dragons in the Flux. "Did you think maybe this was another figment of my imagination? Like Highwing?"

  His silver-blue face darkened slightly. "I did not doubt you, Jael. But it is helpful to have confirmation. It could make our needs more . . . credible . . . if we seek . . ." He paused to grope for words. "Well. It will not be easy for us to get back there, will it? But it seems we must try."

  Jael drew a sharp breath. Until now, Ar hadn't come right out and said that he wanted to return with her. Her pulse raced, and she gazed at him with gratitude. They were no closer to having a ship, perhaps, but it felt to her as if the gulf between her and the dragon realm had just closed a little. Maybe, just maybe she would sleep tonight without her dreams of anxiety, and with hope in her heart.

  * * *

  This fight Jarvorus did not start. He was content to watch and wait as the two ifflings bobbed in the distance, whispering their irritating encouragements to the human. It was his fellow warrior who took the initiative—stupidly, blindly hoping to destroy the ifflings in a display of boldness and strength.

  Erupting with anger, the ifflings pounced back upon Jarvorus' companion. Jarvorus watched in dismay, holding back for the sake of the mission, as the warrior was annihilated. He regretted losing his companion. But the important thing, more important than aiding his fellow, was to remain vigilant for a chance to lead the human astray. It did not matter if the ifflings lived or died, only that their purpose be thwarted.

  His fellow had destroyed one of the ifflings before being consumed in the fire himself. Jarvorus briefly considered striking now, while the last iffling was weakened. But what he saw emerging from the fire was not a weakened foe, but a blazing and indignant foe.

  Jarvorus silently thanked his late fellow for his foolishness and bravery; but he, Jarvorus, would wait. Only he, now, could see to it that his mission was fulfilled.

  * * *

  By the next afternoon, they had been over every avenue they could think of to acquire a ship—from applying for grants from the rigger-space research institutes on various worlds, to buying a ship or stealing one. The first seemed unlikely, and would certainly take far too long, and the last was hardly a serious consideration. That left trying to buy one.

  Ironically, Seneca, the ship they had flown for Mariella Flaire, was right here on Cargeeling, where it had been in the tanks for a refit for most of the last ten weeks. That, in fact, was one reason Jael had stayed here while Ar had made his interim flight. They had expected to return to service with Seneca when the ship itself returned to service. But with Flaire's company going out of business, she wondered what would happen to the ship.

  Could they, perhaps, afford to buy a ship at auction? Between them, they had more assets than Jael had guessed. But the cost of a rigger-ship remained far beyond them. Could they get financing? It seemed unlikely, without a persuasive business plan.

  Ar was determined to devise a way. Perhaps he could secure a loan on his home planet. Perhaps Mariella could still help somehow. Ar would check on the status of Seneca. Jael's task was to compose a description of their intended use of the ship—aside from visiting dragons, of course. She was to be truthful, but to make it sound as if they still had a grip on reality.

  None of this afforded much hope. But it was all the hope they had.

  * * *

  The passage of the days took on a surreal quality, as they worked and planned and saw no progress. Jael found herself thinking of her late father. Willie LeBrae had done a lot wrong in his life, and she had spent a good part of her own life hating him for it. She had eventually managed to forgive him, but only after coming to a painful understanding that he really had cared for her, even if in a hopelessly flawed way. It was he, after all, who had enabled her to attend rigger school and to learn the very profession that he had ultimately come to despise.

  Willie LeBrae had been a shipper and shipowner—initially a legitimate one. Later, when the tides had turned on his business fortunes, so too had his legitimacy. In the end, he had abused many an innocent rigger, though hardly more than he had abused his own family. Still . . . Willie LeBrae would have known how to acquire a ship, even under the most difficult of circumstances. Perhaps not a ship that one would personally want to fly; but that sort of concern had never stopped him. Jael wished now that she had learned more of the business from her father. It was perhaps the first time since she'd been a little girl that she had wished she could emulate anything of Willie LeBrae's life.

  She wondered if it was too late to learn.

  Five days after Ar's return, she was in the spaceport administration building, waiting for Ar, who was inquiring into the status of Seneca. It seemed that Seneca had been impounded by the shipyard that had overhauled its flux-pile and rigger-net systems. Until the overhaul bill was paid, the ship could not be moved. Ar was hoping to acquire the use of the ship from Flaire, if they could raise the money for its release. Flaire, he thought, might be open to the idea; but she was on Vela Oasis, sifting through the ruins of her business, and fluxwave communications with Vela Oasis were erratic, and very expensive. So far, he'd been unable to reach her.

  Jael was standing in the hallway, studying the ships-for-sale bulletins on a wall-screen, when she heard footsteps. She glanced—then stared in amazement at the last person she expected to see here. The ex-rigger was smooth-faced and neatly dressed, with his long hair molded into a tidy appearance. "Kan-Kon?" she whispered.

  "Whaaat?" Startled, he came to a halt. "Miss . . . Jael," he said, flashing a sudden sheepish grin. "Mighty surprised to see you here." He shifted from one foot to the other.

  You're surprised to see me? Jael couldn't quit staring at him. She had never imagined him well groomed. And she'd thought he had long since given up everything having to do with space. "I—" Before she could think of what to say, she was rescued from her embarrassment by the sudden appearance of Ar at her side. The tall Clendoman's lips were pressed into a thin line as he nodded to Kan-Kon. "Ar . . . this is . . ." Jael gestured, trying to force out the name.

  "Kan-Kon," said the ex-rigger in a husky voice.

  Ar's eyebrows jumped. "Rarberticandornan," he said, shaking hands. "Please call me Ar."

  "Ar . . . yes. You are Miss Jael's rigging partner, then," Kan-Kon murmured, bowing slightly. "Most pleased to meet you."

  Ar bowed back. "And you are . . . the one who . . ."

  "Yes," Kan-Kon said quickly, glancing away self-consciously. "I'm afraid I gave her a bit of a start just now. I don't always—that is, I don't think . . . well." He smoothed down the front of his tunic. "I think she was surprised to see me here. But yes, I am the one who—" and he shrugged with a forced smile. "Are you still trying to—find a ship to—"

  "Go back," Jael whispered. "Yes." She looked questioningly at Ar. He shook his head. Her breath went out in a sigh.

  Kan-Kon's eyes darted from Jael to Ar and back again. "Forgive me. Am I—?"

  Jael shook her head. "No, it's all right. It's just that . . . well, we've been trying t
o get the use of one particular ship, you see. A long shot. But so far . . ." Her gaze went back to Ar.

  "No word from Mariella," Ar said. He stroked the ridge over his temple, his eyes glimmering moodily. "And the repair yard has already filed for the right to go to auction. If they succeed, I don't think we can do much about it." He glanced at Kan-Kon, who was studying his fingernails.

  "Jael, I fear we are being rude. May we invite your friend to join us for tea?"

  Kan-Kon looked uncomfortable. "Tea?" he murmured, his voice cracking a little. "I don't really—that is, I've finished my business here for the day. How about . . . something a little stronger?" Ar raised his eyebrows, and Jael shrugged, and they all walked down the corridor together.