So Starbiter herself did not seem touched by the sun’s scorching heat. There was, however, a visible change in the milky envelope surrounding us—it seemed to be thickening, like a fog at dusk. Mist rolled around our ship; the blaze outside was still strong enough to see, but the light had grown hazy and smeared over, gentled and damped down.
Hah! I thought. We have tamed the sun.
I could think of only one explanation. The smoky FTL field surrounding Starbiter must possess the same nature as myself: drawing nutrition from light. During the past few minutes, skipping back jump by jump from the stick-ship, the envelope had absorbed great quantities of luminous energy—enough that when we entered the sun itself, the field was sufficiently strong to protect us.
Now that we were inside, the field was growing even thicker and more insulatory; but perhaps it was not wise to remain too long. Uclod had been so afraid of entering the sun, it might be that a Zarett could gorge itself too fully on light…like a fox eating so much dead rabbit it grew bloated and sick. Perhaps it was even possible for our protective FTL envelope to burst in an explosive Too Much Of A Good Thing. I did not understand FTL fields, but I did not trust them to limit their diet wisely in the presence of overwhelming quantities of tasty tasty sun.
Therefore I thought, Good excellent Starbiter, you were a fine brave Zarett to enter this frightful place. Now here is our new plan: you must swim through the shallows of the sun, around and out the other side, where perhaps we will not be seen as we exit. Be careful not to go into the very heart of the sun; on sheer density alone, Uclod mentioned some foolish problem I do not understand, but perhaps this is not the time to press our luck.
We began to advance through the great fire. I did not feel the motion, but I could tell we were moving because enigmatic darknesses drifted past my view. Quite likely those darknesses were the mysterious Spots I saw earlier crossing the sun’s surface; but perhaps they were even more puzzling entities never before glimpsed by outside eyes.
It occurred to me there might be uncanny beings who dwelt their entire lives within stars, sailing the solar winds and farming the electromagnetic fields. Such beings could possess fabulous cities hidden in the Great Brightness. With all this nourishing light, perhaps the sun-folks’ brains never became Tired; perhaps they were happy all day and never got scared or lonely, nor did they feel guilt that they were not Doing Something With Their Lives. I decided such creatures must look like large butterflies, with gentle eyes and kindly smiles. They would be made from glass, and sing beautiful songs—the type of songs that can only be sung by creatures who have never been afraid of the dark.
I held my breath and listened in the hope I might hear such a song…but if there was any sound outside, Starbiter did not transmit it to me. No doubt, there should have been the crackling of flames and the gusting of wind, maybe the boom of solar storms sweeping overhead across the sun’s surface; but all I heard was silence as we soared through the fire and out the other side.
Solar Vision
We emerged from the sun surrounded by a fogbank of creamy smoke. Our FTL field had grown so fat on the banquet of solar energy, it was too thick to see through—there was only a great brightness at our backs and murky darkness everywhere else. If the stick-ship returned, the murk would blind me to its presence…so I projected my thoughts to Starbiter, asking if I might be connected to the special devices for perceiving long distances, particularly if they could see past the smog around us.
Within seconds, something went click inside my head; and suddenly, the milkiness occluding my eyes was gone. So was the color—the sun at my back had gone white with mottles of gray, and grainy too, as if the image were painted on sand. Apparently, the special devices for perceiving long distances did not experience color in the same way as real eyes…but then, there must be esoteric Science processes at work and I was not seeing real light at all. In a ship that travels FTL, you need a better-than-light way to see your surroundings; otherwise, you do not know when you are about to smash into something.
Also you do not know when you have company. The moment I turned my attention away from the sun, I saw four newcomer starships mustering in formation around me.
Out Of The Frying Pan, Into The Fliers
The newly arrived craft were not nearly so large as the stick-ship—not the size of a forest, but merely single trees. Or rather single towers, such as the eighty-story building where I supposedly died. These ships were long and thin with a bulb on one end, like the cattails one finds in a marsh. Each vessel was surrounded by its own smoky FTL field, but the fields were vapor-thin and extended far past the ships themselves, making long dangly tails that swished languidly through space. From descriptions given me by Explorers, I concluded these were baton-ships of the human Technocracy’s Outward Fleet.
This was a Ghastly Predicament, coming face-to-face with the very people Uclod wished to avoid. It made me wonder if perhaps the stick-ship had wished to avoid them as well. Perhaps the stick-folk, the Shaddills, had not broken off their pursuit because of my threats and persuasion, but because they perceived Earthling vessels entering the star system. The stick-ship had fled, leaving me to face the entire human navy on my own.
Those Shaddills were very great poop-heads indeed.
In the blink of an eye, the navy ships arranged themselves into a four-pointed pyramid with Starbiter in the middle. This was clearly a military tactic intended to intimidate me…and to place me in the middle of a crossfire if the navy chose to apply armed force. It made me angry, the way humans arrived in my home system and immediately began acting like bullies. Especially when I had done nothing wrong, and the stick-people were the true villains.
“Greetings,” I said aloud, assuming my words would still be broadcast to anyone listening. “I am a sentient citizen of the League of Peoples. It is most nonsensical to gang up on me when there is a genuinely hostile vessel nearby. Seek it out and ask why it fired on us.”
“You had a ship fire on you?” a voice asked. The voice was female and haughty…as if I were some vile creature who could not possibly be believed.
“Yes,” I replied. “It was a ship made of sticks.”
“What a shame—we must have missed the ship made of straw and the ship made of bricks.” The navy woman gave a sniff of great disdain. “What kind of idiots do you think we are, Unorr? There’s nothing on our sensors, not the slightest trace of tachyon residue anywhere in this system…except the stuff from your Zarett looping around the sun. Did you think flying close to the star would hide your tracks? If so, you’re even dumber than the rest of your family.”
“I am not one of the Unorrs,” I said, “and I was not flying close to the sun. I was inside the sun, fleeing from the stick-ship.”
“Oh for Christ’s sake,” the navy woman growled, “if you’re going to tell lies, be believable. Inside the sun? So you’ve magically overcome Sperm-field breakdown? We’ll have to award you the Galaxy Prize for Physics…after we finish arresting you.”
She took in a deep breath—the way some people do, not because they need air, but because they want you to know they intend to deliver a momentous oration. “All right, for the record: Unorr ship, I am Captain Prope of Technocracy Cruiser Jacaranda, and I order you to stand down. You are under arrest for entering a star system that was lawfully placed under total quarantine…”
She continued to speak, but I did not listen. I was too startled by the revelation that she was Festina’s foul enemy, Captain Prope. It was Prope who marooned my friend on Melaquin…and Prope whom Festina cursed on a regular basis, adding many picturesque phrases to my English vocabulary. If Prope was here, there was indeed villainy afoot. But how could I foil Prope’s dastardly schemes?
I decided to run. It angered me to act so craven—I should have liked to punch Prope in the nose, while chiding her for past evil deeds—but there were four navy ships against one small Zarett, and as far as I knew, Starbiter had no weapons with which to resist arrest. Anyway,
according to Uclod, these humans must have come to conceal what happened on Melaquin. Therefore, I could best defeat them by escaping to tell my story.
When I did tell my story, I would be sure to mention Prope was a most utter scoundrel who had tried to Suppress The Truth.
Starbiter, I thought, once again we must fly. I decided it was not wise to flee back into the sun—with four ships, the humans could space themselves around the star and catch us wherever we came out. Besides, I did not know how much more fiery energy our FTL field could absorb.
On the other hand, we had sopped up so much power, perhaps we could fly faster and farther than usual, like a bird who has fed well all summer and is in peak condition for migrating south. (Alternatively, we might resemble a great fat beast who had eaten so much it was only fit for sleeping off its meal…but I am such a one as prefers positive thoughts.)
Are you ready, Starbiter? I asked. I picked a direction that would take us away from the sun, scooting out through the gap between two of the navy vessels. That is our heading, I thought. Now go, go, go!
We shot forward like lightning. The humans surely must have been ready in case we made a break for it, but they were not prepared for our speed. Beams of gray-white light lanced from the navy ships toward our craft, but in the strange monochrome vision of Starbiter’s long-range sensors, the light beams traveled in slow motion. Snaky snares of energy reached out sluggishly from the bellies of all four baton-ships, but we dodged past as easily as ducking under the branches of a tree.
In a heartbeat, Starbiter darted out of the trap the humans had built around us. Something big flashed past my eyes almost too swiftly to notice…possibly Melaquin or some other planet, maybe even the stick-ship, still present but invisible to the arrogantly blind navy folk. Then there was nothing but stars; and even the sun at our back dwindled in seconds to nothing but a pinprick.
I directed Starbiter to change course five times at random to make us harder to follow—I did not know how easily the navy might track us, but surely keeping to a single straight line was imprudent. Then again, perhaps it did not matter; the four ships vanished from sight in the first instant of our escape, and I never saw them again.
7
WHEREIN I AM OFFERED A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL
You Would Not Think Annoying Persons Could Find You In Outer Space, But You Would Be Wrong
Here is a fact about space travel: it is very very boring. I greatly enjoyed the excitement of escaping implacable foes…but once I got away, there was nothing to see but stars, stars, stars. Some of the stars were no doubt galaxies; others might have been planets, or comets, or incandescent space butterflies singing of life in the sun; but they all looked like stars, and I have seen stars before.
I wondered whether the journey would be more interesting if we slowed down—perhaps we were passing all manner of appealing space objects, but so quickly they could not be seen. However, with the human navy pursuing us, it did not seem wise to ease up even a little bit. Therefore, we hurtled through the tedious black for hour after frustrating hour, while the untwinkling stars went on and on without meaning, like one’s life when one is devoid of lofty goals…until suddenly, I heard a man clearing his throat.
“Uclod?” I called. All this time my eyes had been linked with the Zarett, unable to see my companions sitting in the chairs beside me. I had not known if they were alive or dead; and to tell the truth, I had mostly forgotten about them. The great starry sameness tended to blank my thoughts…which is not to say my brain grew Tired. I was fatigued, nothing more—and perhaps in need of solid food now that I had left the sustaining light of my Ancestral Tower. One must not let one’s heart become choked with panic over simple weariness and hunger. “Uclod?” I said much louder. “Are you finally awake, you churlish little man?”
“Nope, not Uclod. Guess again.”
The voice was definitely not Uclod’s. It sounded male but had a raspy nasal quality to it: the type of voice one’s sister might adopt when saying, “Nyah, nyah, look whose bed is wet!” The words were spoken in Explorer English with a quick flat accent that cut rapidly through syllables and left them sliced in pieces on the ground.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Where are you?”
“Ooo, direct questions!” the voice said. “That’s what I like about primitive organisms: no wasting time with social niceties. No throwing yourself into postures of abject worship and offering infant sacrifices like some races I could mention. You come right out and say, ‘Who the hell are you, pal?’”
“You are not my pal,” I said. “And despite your admiration for direct questions, you have not answered mine.”
“Absolutely right. That’s cuz I’m an asshole.”
“Do you have a name, Mr. Asshole? Do you have a location?”
“Yes and yes. See? I can answer questions with the best of ’em. And before you get your knickers in a knot, let me reveal myself in a tiny fraction of my eye-popping glory.”
One second I was looking at starry space, unable to see my own body; the next, I was standing in the flesh on a fiery red plain that was definitely not inside Starbiter.
The Fiery Red Plain
Less than a stone’s throw away, chunky pools of lava hissed up thin streams of smoke, making the air ripple with their heat. Small black things swam in the crimson-hot pools, two-headed slugs that slithered short distances along the surface, then buried their noses into the magma and dived out of sight. There were insects too, buzzing loudly enough to be heard over the molten sizzle, flying from one smoke streamer to another and pausing briefly inside each, as if sipping from flowers.
As soon as I thought of flowers, a garden sprang up around me: a garden that had not been present two seconds before. I did not recognize the plants—they were scarlet and black, with huge limpid blooms hanging heavily at the level of my thighs, their petals the color of human blood. They rustled restlessly against my legs and against each other, though I could feel no wind. I felt no heat either, nor the ground beneath my feet, nor the touch of the flowers, though I could see them brushing my skin…and suddenly I realized the truth.
“This is a simulation!” I cried. “Nothing more than a trick. You are transmitting sights and sounds to Starbiter, who is transmitting them to me; but I cannot feel anything, because the Zarett is unable to send me such sensations.”
“Ooo, aren’t you the smarty-pants!” said the voice. “Except for the pants. Doesn’t your backside get breezy?”
I looked around. There was no sign of anyone else in the bubbly volcanic landscape—nothing but the garden and the lava, plus some peaky black mountains on the farthest horizon. The sky was empty too: an ashy maroon with no clouds or stars. “Are you hiding, Mr. Asshole?” I called. “Or are you preparing an extravagant entrance you think will impress me?”
“Bright girl,” the voice chuckled. “You’re obviously miles ahead of my feeble brain.”
With a surging explosion of smoke, something erupted from the depths of the closest lava pool. It was big and white, with fizzing droplets of molten rock running off its hide. Where the drips spilled onto the blood-red flowers, the plants sprouted brand-new blossoms that appeared with a soft screaming sound. The screams were an excellent touch—if one intends to simulate a volcanic garden, there is admirable showmanship in flowers that howl as they grow.
But the white thing continued to rise from the magma, as if it were standing on a submerged platform being lifted by an elevator mechanism. I could see now the beast was exceedingly leathery, the approximate size and pebbly texture of a rhinoceros.4 It had four massive legs and even a fuzzy tail tucked between the armorlike slabs of hide covering its haunches…but unlike a rhinoceros, this creature had no horn. It had no nose at all, and no eyes or mouth either, because the animal completely lacked a head—its neck simply stopped at the throat, where an open hole led back into the chest cavity.
As I watched, the headless creature leaned forward so the hole in its neck tilted downward.
A thick gout of lava poured out of the gap, as if the beast were emptying unwanted fill-age that had flowed into the opening while submerged. “God, that itches,” the animal said in a gargly voice. It made a hawking sound in its throat the way a crude person does before spitting; then a wad of lava spurted out the neckhole and splashed back into the pool.
“That’s better,” it said in a much clearer tone. “How ’bout you? Not too intimidated by seeing the real me?”
“Why should I believe I am seeing the real you? Since this is just a projected image, you may look nothing like a headless rhinoceros. You could be something small and squishy, attempting to make yourself look more impressive.”
“If I wanted to make myself look impressive, I’d pick something better than a headless fucking rhino.” The beast stepped from the surface of the lava onto the solid ground of the garden; the flowers he tread upon gave high-pitched squeals and dragged themselves out of the way, ripping their roots from the soil and replanting themselves at a safe distance. I stared at them…and the beast noticed me looking. He glanced at the fleeing plants, then up at me. “Too much?”
“Yes. You are trying too hard to dazzle me.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Screw the special effects.”
He slopped across the garden toward me, now moving through the flowers as if they were not even there. They did not screech or pull away; they did not even quiver as his body passed through leaves and blossoms that were no more solid than smoke. Or perhaps it was the beast himself who had become insubstantial—large and white and unnatural, coming toward me like a decapitated ghost.
As the creature drew nearer, I got an unobstructed view of the gaping hole where his head should have been. The sky’s dim red light did not pierce far into the beast’s inner blackness; yet down his open throat, as deep as his heart and lungs, two crimson orbs glowed like the dying coals of a campfire. I suspected these were Baleful Burning Eyes, buried in the recesses of the creature’s body…but if so, it was a most foolish place to locate one’s sight, because one’s view would be greatly restricted by the sides of one’s own neck.
Ascending Page 7
