Dragons in the Stars

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  * * *

  I will be here.

  Sighing, Jael gathered her senses with an effort of will and altered the image slightly, materialized an image of her ship as it was bound to her through the net—just its ghostly nose protruding out of nothingness into the Flux. She set the stabilizers astride Highwing. This should help keep us together. I'll see you in a while, then.

  A plume of smoke. Yes.

  Jael withdrew. Her senses darkened, accompanied by a wave of dizziness—and rekindled back in her own body. She climbed out of the rigger-cell and stood, trembling with exhaustion, in the gloom of the starship's bridge. She stretched and felt her joints popping; she had been in the rigger-station, motionless, for a very long time—longer than she would have thought possible. Was that Highwing's work? Or had the pallisp increased her abilities and stamina in the net? She shrugged wearily. What did it matter?

  She was ravenously hungry, even hungrier than she was tired. She stole into the galley and quietly wolfed a dinner of tasteless fish and vegetables and bread. At any moment, she expected an angry Mogurn to burst in upon her. But when he had not appeared by the time she was finished, she began to wonder. He had been awfully anxious to see her, to vent his anger. Was it possible that the virtual-Mogurn's death in the net had . . . no, don't be ridiculous. Perhaps she should just go to sleep and worry about it later. But she could not so easily ignore Mogurn's absence, and he had told her to come see him. With a lump of fear in her throat, she disposed of her dishes and tiptoed into the hallway.

  She crept to Mogurn's door and, after a long hesitation, pressed the signal. There was no answer. She paled the door, which was unlocked, and peered in. Mogurn was unconscious under his synaptic augmentor, his eyes rolled up into his head, a grimace stretching his mouth. He was so still that for a moment she thought he might indeed be dead; but no, his chest was rising and falling slowly. He hadn't been able to wait for her help, apparently; he was too addicted to his augmentor. Or he'd been too angry.

  Jael frowned, thinking involuntarily of the pallisp. She realized that she didn't really need or want it just now. She could live without it while she slept. Good, she thought. Very good. Returning to the commons, she left a brief note for Mogurn, staring that the ship was out of danger. Then she went to her own cabin and fell almost instantly into a deep sleep.

  * * *

  She blinked as her dreams fled, visions of snarling mythical creatures disappearing in plumes of golden radiance. Her eyes focused on the ceiling of her cabin, plain pale green. She tried to focus her thoughts . . .

  . . . and suddenly remembered Highwing.

  She drew a sharp breath as the memories streamed back into her mind. Highwing! Had that all been a dream? For a moment, she was confused by doubts about the reality of what she remembered—or thought she remembered. Dragons in the Flux? Living creatures who spoke with humans and looked into their souls . . . and called them "friend"? It was surely impossible; it flew in the face of what she knew as reality. And yet, her memory sang with the reality of Highwing.

  Mogurn's voice startled her: "Are you being paid to sleep?" The anger in his voice was sharp. Too sharp.

  With a shock, she turned her head to look at him standing in her doorway. She saw his drawn-looking eyes glaring at her, and she despised him. She imagined him cremated by dragon fire.

  "Make yourself ready and come see me in the galley," he ordered, his voice trembling. Then he vanished.

  Scowling, she forced herself to rise. Mogurn's tone worried her. He sounded unwell, perhaps unstable. She wondered if he might have suffered a synaptic overdose on the augmentor; she had not been there to set the level for him, and she had no idea what too high a level might do. She'd have to be careful—best to get back into the net quickly. And besides, Highwing was waiting for her. (Wasn't he? He was . . . if he was real . . . .) A queer ache settled in her chest as she thought of the dragon; it reminded her of the longing she had once felt for the pallisp. But the pallisp held no attraction for her now. She wanted only to be with Highwing.

  Dizzy with confused emotions, she showered and changed and crossed the hallway to the commons. Mogurn was already eating. Under his baleful gaze she punched breakfast for herself. She slipped silently into her place across the table from him. She felt the powerful presence of his stare as she lifted a piece of toast to her mouth, but she didn't meet his eyes. She struggled to keep her head steady; she struggled not to show her fear, or to show how badly she wanted to return to the net.

  Mogurn spoke as she took her first bite. "Twice now, you've disobeyed and entered the net without permission. And you've put us in danger from . . . dragons." He drew a raspy breath, and his voice shook a little, betraying his own fear. "I take it from your message that we are clear of dragons now?"

  Jael swallowed her toast. Highwing, burn him! she thought desperately, wishing that the dragon could be here to obey her, to protect her. She closed her eyes and chose her words with care. "Not entirely. We could still have trouble." She opened her eyes, meeting his glare at last. "But we are nearing the final current to Lexis. It should not be too much longer." She nodded to herself and carefully spread some three-berry preserves over the rest of her toast, "I should return to the net at once," she added, taking a large bite.

  The tic had returned to Mogurn's face; the corner of his left eye had a life of its own, twitching and jittering nervously. He squinted, trying unsuccessfully to control it. "You don't like me much, do you, Jael?" he said tightly. He didn't wait for an answer. "You never did. Did you? But you like your pallisp well enough, don't you? Don't you, Jael! Well, there is no one else who can wield the pallisp for you on this ship, Jael—or off the ship, either!"

  Jael held her gaze rigid, avoiding his eyes. I do not need a pallisp, she thought. Not any longer. Nevertheless, she trembled under Mogurn's stare. "There will be no more mistakes, Jael. No more disobedience. And no pallisp! Not until you have removed this ship completely from danger." Mogurn smiled queerly, triumphantly, and crossed his arms over his chest.

  What a pathetic man, Jael thought—however powerful he might be, however cruel. What weapon did he hold over her now? She might fear him physically, yes, but—"I do not need your pallisp," she said aloud. And her throat constricted as she said it, as she wondered if it really was true. Before he could respond, she hurried to say, "And now I should return to—"

  "You stay until I command you to leave!" Mogurn shouted furiously. Jael froze, scarcely breathing.

  An alarm from the bridge trilled, signalling changes in the Flux. Mogurn started, his expression changing to fear. He was terrified of what was happening in the net. He jerked his head around. "Go!" he said bitterly.

  * * *

  Jael hurried. If Highwing had left her . . . or if it had all been a dream . . .

  When her senses sparked outward into the net, she found herself astride a tremendous dragon, flying in clear bright winds over low mountains. She cried out with relief. Two setting suns, pink and orange, shone in the sky before her. The sky overhead was a sea of liquid crystal, and she knew at once that she was bound upward for that sea. Greetings, small one, sighed the dragon, snorting fire into the air.

  Jael hugged his neck, wanting to cry. Her anger toward him had evaporated. Now she wanted only to stay with him. Highwing, she asked softly, did you call me?

  The dragon pumped his wings slowly. I wanted you to return, he said. I don't know if I called you or not.

  I knew it was time to come. Jael fell silent, waiting for the lump to disappear from her throat. It didn't. Are we—almost at the end?

  Of my range, yes, Jael. Dragons do not go beyond these foothills. I am zigzagging to go more slowly, but yes—we are almost at the end. Do you wish me to fly straight?

  She shuddered at the thought of the dragon leaving her, leaving when she had only just begun to know him. To believe in him. To believe in his world, his reality. No . . . please. Oh, Highwing, can't you come farther with me? Or can't we go back?
Even as she spoke, she knew that it was impossible. She had a ship to bring in, and even Mogurn was her responsibility. The currents of the Flux were inexorable; dragons could fly against them, perhaps, but Jael and her ship could not.

  Highwing turned his head and regarded her. I wish it were so, Jael. I had hoped—hoped that you would—and his voice broke off sorrowfully.

  What, Highwing?

  The dragon sighed. It doesn't matter.

  That I would . . . stay? she asked, her eyes stinging.

  Yes.

  Her heart nearly broke. I wish . . . but I cannot, she whispered.

  Highwing's throat rumbled. No . . . no, I see that you must continue, that you have duties to perform. He turned straight ahead and flew slowly, ponderously.

  Before, when I wanted to leave, Jael said, half to herself, you were only trying to help me, just as you said you were. I didn't believe you then. She felt a rush of shame, and tears came to wet her cheeks. Highwing, there's so much I don't understand! So much about your world—and you! Isn't there something I can do to help you, as you helped me? I don't want to part like this, Highwing. What will I do?

  Sometimes friends must part, the dragon said softly. But as for helping me, I think perhaps you already have.

  Jael stroked his scales sadly, in puzzlement. How, Highwing?

  The dragon flew in thoughtful silence. Our worlds are not the same, he said at last, not answering her question directly. Each has its own troubles. But you have been my friend. And now you must seek friends in your own world. That is the way of it, I suppose.

  Jael could not speak, could not think how to answer.

  But I will still be here, thinking of you. Never has any dragon met such a rigger. And as Highwing said that, his powerful voice seemed to catch and hesitate. It will be a memory for me to treasure, he added finally.

  Jael wept, and only after a long time did her tears dry. She still had no answer to the terrible question deep in her heart: How could she dispel the awful loneliness that was already closing in around her? The pallisp drifted into her mind, and she pushed it away. No, the price for that comfort was too high. The wisdom that Highwing had shown her was greater than the wisdom of the pallisp. Greater than Mogurn's wisdom, or shelled-in emptiness.

  Things will be different for me now, she murmured hopefully, as though to the wind.

  Highwing heard her and answered, It will be different for me, as well, Jael. He spoke in a voice that sounded glad, and yet troubled, in a way that she did not understand. Never again could I duel a rigger without thinking of you. You, who have my name—and I yours.

  Will you . . . duel other riggers?

  I think not, Jael. I think not. I . . . do not know what will become of me and . . . riggers.

  They flew on in silence. He had never told her just what the other dragons would think of his befriending her. And now, somehow, she was afraid to ask. She found herself repeating his full name to herself, in her inner voice: Windrush-Wingtouch-Highwing—Terror-of-the-Last-Peak . . . a name to be remembered and treasured.

  The lowest of the mountains drew near. Highwing, if I fly this way again, will I find you?

  The dragon's breath caught, and he suddenly breathed fire. Of the other dragons, beware. But believe that I shall be looking for you. Cry, "Friend of Highwing!" and I will hear you, though all the mountains lie between us.

  Jael thought she felt a tremor pass through the earth below, and she wondered at it. Of the other dragons beware . . . She trembled with emotion. Then let us fly high now, and part in the sun.

  The dragon complied at once, soaring upward, toward the inverted lake of sunset crystal above their heads. Jael leaned with him into the wind, feeling it sting her cheeks and toss her hair, feeling the glowing radiance of the celestial ocean overhead, filling her eyes and her soul. As the two suns set, their radiance blazed in full color into the sky. Channels opened in the clouds, and light poured through in great rays, washing over Highwing and Jael, and they flew up one of the beams, into the crystal sea, where colors shifted brightly and the currents of the Flux moved in streams and gossamer strands. And here, she knew, Highwing would leave her, for this was not a dragon's realm.

  Highwing shivered, and she thought she heard echoes of weeping. The dragon blew a great cloud of smoke and sparks, and a single brilliant, billowing flame. Jael caressed his neck one last time, and then extended her hands into space and turned them into great webs touching the streamers of light. Farewell, Highwing! she cried softly, scarcely letting the words pass her lips.

  Farewell, Jael! said the dragon, and he wheeled and suddenly Jael was no longer astride him but in flight on her own, flying as a rigger once more. Highwing banked and circled around her, and he issued a long, thin stream of smoke in final farewell. Then he banked sharply away and plummeted.

  Jael gazed after him, holding back her tears, as he dwindled toward his own world. Friend of Highwing! she cried, and her voice reverberated down the sunbeams, and perhaps she was only imagining, but she thought she heard his laugh echoing in the distance below. And then she set her sights ahead and knew that the tears would flow again for a while, but eventually they would dry; and she looked in the shifting sky for the currents that would carry her to her destination star system, Lexis, to the end of this voyage, to normal-space. And she began to plan how she would tell Mogurn that she was leaving him and his pallisp, and she laughed and cried and turned her thoughts back to the sky.

  Until I return, Highwing, she thought. Then she saw the streamer she wanted and caught it in her webbed hand, and with her the ship rose high and fast into the current.

  PART TWO

  Rigger Friend

  Chapter 12: Confrontation

  THE MOUNTAINS were well behind her when she at last set the stabilizers and prepared to leave the net. She didn't leave right away, though; in fact, she almost released the stabilizers again and returned to active flying, so reluctant was she to depart. In the end, she knew that she had no choice; she could not stay here forever, and Mogurn had already interrupted her twice, demanding to know the ship's condition. But she couldn't help gazing wistfully astern, where the realm of dragons had long since passed out of sight. Drawing a deep breath, she turned her attention forward, to the clear golden atmospheres ahead and the tiny flecks of distant star systems. At last she withdrew from the net.

  Mogurn was in his cabin, smoking. He barely stirred when she entered; his gaze was directed to the wall-holo near the door. Jael was almost afraid to turn her head to see what was on the holo, but when he didn't move, she steeled herself and looked. It was an empty image, a featureless grey-green space like a window into an infinitely deep ocean. She shivered a little and wondered what was making him so still, what he was seeing in that blank holo. Failure? Death? Perhaps she didn't really want to know. Pressing her lips together, she turned to face her captain.

  Mogurn gave no sign of noticing her. He puffed, and smoke curled up around his head.

  "The ship is clear of danger," Jael said quietly. "We're out of the mountains. We should be entering the final current to the Lexis system in a couple of days, I'd guess. Ahead of schedule."

  Still there was no response from Mogurn. Was this the man who had so urgently needed to know what was happening?

  "If you have no questions, I request sleep time now." She might as well have been speaking to the wall. With a shrug, she turned to leave.

  She was halfway out the door when she heard Mogurn's voice behind her, strained and oddly thin. "There will be no pallisp for you today."

  Turning, she gazed at him in cold wonderment. "I do not want the pallisp," she said softly. "Tonight or—" she hesitated "—ever again." If he heard her words, it did not show. Puffs of smoke streamed up past his reddened, unseeing eyes. "Good night," she said, and did not breathe again until his door was opaque and the length of the hallway stood between her and Mogurn's cabin.

  * * *

  Mogurn did not come out again for the better p
art of a shipday. During that time, Jael flew the ship well along toward Lexis. And she struggled not to think about the pallisp.

  The latter was more easily intended than done. Her friendship with Highwing may have rendered the pallisp unnecessary while she was in the net, but Highwing was no longer here. The memory of the dragon was strong in her mind—but so too was the memory of the pallisp. More than once in the net she found herself caught between the two memories, longing for both, knowing she could not have the one and dared not have the other. She caught herself gazing backward, behind the ship, unconsciously trying to conjure the image of Highwing. With painful determination, she pulled herself back from that impulse, which was not only futile but dangerous; she had to accept the fact that she was alone. To remember Highwing and his deeds was a very good thing, but to wish for something that was impossible would only draw her back into another form of dependence. And along that road lay the pallisp.