Dragons in the Stars

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  At least, that was how the day started.

  The first difficulty came when Jael tried to bring a piece of Ed's rainforest into the net. They were only a few shipdays shy of Vela Oasis, and their path was laid out before them in a glorious spangle of celestial highways and galactic whirlpools, a romantic's vision of the universe, a grand vista of exploding light that took Jael's breath away. They moved through the vision in a stately waltz, their ship a small garden in a bubble gliding upward along a luminous milky path. Their movement, and the image of the garden, seemed stable enough to risk letting a few elements of Ed's original environment into the net.

  Try just a little at a time, and we'll smooth out the wrinkles while we fly, Ar suggested, taking up a position in front.

  Rrrick-k-k! Yes!

  Jael quickly discovered, however, that there was no simple way to introduce the rainforest gradually. Ed himself was a special case; he had been partitioned by the storage device as the "primary matrix." But bringing in something like a single tree was not so simple. The ambient environment was stored ingeniously and compactly, but not conveniently for limited retrieval. As she probed the storage medium, she felt like a child groping blindly in a magician's bag, wondering what her fingers were touching. After a minute, she decided she might as well create the image and put it to use. A black satin bag materialized in front of her.

  Yawk! Good, good, Ed chortled, hopping down to a low, surrealistic-looking bush so that he could peer at whatever was coming out.

  Stay back, now, Jael warned. She glanced around. Ar was seated on a large rock, steering their course by shirting his body weight from side to side. He was humming, as usual, a raspy, vaguely dissonant tune. A flurry of sparkling things flew by, carried on the gentle breeze made by their headway. The objects were probably Flux analogs of accreting heavenly bodies in formation—planets or asteroids, perhaps. Seneca was bypassing a region of space that was heavy with star and planetary formation. Flux abscess—a dangerous distortion of the continuum—could occasionally be a concern in such regions, but all the indications looked safe. Okay? she called.

  Yes, we're in the clear, Ar said, barely interrupting his humming. See that cluster up ahead? He pointed to a distant patch of light at the end of a long, twisty pathway. That's Vela Oasis. We're already homing in.

  Jael nodded. She reached into the magician's bag. Ed clucked and craned his neck, bobbing his head like a pigeon, trying to see. Here goes, she murmured, feeling something on her fingertips. She drew it forth; with a glint of light, something unfolded into three-dimensionality—then seemed to vanish. An instant later, there was a great fluttering around her head, and she ducked down, startled. The air overhead was filled with leaves, all suspended in midair, and clustered in the shape of a tree. Good grief, she muttered, as Ed squawked in delight and puzzlement. Where was the rest of the tree—the branches and trunk? She probed in the big again. Something large and cold unfolded into the net.

  Hrrawwk! Ed cried.

  Jael scowled. It was a damp stone face, with four sticky lizard's feet, without the lizard, walking up its side. This was not helping. She felt a breeze on her face and glanced up just in time to see the suspended leaves blow away on the wind.

  Tree gone, Ed announced.

  So I noticed, she sighed. Now what? She reached into the bag once more and drew out a long tree branch. There was a small cluster of leaves at its tip, and a pair of bright red lionflies stretching their wings.

  Ed leaped from his perch and dived toward the insects. Hawwwwwk! Eat!

  Ed, wait! Her cry came too late. The parrot shot past the lionflies as they fluttered up into the air, over her head. Ed! The parrot banked and circled, pursuing the two bright morsels. They dodged nimbly through the air, fleeing higher and higher, and Ed pursued energetically, seemingly undaunted by the panoply of galaxies reigning overhead.

  Jael watched anxiously. How far could they range out of the center of the net without upsetting Ar's stable flight? Ed, come back! she pleaded.

  Ar stopped humming and turned his head. Is anything wrong? We're coming up on a divide, and we'll need to keep it steady.

  Uh-oh, Jael breathed. Ed was now almost to the edge of the bubble that surrounded them in their idyllic garden. If he went much higher . . .

  She felt a shudder as the parrot rebounded, squawking, from the bubble's edge. That answered one question; he was as "real" in this net as the riggers, and despite his small size, he could rock the net with surprising leverage. Ed, get back down here! she shouted. But the parrot was too preoccupied to pay attention.

  Jael, I need help, Ar murmured, his voice hardening with greater urgency. We've got to get past this divide, and we're veering.

  Jael felt a moment of faintness. Veering off course, because of Ed? Is it that bad? He didn't hit us that hard, did he? She reached out to assist Ar, but not before another jolt rocked the net. They were losing their fine control. Terrific, she thought—and we told Mariella we were doing so well. Foolishly, for an instant, she allowed her thoughts to dwell, not on how to deal with the problem but on having to report it to her captain. The memory of Mogurn rose in her thoughts, looking angry and spiteful. Damn you—get out! she thought. You are no longer my captain! Mariella Flaire is my captain now!

  She reached out, fusing her strength with Ar's.

  Ar was busy trying to untangle the forces in the splitting stream of milky light. They were on the wrong side, in the left-hand stream; the one to the right was already curving away, and diverging fast. If we can just slip across—

  Ar's words were interrupted by a metamorphosis in the starscape in front of them, an enormous face materializing in the sky, looking sideways but turning to face them as it became three-dimensional and solid. It was the face of Mogurn, raging. His eyes were mad with hatred. My God—Jael whispered. She tried to choke off her own breath, but it was out already—her terror was out in the net. Could Mogurn have survived somehow and returned to seek his revenge?

  No, surely it's impossible . . .

  Mogurn loomed closer. The ship, the garden, the bubble began to turn and list. Jael knew that her fear was the worst thing to allow in the net right now, but she couldn't stop her terror as Mogurn leered and drew close enough to reach . . .

  Jael, get rid of that—!

  Ar's call was drowned out by Ed's: Y-y-aaaarrr-w-w-k-k!

  The parrot came plummeting down, landing on Jael's shoulder with a mad flutter of wings. His claws gripped her like iron, but his wings flapped in panic. Arr-arr-arr-arr-arrkkk!

  Ed, stop it! she hissed. But she knew the reason for his terror. It was her own, radiating, distorting the energy balance of the net. Ed, it's just . . . it can't be . . . But she really wasn't sure anymore. Could he have survived, somehow, with his hatred and his lust for domination? Who knew what was possible in the Flux?

  Jael, it's not real! Ar shouted, as he struggled to keep the ship under control. Angry tremors were shaking the net; the heavens were swarming threateningly around them. They were beginning to spin.

  Not real, Jael forced herself to think. Not real. She drew in a great breath and rose up suddenly to confront the face of Mogurn. Her breath escaped in an angry exhalation, and the face slowly became . . . transparent . . . then vanished. The tremors began to die away at once. He's gone, she reported, ashamed of having endangered the ship by allowing a careless memory-image into the net. Mogurn was not here threatening vengeance, and never had been.

  She closed her eyes and whispered, Ed—shhhhh. It's all right, calm down. She was talking to herself as much as to the parrot, but she felt his nails easing their grip on her shoulder.

  Rarrk, Ed murmured, kneading her shoulder gently. What . . . Jayl . . . what happened?

  She gasped as her heartbeat finally slowed. It was something . . . that once terrified me. I don't know if I can explain it. But there's no need to be afraid now. Ar . . . I'm really sorry. Unhappily, she squinted to focus on the stars. How do we stand?

  Reg
aining control, Ar replied. The rotation of the sky was stopping as he stabilized the net. I'm afraid that we are now off course. And I'm not, immediately, quite sure how to get us back on.

  The wind blowing through the garden seemed cooler and damper now. Jael shivered, looking off and down to starboard. The current that they had lost was still visible as a streamer curving off into the distance. It's a bad break, Ar said. If it hadn't all come just as we were hitting that divergence, we could have taken it in stride. He was clearly unhappy, but wasn't laying blame. He didn't have to.

  Ed twisted his neck, looking anxiously from one to the other. We do wrong? he croaked in a thin, frightened rasp. Ed do wrong?

  Jael closed her eyes. No, Ed. I mean . . . that is, we both did something wrong. It's not your fault. But . . . in the future . . . we can't have you flying around wildly like you were a minute ago. That makes it harder for us to keep control.

  Ruk-k-k. Didn't mean to, the parrot said mournfully.

  I know. You didn't. She glanced at Ar, who was righting them on the stream and examining various alternatives for getting them back over to the correct current. It was more my doing. My carelessness. When I got scared by that face, you did, too.

  K-k-k-scared. Not now.

  Jael nodded, dismissing the subject. She needed to help Ar with the navigation. Without speaking, she gazed out into the spangled light against the dark, trying to spy out a route that might take them toward the hazy patch that was their destination. It was visibly receding from them now, or seemed to be. There must be some way to get back over there.

  Ar crooned a stuttering tune to himself. We might have to take a long way around.

  While Jael was thinking about that, a shudder passed through the net and something flashed over their heads like a meteor. She ducked instinctively. It was a good reminder: they were passing close to some disturbances in the nearby layers of normal-space. There was no cause for panic, but one thing was certain: they should try to move clear, to avoid the risk of more serious trouble. Ar, maybe we'd better change this for a fresh perspective.

  Ar's luminous eyes looked to her, awaiting suggestions.

  Her mind went blank for a moment, then she drew a deep breath and took control of the net from him. The night sky full of wonders disappeared, and a tremendous crystal of frozen water appeared in its place. They were surrounded by clear ice, stretching to infinity. It was shot through with hairline cracks, white and silver traceries that meandered through the icy realm, betraying flaws and boundary layers and points of stress. They were moving through one such flaw in the ice, like a microscopic creature floating through a fine sieve-work of melted ice in the heart of a glacier. Off to their left, a cluster of dirty spots in the ice betrayed the locations of nearby gravitational disturbances. Tiny cracks emanating from that region crossed their own pathway, especially ahead, where the cracks became dangerously dense. They could steer clear of the hazard by sinking deeper. As one, they stretched out the net and angled the ship gently downward.

  Jael peered off to the starboard, toward their original route. If only they could move backward, against the current, to rejoin it . . . but that was impossible. Farther ahead, the correct path branched with fine traceries like the fernlike shape of ice crystals forming out of liquid water. It seemed so close to them, and yet so far out of reach. She couldn't quite tell where it led, or visualize their ultimate destination through the ice. Ar, can you see anything?

  The Clendornan was shaking his head, as another voice broke in: Excuse me for interrupting. May I speak without disturbing you?

  Ms. Flaire? Ar asked.

  Yes. I felt dizzy, several times—and thought I felt the ship shaking. Is there any trouble?

  Ar's luminous eyes met Jael's, before he answered, We had some difficulty, yes. But we are out of immediate danger.

  The answering voice carried a distinct note of worry. Out of immediate danger? Does that mean there is still a problem?

  Jael felt a flash of annoyance, and an unreasoning urge to tell Flaire that they could straighten it out faster without her interference. Didn't she know that they were the riggers—not her? Jael struggled to control the thought; she knew it to be irrational, an echo of Mogurn.

  Yes, Ar said, seeing that Jael was keeping her silence. There is a problem, still. But not a serious one, we hope. We are having to choose a somewhat different course. We experienced turbulence and momentary loss of control. But we've stabilized the situation.

  Rawk, Ed interjected. Right.

  What was that?

  Ar met Jael's glance of alarm and said, That was Ed. He's an enhancement we're using. We'll . . . be able to tell you more, a little later.

  There was a pause, before Flaire answered, Very well. You are the riggers, and I'll leave you to your work. Enhancements and all. But please remember—I'll want a full accounting.

  Of course, Ar replied. But just now we need to focus on correcting our course.

  With what seemed to Jael a grudging acknowledgment, Flaire terminated contact with the net. Jael looked at Ar and said, What do we do now? Then she thought bitterly, Why are you asking him? Aren't you a rigger, too?

  Ar's clear eyes seemed to track over her face, evaluating what he saw there. Jael, you can't rig properly if you're feeling angry. Or guilty.

  Damn it—I know that! she snapped, her frustration finally erupting into the net. I can't help it. That's just the way Mogurn was, watching over every little move I made. She felt herself flushing; she was being unreasonable, and knew it. But she couldn't help resenting Flaire's intrusion.

  Ar hummed dissonantly for a moment. He reached out a long-fingered hand and tickled Ed's neck. The parrot stirred, opening one eye at the Clendornan. If you're feeling guilty because of letting Ed in, don't.

  Arkk. Right.

  Jael fumed. That's not it! But wasn't it? she thought. If not, why was she reacting so strongly?

  Jael, she was within her rights to inquire. I thought she was actually quite restrained about it, considering that she felt the whole ship shaking.

  Taking a breath, Jael tried to voice her agreement, and couldn't. Once more she found Mogurn returning to her thoughts; she forced the memory away with an extreme effort of will.

  Ar touched her arm with his long, delicate fingers. Jael, do you trust me?

  She was startled. Yes. Of course I do.

  Then trust me now. His luminous purple eyes focused on hers. I am no expert in Human relations, but one thing I am sure of. You have to decide whether to trust people and work with them, or not. And if disturbing memories linger from someone you've trusted mistakenly, then you just have to let go of them.

  She closed her eyes. I can't just make my feelings go away.

  No. Perhaps you cannot erase them, but you can learn to manage them. You can decide not to let them interfere with your work, or with the way that you react to people who are innocent.

  She gazed at him for what seemed a very long time. It was probably only a few seconds. Then she felt something pushing at her hand. It was Ed, nuzzling her knuckles. She laughed, despite herself, and stroked his back. She felt her tension slowly easing. Okay, she said, with a sigh. I would have gotten over it anyway, you know. But thanks, I guess. She looked beyond Ar, to the realm of their flight. Ice, in infinite dimensions of distance. Now, hadn't we better decide what we're going to do?

  Ar nodded, turning. He gazed into the ice for some time without speaking. Jael tried to visually trace out the distant pathways, but it was difficult to determine where they ultimately led. Ed tiptoed around, peering hopefully.

  It appears to me that there's a large body of water between us and where we want to go, Ar reported. Jael saw what he was pointing at: an area of blurriness, or refraction, which upon closer scrutiny seemed to be an enormous pocket of water in the heart of the ice. At least, it was a boundary layer of some sort, and their destination was on the far side of it.

  Can we pass through it, do you think?

  T
he question is whether we can get to it. Ar traced out the melt-flaw they were moving in now, and while it seemed to meander in the general direction of the water boundary, it was impossible to tell whether it actually came into contact with it.

  Jael immersed her hands in the current of icy cold water. There's only one way to tell, isn't there?

  Ar agreed, and together they bent the ship's course, seeking a downward flow into the fracture.

  * * *

  The curvature of the flaw was clearly visible now, and it was evident that it turned away from the water boundary. They were so close to the boundary that the feeling of frustration was almost palpable in the net. An apparently impenetrable layer of ice separated them from the liquid sea that might otherwise carry them toward Vela Oasis. Vela itself was visible as a shimmering mirage-like goal on the far side of the watery deep.

  What if we change the image? Ar suggested.