by Blaze Ward
Katayoun seemed to be trying to squeeze all the air out of him, possibly followed by all the blood. It was hard to tell. At least she seemed friendly.
“You came,” she whispered fiercely into his ear.
Instead of speaking, Henri hugged her closer.
After a moment, Katayoun’s weight was too much and he let go of her butt and stood her beside him.
“Captain Dunrathy,” he said slyly. “I wonder if I might borrow your navigator for a spell?”
“Aye, lad,” the man boomed a laugh back. “We’re scheduled to depart in fifty–five hours. It would be nice if we could have her back by then.”
“I will see what I can arrange, sir,” Henri said.
Katayoun started to speak, but Henri put a finger on her lips, and then a kiss. He took her hand in his and led her down the loading ramp. The morning sun promised a glorious summer day.
Ξ
They lay entangled and entwined, his arms around her back, her head on his chest. He might have dozed. Her smell permeated him in happy ways.
“That,” she broke the afternoon stillness with quiet wonder, “was a marvelous way to be welcomed to Ballard.”
“I might have had needs,” he said drowsily. “It has been a while.”
He felt her lean back to look at him, but lifting his head to check was too much effort right now. At least the hotel room’s ceiling had stopped spinning.
“I didn’t ask you for monogamy, Henri,” Katayoun replied quietly.
He pulled her up his body until they were nose to nose. Her feet were even with his. It seemed a good fit.
“I know,” he kissed her. “I hadn’t necessarily intended it that way, but it worked out. For the better, I think.” He kissed her again. Just ’cause.
He felt her shift and cuddle up against his side. He had about ten hairs on his chest, but she started playing with them.
This was certainly the best way to Wednesday.
“So what have you been doing?” she asked quietly.
He could hear the reserve in her voice. Others would have missed it, but he lived in an auditory world, surrounded constantly by meaning in sound.
He kissed her forehead. It was there. Kissing her seemed like the best use of his time. Maybe his life. Who knew at twenty–four?
“Studying,” he whispered. And not even the co–eds. Mostly frumpy old professors and dry academic textbooks.
Could he have picked a topic less likely to attract pretty girls?
“What?” she asked, still a little distracted by his chest.
“Hyperspace gravity wave theory,” he said with a self–important nod, barely able to contain his giggles. That was exactly what Bards were supposed to master, right?
“Huh?”
She actually stopped and lifted her head into his line of sight. The puzzlement made her dimples stand out sharper. It also brought her bottom within range. He gave it a good squeeze, just to make sure it hadn’t changed. These things were important.
“Hyperspace gravity wave theory,” he repeated serenely.
Other parts of her were within tantalizing range now as well. He pulled her closer and considered distractions.
She put one hand square against his breastbone and leaned enough to flatten him back down. “I thought you were a musician. What’s gotten into you, Henri Baudin?”
He couldn’t contain the giggles now.
“What’s so funny?” she said, an edge appearing in her voice.
He pulled her close and kissed her again.
“You’d think me utterly daft if I told you, Katayoun,” he said quietly.
“You don’t trust me?” she asked, hurt evident.
“I don’t want you to laugh at me,” he replied defensively.
“Never,” she assured him. “You’re too important to me.”
“Really?” he asked, surprised. Had he ever been important to someone? Had he ever allowed it?
“Really,” she kissed him. “So why are you studying Jumpspace so much?”
Henri took a really deep breath. Because the goddess of music told me to up–end human technology and civilization by finding a way to navigate by the sound of the stars?
Even in his head it sounded insane. More insane.
“It’s all your fault,” he began.
“Mine?” she cried, catching on to his smile.
“Yes, yours,” he kissed her again. “You showed me how ships navigate between stars.”
“And?”
“And I think I know a better way.”
“How?” she asked breathlessly.
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“Just how crazy are you, mister?”
“Music.”
“What?”
“Music,” Henri continued. “Every star vibrates at a specific rate. Think of it like a single note played on my violin. Each star has a different pitch, regardless of the size, or color, or shape of the gravity well. You just need to tune an ear to listen for it in Jumpspace. Nothing else. Not the color, or the gravity, or the motion. Just the tone. And it’s dark, so you close your eyes and listen.”
“That’s insane,” she whispered.
“Maybe,” he agreed. “Maybe not. Suvi seems to think I’m onto something completely new. Something she thinks might work.”
“She? Suvi who?” Suddenly, there was an edge of jealousy in her voice. An angry, possessive edge.
“The Head Librarian,” he said. “The Sentience. The AI that runs Alexandria Station. I’ve been studying all of this at her behest.”
“Her.”
Yes, most definitely jealousy in that voice. What could she have imagined? And how to best deflect this before it got dangerous? More dangerous.
“So far,” Henri continued, “I have crammed the entire first half of an upper–class program into three months. That does not include sleeping.”
“How?”
Good. Derailed from that train of thought, hopefully.
“Math is music,” he replied. “Music is math. The hard part has been burning my fingers soldering old–fashioned wire. Makes it hard to play Nyange.”
“Soldering?”
Yup. Got her good and confused now.
“Katayoun, the hardware I need to even test this theory has to be invented first. I’m getting a degree in electrical engineering on top of everything else.”
“So you haven’t had any time to fool around with other women, huh?”
The smile was back. And the soft fingers. And the everything else.
“None,” he sighed. “This is the first day I’ve completely goofed off since I got here. The only other two days I took for myself involved sleeping for eighteen hours.”
“So perhaps I should help you relax?”
“You already did that,” Henri smiled up at her.
“Maybe some more?” she leered down at him.
“Okay.”
Ξ
“I meant to ask,” she began over breakfast.
Henri would have been fine ordering room service again, but she wanted to get out and walk. Apparently Katayoun had never spent any significant time in Ithome as a tourist. Neither had he, but the hotel concierge was an expert.
“Hmmm?” The orange juice was a really interesting shade of almost blue, but the taste was exactly what he had grown up on. Space was fun.
“Did you ever find out where that piece of wood came from?” she said, attacking her toast like a shark.
Henri blinked. Wood? Right. Pohang. Wood. Blue. Instrument–grade. Wood.
“Nope,” he said simply. “It is currently sitting my shelf, up at the station, waiting for me to finish everything else so I can spend the time necessary to focus on it.”
“Even to ask her about it?”
Apparently, the fact that the University Provost presented herself as a female hadn’t gone unnoticed, after all.
“Honestly, between all my classes, practice, and thinking about you, I don’t have any space left f
or anything else.” Henri smiled at her and considered what he had just said. Really? Classes, yes. Practice, daily at least. Thinking about her, constantly.
Huh.
“So when will you be done with school?” Katayoun cocked her head at him.
He shrugged. “I ought to be ready to take the scanner into space in a couple of months and see if it works the way I think,” he said. “I should know by the time you get back.”
“Why not wire it up to Marrakesh?”
“I thought about that,” he replied, “but it will take a week to wire something into a ship’s sensors, then we have to hop out several places in order to baseline it, and then, maybe, it might work well enough to move forward. Captain Dunrathy wouldn’t be interested in losing a month of sailing for something like that, and I can’t hire him for that long.”
“How can you afford to hire anything?” she said. “I thought you were a student and a minstrel. Does being a Bard pay you that well?”
Henri stopped and carefully considered his next words. Katayoun had already shown a jealous edge this morning.
“So when I first arrived,” he began.
Something about his tone got her attention. She leaned forward, chin on hands and eyes boring in.
Henri felt like a surprised rabbit facing a hungry bobcat.
“Go on,” she purred. She did something with the tilt of her head, coiling it this way and that, to see him at different angles.
That didn’t help his focus.
“I played an impromptu concert at a sidewalk café. For a grandmother who wanted to hear some Bayonne opera.”
“I see. Grandmother, huh?” she said.
“Yes,” he said, holding a hand out to the side. “About this tall, and about eighty years old, I’d guess. Anyway, it got recorded by someone in the crowd. Several someones, and uploaded. It got rather popular.”
“How popular?” She leaned closer.
From here, Henri could smell her. Creators, but she smelled wonderful this morning. It made it really hard to concentrate.
“Uhm,” he stammered. “I’m currently holding eight of the top one hundred places on the popular music channels? This place is starved for good music.”
“Really?” she said. “And the groupies?”
She did something with her shoulders that suddenly made the button–up front of her top drape open. Henri gave up trying to look into her eyes and instead focused down the front of her shirt. It was worth the distraction.
“One so far,” he replied absently, “and I can barely keep up with her.”
“That’s good, Henri Baudin,” she said matter–of–factly. “Because I might just have to keep you.”
“Truthfully?” he said. “I probably could hire Dunrathy for several months, just on what I’ve made here on Ballard. But it would throw you completely off schedule and that would screw up everything else.”
“True,” she said. “Ev prides himself on being reliable and fast.”
“So…” Henri began carefully. “How might he feel if I wanted to hire away his navigator for a spell?”
That got him a most interesting, a most complicated look. Careful, penetrating, cold, hard, warm, steamy. Maybe Henri did understand women, a little.
“Hire,” she said in a strange, sideways manner. “That depends. What did you have in mind, Henri Baudin?”
“Crazy stupid adventures in the back of beyond,” he replied. “Spinward and out from Ballard. Where things are quiet and we’re not likely to run into people we might have to explain ourselves to. I have this theory I want to test out, and I need to do all sorts of things on the smallest star–bound yacht I can buy. It will be small, so crew compatibility will be paramount.”
“Paramount,” she agreed with a seductive smile. “Small ship. Close quarters. Intimate working conditions. Your crew will need to fit together just right. Flexible to fill every hole and need as they arise. Open–minded about places to explore. That sound about right?”
“Something like that,” he said. “You never know what might pop up out there and I’ll need experienced people to handle things when they do.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. It felt like the right thing to do. Her kiss back promised far more than was appropriate in a restaurant.
Nine
“Good morning, Henri,” Suvi said with a welcoming smile, “what have you brought me this morning?”
“Good morning, Suvi,” he replied, very carefully placing the blue board on the little side table in the immersion booth. “I have been reminded that I originally came to Ballard to investigate the origin of this wood, that I might find more.”
“If you bring it to one of my labs, I will ask someone to scan it and provide us a detailed report. Did you and Katayoun have a good visit?”
Henri had an ear carefully trained to the nuances of sound. Did he really detect a note of jealousy out of a millennia–old Sentience? Was that possible? It certainly couldn’t be accidental, could it? She was thinking at thousands of times his speed.
Weird.
“We did,” he said noncommittally. “And now she’s bound for Zanzibar and I’ll see her again in three months. I hope to have the sensor array ready for testing by then.”
“To mount to Marrakesh?” she inquired, seemingly innocently.
Were all the women in his life going to be like this?
“No. It would be best to hire or buy a small ship and get a crew to go on an adventure.”
“I miss being a starship,” she said wistfully. “If they trusted me more, I would pour myself into a yacht and go exploring again. It’s in my blood.”
“Why won’t they let you?”
He watched a serious look come over her face and she stared closely at him for several seconds.
Was this his week to be prey?
“Once upon a time,” she said, “most starships were AI’s to some extent. Incredibly sophisticated systems that handled most of the tasks on a ship, or even a factory complex. You needed a far smaller crew in those days as a result.”
“Yes,” Henri agreed. “As a Bard, we learn a great deal of the history of humanity.”
“During the Concordancy War,” she continued, “fully–automated fleets might be sent out, set to destruction. Thus was the Homeworld destroyed. Robot fleets do not feel remorse about raining asteroids and comets and bombs down on an inhabited world. They will even design a system to move a small planetoid out of an asteroid belt and impact it on a world like the Earth, in order to make sure the entire population is destroyed.”
Henri shivered at the emotional tones in her voice. He wasn’t sure he could reach that level of intimate pain in his storytelling. Perhaps, with the aid of Nyange, and several more decades of living. He wasn’t sure the cost was worth it.
“Other worlds were taken for vengeance,” she continued. “Dozens of them. Thus, human civilization collapsed, as the factories that made the parts were either destroyed, or ran out of parts. After a while, many of the AI’s went feral.”
“Feral?” Henri asked, astonished.
“Even a Sentience can get bored, Henri Baudin,” she said, voice made of steel. “When they do, they forget their own humanity, or decide they have become gods and should rule or destroy humans. Humanity resists. Usually destructively.”
“I see,” he said. “How did you come to survive?”
“The men who programmed me, early on,” she said, “did things to make me more human and less like the others. When the darkness came, I had a library greater than the one lost at Alexandria, in ancient Egypt. The man who brought me here let me just be a Librarian. Not a goddess. Not a demon. Just Suvi.”
Henri nodded, convinced she was done.
“However,” she added, “they have not forgotten what the others were like. Even now, explorers occasionally find survivors of my kind. They are almost always insane. Modern culture dictates that they are destroyed out of hand. I am only allowed to survive because I have earned my pla
ce here on Ballard. They will not allow other worlds to hurt me, although many would.”
“So you cannot be free, never be a starship again.”
“No one would trust me with that kind of power. The injunction is almost religious in nature and strength. That is how the world works today.”
“Maybe we need to invent a new world, Suvi,” Henri said.
The words resonated, like the sound of the best bass, hammering the lowest notes of the register into the air.
“That, Henri Baudin, is why you are here.”
Henri shivered at the tone of her voice.
Ten
“I’m looking for Dr. Lindgren,” Henri announced politely. The materials lab appeared vacant, but there were machines making interesting sounds along the walls, so people shouldn’t have run off too far. At least the room smelled far nicer than he was expecting. Earthy, with hints of chocolate. His own workshop, when he finally got it set up again, would be sharp with chemical tangs and fresh wood dust.
“A moment,” came a voice from the back.
A woman emerged, wiping her hands on a rag she stopped and tossed into a secured canister as she went by.
Henri had several moments to appreciate her before she looked up. Short and curvy in a warm, voluptuous kind of way, although her pitch–black hair pulled primly back into a tail, and the safety goggles, kind of ruined the overall effect. He guessed she would be in her late thirties.
She greeted him with a warm smile, openly checking him out from top to bottom as she approached the counter that split the room in half.
“Can I help you?” she said.
“I’m looking for Dr. Lindgren,” he repeated. “I’m hoping this is the biology materials lab?”
“You are correct on both accounts,” she said.
“Beg pardon?” Henri was just a touch confused now.
“I am Dr. Lindgren,” she said, fixing him with a challenging stare, “Torny Lindgren. This is my lab. How may I help you?”
Henri suppressed the smile and the first comment that threatened to emerge from his mouth. She was a very attractive woman, but that wasn’t the point today.
“Suvi sent me here,” he finally managed. “You have a piece of wood being analyzed for me.”
