by Sharon Lee
“No damage; no sign of trauma of any kind.”
Theo sighed and rubbed her forehead again.
“So it’s some other kind of damage,” she said slowly, her thoughts feeling thick inside her head. “Not physical damage. Maybe the neutrinos.”
“Do we know for sure there’s damage?” Clarence asked, looking over his shoulder.
Theo nodded. “Bechimo and Joyita feel that there’s something wrong. But the protocol for testing isn’t exactly…scientific.”
“The protocol is scientific, Pilot Theo,” Joyita said. “It’s only a different science.”
Theo looked up at the screen over the work bench.
“Is there a way to perform the tests and get meaningful results in the…science we’re used to?”
“No,” Joyita said, sounding regretful. He glanced aside, as if something on his screens had caught his attention, and withdrew from the conversation.
“Win Ton,” Theo said to Kara and Clarence, “says that thirteen separate and distinct pieces of flotsam have entered the area since the beginning of his watch. They seem to have an…affinity for Bechimo, and are clustering along the edges of the meteor shields.”
“I thought flotsam didn’t come through that often,” said Clarence. “Thirteen sounds like we’re parked in a commuter terminal.”
“Why are they attracted to us—to Bechimo?” Kara asked. “Are we emitting—well, something!—that calls them to us?”
“That is an excellent question,” Joyita said, looking up from fussing at non-existent boards. “It may be, Pilot Kara, that we are emitting something.” He raised his hand, the one wearing the three—no, Theo saw, four—rings. One each on thumb, forefinger, second, middle. When, she thought, had he gotten the new ring? And why?
“We have our analysis, Pilots, of the matter under the Overpilot’s inspection,” Joyita said. “There’s an intermittent resonance in the Struven Surface unit.”
“The ships at Ynsolt’i—Bechimo warned us that the devices being used had the potential to—to disrupt the Remastering Unit,” Theo said. “They damaged the Struven unit?”
Bechimo spoke then; sounding…subdued.
“No, Pilot. It was my error. The resonance is…self-induced.”
Theo looked at Joyita. He shook his head, very slightly.
“Are you saying that it is psychosomatic?” Kara asked, intrigued.
“I am not,” said Bechimo. “The resonance is real; it carries real consequences. Real dangers.”
“Can you explain exactly what happened?” Theo asked, when he didn’t continue. “We’d like to understand.” She looked to Clarence and to Kara. Both responded with the sharp downward jerk of the fist which meant yes in hand-talk. “Joyita, please make sure Win Ton can hear this, too.”
“Yes, Pilot.”
There was a small sound, almost as if Bechimo had drawn a long breath.
“It happened thus: At Ynsolt’i…our enemy had fired missiles. There was no time to launch our own missiles to intercept; I was unable to rotate quickly enough to bring the beams to bear. It was imperative, for the safety of crew and ship—those missiles must not be allowed to strike.
“I thought of expanding the shields, but they are meant to turn beams and particles, not disruptors and explosives. And yet the idea was correct—the missiles must strike a surface that was…not me. Us. I could not turn them; I was not yet in a position to flee, and it came to me that I had the means to generate a force field.”
There was a pause. Theo bit her lip and managed not to say anything.
“I used the Struven unit to throw a plane of gravity away from me,” Bechimo continued, slowly. “In effect, I crushed the missiles into the surface of a high gravity world at ultra high speed. That was my error.”
The humans, at least, looked at each other; Joyita peered out at them, alert.
Into the silence spoke Clarence.
“So you pushed the equipment a bit; it’s a natural tendency, in times of stress. I’m not seeing an error, laddie.”
“Pilot, the error is that I understood what I might do, and had formulated my line of defense—when I realized that, as originally considered, I would be throwing this plane, this surface wave, from the unit into the missiles. Through myself—and through yourselves. The damage to myself might have been survivable. For me, and for Joyita.”
Theo closed her mouth.
“I am sorry,” Bechimo said, very quietly. “It was necessary that I utilize all available options. The wave had to pass…around us. I reached out to the subetheric units carried by the enemy, and offered them the opportunity to work powerfully. This was eagerly accepted, and, together, those units and I brought the wave past our living areas, down and around, as it were, preserving our good order, and destroying the missiles as intended.”
“That’s not an error, that’s a successful outcome!” said Kara. “We thank you, for our clans, our homes, and ourselves!”
Her bow went unacknowledged.
“We shall at some time, perhaps, discuss subetheric intentionality, Technician,” offered Bechimo. “I have some minor abilities there, thanks to the…to the Founders.”
Theo heard the pause, and knew it—as likely did Clarence, if not Kara.
“The situation, Pilots, is that you have an effective ship under your control—and under my control—for the moment. The Struven Surface unit, however, has been…employed by myself, as well as the units of the DOI. It might be said that it is…still capable of being accessed and used by those other units.”
“It’s haunted? Is that what you’re saying, laddie?”
“It’s infected?” offered Kara.
“It’s tainted!”
“All of those. All of those.”
Bechimo paused, very briefly, before continuing.
“As much as I would offer to you the ability to stay here and be safe—in an emergency we might survive for some Standard years in this place, especially given the technician’s ability with the growth units—As much as I wish to offer you safety, Pilots, what I must advise is that we remove immediately. We must obtain another Struven Surface unit, replace and jettison the old one.”
“Jettison?” Theo objected. “Struven units are expensive; we can sell the old unit.”
“If the DOI’s got hooks in it, Theo…” said Clarence, and with him, Joyita: “Pilot Theo, we might endanger another ship, if we resell.”
She nodded tightly.
“Do they have to be in proximity in order to access the unit?” she asked.
Joyita smiled slightly.
“No, Pilot,” said Bechimo. “Once the devices know each other, distance has no impact on access.”
“So, we need to do this quickly, before somebody on the other side realizes what happened and tries to exploit it.”
“Very quickly, yes, Pilot. If I were still piloting myself, and had only my own survival to consider, I would have dispatched myself on this mission some moments ago.”
“Do you have a source for Struven units?” Theo asked.
“No…” said Bechimo.
“Pilot.” Joyita smiled when she turned to face him. “May I suggest that the packet of information we received from the Carressens might be of use?”
Theo blinked, sighed, and rubbed her head.
“You might—and thank you, Joyita. Please send that information to my working screen.” She looked at Clarence and Kara. “I’m going back to the Heart. “You two go off-shift; get some rest.”
“Rest,” said Clarence with a snort that might have been intended as a laugh.
“Rest,” Kara repeated. She rose, shaking her head. “I’m told that a working pilot can sleep anywhere, anytime. I suppose I will find if that’s so.”
Interlude
Bechimo
“Pilot Waitley.” The voice was soft, tentative and for a moment, lying between awake and asleep, she didn’t place it.
“Theo?” the voice said again, and she sat up in her bunk, co
mpletely awake and not a little alarmed.
“Bechimo, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Pilot; it wasn’t my intention to alarm you, or to disturb your rest…for more than a moment. I did wish to speak with you…alone.”
Theo crossed her legs under the blanket, and ran her hands through her hair.
“All right,” she said. “We’re alone. What do we need to talk about?”
“I wonder, Pilot…Theo, if you would do me the very great honor of becoming my captain.”
She blinked, and bit her lip so that she wouldn’t blurt out the first thing that came to her tongue, and hurt Bechimo’s feelings. She was aware that the ship didn’t approve of her—especially her risk-taking ways, as he saw them. He had once before…not offered, exactly, but demanded bonding—that being a ceremony that would allow her to access and open certain levels of functionality that were presently outside of Bechimo’s reach. Her counter-offer had been a stall—a year of working together, to see if they suited, and she had wanted her father to attend the ceremony.
But now, despite the…tension in their working relationship, the fact that they’d been together for much less than a Standard, and that Father wasn’t present as witness, he was bringing this to her again—in private.
And using her given name.
So the question was, Theo thought, why now?
And the answer to that—was simple. Now, they had been ambushed by enemies and had very nearly had escaped. Bechimo in fact, had taken damage in order to protect his crew. Theo thought that Bechimo—Bechimo himself—had never been injured before.
That, alone could be enough to shake his confidence, and to set him thinking about what might be contained in those files and systems that lay out of his reach until he had a bonded captain aboard. He might have been able to act more quickly; he might have had access to another strategy of evasion—or of defense…
“I understand that having a bonded captain now would be beneficial to the ship,” she said carefully, mindful of the fact that her pause must have been excruciatingly long for a being who processed information so quickly. “I question—as I think you have questioned—whether I’m the person who ought to be your captain.”
“I have questioned that, yes,” Bechimo said. “The Founders, you see, promised that a captain would come. They left me no guideline or Rule by which to evaluate or to…woo one who was not destined to be captain. Joyita suggests that, after all this time, it may not be logical to hope for the arrival of the…destined captain. I have considered this, and I agree with Joyita’s assessment.”
There it was again, the tantalizing hint that Bechimo and Joyita were…separate. Individual. But now, thought Theo, wasn’t the time to explore that fascinating side-path.
“I—” she began, but Bechimo was speaking again.
“I have researched leadership, Theo; I have observed how the rest of the crew defer to your decisions. How they look to you for decision. Further, I have spoken to the crew, individually, and not one but tells me that I might do far worse than yourself as captain.” He paused. “I could not interview Hevelin, of course, but it seems, from observation, that he also defers to your judgment and finds your orders to reflect the best interests of the ship, and of himself.
“I recall that we had agreed to a period of time to…become acquainted, and that you had wished your father present, to stand witness for Korval…”
“But, since we seem to have acquired powerful and far-ranging enemies,” Theo finished when he hesitated again, “now might be a better time than later. I understand. May I have a few minutes to order my thoughts?”
“Yes,” he said, and added, almost gently, “Thank you for your consideration of my proposal.”
Objectively, it did seem the better part of valor, Theo thought, to accept the captaincy now, thereby giving Bechimo, and herself, access to all levels of functionality. Why the Founders in their so-called wisdom had chosen to lock useful and potentially life-preserving technologies under an exclusive captain’s key was more than she could fathom, but maybe that was one of the things she’d learn, after the captain’s levels were made accessible. Considering the…caliber and apparent determination of the enemies she had inherited from Korval, not to mention those who were after Bechimo for Bechimo’s sake…she owed it to her crew—the people who depended on her—to give them every chance of survival.
Objectively, it all made sense. She was reluctant, though not as reluctant as she had been when it had only been her and Bechimo, and him insisting on bonding now. She had back-up now; she had crew—friends, who would help her, in case…anything went wrong.
Objectively…logically…it made sense to have access to all of Bechimo’s functionality.
The idea of bonding…of committing completely and—the documentation wasn’t clear on this part, but Theo feared the worst, given The Founders’ other crotchets—irrevocably.
That made her stomach hurt; she struggled briefly against the strong desire to pull the covers over her head, like she’d done when she was little and hadn’t wanted to listen to Kamele, or to Father.
She closed her eyes. It would be good, she thought; if she could talk to Father right now.
“There is,” said Bechimo, diffidently—well. Almost diffidently. “There is the matter of timing, which we should discuss. While a fully-bonded pair must be beneficial, especially, as you say, Pilot, in these perilous times, I suggest that the bonding ceremony take place after a new Struven unit is in place.”
Theo opened her eyes, relief making her stomach hurt even more.
“I have also,” Bechimo continued, “put back replacing Pilot O’Berin’s key, and producing a key for Pilot ven’Arith until the Struven Surface unit is replaced. We want nothing to infect or subvert the ties between us.”
Theo cleared her throat.
“So, we’ll plan on doing the bonding after we have the new unit installed. We’ll have a party, why not, and the whole crew can witness.”
And Kara would be there, to support her, and to make sure…make sure nothing went wrong.
“Yes, Pilot,” said Bechimo.
“Theo,” she said. “If we’re going to be bonded, you might as well get used to it.”
“Yes, Pilot,” Bechimo said again; and then, “Yes, Theo.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Jemiatha’s Jumble Stop
Normal space formed around them, the pinbeam unit pinged—twice—and Hevelin sat up tall on Theo’s knee, like he was trying to get a better angle on the screens.
“Normal space, pilots. All clear, pilots,” said Bechimo.
“Pinbeam text to first board,” Joyita said. “General bands open; we have a greeting from an automated system bouy.”
“Let’s hang quiet, please, and study the situation,” Theo said, looking to her comm screen.
yos’Galan to Waitley: Abandon loop and return home. Do not, repeat, do not risk ship or crew. You’re in the news, Theo—Shan
The second message was remarkably similar to the first.
yos’Phelium to Waitley: Theo, come home. Your brother and your sister miss you, and your niece longs to meet you. Val Con
Theo sighed and blew the bangs out of her eyes.
“Master Trader yos’Galan orders us to drop the loop and return…home,” Theo said.
“Home?” Kara asked; “to Waymart?”
Clarence shook his head. “To Surebleak, I’m thinking. What’s the other one, Theo?”
“Val Con says he and Miri miss me and they want to introduce me to my niece.”
“Well, that makes it plain, then,” Clarence said. “Surebleak, it is.”
“Right,” Theo said, frowning at the screens. “First order of business is to get the Struven unit replaced. Dumping the loop and going back to Surebleak…”
She didn’t like it. She might never have wanted to be a Looper, but pharst if she was going to be scared off from her legitimate business by a bunch of Old Tech wielding illiterates. What w
as Bechimo going to do on Surebleak? Stay grounded until the trouble blew over? From all she’d heard, from Clarence, and from her own research, this trouble might not blow over until she was as old as Father.
She looked up to see that Win Ton had come into the Heart and slipped into the jumpseat.
“Crew will meet on the suggestion that we return to Surebleak, once needed repairs are made,” she said, and meant to say more, except both Win Ton and Kara looked like she’d slapped them.
“The ship is under contract to Tree-and-Dragon,” Win Ton pointed out.
“You will not wish to force your brother to come the delm,” Kara added.
“The ship is under contract to Korval, but we can withdraw ourselves from the contract,” Theo said. “Val Con can come the delm all day long if he wants to, but I don’t have the feeling that he particularly does want to—And that’s exactly the kind of thing we’ll want to discuss during the crew meeting. Joyita, would you please find those news reports Shan mentions, and make a file for general crew access?”
“Yes, Pilot Theo. We have a second greeting from an automated buoy, directing us to listen to channel seven-seven for the graveyard, seven-eight for repairs, seven-nine for station.”
“Graveyard?” Theo looked to the screens.
A misty blue marble hung in Screen Two, wreathed ’round with ships. Theo brought up the magnification, and heard Win Ton mutter something in a language that didn’t seem to be either Terran or Liaden.
The ships were old; they were odd, some were only bits and pieces, slung together in catch-nets—parts, she guessed. As she looked, IDs bloomed, not ship-names, but types. Some she knew from the hours she’d spent with the silhouette tutorials Tranza had made her study. Some were industrial—she identified a core-borer and a refinery boat, and a battered tug.
“How do we know of this place?” Win Ton asked quietly.
“The Carresens gave us an info-packet,” Theo said. “This was listed as a source for older model parts and modules. Joyita, we want repairs and station, please. Comm to Clarence.”
