Superluminal

by Vonda N. McIntyre

  “Playing. Talking. Loving each other. Later on, they’ll vote on whether to make the transition.”

  “I shouldn’t keep you,” he said, reluctantly. “Shouldn’t you be down there with them?”

  “No. I’m not voting.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter. The vote will be for transition. But I’m not going through it again.”

  “Orca, you’ll be left behind. Your whole family will change —”

  “I will, too. But it will be a different kind of change, one that isn’t compatible with remaining a diver. I’ve applied for pilot’s training, and they’ve accepted me.”

  He started to protest, for he could not imagine giving up the freedom of the ocean once one had tasted it. But Orca was reaching for a different freedom.

  “Soon you’ll be able to find out for yourself if true speech can explain transit.”

  Her soft laugh held an undertone of sadness. “Yes. I’m glad you understand. Some of my blood-family thinks I’m crazy. I had an awful fight with my father about it.”

  “Your father sounds like a formidable opponent,” Radu said.

  “Yes, formidable,” she said, stretching the word out in its French pronunciation. “I tried to get him to come meet you, but he wouldn’t. Even after the blue talked to you. He said he hadn’t spoken to a lander since the revolution, and he wasn’t about to start now.”

  “Would he speak to me,” Radu said hesitantly, “if I… if I weren’t a lander?”

  Silently, Orca reached out and brushed a damp lock of Radu’s hair from his forehead.

  “Is that what the blue understood?” she said. “Will you be staying here? Will the blues finally have a human cousin?”

  “Is it possible?”

  “That’s how we all started, as landers, a couple of generations ago. And once in a while — not often, and I won’t pretend it’s easy — ordinary humans join us and change. To change among the blues, though… Radu, I’m scared for you.”

  He sat down on the window seat. The great mass of hope and confusion he had carried inside him since seeing and touching the great blue whale grew denser and hotter and suddenly fused into a white and glowing star. He flung his arms around Orca and held her tight. She embraced him, stroking his hair.

  “Don’t be afraid for me. Be happy for me, and I’ll be happy for you.”

  She knelt beside him, and kissed him, hard. She took his hand and drew it between them so their bodies pressed their clasped hands together.

  o0o

  Laenea stepped on board her transit ship.

  True, she would not be piloting it herself, for she had never even flown simulation on such a large craft. True, she was technically not qualified to solo even in a training ship, for Miikala had not, of course, certified her. And true, every other pilot on board had far more seniority.

  Nevertheless, it was hers. It was here because of her; it was preparing for transit because of her. Kristen van de Graaf had asked her to return to transit with a group of experienced pilots, in the hope of introducing them to seventh.

  She stepped on board, and a dozen pilots, who had been gathering here all day, greeted her.

  She knew several of them — Jenneth, and Chase, both from earth, and Quentin, from the same home world as Atnaterta. She paused, not knowing what to say, seeing in them the same expression she had seen in the faces of grounders meeting a pilot. She glanced quickly over her shoulder. The hatch swung slowly closed.

  “Laenea —”

  She faced the pilots again. Jenneth, who had spoken, came toward her, carrying a small flask of iridescent blue glass. She offered it to Laenea. Laenea accepted it.

  “What is it?”

  “The ashes of your heart.”

  Laenea looked down at the flask again, and traced a pattern of color that curved up its cool, smooth side.

  She tried to say something, but joy made her speechless. She raised her head. All the other pilots watched her, smiling, remembering their own final initiation, the gift of their freedom.

  “Thank you,” Laenea finally managed to whisper. She laughed suddenly with joy, and the other pilots surrounded her, laughing with her, embracing her, welcoming her to their company.

  o0o

  Radu woke warm and content, with Orca nestled sleeping against him. The room was suffused with the midnight blue light just preceding dawn.

  He stretched, happy for the moment to doze in the silence. But as midnight blue turned to azure, he could not stay inside. He kissed Orca gently and slid from beneath the down comforter without disturbing her.

  He put on his pants, picked up his boots in the foyer, and sat on the outside steps to slip into them. There was a lot of brush on the hillside, and the path was rough. Even among the divers, only Orca’s brother Mark climbed around barefoot on their rocky island.

  The approaching dawn turned the world a soft, misty blue-gray. The salt tang of the ocean and the spicy scent of the trees blended into one. In the bay, the killer whales lay in black patterns against the slate-colored water. He looked for the blue, but could not find her.

  Radu climbed the path to the crest of the island. The blimp drifted motionless in the still air, its landing wheel a hands- breadth from the ground.

  Radu clambered to the top of a projection of smooth gray lichen-patched rock, the highest point of the island, to watch the first sunrise that he had ever witnessed on this world.

  The edge of the sun crept over the mountains to the east, a single point of clear yellow light. It grew to an arc, until he had to look away.

  The sunlight and the colors fairly dazzled him. He took a deep breath of the sun-sharpened resiny air and stretched his arms wide. He chose, deliberately and willingly, to see this place in the manner that had been forced upon him in seventh. Since returning to earth he had been afraid to look at the world that way, afraid of being overwhelmed again by the perception of rapid change. Here, the pace would be slower and more careful.

  The morning breeze touched his hair, ruffling the locks at the back of his neck, on his forehead, touching his chest and shoulders with a caress as gentle as Orca’s lips.

  The world opened out around him. He did not try again to see any single specific thing. He knew from trying to look at Laenea that it was impossible. But he could see and feel the multiplicity of outlines of gradual, inevitable, growth and life and change and even death.

  When he heard a thought as clear as a nearby voice, he was not at all surprised.

  o0o

  Laenea’s great ship slid into transit. All the pilots had gathered in the control room, and now they waited. They were fearful, eager, apprehensive, intent.

  Laenea sat back in the pilot’s chair and let herself experience transit. All the words she had used to describe it during her debriefing, the words she had imagined captured its very essence, lost their meaning and became not only inadequate, but simply wrong. Trying to define what she had missed before, she responded again to the sensation of existing within the universe and, at the same time, surrounding it completely.

  “Laenea!”

  She realized that Chase had spoken her name several times and received no response.

  “Sorry,” she said. “What?”

  “No, that’s my question, what are we supposed to be seeing?”

  “We don’t know what to look for, remember,” Jenneth said, “you have to show us.”

  She showed them.

  Chase gasped. One of the other pilots, whose name Laenea could not remember, cursed softly and joyfully, damning himself to horrible purgatories for never having seen what was right in front of him all the time. Quentin frowned slightly. Jenneth folded her arms and stared belligerently through the viewport. The others remained mystified.

  “That’s amazing,” Quentin said.

  “How do we get into it?” Chase said.

  They were always in it, but Laenea knew what she meant. She found an anomaly and took them from a deep cav
e to the open air, from the land to the sky, from the ground to the excited state.

  Jenneth cried out as they made the transition. She covered her eyes and flung herself away from the port. Quentin caught her and held her, embracing her.

  “It’s all right,” he said, “it will be all right.”

  Laenea stood, worried for the other pilot.

  “What did you see?” Quentin said. His tone became more insistent and he grabbed her by the shoulders. “What’s out there?” He shook her.

  “Quentin!” Laenea and Chase both grabbed him and dragged him away from Jenneth, who was sobbing and gasping for breath. Chase put her breathing mask to her face, and tried to soothe her.

  “Quentin, what’s the matter with you — you saw it for yourself!” Laenea kept her grasp on his arm.

  “No,” he said. Tears glistened in his eyes. “No, that’s just it, I didn’t, I lied.”

  He fled from the control room.

  Laenea returned to Jenneth and Chase.

  “What happened, are you all right?”

  “I saw… I knew… something…” Jenneth was still crying. “Laenea, please, I want to go home.”

  “Soon,” Laenea said, “soon, we won’t stay very long, come lie down.” She glanced back at Chase, who nodded and took over the controls.

  Laenea helped Jenneth to the lounge, let her lie on the couch, made sure her breathing mask was easily in reach, and covered her with a blanket.

  “Just rest for a few minutes, and we’ll go back soon.”

  Jenneth turned her face toward the wall.

  In the corridor, Laenea hesitated. She should go back to the control room. Instead, she slipped into her cabin and picked up the small glass jar. She hurried to the airlock and put on a field suit.

  Laenea stepped into the airlock and cycled it. She linked her suit to the tether-plate, then opened the hatch.

  She pushed herself out of the ship.

  She loosened the flask’s stopper. The air within pushed against it. She released it, and the pressure exploded the ashes of her heart into a delicate white sphere, its dust roiling and dispersing as momentum carried it away from the ship.

  Laenea cast the urn after it.

  She would have liked to remain where she was; instead, she stroked the tether line.

  Back inside the ship, Laenea took off her field suit, closed her eyes, and attempted the task she had truly come here to carry out.

  Radu?

  Laenea.

  The tone of his reply was calm and strong and sure.

  You can hear me! she said to him.

  We’re very near each other, after all.

  The administrators are looking for you.

  I know it.

  They’re hoping you’ll think I’m lost again, so when you try to find me, they’ll find you.

  Thank you for telling me.

  Did I need to?

  Maybe not. But I’m glad to be able to be close to you.

  She sent him a smile. So am I. Radu — two more pilots, two who came with me, can see seventh.

  Radu said, I’m glad. Is Vasili there? Did he have better luck this time? I didn’t see what was right in front of me, at first. Perhaps it takes practice.

  Laenea’s tone was sad. He’s been in transit hundreds of times. If he were able to perceive it… But, no, he isn’t here. He went to Ngthummulun. He’s convinced Atna has some clue to everything that’s happened.

  Vasili behaved in a manner both impulsive and compulsive, yet Radu could not convince himself that the young pilot had switched so abruptly from complete rejection to complete acceptance of Atna’s beliefs.

  Did Vasili go alone? he asked Laenea.

  Just with a crew member. No other pilots.

  Laenea, Radu told her urgently, he never meant to go to Ngthummulun. He’s going to Twilight. Don’t you see? He thinks the plague explains what I can do. He’s never been there before, so he hasn’t been vaccinated —

  Oh, gods. Of course. The silly fool — !

  After a moment’s thought, Radu felt more disgusted than worried. After all, humans had been on Twilight for a generation before the first outbreak of the plague. Perhaps the disease was, as Radu hoped and Kristen van de Graaf feared, extinct. But even if it still existed, Vasili Nikolaievich would have to have incredible bad fortune to contract it with a single unprotected visit to Radu’s home world.

  But the risk, however small, was real.

  Can you stop him? Radu asked Laenea.

  I can try.

  I love you, he said, pure and clear, without any shadow of regret or loss.

  Laenea sent Radu a caress of love and affection, and vanished suddenly from his perception.

  Radu gasped and nearly slid from the pinnacle to the field several meters below. He recovered himself, brought back to the world of the present. Laenea’s touch had been every bit as intense and erotic as any physical contact they had ever had. It was, in some ways, even more powerful. He felt breathless and aroused, yet peaceful. Even his concern for Vasili could not mar his extraordinary sense of well-being. He reached out to Laenea again, to tell her what had happened, to see if the same thing would work for her, but when he tried to find her, she was gone. She had to leave seventh, of course, to chase Vasili to Twilight.

  Never mind, for now. Laenea would return to seventh very soon, if she had her way.

  They had plenty of time.

  He laughed aloud, and jumped down. He turned all the way around, as if he could absorb this spot into his skin and keep it with him forever.

  He saw a transparent sparkle in the sky, and heard the distant hummingbird buzz of an engine. The ultralight dipped closer, waggling its wings. Radu waved. The tiny aircraft shimmered to a crooked, bumpy landing. Radu ran after it to help tie it down; it was even more vulnerable to random winds than the blimp, and harder to moor.

  He was astonished when Marc climbed stiffly from the tiny cockpit.

  “Marc!”

  “Good morning, Radu.”

  “How did you find me?”

  He led the older man to a bench at the edge of the meadow. Marc sat down and stretched his legs out before him.

  “I have… sources of information that aren’t easily accessible to the administrators.”

  “But why did you come? What are you doing out of your home? Marc, you look exhausted.”

  “I know what you’re afraid the pilots want to do. Radu, I understand why you’re afraid, but I came to ask you, to beg you, at least give them a chance. I know there’s a danger, but I promise they aren’t evil people. They would not act as recklessly as you fear —” He spoke all in a rush, desperately; he stopped only when he ran out of breath.

  “Why you, Marc? Why did you risk coming here?”

  Marc avoided his gaze. “I tried to help…” He stopped. He looked up. The pupils of his pale gray eyes were very large, for such a bright morning. “That’s true, but it isn’t the whole truth. I told you that you could trust me, and I won’t betray your trust now. If they learn what they hope to, I might fly again. I’m here out of selfishness. I want to go back into transit.”

  “And the memories you’ll lose? What about them?”

  “I’ll have to relearn them, I suppose, along with everything else. My analogue will tell me.”

  “That would be worth it to you?”

  “If I could change enough to fly again, yes, it would be worth it.” He leaned forward, reaching out in supplication. “Please, Radu.”

  Radu took Marc’s cool, frail hand and gripped it gently.

  “You will come back?” Marc said.

  “Yes.” He would let the administrators and the pilots make their demands of him, and he would have a few demands to make of them in turn.

  Marc sagged forward. Radu steadied him and helped him sit in a grassy shade-swept spot beneath a wind-gnarled evergreen.

  “I’ve overtired myself,” he whispered, staring at his hands hanging limp between his knees.

 
“I don’t doubt it,” Radu said. “Lie down. Sleep for a while.”

  Then he remembered that those were the same words Marc had used just before shutting himself away in his rooms, just before his last illness.

  “I seldom sleep,” Marc whispered, lying back on the grass.

  “What should I do, Marc?” Radu said.

  “Nothing,” Marc said. His voice became still and breathless. “I’m sorry to expose you to this…”

  Radu wished he had put on his jacket so he could at least wrap it around Marc’s shoulders.

  “It’s all right,” he said.

  “I…” Marc’s voice failed him and he closed his eyes.

  His whole body stiffened, then began to quiver. His eyelids flickered and he muttered a few words. The quivering continued for ten minutes, then stopped, and Marc’s body relaxed again.

  Radu waited another ten minutes, expecting the fit to start any moment, until the movements of Marc’s closed eyes showed that he was deeply asleep and dreaming.

  Radu felt pity and understanding. It was not Marc’s illness that had kept him so isolated for so long. It was — as he himself had said, back at the spaceport — his pride.

  Radu heard footsteps on the trail.

  Orca climbed to the crest of the island. She saw the ultra- light, and Radu with someone lying beside him, and ran toward them.

  Radu put his finger to his lips. “He’s sleeping,” he said quietly.

  She saw that it was Marc, let her apprehension go, and sat crosslegged beside Radu.

  “Good morning.”

  He leaned over and kissed her.

  “It is indeed,” he said. “I came up here to watch it, and look what it brought me.”

  “He used to be a pilot, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. And hopes to be one again.”

  “So he did come to take you back.”

  “To ask me to come.”

  “And?”

  “I’m going to go.”

  “What about the blue?”

  “I want to be able to talk to her, Orca. I want to be able to tell her the name you gave me, and find out what the rest of my name is. I need to learn true speech. While I’m doing that… I’ll trade my time to the administrators, if they will cancel Twilight’s debt. Then the pilots can try to learn… whatever they think they can learn from me.”