The Outback Stars

by Sandra McDonald

  The sky split open. Rain flooded through him and carried him away to a land of rain forests and desert and seashore, and the dark-skinned natives who walked across its width and length with songs on their tongues, and the winged, furred, and scaly creatures who climbed out of the ground or descended from the trees to take part in the cycle of rain and drought that extended back to the eternal time of the Dreaming. Among the people and animals and trees he saw a dozen wirrinun, or maybe a hundred dozen, or a thousand dozen, all of them leading their people single file across the landscape. Each of them wore Myell’s own face. Each was named Jungali.

  “No,” he said, and the land fell away to the flat landscape outside his parents’ farmhouse, which was nothing more than stone and shadow.

  “The world you know as your own is itself but a shadow,” the Rainbow Serpent said, coiling its tail as if holding up a finger to test the wind. “Surrender it and embrace the Dreaming. You will be well rewarded.”

  Myell wanted to. His bones already felt like the rocks of the world, his blood like its rivers. It would be easy to surrender—to choose—the ancient power of the Dreamtime. To embrace what was his birthright. But then he thought of Jodenny. Of Colby and his family, of friends like Timrin and Gallivan and Chaplain Mow.

  “No,” he said. “I choose Terry, not Jungali.”

  “As you wish.” The snake twirled its way up toward the sky. Impossibly high it rose, a sinewy ribbon climbing toward heaven. “Touch my skin.”

  Another choice. Trust it, distrust it. Myell took one last glance around the dark landscape. He reached out and laid his hand flat against the shining colors.

  “Jodenny,” he whispered, right before the snake took him up into the sky and down the Alcheringa, the great river between the stars.

  * * *

  Jodenny meant to stay awake. The hunger pains in her stomach should have helped, but it had been a long day of keeping vigil over Myell. Once or twice he had murmured words she didn’t catch, but he had never woken. She tried rubbing her knuckles over his breastbone, but he remained stubbornly unconscious.

  “He’ll be all right,” Osherman had said, which angered her. He couldn’t know that. Couldn’t promise it.

  When Jodenny finally fell asleep she dreamed of snakes and birds and vines closing in, choking her with their growth. She awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of insects and the rustlings of animals in the brush. The air was heavy and wet. Osherman had predicted rain before sunrise.

  “Sam?” she asked. He was nowhere to be seen. Jodenny shook Myell’s shoulder, but he wouldn’t wake. She searched for the mazer and flashlight, but they too were gone. She lifted a burning branch from the fire and stepped past the choking ferns toward the waterfall where Osherman had left Chiba. The rain forest stirred all around her, palm fronds bowing in the breeze, lianas tugging at her trousers. A few drops of rain pelted her face and she heard a steady pattering, but the canopy overhead caught and collected most of it. She hoped the rain stayed off them. Myell would probably catch pneumonia if he got drenched. We don’t need any more bad luck, she thought grumpily, and then a mazer shot zipped by her face so close that her nose began to tingle.

  The bolt hit a massive cathedral fig tree instead, searing a hole right through it. The mazer was set to kill, then. Jodenny threw her makeshift torch to the side and dived to the ground, where she rolled behind a bush.

  “Come on out, Lieutenant,” Chiba said, a snarl to his voice. He stood a few meters away with Osherman’s flashlight in hand, an easy target if only she had a mazer as well. “Let’s talk.”

  Jodenny found a good-sized rock in the dirt and hurled it at him. A solid thump and Chiba’s yelp of pain let her know she’d hit her target. He dropped the light. Jodenny scrambled to her feet and tried to flee behind the fig tree, but faster than she could have imagined Chiba tackled her and drove her to the ground. She landed hard, his weight and strength nearly crushing her. Jodenny scratched and kicked and screamed, everything she’d ever learned in self-defense classes vanishing in near-panic.

  “Always a bitch.” Chiba pinned her arms. “Not so high and mighty now—”

  Jodenny squirmed one hand free and hooked her fingers into Chiba’s eyeballs. He yelped and fell away. She started to crawl again, but his hand clamped down on her ankle. Jodenny grabbed the nearest plant at hand, a stem with heart-shaped leaves. She ripped it out of the ground and whipped it around into Chiba’s face. He recoiled with a gasp.

  “Fuck, what’s that?” he demanded.

  Jodenny’s hand began to burn. She crawled away from Chiba anyway, putting as much distance between them as possible. He was still saying, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” and now he was wheezing for air. Maybe he was allergic to whatever was in the plant. Cradling her hand, Jodenny picked up the flashlight and went in search of first the mazer and then Osherman. The mazer had rolled under some bushes. Osherman was curled up on the ground ten meters away, just beginning to wake up. He’d scraped open his scalp when he fell, and blood matted his head.

  “Chiba,” he said when he could form a coherent word.

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Jodenny said.

  He insisted that they check. Chiba wasn’t where Jodenny had left him. They stumbled through the brush, trying to follow a trail of broken branches, and then the clear mournful call of an ouroboros cut through the air.

  “Fuck,” Osherman said.

  By the time they reached the Spheres, Chiba was gone. “He won’t get far,” Osherman said, which sounded a lot like wishful thinking. Jodenny thought he might plunge into a chase after him, but common sense ruled and they went back to where they had left Myell.

  He was still asleep, his face wan in the firelight. Jodenny used a piece of cloth and some of their water supply to wash and bandage Osherman’s head with her left hand.

  “What’s wrong with your right hand?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” she said, though it was swollen and red. She poured water over it, but the stinging didn’t ease.

  Osherman shifted clumsily from his position and settled beside her. He was taller than Myell and had a different smell to him—blood, unfortunately, but also something spicy and strong, something that reminded her of the Yangtze.

  “Go to sleep,” he said. “I’ll keep watch.”

  Her fingers were hot, but she otherwise felt cold. “You’ve got a head injury. Better we both stay up.”

  He poked at the fire. “You know, back on the Yangtze—I don’t know if I told you this. My job was one thing. What happened with us—well, I shouldn’t have let it. I could have put you in grave danger.”

  “Or maybe you just slept with me to find out if I knew anything about the smugglers?” None of it mattered, really. The Yangtze, Aral Sea, all of Team Space, were millions of miles away. Chiba was gone and Myell was perhaps dying and what was her honor, really? Why should she care?

  “No,” Osherman said. “I didn’t just use you that way.”

  “It would have been a logical tactic.”

  “Jo, no,” he repeated, and touched her arm. “I didn’t want you involved.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “What if I told you that I was afraid Lieutenant Commander Ross’s influence would subvert you?”

  She stared at him, all injuries and fatigue forgotten. “Jem had nothing to do with smuggling.”

  Osherman’s expression was shuttered. “This isn’t the place to talk about it.”

  “No,” Jodenny said. “You’ll never convince me.”

  “Jo…”

  Jodenny turned her back to him. Her hand still ached like a son of a bitch and fury kept her wide awake. To insinuate that Jem condoned or participated in criminal activities was a new low for Osherman. She closed her eyes against angry tears and when she opened them again, hours had passed. The fire was cold, Osherman sound asleep, and sunrise had started to lighten the edge of the sky with dark gold. Myell was standing nearby and staring at her with an odd expression on hi
s face.

  “Terry?” she asked.

  He walked into the forest. Jodenny pulled herself up. Her hand was red in the sunlight, swollen, but it didn’t hurt as much as it had the night before. “Terry—” she called, but he moved so quickly that she lost track of him for several seconds. Then she saw him enter the Child Sphere and followed him into the gloom. Though she’d heard no horn, an ouroboros was waiting for them.

  She touched Myell’s shoulder. “Terry?”

  “I know where to go.” Myell bent down next to the ouroboros. “Two stops on this line, transfer over to a Father for one stop, transfer back, and we’ll be back on Warramala.”

  Jodenny rubbed his shoulders. “Come on back to the fire. Let’s see if we can scrounge up some breakfast.”

  “Do you believe me?” His gaze was earnest. “We’re four stops away. The Rainbow Serpent told me.”

  Jodenny kept her opinion of talking snakes to herself. Myell was quiet on the walk back. She started the fire again, had him sit close to it, checked on Osherman, and went in search of water and food. For several minutes she soaked her stinging hand in a pool of water, and that seemed to help. When she returned Myell and Osherman were arguing.

  “A dream means nothing, Sergeant. We’re staying with the Mother Sphere we know.”

  “We’ll never make it.” Myell sounded entirely sure of himself. “Humans were never meant to travel this way, Commander. It’s the Wondjina’s network, not ours.”

  Osherman retorted, “I’d think twice about counting on the word of a talking snake.”

  Jodenny stepped out of the trees. With forced cheer she said, “Some mangoes here. Anyone hungry?”

  Osherman asked, “Did the sergeant tell you about his dream?”

  Jodenny met Myell’s serene gaze. “Yes.”

  “And your opinion?”

  She shrugged, still angry with him over the previous night’s conversation about Jem. “Four stops sounds much more manageable.”

  “What’s wrong with your hand?” Myell asked, noticing the way she was holding it.

  “Some kind of plant. I grabbed it the wrong way.”

  Myell made a careful examination of her palm and fingers. “Probably a stinging tree. Sometimes comes as a shrub. You’ll need a doctor to fix it properly.”

  Osherman smothered the fire. “Then we’d better get moving again. Chiba’s got several hours on us, but he’ll be sick, maybe injured. He won’t be still traveling. We can catch him.”

  Jodenny looked at Myell.

  “Chiba doesn’t matter,” Myell said. “The snake will take care of him.”

  “Sam, at least look at the ring in the Child Sphere,” Jodenny said. “See if any of the glyphs match ones we’ve already passed through.”

  “It’s probably gone already,” Osherman said. But when they got there, the ouroboros hadn’t moved on. After a moment’s inspection he said, “No. I don’t recognize any of these.”

  “You don’t have to,” Myell said.

  Osherman brushed dirt from his knees. “Jodenny, it’s crazy. You detour off here, and god only knows what corner of the galaxy you’ll wind up in.”

  “I know the way home,” Myell said. In the glow of the flashlight she recognized the set of his jaw. “Do you trust me, Kay?”

  Jodenny didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I just don’t trust your snake.”

  Osherman spread his hands. “Jodenny, choose. Come with me and we’ll get home for sure. Go with him and you could be lost forever.”

  Decide between the two of them, between crazy and safe, between the proven path and the way of Myell’s Dreaming. Jodenny knew Osherman to be a methodical, intelligent man not prone to flights of fantasy, even if he was horribly wrong about Jem. She knew Myell was stubborn, reliable, and practical. She remembered that Osherman had more knowledge about the Wondjina network. She remembered the way Myell had sacrificed himself for her in T18.

  “Jodenny,” Osherman said. “You’ll never get home if you go with him.”

  “Maybe not.” Jodenny reached out and took Myell’s hand anyway.

  * * *

  After Osherman was gone, Jodenny buried herself in Myell’s arms and asked, “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes,” Myell said.

  At the first stop she vomited. At the second stop they lurched outside to a dimly lit world blanketed with sleet. A half-frozen creek barred their way to the Father Sphere a hundred meters away. They stomped across it, Jodenny’s feet aching with cold. Wind whipped at their thin clothes. When they reached the Father, they had to dig at ice-crusted snow with their bare hands to get under the arch. Jodenny’s hands and feet were numb by the time they reached the inside, which was also freezing cold.

  “We’re almost there,” Myell said, his teeth chattering.

  A mistake. They had both made a mistake. She lay against him in the icy darkness, willing the end to come mercifully. She said, “Terry—”

  “Don’t give up now,” he insisted.

  The next stop was filled with warm sunlight from a jagged, charred breach in the Sphere’s side. Bones lay nearby, some of them burned and charred. They staggered back to a Child Sphere where the ground was covered with ash. Myell collapsed inside the ouroboros, his lips blue. Jodenny hammered at his chest.

  “Goddamn it!” she yelled. “Wake up!”

  He wasn’t breathing. She did it for him, sweat rolling down her back, her arms and shoulders aching from the strain of doing compressions. Four minutes. Five—

  Yellow light.

  She thought she heard the hiss of a snake, but it was simply Myell as he gasped for air. Jodenny began to cry.

  “They’re back,” a man’s voice said, and a light nearly blinded her. “Lieutenant Scott, Sergeant Myell, you’re both under arrest.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Jodenny didn’t see Myell for the next five days. Every day she asked about him and every day her handlers said, “He’s fine, Lieutenant.” She suspected he was being held at the same secluded facility she was, but had no evidence and no way of finding out. Her room had a bed, a desk, and an adjoining head, but no deskgib, comm units, or media access. The wallvids showed her a picture of a deep, tranquil forest at the height of summer, with simulated sunrises and sunsets. The door locked and unlocked only when guards came to escort her to medical appointments or debriefings. Not interrogations, her handlers told her. Debriefings.

  “Please draw for us all the glyphs you saw on the ouroboros,” they asked, and she managed to sketch out a dozen or so. They showed her others, but she couldn’t say for sure whether or not she’d seen them. Jodenny was also interviewed, extensively, about the worlds she had visited, and their formation of Spheres. More than once she was asked to recount the exact events that had taken her, Chiba, Myell, and Osherman on their journey.

  “Tell us again why you decided to split up,” said one of her interrogators. None of them wore insignia or uniforms, and Jodenny wasn’t sure if they were Team Space or some kind of ultrasecret civilian intelligence agency.

  Jodenny said, “He wanted to keep going through the Sphere we’d been traveling through. Sergeant Myell and I didn’t think we’d survive it.”

  The interrogator consulted his gib. “Sergeant Myell had another idea. Based on information he received from a snake.”

  The interrogator’s voice was mild, his expression blank. Jodenny said, “If you bring him in here, you can ask him yourself.”

  The interrogator didn’t answer. He was about fifty years old, with short black hair and bright green eyes. He was physically fit, with the ramrod-straight posture of a military man. He said his name was Wolf, which seemed unlikely. He was in charge of the others—the woman with a heart-shaped face, the younger man with a scar on his cheek. She wondered if he had ever gone traveling through a Sphere, or if he knew what it was like to set foot on an utterly new world.

  Wolf and his friends didn’t seem seemed particularly interested in Chiba’s fate, though they asked repe
atedly about Osherman. Late at night, unable to sleep, she pictured him lost in the network, lurching from one Sphere to the next. She wondered what fate was waiting for her and Myell. Would they ever be allowed to leave this place, wherever it was? Would Team Space try to suppress their memories as they had after the Yangtze?

  “I would like to see my lawyer,” she told Wolf on the third day.

  “What is it you think you’ve done wrong?” he asked.

  “I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong. But I’m being kept here incommunicado against my consent, and I haven’t been charged with anything. That violates the Seven Sisters Constitution.”

  Wolf only said, “I see,” and went back to showing her pictures of different glyphs, asking if she recognized any from her travels.

  Her hand had mostly healed up from the stinging shrub injury, though sometimes her fingers still tingled. The doctor who treated her was sure that the residual effects would fade.

  “And the memory block?” Jodenny asked, letting her bitterness bleed through. “What about the effects from that?”

  The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Your retrograde amnesia has been attributed to head injuries you received on the Yangtze. There’s no record of a memory block.”

  “I’m not surprised,” Jodenny said. “It was put in without my permission.”

  “Hmm,” the doctor replied, but said no more.

  On the fifth day Jodenny woke early, did sit-ups and push-ups, showered under a welcome spray of hot water, and dressed in the civilian clothes they had given her. Breakfast was delivered on a tray by a young woman. Afterward two guards escorted her down several flights of stairs to a long hallway of closed doors. The building itself, decorated in soothing shades of dark gray and blue, was quiet all around her. She was shown into a conference room where Myell was sitting with Wolf.

  He looked well enough, though there were dark circles under his eyes. He stood up immediately, saying, “Lieutenant Scott,” and in his voice she heard her own emotions: enormous relief, along with apprehension about their current situation.