Lucia prepared the new contract-there was no indication anywhere on the original that Silent Acquisitions even considered counter-offers-and sent it. It came back a few moments later with the message, 'Final terms accepted. You may dock at loading bay XC-14539-MAL. All appropriate charges apply.'
'We're set, Father.'
'Then find the bay and let's dock.'
Lucia punched up course information and laid it in. Before her, the viewscreen showed a view of the station itself. The sight was disconcerting, even though Lucia had visited the place twice before. SA Station orbited a star, not a planet, and as a result there was nothing nearby to give the station real scale. Part of the problem lay in its irregular shape. Like many stations, SA Station was a hodge-podge of parts and pieces. Bits had been stuck on as required over time, and Silent Acquisitions had been in business for a long time indeed. The station's volume easily matched that of a pair of good-sized moons, or even a tiny planet. It turned slowly in its orbit, a clunky, uneven lattice designed by a drunken spider. Between the uneven shape and the lack of orbital bodies in the immediate area, Lucia wanted to see the station as toy-sized. And then a tiny, tiny grain of sand would skitter across in front of it, and Lucia would realize it was a cargo vessel big enough to transport an entire pod of Bellerophon dinosaurs. It was like watching a picture of a young woman turn into an old hag and back again. The whole thing made her seasick, so she dropped her eyes to the instrument panel and concentrated on following course and flying the ship.
Conversation died away, and a strained silence filled the bridge. Lucia heard a faint tapping-Father Kendi drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. Eagerness and tension radiated off him, and Lucia suppressed an urge to give him advice about the serenity of Irfan. It wouldn't be her place. Instead, Lucia tried to hurry without compromising ship safety.
Despite long hours spent in meditation and weeks of constant exposure to him, Lucia's awe of Father Kendi Weaver hadn't lessened. Every time she saw him, she couldn't help but remember that he had been instrumental in saving the entire universe. It was he who had held back Padric Sufur's malformed children in the Dream, kept them at bay long enough for Vidya and Prasad Vajhur to put their twisted solid-world bodies into cryo-sleep and end the Despair. True, there were other heroes of the Despair. Ben Rymar had saved Kendi's life and thereby allowed Kendi to save the Dream. Sejal Dasa, son of Vidya and Prasad, had fought Sufur's children to a standstill. But Ben was so unassuming, and Lucia had never met Sejal or Vidya and Prasad. Kendi, however, was something else entirely. He looked like a hero-tall and handsome and confident, giving his commands in a firm, clear voice.
Did she have a crush on him?
No. Most definitely not. That wouldn't be her place, either.
A slight thump reverberated through the bridge and an indicator light on Lucia's board flashed. 'Docking complete, Father,' she reported.
'Great. I'll get started on the forms-oh joy-and the rest of you can stretch your legs until we get clearance to disembark. After the customs team leaves, I'll want everyone in the galley for a briefing. Got it?'
'I'll spread the word, Chief,' Gretchen said, rising and heading for the door.
Lucia stretched with a popping of joints. Every part in her body felt stiff and achy after hours of piloting. She nodded to Father Kendi, who was already muttering to the forms on his data pad, and left the bridge. Apparently even heroes couldn't escape paperwork.
Lucia's ocular implant flashed the time across her retina. She had five minutes to make it to her quarters before daily ritual. A hurried descent in the lift, a light jog down another corridor, and she was entering her own rooms.
As the newest member of the crew, Lucia rated the smallest quarters on the ship. Living room barely big enough to turn around in, bedroom not much wider than her single bunk, efficiency bathroom, no kitchen. Lucia didn't really mind. The place did have a decent-sized window. At the moment, the view was currently black, star- strewn space. Every so often a point of light crept across the void-a ship or a shuttle. Flat pictures and full holograms covered every inch of wall space. People smiled, waved, made faces, or struck silly poses, and all of them bore similar features. Lucia had six brothers and sisters, a dozen aunts and uncles, nieces and nephews galore, and cousins beyond counting. She smiled fondly at a photo of her parents taken not long after their marriage. They were sitting on a porch swing holding hands. She would have to write them a letter soon, see if Ben would be willing to relay it to Bellerophon through the Dream. There was so much to tell them, though she knew Dad would be a little unnerved when he heard how close she and the others had come to getting caught while rescuing Bedj-ka. She could almost hear his voice, unsettled but touched with pride all the same: ' You're just a little kid! My baby girl! You're going to give your poor old dad a heart attack one of these days with these adventures of yours! '
An alarm chimed softly and Lucia shook herself. It was time. Two steps took Lucia to the tiny altar set just below the window. On it stood a small statue of Irfan Qasad carved from smooth white marble. Her features bore a peaceful serenity that calmed Lucia whenever she saw them. In the statue's left hand was a scroll, symbol of communication. The statue's right hand was raised in a gesture of beckoning. Leaves and ivy were etched into her clothing, and a double-helix strand of DNA wound around her upraised arm. At the statue's feet sat a small gold platter and three squat candles. Lucia picked up a striker and lit the first candle.
'Great Lady, let the winds and the oceans, the nights and days, the Dream and the world, be all sweet to us.' She lit the second candle. 'Wondrous Mother, let us follow the path of your goodness for always, like the stars and planets moving in the sky. ' She lit the third candle. 'Guide and Goddess, let us know and appreciate the points of view of others. You who are the wise and benevolent lady of speech, shower your blessings on us that we may continue your work.'
Lucia took up a stick of incense and lit it from one of the candles. The soft, sweet smoke stole over her, and she felt her muscles relax under the familiar ritual, one she had been performing since childhood. She pressed the base of the statue, and a quiet music filled the room like gentle bells. When the song faded, it seemed to Lucia that a quiet, benign presence filled the room and her heart. Lucia breathed a greeting.
'Welcome, Great Mother, and hear my prayer,' she murmured. 'Thank you for returning Bedj-ka to Harenn and for granting her the happiness she deserves. Let us find Father Kendi's brother and sister. Let them remain safe and whole until we can bring them to the safety of your bosom. Keep my family safe and well. Let Narmi's pregnancy go well and touch her child with your blessings. Distract the evil Vik and keep him from tainting our lives with his foul presence.'
Lucia paused and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm while saying difficult words. Her throat threatened to close anyway. 'And please, Great Lady, do not withdraw the blessing of Silence from your people. Do not allow your servants to scatter like the wind. The Children of Irfan do great good in the universe, and it would be wrong to let them fade away. I beg you, Kind One, to grant my Silent brethren entry into the Dream once again. I give thanks for your blessings and pray for your wisdom. Your will be in all.'
She waited a moment, inhaling sweet smoke and mumming a soft chant. Irfan would not let her children die away. She was good and kind, a force for order and justice. Lucia simply had to have faith everything would work out. There was nothing else she could do. Several long breaths later, Irfan's peace and serenity settled over Lucia like a well-worn blanket. She sighed heavily. Everything would be fine, as long as she kept her faith.
Lucia picked up a small silver snuffer, put out the candles, and doused the incense. A few moments later she was down in the galley rummaging through the cabinets and refrigerator for sandwich fixings. She had already set an enormous pot of coffee on to brew, and the rich smell quickly permeated the room. Lucia's scarred hands laid out new loaves of brioche, thin-sliced ham, hard salami, crunchy water cress, sweet peppers, spicy benyai leaves, cheddar cheese, and an assortment of sauces ranging from milky-mild to tongue-blisteringly sharp. The Children of Irfan might be a monastic order, but the monks didn't practice asceticism in food or in living arrangements. The Pathway Church of Irfan didn't require it, either, and for this Lucia was grateful.
'At it again, I see,' came Ben Rymar's gentle voice from the galley door. Lucia turned to face him.
'As Irfan so perfectly put it,' she replied with a smile, ' 'If I don't, who will?' '
'Definitely not me.' Ben leaned casually against the doorframe. 'Cooking is the anti-Irfan, as far as I'm concerned.'
Lucia shook her head. 'It's fun, you heathen.'
'I'm glad someone thinks so,' Ben said. 'Mom didn't cook, either, and sometimes I think Kendi would be happy eating grubs torn from a rotten log. Ever since you joined the crew, we've been eating high off the hog.'
'Thank you, kind sir,' Lucia said, pretending to simper. 'Just send Harenn the finder's fee for bringing me
