outside! Seems we just passed over the Rimmers.”
“Toward the sun.” Ling nodded. “Either it’s morning or—”
“Nothing on the Slope looks like that prairie. That’s poison grass. So it is morning and that’s east.”
“See the clouds,” Ling commented. “They’re breaking up, but it must’ve been some stor—” She stopped, blinking. “Hear that? The Jophur are excited. Maybe I can adjust these knobs and—”
Sound abruptly boomed through the observation deck. A screech and ratchet of accented GalTwo.
“ … COMMANDED TO CORRECT THE DISSONANCE/DISAGREEMENTS BETWEEN YOUR VARIED REPORTS! JUSTIFY THIS PATTERNED SEARCH! EXPLAIN REASONS WHY WE SHOULD NOT RETURN TO OUR PRIMARY MISSION — SIFTING FOR THE WOLFLING CRAFT!”
Lark saw the Jophur on the central dais gesticulate along with these word glyphs, so perhaps that one was in command. If only I had a weapon, he mused. But the glasslike barrier was probably too strong for anything as crude as a Jijoan axe or rifle.
“We/I cannot recommend departing this area until we verify/rebuke the possibility of foe ships/smallships,”replied a nearby stack, using a less imperious version of the same dialect. “Starship cognizances hover nearby, undetectable on any other band! But how can that be? Flight without gravitics? The Jophur, great and mighty, must have/pierce this secret, for safety’s sake!”
Another ring stack edged forward, and Lark felt a shiver of recognition. That awkward pile of ragged toruses had once been the former traeki High Sage, though its speech held none of the unassuming gentleness of Asx.
“I/we offer this wisdom — that the scent indicators we pursue have all the stink of an elaborate ruse! Recall the flame-tube weapons that the savage sooners used against our corvette! Now our comrades in the captured Biblos Archive report they have identified the wolfling trick as ‘rockets.’ Contradicting the tactics officer, I/we must point out that these rockets flew quite successfully without gravitics! I/we further maintain that—”
Another stack interrupted.
“Localization! One of the nearby cognizance sites has remained active long enough to verify its location.”
The commander vented compact clots of purple vapor.
“PROCEED ON ATTACK VECTOR! PREPARE A CAPTURE BOX FOR SEIZURE OF SOURCE! WHETHER IT IS A SOPHISTICATED STAR ENEMY OR ANOTHER SOONER RUSE, WE SHALL SECURE IT FOR LATER INSPECTION, THEN RETURN TO OUR PRINCIPAL OBJECTIVE.”
The ring piles reacted more swiftly than Lark had ever witnessed traeki move, setting to work in a whirl of base feet and flailing tendrils. Soon the outside monitors showed clouds and prairie rushing by in a blur, depicted in many spectral bands. On some displays, flashing concentric circles closed in.
“Targeting brackets—” Ling explained. But the circles seemed to contain nothing. Only open space.
Lark’s right hand drifted under his shirt, stroking the sliver of the Egg. “I feel …”
Ling tugged his arm. “Look at the far left screen!”
He squinted, and began to make out something small and round. A ghostly shape, depicted as nearly transparent. Blur cloth, he realized, recognizing the effects of that specialized g’Kek weaving. All at once Lark understood. The Jophur were streaking toward an object that was invisible to nearly all their sensors, because it was made of nothing but air and fabric plaited to smear light.
If only his rewq had not lapsed into exhausted hibernation! The hazy globe loomed larger, even as Lark’s heart beat faster. His amulet throbbed in response.
“What is it?” Ling wondered, perplexed.
Before he could answer, without warning, all the forward viewing screens abruptly went black.
One Jophur let out a shrill wail. Several vented colored steam. The commander flexed and blared.
“HOSTILITIES ALERT! ROBOTIC DEFENSE! ALL STATIONS PREPARE FOR THE DRAWBA—”
Gillian
DETONATION!”
Streaker’s detection officer shouted excitedly. “One of our proximity bombs just went off, almost on t-top of the Jophur!”
The bridge filled with neo-dolphin cheers. “Maybe that got the bastardss,” someone chittered hopefully.
Gillian called for quiet.
“Keep it down, everyone. That firecracker won’t do more than scratch their paint.” She took a deep breath. It was the crucial moment of decision, for commitment to the plan.
“Launch the swarm!” she ordered. “Get us up, Kaa. Exactly the way we planned.”
“Aye!” The pilot’s back showed momentary waves of tension as he sent commands down his neural tap. Streaker responded instantly, engines ramping up to full power for the first time in almost a year. The sound was thrilling, though the act would surely give them away once Jophur sensors recovered.
Telemetry showed the motivators running well. Gillian glanced at viewers showing the engine room. Hannes Suessi darted back and forth, checking the work of his well-trained crew. Even Emerson D’Anite seemed engrossed, running his long, dark hands over the prime resonance console, his old duty station during so many other rough scrapes. Speech seemed hardly relevant at this point, when physical insight and tactile skill mattered most.
Perhaps this time, too, the ship would hear Emerson’s rich baritone victory yell.
If the repairs all worked. If we get full use out of the spare parts we mined from discarded wrecks. If the decoys run as planned. If the enemy does what we hope … if … if…
Overhead, the stress crystal dome of the control room changed color. The jet black of the abyss faded rapidly as Streaker aimed upward, lightening to a royal blue, then a clear pale green. The engine’s roar changed tone as Jijo’s ocean reluctantly let go its heavy grasp.
Streaker blew out of the sea with explosive force, already traveling faster than a bullet, trailed by a spoor of superheated steam.
From submarine, back to ship of space. Here we go again.
Go, old girl.
Go!
Rety
WAKENED FROM A HALF-MILLION-YEAR SLEEP, THE ancient wreck clattered and shrieked. Forced into furious effort, it howled, like some beast screaming in ag-ony.
Rety screamed back, pressing both hands over her ears. Harsh fists seemed to pummel her against the arching pillar where she had tied herself down. With each shake, strips of rope and electrical cable dug into her skin.
From Rety’s belt pouch, yee’s head waved toward her face.
“wife! wife don’t cry! don’t worry, wife!”
But the piping words were lost amid a maelstrom of sound. Soon his calls merged into a wail, an urrish ululation.
Overwhelmed with dread of being trapped, Rety tore at the straps with her nails, struggling for release.
She never noticed the transition from water to air. The little holosim display showed whitecaps stretching to a sandy shore, then the tops of clouds.
Crawling across the hard metal floor, Rety toiled toward the airlock, seeing only a narrow tunnel through a haze of pain.
Ewasx
THE EFFECTS START TO WEAR OFF.
I emerge from stun state, blind and alone. More duras pass before I coalesce My sense of oneness. Of purpose.
Sending trace signals down the tendrils of control, I reestablish rapport with subservient rings. Soon I have access to their varied senses, staring in all directions with eye buds that flutter and twitch.
