• • •
I have finally made full contact with the Earthship’s computer, the hybrid creature announced.
Congratulations, Lark replied. Have you transmitted the information you wanted to send?
With a sense of waxy satisfaction, X confirmed it was done. Everything that had been learned about Jophur master rings was now copied into Streaker’s onboard storage system, including the knack for growing red toruses — the kind that had proved so potent against egocentric dominance.
And yet, what good would the information do? Even if Streaker survived the present attack, and the coming stellar explosion, the Transcendents would only hurl it away from the Five Galaxies, riding a cosmic tidal wave, careening toward starscapes where no Jophur ever lived.
X showed no sign of recognizing any inconsistency.
You might be interested in something else I have learned. There is a passenger aboard the Earthship. Someone now counted among its honored leaders. A human person, familiar to us both.
Lark sensed anguished irony behind the words. Bending his will toward the indicated path, he finally gained access to Streaker’s housekeeping files and discovered the datum X referred to.
Sara!
A spasm rocked him, from sheer surprise. Eddies tugged Lark’s body, while Ling grasped his right arm, to help him get over the shock.
What is my sister doing out here … so far from Jijo? How did she wind up in such a mess!
The blow was made worse when Mother came up with an estimate of heating rates aboard Streaker. At this pace, the influx would reach critical levels in less than half a midura.
Soon after that, all the water aboard the dolphin-crewed ship would start to boil.
Emerson
THE ALARM SEEMED TO TAKE EVERYONE IN Streaker’s control center by surprise.
The others had been so intent and worried about the engorged, enraged star — and about mysterious actions of the nearby needle-gateway — that they seemed to forget about danger from mundane enemies.
But he had not.
Emerson knew better. He had dealt with Jophur before and understood their tenacity — a single-mindedness that had been grafted into their race by careless Uplift consorts, who had failed to grasp the basic value of moderation. When the assault came, he was ready.
Lacking speech or literacy, Emerson could not read the flashing monitor screens or figure out the exact nature of their weapon. Details did not matter. He understood that it somehow had to do with making Streaker hot. Already the walls and floor plates were emanating uncomfortable warmth. Large amounts of energy poured in, even though the small sun was still not ready to explode.
Sara reached for his hand, and he felt guilty putting her off with a mere loving squeeze, before dashing away. But Emerson figured that a chance of saving her life was worth more than staying by her side and roasting together.
Running down a torrid hallway, he kept shouting, in hopes that the automatic intercoms would pass on his simple message.
“Suessi!.. Karkaett!.. Now, now, now!”
Would they come? So much labor had gone into making his idea a reality, applying a two-hundred-year-old technology to new problems in survival. And yet, he worried. They might have simply been humoring him, working together as a way to stay busy till the end.…
Clambering through a maintenance tube, Emerson hurried till he reached the small chamber where his last, triumphant encounter with the Old Ones had taken place — and breathed relief when he saw that Hannes and a couple of dolphin engineers were already there, gathered around the big laser. They babbled to each other in the sweet dialect of engineering. Emerson could no longer parse the quick, efficient meanings, but their speech sounded like music, nevertheless.
The graceful lyrics of competence.
Hannes turned his mirrorlike dome to ask Emerson a question. One that was simple enough for his frail remaining language centers to grasp.
“Yes!” He nodded vigorously. “Do … it!”
Hannes pushed a switch and the laser abruptly bucked in its mounting brackets — hissing and straining like some great beast, snorting as it sprang into action.
Emerson shifted position in order to sight along the massive barrel, curious to see where massive amounts of energy were now pouring.
He saw nothing but stars.
Sure enough, a nearby view screen showed a red dot, representing the Jophur vessel Polkjhy, approaching Streaker’s other side.
Of course he had been lucky with the Old Ones. It would have taken extreme luck for this enemy to be within reach. Anyway, a battleship’s defenses might deflect even such a potent beam.
He shrugged. It didn’t matter. He and the others did not have to smite the Jophur in order to defeat them.
Emerson felt a chill draft. He shivered, and soon noticed a distinct fog begin to form above each dolphin’s blowhole, like individual fountains of frost. His own breath began condensing, too. In moments, the small chamber became noticeably colder, and Hannes shouted for everyone to evacuate. It was time to leave, allowing the machine to perform as planned.
Still, Emerson hung back, relishing a flow of icy air that gushed through ducts to far corners of the ship. He visualized the laser beam acting as a great pump, sucking heat as fast as other forces drew it in, then shooting it forth toward the cosmos. Grinning, he took satisfaction in the way an ancient Earthling technology thwarted Galactic foes — as it had once before, a long time ago, in the maw of a torrid sun.
I … still … have it … He pondered, glancing down at his hands.
When his grin became noisy — a chattering of clenched teeth — Emerson finally let Hannes and the others tug him back toward habitable areas.
Anyway, Sara was waiting for him.
Now at least they would have a few moments together.
Until the star exploded.
Gillian
YOU NEVER ASKED FOR VOLUNTEERS,” SHE told her visitor accusingly.
The transcendent being returned to her office, assembling itself out of dust motes and particles of air — perhaps in order to resume their conversation, or else to congratulate Gillian for the clever trick worked out by Streaker’s engineering crew — creating a refrigeration laser, a device for dumping heat overboard, spraying it garishly skyward as fast as energy flowed into the ship from D Space.
Few Galactics had ever needed such a crude, gaudy, wolfling device. It would seem preposterously primitive, like rockets, or propeller-driven aircraft. But when humans began exploring the depths of their own sun two centuries ago — going there out of pure curiosity — the trick of laser-cooling had proved both useful and fateful, in several ways.
Shortly after reappearing, the visitor seemed to float before Gillian, an entity with lustrous gray skin and a
