The Sea is Full of Stars

here, somewhere, somehow.

And not on Module 27. As these crooks noted, that would be the logical and first place anybody would look.

So where else would you hide? she wondered. Someplace that would shield you from probes but give you a crack at boarding that thing?

There was a long period of tense waiting, then finally a crackling in the communicator. “We have it. Now, in turn, the three lifeboats will all dock at the designated ports on our ship. You will dock at Port Six, which you’ll see by a series of pulsing green lights on the rear section.”

“Hold it! That was not our deal!” Wallinchky growled.

“We were not to board you,” the Rithian echoed. “This is improper.”

“Well, you stick explosives all over, so our captain thinks we need a few more guarantees from your end. If you want your payment, come aboard and get it.”

“I do not like it,” Teynal told the crime king. “Once we’re docked, we’re at their mercy. We could hardly blow the module without killing ourselves.”

Wallinchky thought a moment. “Yeah, but they still can’t get at it without us, right?”

“Without several of us,” the Rithian agreed.

Ming had to laugh even though it hurt. “Double-crossed, huh? You’re stuck as much as we are!”

Wallinchky got out of his seat and struck her face hard. It didn’t matter. She was already so in pain it hardly registered.

Teynal was not deterred. This was what they paid him for, after all. “We do not consent. Send one of your small boats over with the goods. Know that Rithian honor would require us to die before handing anything over to you in such a nonguaranteed manner.”

There was again a long pause, followed by “All right. Stand by!” from the warship.

“I don’t like it,” Ari commented. “They agreed much too quickly.”

“Noted,” the Rithian responded. “However, we will be able to see the boat, and we can monitor our own status, I assume? They will not be able to leave a crippling bomb?”

“Not a crippling one, no. Not without us knowing. That would require them to either get in here or have somebody outside. I don’t think the latter can be done without me knowing about it. The former—well, the solution’s obvious. It’s crowded in here anyway. Do the business on their courier boat.”

“They’ll still blow us to hell the moment you give them the codes,” Ming taunted. “After all, why not?”

“Because I will possess the Jewels of the Pleiades,” Jules Wallinchky told her, “and the Kharkovs will authenticate them. The only reason for a double cross here would be to retain the jewels and get the trade. If they blow us up, the jewels are also blown up. Hadun’s like a lot of others, even me. He would kill an entire planet, but he’d do anything to prevent the destruction of unique and timeless art. If I wasn’t absolutely sure of that, this would never have taken place.”

A small courier boat was even now leaving the warship as the two lifeboats with the water breathers were heading in to dock with it.

Angel had listened to all of this, and now felt certain she knew exactly where Captain Jeremiah Wong Kincaid was, and just how he was going to manage it.

That did not, however, do her or Ming, or Tann Nakitt, either, much good.

The Grabant System

There had been no dreams. that was the strangest part; there was a sensation of time passing, of an experience ongoing, yet if anything was going on in her mind during that period or if she was in any way aware, it was gone now.

After all the dancing around and threatening talk, the exchange had gone quite normally. The boat from the warship had come alongside, a temporary dock established, then the hatches were opened and the Rithians and the Kharkovs went over to the other boat. There was little noise, since the locks were automatically sealed except when accessed in an emergency, and it took about fifteen minutes to affect the transfer. Finally, the Kharkovs had returned, bearing a very large case of dark polished wood. An ornate seal was carved on it, in what was almost certainly pure gold, and it was studded with precious gems. The case—about ninety by 106 centimeters, and a good thirty centimeters thick—was a beautiful work of art, but what was inside was far more precious, and Jules Wallinchky could hardly contain himself as it was carefully, almost reverentially, handed to him by Ivan Kharkov. The jeweler was wearing surgical gloves, and Wallinchky put on his own pair before going further. Then he sat back, the case on his lap, and looked back up at the master jeweler.

“You’re certain?”

“There is no doubt,” Ivan Kharkov assured him. “I never believed that I or anyone would ever see them, not in this lifetime, and I never dreamed that I would have this opportunity. If those are not the Pleiades, then no creature living or dead would feel any differently toward these than toward the real ones.”

Wallinchky slipped the small manual locks that seemed something out of ancient history and then actually crossed himself and took a deep breath before opening the case. Then the crime king gasped, seeing what Ivan Kharkov had meant. Angel was numb and passing in and out of consciousness, but still managed a glimpse of the case as he stared into it.

The seven jewels varied in size from enormous to impossible; seven colors, but with one cut and finish, set into a metal that seemed almost liquid and which burned, throbbed like something alive, making the gems themselves seem to beat like seven alien hearts.

“Pass them the codes as soon as we are positioned opposite the tow,” Wallinchky said at last, his voice low, almost reverential, as if he were in a grand cathedral and in the presence of God Himself.

Angel was unclear about what happened next. It seemed there was a lower deck composed entirely of coffinlike transparent cages stacked one atop the other, and that she was carried down there by one of the Mallegestors. He untied her—there was hardly much risk, as she couldn’t feel her extremities anyway—and ripped off all her clothing, even her religious medals, which she found particularly offensive. She was then shoved into one of the transparent coffins, hooked up to probes attached within, and then the enclosure was shut with a hissing sound. After that, all she could remember was that it grew incredibly cold, and it became harder to think, harder even to breathe. The last thought she could remember having was: This must be what death feels like when it comes slow and steady upon you.

Then there was darkness, a darkness without sound, without sight, without thought, but a darkness that somehow existed in time. It went on and on and on, but she didn’t care, didn’t think of it, nor anything, but just lay there in the nothing.

And then there was pain. Horrible, racking pain like she’d never experienced before, had never believed possible to experience. It seemed as if every cell, every point of skin, every organ, was in full rebellion, and even her blood consisted of searing white-hot fire.

It did not go on for long; nobody could have stood it for any length of time without passing out. Still, it was longer than she ever wanted to feel that kind of pain again.

There was a horrid ringing in her ears that seemed to mask more ordinary noises, and it took a while to subside, although it never completely went away. Her eyes were open, she had control of them, but everything remained a featureless gray. She attempted to move her arms and legs, to clench her hands and bend her toes, but could feel nothing beyond the elbow or knee. There was a smell of disinfectant and other related substances, and a few lingering odors she wondered if she wanted to find out about.

Angel coughed, at first a little, then violently, uncontrollably. There were the sounds of people running to her; someone grabbed her shoulders, someone else gave her a shot, and then one of them or perhaps a third person gave her a strong, foul-tasting drink that nonetheless relieved her dryness and actually eased a lot of her immediate discomfort. The coughing stopped completely after she drank some of it, and after she downed it all, the cough