Charli was silent for the better part of a minute, thinking, and then she said,
/// Do you suppose Ruall would be willing
to help us? ///
***
Ruall surprised Bandicut by, in fact, being willing to try the quarx’s idea. “As long as it doesn’t endanger the ship, or you,” she said. Her concern for his safety surprised him a little. “You are still required back at Shipworld,” she said. “If we lose you, we lose your knowledge. Just as with Li-Jared.”
“Ah,” he said—though he wondered if the loss of Bria had given Ruall greater sympathy for the losses of others.
The Tintangle spun, and said, “This will be a challenge. But it seems a risk worth taking.”
Li-Jared, just stepping onto the bridge, glanced at them and appeared about to ask what challenge—but then turned and went to talk to Copernicus instead. Bandicut watched him silently. It pained him to see his friend so subdued. He was afraid the Karellian might be more than just angry with Ruall; he might be spiraling into a deep depression. Bandicut intended to keep an eye on him, though it was unclear what he could do to help.
Swinging back to Ruall, he asked, “How much time do you need to get ready?”
Ruall turned edge-on, and then back. “I am not certain. My plan is to create new channels in splinter-space. I need to consult with Copernicus.”
“While you do that, I am going to have some lunch and try to prepare myself mentally.”
Ruall bobbed in acknowledgment.
Bandicut walked over to Li-Jared, “Do you want to join me for some lunch?”
The Karellian twitched his hands without turning. “Already ate,” he said. Don’t want to talk, came through clear as a bell.
***
For Charli, the preparation was all mental. She decided to take a good, long look around at everything she would leave behind, if it worked. A thousand-light-year gaze down the starstream provoked the thought, Here to eternity. It wasn’t literally, she knew, but maybe close enough. It was a hell of a view. Was she really ready to leave it behind? There were living entities in the starstream, beings she had not yet spoken to or encountered, except to hear their voices faintly in the distance. That could be a lost opportunity. But was it enough to keep her from this opportunity, to rejoin with John Bandicut and continue life with her friends?
No. She was sure of what she wanted.
But she wasn’t so sure she could do it.
There were definite physical limitations. Her current state was unlike any she’d lived in before—diffuse and distributed across space. Could she really pull herself together enough to make the jump back to Bandicut? She didn’t know. But that was why she had asked for Ruall’s help. Dark might be helpful, also—but this challenge felt like something Ruall, the crafty shifter through all the layers of n-space, might be well equipped for. Charli was asking Ruall to pave her a path, to create a channel she could pull herself together in. Would it work? They would all find out together.
Even if all that was physically possible, could she make the mental transition back to the life she had once known so well?
There was just one way to find out.
***
Bandicut felt better with some food in his stomach, and when he returned to the bridge, he found Ruall waiting for him, and Li-Jared gone. “Have you consulted, and are you ready to try?” he asked Ruall. And of Charli, he asked, /Are you ready?/ And to his stones, he said, /Are you ready?/
Everyone was.
“Okay, how do we start?” he asked Charli, but speaking aloud so the others could hear.
Ruall began spinning, slowly at first.
Charli said,
/// I am drawing myself toward you,
as well as I am able.
I will be looking for Ruall,
to help steer me in . . . ///
Bandicut repeated the quarx’s words aloud. Ruall spun faster. Gonged once. Winked out.
***
Ruall moved slowly, for her. She surveyed diamond-space immediately around them, and then widened her search. Then she went deeper, into flower-space, and did the same thing. And again, in splinter-space. Each form of n-space looked different, smelled different, sounded different. There was in all of them a strum of energy, a not-quite-audible singing, a hint that there was something present but invisible, waiting to be found. It rang softly around her.
Splinter-space seemed the most likely place to find the quarx, or to be able to define a pathway back to Bandicut.
As she gradually quieted her own thoughts, she discovered what she was looking for. It wasn’t so much a voice as a series of ripples in the continuum, ripples that she might have missed in the general chaos of cosmic turbulence, except for a certain familiarity that lifted them out of the background. Charli? she thought. She didn’t expect a verbal answer and didn’t get one, but she felt something in the wave motion that made her certain she had found the quarx. She set about shaping the nearby layers of splinter-space in a way that might guide the ripples of the quarx toward her, and toward John.
***
Bandicut didn’t know what to expect. He felt little at first, though he was aware of Charli’s efforts to move toward him. There didn’t seem to be anything he could do, though, except to be open to her approach. Ruall was out there, doing something he couldn’t follow.
Then Charli spoke:
/// John, I can feel you getting nearer.
I’m moving along channels
Ruall has created. ///
/Can you see the ship?/
/// Not exactly.
Solid objects are hard to see from here.
Voices and thoughts are easier. ///
/Should I keep talking? Can you home in on my voice?/
He imagined he saw her rippling across space toward him. He was sure it was just his imagination. Charli, as he knew her, was invisible; for all the time they had been together, he knew less about what Charli was actually made of than he did Dark—or Ruall.
/// Keep talking, John. ///
He was startled, realizing he had lapsed into a reverie. /Right—sorry, Charli./ He had a panicked moment of thinking there was nothing left to talk about. But he kept talking anyway. /What’s it look like out there, Charli? Tell me what you’re seeing. Will you know the ship when you find it? Can you pull yourself all together before you try to join?/
/// Tricky question, John.
I’m not sure. ///
/Will it be okay if some of you gets left behind?/
/// I wish I knew, John . . . ///
***
Charli found this much harder than she had feared. It wasn’t just the difficulty of trying to regather herself into a compact form, but a challenge of mental focus. She was no longer a creature tightly bound to another, but a far more cosmic being. This was not a vain sense of grandeur, but an honest appraisal of her present state. She was stretched out across the light-years in n-space, that marvel of existence that bound the stars and the galaxies together. John had considerable comprehension of space-time by human standards, but could he hold this in his head? Could she stuff her own boundaries back into the container that had once held her?
Charli had spoken the truth when she’d said she wanted to leave this and rejoin Bandicut. But it wasn’t just about what she wanted, but about what the Charli she was now could do.
She could hear John encouraging her; she could almost feel his heart beat, the pulse in his head. Almost. She sensed Ruall here also, spinning and darting and swooping, trying to open a path for her in the local n-space.
/// John! ///
she called.
/I’m here./
Yes, he was there, and she could see him now. She imagined him leaning out of the viewspace on the bridge like the figurehead on a ship, his hair blowing in the winds of n-space, his arms extended to welcome her. Perhaps this really would work!
As she pulled herself toward that space, she felt an unmistakable stretching. Part of her remaine
d anchored in the starstream, and she sought a way to release that anchor. She could stretch from it to John, yes. But move to John? She feared it would be like the way she’d put a piece of herself into Bria—shivering off a bit of herself while most of her remained whole in the starstream. That had been a work done in haste, and at need. She wanted this to be different. She didn’t want to be only a shadow of herself, in both places.
Stop second guessing. She would make the jump if she could, and whatever might happen would happen.
The layers of splinter-space began to soften, allowing her to collect herself on a level where John was open to her. She felt that part of herself approaching him, and with a sudden memory of love for the human she’d come to know so well, she called out,
/// I am about to make the jump.
Be ready. Open your thoughts . . . ///
And she launched herself across the narrowing gulf.
***
Bandicut could not see, but felt her coming, like a magnetic field or an electric charge. /Ready,/ he whispered, and opened his thoughts.
***
To the translator-stones, it seemed a long shot indeed. They wanted Charli back as deeply as Bandicut did, but they were realistic. Nothing like this had ever been tried before that they knew of.
In the moment the quarx began her jump, they saw that her setup wasn’t quite right. It was like watching a spacecraft heading for a bad landing in slow motion, and being unable to do a thing about it.
***
Bandicut felt a warmth wash over him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the tactile sensations. Even with his eyes closed, he was aware of the starstream, with its glowing tunnel through space and the stars. And moving invisibly across that, the quarx.
The touch in his brain was both familiar and new. There was a hint of curiosity, a waft of affection, a rumbling of uncertainty, a shining of joy and anticipation, and more—all sighing through his head like a summer breeze. He tried to catch and retain the sensations; but they whispered right through him and out again, leaving his grasp empty. His stomach lurched; alarm rang through his head.
/Charli, I couldn’t get hold of you!/
*Don’t try,* murmured his stones. *This can only work by the quarx coming to you.*
/Okay, but . . . /
The quarx’s voice sounded strained.
/// I tried, John, but I missed!
All the twists and turns of n-space,
and trying to make myself small again—
I’ve never done this before! ///
/But you can do it, can’t you?/
/// I am trying again . . . ///
/Yes! Keep trying!/ It was hard to stay quiet and receptive, though. It was like trying to listen to an intricate symphony when his head was full of thumping rock refrains. The quarx’s thoughts circled around him, and he could feel them but couldn’t read them. Open. Be open. Be receptive.
*John.*
He could feel the stones trying to calm him, but this was so personal, so connected to his heart and soul and not just his mind . . . he was revving up internally. Breathe deep. Nice and slow. Calm down. That worked for a moment, perhaps two. But then the calm skittered away.
/// John, I’m lining up again.
Imagine you’re a carrier deck and
I’m a flyer coming in hot and low.
You have to stay as steady as possible,
all right? ///
/Yes,/ he whispered.
She was so close now . . . closer . . . but she was veering, or he was. He had to somehow reach out and grab her! /Stones, help me!/
The stones were trying, but whatever Charli was doing, they couldn’t follow.
He reached out, from a tottering ladder balancing in an earthquake . . .
The ladder twisted away. Charli missed again; and Bandicut was falling . . .
Space fell apart in diamond shards of light, and now he was spinning in weightlessness, out of control . . .
He blacked out, maybe just for a second. Black, then light, then blank, then noise. Charli called in distress, from far away, and Ruall clanged in frustration, and then the bridge of the starship was spinning and flipping around him.
***
Charli felt the momentary connection, but it skittered away from her. It was infuriating to realize she did not know how to do this, did not know how to transport herself from where she was in the stream to where she wanted to be. On top of that, John was a lot shakier than she had hoped. Shakier in a way that made her afraid he was—Oh John, no—
***
The silence-fugue stole over him with a hiss and a shake and a whisper of chaos.
No . . . no . . . no . . . he hadn’t fallen into silence-fugue in ages! It wasn’t supposed to happen anymore! Couldn’t be happening! He needed Charli to help him!
Charli’s voice was there, coasting by like roller-skates on a ramp, moving rapidly out of reach . . . Calling to him, calling to John . . . and then gone.
Was John here? Who was home? Anyone in charge? The loss of control was terrifying.
The windows blew open onto space. He could see everything, everywhere. He was himself stretched out into n-space, embracing the cosmos. He could stay here forever! His grip on the deck of the starship was slipping away, and he floated out into the mesmerizing bands of flower-space and splinter-space. So beautiful! Heartbreaking luminous clouds of color, and shards of jewel-like radiation . . . .
But he couldn’t hold on. Charli was slipping away.
***
Charli’s grip on the center could not hold. Her attachment to Bandicut could not hold. Why was this so hard? Because she had changed too much here in the starstream, and she could no longer make the connections? Having come so close . . . to his mind, his heart, close enough to almost reconnect, she couldn’t hold on; she was falling away.
Failure burned in her heart. She cried out:
/// John, I haven’t the strength!
Can you catch me? ///
But she already knew the answer. Even as she caromed away, she could see him falling deeper into the grip of silence-fugue. No, John . . . So many times she had been there to help pull him out of the fugue state—and now, when he needed it the most, she could do nothing.
***
Ruall, watching from the altered space outside, saw it happen as though in slow motion. She didn’t understand it all, but she wondered: Was this the silence-fugue she had heard him speak of? She knew it was dangerous, and sometimes his friends had to help pull him out of it. Could Charli help? Unlikely. Ruall couldn’t see Charli, though she had felt the movement of the quarx’s consciousness nearby—but that was before and not now.
The rejoining wasn’t working.
Uncertain what to do, Ruall circled the ship, and then darted back into the bridge, spinning out into four-space near Bandicut. His face seemed stretched and distended, as if he was trying to cry out, but couldn’t. He was clearly in great distress. His arms were waving in front of him; he was reaching frantically toward the front of the viewspace.
“John Bandicut!” Ruall clanged. “Can you report?”
The human gave no sign of hearing. He was whispering urgently, over and over, “Charli—Charli—!”
Ruall spun, seriously worried now. She snapped a request to Copernicus: “Can you make contact with him?” And to Jeaves, the same question.
Copernicus rolled in front of Bandicut. “Cap’n! Cap’n, can you hear me? What is happening, John Bandicut?” In response, Bandicut shied away, shielding his eyes. He kept whispering to Charli.
Jeaves floated past Copernicus and faced Bandicut. He carefully caught Bandicut’s arms in his mechanical hands. “John Bandicut, breathe deeply and listen to my voice!”
Copernicus said to Ruall, “He appears to be experiencing silence-fugue. I do not know how to help him. Li-Jared might. Can we call him to the bridge?”
“At once!” Ruall clanged.
***
Li-Jared heard the call through
a fog of fatigue layered with resentment and self-pity. He had not been sleeping well since their departure from Karellia. He knew there was nothing to be gained from nursing a grudge, but knowing that and being able to stop it were two different things. He even resented Bandicut, who had played no role in the decision against his staying at Karellia; but again, just knowing didn’t help.
When a call came from Copernicus to come to the bridge at once, he flicked his fingers and ignored it. To hell with them. If they really needed him, they could come to him.
Which, to his astonishment, they did. The door alarm sounded, and he ignored it. Then came a tapping, and Copernicus’s voice saying through the door, “Li-Jared, we need you! Urgently! John Bandicut is in distress!”
Bandicut in distress? That was odd. Li-Jared got up from the end of his sleep mat, where he had been trying a meditation technique that Ik had tried to teach him. Muttering a curse, he started toward the door—just as a shadow passed through the wall and Ruall spun into view right in front of him. “Ruall! What are you doing in here? This is my private cabin.”
Ruall clanged loudly—painfully—enough to make Li-Jared clap his hands over his ears. “Li-Jared, John Bandicut may be experiencing a severe form of silence-fugue. He needs our help!”
“Fugue! Ahh . . .” Li-Jared winced and began shoving on his shoes. “What can I do? I don’t know how to bring him out of silence-fugue! The quarx always did that!” He stormed out past Ruall.
Ruall clanged after him. “Yes, but he was attempting to reconnect with the quarx. That may have been what caused it!”
“Moon and stars!” Li-Jared rumbled, striding onto the bridge right behind Copernicus.
What he found was John on the deck on his hands and knees, weeping. Weeping? Li-Jared had no idea what to do with that. Every few seconds, Bandicut groped with one hand toward the viewspace, crying out something largely incomprehensible, except for the name Charli. After a few moments of that, Bandicut would lower his shaking hand and bow his head. Then it all started up again.
Li-Jared opened his fingers to Copernicus, who was clearly waiting for him to respond. “I see it. But what do you want me to do? I don’t know how to stop it!”
Jeaves floated forward. “Talk to him, Li-Jared. You are his best friend on this ship. Talk to him.”
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