To Sleep in a Sea of Stars

by Christopher Paolini

  “I need proof, Navárez, and it needs to be something more than just your word.”

  “I don’t know how to give you that. I already told you everything I know.… Do you have any computers salvaged from a Jelly ship? I might be able to—”

  Akawe was shaking his head. “No, we don’t. Besides, we’d still have no way to confirm what you’re saying.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What the hell do you want then? If you don’t trust me—”

  “I don’t.”

  “If you don’t trust me, what’s the point of this conversation?”

  Akawe drew a hand across his chin while he studied her. “Your implants were burned out, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Pity. A wire scan could resolve this right quick.”

  Anger burbled up within her. “Well, sorry to disappoint.”

  He didn’t seem put off. “Let me ask you this: When you extend different parts of the xeno, can you feel the extensions? Like when you ripped the transmitter out of the wall, all those little tendrils, could you feel them?”

  The question was so off-topic, it took Kira a second to answer. “Yes. They feel just like my fingers or toes.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay.” Akawe surprised her then by unbuttoning the cuff of his right sleeve and rolling back the fabric. “Seems I might have a solution to our standoff, Ms. Navárez. It’s worth a shot, in any case.” He dug his fingernails into the underside of his bared wrist, and Kira winced as the skin peeled up in a rectangular shape. Even though she knew Akawe’s body was artificial, it looked so realistic, the sight of the skin lifting was still disconcerting on a visceral level.

  Wires and circuits and pieces of bare metal were visible within Akawe’s arm.

  As he fished out a line from inside his own forearm, the captain said, “This is a direct neural uplink, same as we use in implants, which means it’s analog, not digital. If the xeno can interface with your nervous system, then it ought to be able to do the same with me.”

  Kira took a moment to think the idea through. It seemed unlikely, but—she had to concede—theoretically possible. “You realize how dangerous this could be?”

  Akawe held out the end of the line toward her. It looked like fiber optic, even though she knew it wasn’t. “My construct has a bunch of built-in safeguards. They’ll protect me if there’s a surge in electricity or—”

  “They won’t protect you if the xeno decides to crawl into your brain.”

  Akawe pushed the line toward her, his expression serious. “I’d rather die right now, trying to stop the Jellies and the nightmares, than sit around doing nothing. If there’s even a chance this could work…”

  She took a deep breath. “Alright. If something happens to you, though—”

  “You won’t be held accountable. Don’t worry. Just try to make this work.” A glint of humor appeared in his eyes. “Trust me, I don’t want to die, Ms. Navárez, but this is a risk I’m willing to take.”

  She reached out and closed her hand around the end of the neural link. It was warm and smooth against her palm. Shutting her eyes, Kira pushed the skin of the suit toward the end of the lead, urging it to join, to meld, to become.

  The fibers on her palm stirred, and then … and then a faint shock ran up her arm. “Did you feel that?” she asked.

  Akawe shook his head.

  Kira frowned as she concentrated on her memories from the Jelly ship, trying to push them through her arm, toward Akawe. Show him, she thought, insistent. Tell him.… Please. She did her best to convey a sense of urgency to the Soft Blade, to make it understand why this was so important.

  “Anything?” she said, her voice tight with strain.

  “Nothing.”

  Kira gritted her teeth, put aside any concern for the captain’s safety, and imagined her mind pouring through her arm and into Akawe’s, like an unstoppable torrent of water. She exerted every gram of mental energy she had, and just when she reached her limit and was about to give up—just then, a wire seemed to snap in her head, and she felt another space, another presence touching herself.

  It was not so different from joining the direct feed of two sets of implants, only more chaotic.

  Akawe stiffened, and his mouth fell open. “Oh,” he said.

  Again, Kira impressed her desire on the Soft Blade. Show him. She reviewed her memories of the ship, including as much detail as she could, and when she finished, the captain said, “Again. Slower.”

  As Kira did, sudden bursts of images interrupted her thoughts: A set of stars. The Highmost standing dark against the swirling shine. A pair of crossed arms. The Staff of Blue, the fearsome Staff of Blue.…

  “Enough,” Akawe gasped.

  Kira relaxed her grip on the neural link, and the connection between them vanished.

  The captain sagged backwards against the wall. The lines on his face made him appear almost normal. He fed the data cord back into his forearm and sealed the access panel.

  “Well?” said Kira.

  “That was certainly something.” Akawe pulled down his sleeve, buttoned the cuff. Then he picked up his cup and took a long drink. He made a face. “Goddamn. I love my coffee, Navárez. But it’s never tasted right since I got stuck in this construct.”

  “Is that so.”

  “Indeed it is. Losing your body isn’t like getting a paper cut, no sir. It happened to me, oh, fourteen years ago now. Back during a nasty little skirmish with the Ponder Union at the Ceres shipyards. You know why they call it the Ponder Union?”

  “No,” said Kira, struggling to suppress her impatience. Had the Soft Blade knocked something loose inside his brain?

  Akawe smiled. “Because they sit around all day not working. Pondering the inner workings of bureaucracy and how best to twist it to their advantage. Things got pretty heated between the union and the shipyard during contract negotiations, so my unit was sent in to settle things down. Soothe the savage beast. Oil on troubled waters. Peacekeeping mission, my ass. We ended up facing off with a crowd of protesters. I knew they meant trouble, but they were civilians, you see? If we’d been in a combat zone, I wouldn’t have hesitated. Post overwatch, deploy drones, secure the perimeter, force the crowd to disperse. The whole nine yards. But I didn’t because I was trying to avoid escalating the situation. There were kids there, for crying out loud.”

  Akawe peered at her over the rim of his cup. “The crowd got all riled up, and then they hit us with a microwave that fried our drones. The bastards had been planning on ambushing us the whole time. We started taking fire from our flanks…” He shook his head. “I went down in the first volley. Four Marines ended up dead. Twenty-three civilians, and a whole lot more injured. I knew the protesters were up to no good. If I’d just acted—if I hadn’t waited—I could have saved a whole lot of lives. And I’d still be able to taste a mug of good old joe the way it’s supposed to be.”

  Kira smoothed the wrinkles in the blanket by her knee. “You’re going after the staff,” she said, flat. The thought was daunting.

  Akawe tossed back the rest of the coffee in a single gulp. “Wrong.”

  “What? But I thought—”

  “You’ve misunderstood, Navárez. We’re going.” And Akawe gave her a disconcerting grin. “This may be the worst decision I’ve ever made, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit around and let a bunch of aliens wipe us out. One last thing, Navárez, are you ab-so-lute-ly sure there’s nothing else we should know? Any tiny bit of relevant information that might have slipped to the back of your brain? My crew is going to be risking their lives on this. Hell, we might be risking a whole lot more than just our lives.”

  “I can’t think of anything,” Kira said. “But … I do have a suggestion.”

  “Why does that make me nervous?” said Akawe.

  “You should take the Wallfish with you.”

  The captain fumbled and nearly dropped his cup. “Did you just seriously suggest bringing a civilian ship and crew—a group of rim
runners—on a military mission to some ancient alien installation? Is that what I heard, Navárez?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. You can’t leave Sixty-One Cygni undefended, so the Surfeit of Gravitas has to stay, and none of the mining ships here on Malpert are set up for a long-haul mission. Besides, I don’t know their crews and I wouldn’t trust them.”

  “And you trust Falconi and his people?”

  “In a fight? Yes. With my life. As you said, you might need backup when we get to where the staff is. The Wallfish isn’t a cruiser, but it can still fight.”

  Akawe snorted. “It’s a piece of dogshit; that’s what it is. It wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in a shooting contest with a Jelly.”

  “Maybe, but there’s one other point you haven’t thought of.”

  “Oh really? Do share.”

  Kira leaned forward. “Cryo doesn’t work on me anymore. So you have to ask yourself: How comfortable will you be with me—with this xeno—wandering around your state-of-the-art UMC ship for months on end while you’re frozen stiff?” Akawe didn’t answer, but she could see the wary look in his eyes. Then she added: “Don’t think you can just lock me up for the duration, either. I had enough of that already.” She grabbed the edge of the bunk and willed the Soft Blade to tighten around the frame until it crushed the composite.

  Akawe stared at her for an uncomfortable length. Then he shook his head. “Even if I were inclined to agree with you, there’s no way an old cargo tub like the Wallfish could keep pace with the Darmstadt.”

  “I don’t know about that,” she said. “Why don’t you check?”

  The captain snorted again, but she saw his gaze shift as he focused on his overlays, and his throat moved as he subvocalized orders. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline. “It seems your friends”—he put particular emphasis on the word—“are full of surprises.”

  “Can the Wallfish keep up?”

  He inclined his head. “Close enough. I suppose smugglers have the incentive to move fast.”

  Kira resisted the urge to defend the Wallfish crew. “See? Not all surprises today are bad.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Also—”

  “Also? What more can there be?”

  “There were two Entropists traveling on the Wallfish. Jorrus and Veera.”

  Akawe’s perfectly shaped eyebrows rose. “Entropists, eh? That’s quite a passenger list.”

  “You might want to bring them along as well. If we’re going to be looking at alien tech, their expertise would be useful. I can translate, but I’m no physicist or engineer.”

  He grunted. “I’ll take it under consideration.”

  “So is that a yes for the Wallfish?”

  The captain drained the last of his coffee and stood. “Depends. It’s not as easy as you make it out to be. I’ll let you know once I decide.”

  Then he left, and the smell of coffee lingering in the air was the only evidence of his visit.

  4.

  Kira let out her breath. They were actually going to go after the Staff of Blue, and she was going to see the system the Soft Blade had shown her! It hardly seemed real.

  She wondered what the name of the old, red star was. It must have one.

  Unable to bear sitting any longer, she hopped up and started to pace the small space of the cabin. Would Falconi agree to accompany the Darmstadt if Akawe asked? She wasn’t sure, but she hoped so. Kira wanted the Wallfish to go with them for all the reasons she’d given Akawe, but also for her own selfish reasons. After her experience on the Extenuating Circumstances, she didn’t want to end up trapped on a UMC ship for months at a time, subject to constant surveillance by their doctors and their machines.

  Although she wouldn’t be as vulnerable as before. She touched the fibers along her forearm, tracing them. Now that she could control the Soft Blade—some of the time, at least—she could hold her own against a trooper in power armor if need be. And with the xeno, she could easily escape a quarantine room like the one on the Extenuating Circumstances.… The knowledge kept her from feeling helpless.

  An hour passed. Kira heard thuds and booms resonating through the cruiser’s hull. Repairs, she guessed, or supplies being loaded. But it was hard to be sure.

  Then an incoming call popped up on her overlays. She accepted it and found herself looking at a video of Akawe backed by several consoles. The man looked annoyed.

  “Navárez: I had a friendly-like chat with Captain Falconi about your proposition. He’s proving to be a real sumbitch when it comes to setting terms. We’ve promised him all the antimatter his ship can carry and pardons for the whole crew, but he’s refusing to say yes or no until he talks with you. You willing to have a word with him?”

  Kira nodded. “Patch him through.”

  Akawe’s face vanished—although Kira was sure he was still monitoring the line—and was replaced by Falconi’s. As always, his eyes were two bright chips of ice. “Kira,” he said.

  “Falconi. What’s with the pardons?”

  A hint of discomfort appeared in his expression. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Captain Akawe said you want to talk?”

  “Yeah. This crazy-ass idea of yours … are you sure, Kira? Are you really, really sure?”

  His question was so similar to Akawe’s earlier, Kira nearly laughed. “As sure as I can be.”

  Falconi tilted his head to one side. “Sure enough to risk your life on it? My life? Trig’s? How about Runcible’s?”

  At that Kira did crack a smile, if only a tiny one. “I can’t make you any promises, Falconi—”

  “I’m not asking for any.”

  “—but yeah, I think this is as important as it gets.”

  He studied her for a moment and then jerked his chin in a sharp nod. “Okay. That’s what I needed to know.”

  The line went dead, and Kira closed her overlays.

  Maybe ten minutes later, someone knocked on her door and a woman’s voice sounded: “Ma’am? I’m here to escort you to the Wallfish.”

  Kira was surprised by the strength of her relief. Her gamble had paid off.

  She opened the door to see a short, startled woman: a junior officer of some kind, who said, “Right this way, ma’am.”

  Kira followed her back out of the Darmstadt and onto the space dock. As they left the cruiser, the two Marines in power armor stationed by the entrance joined them, following at a discreet distance. Although, as Kira reflected, it was hard for power armor to be anything close to discreet.

  Familiarity washed over Kira as they neared the Wallfish. The cargo hold door was still open, and loader bots were streaming in and out, depositing crates of food and other supplies throughout the hold.

  Trig was there, as were Nielsen and Falconi. The captain lowered the clipboard he was holding and gave her a look. “Welcome back, Navárez. Guess we’re going on a jaunt because of you.”

  “Guess so,” she said.

  CHAPTER XI

  EXPOSURE

  1.

  Departure from Malpert Station was a quick and hurried affair. Kira had been on plenty of expeditions where the preparation took nearly as long as the trip itself. Not so in this case. The crew moved with purpose to ready the Wallfish for the journey to come, rushing through work that normally would have taken days. Captain Akawe had given orders that the Malpert port authority was to give them every possible help, and that sped things up also.

  While loader bots filled the starboard hold with supplies and, outside, pipes funneled hydrogen into the Wallfish’s tanks, the crew swapped empty air canisters for full, removed waste, and replenished stores of water.

  Kira helped as she could. Talk was limited on account of the work, but when the opportunity arose, she pulled Vishal aside, where the others couldn’t hear. “What happened with the Numenist?” she asked. “Is he okay?”

  The doctor blinked, as if he’d forgotten. “The—Oh, you mean Bob.”

  “Bob?” Somehow
Kira had trouble imagining calling the purple-haired man Bob.

  “Yes, yes,” said Vishal. He twirled a finger by his temple. “He was crazy as a spacebird, but other than that, he was fine. A few days’ rest and he’ll be as good as new. He did not seem to mind that you stabbed him.”

  “No?”

  The doctor shook his head. “No. It was a point of some pride with him, even though he promised to—and I quote here, Ms. Navárez—‘knock off her knobblestone head,’ end quote. I believe he meant it too.”

  “I suppose I’ll have to keep an eye out for him,” Kira said, trying to sound as if everything were alright. But it wasn’t. She could still feel the spines of the Soft Blade sliding into the Numenist’s knotted flesh. She had done that. And this time, she couldn’t claim ignorance, as with her team on Adra.

  “Indeed.”

  Then they returned to readying the Wallfish for departure.

  Soon afterward—so soon that it surprised Kira—Falconi was on the line to the UMC cruiser, saying, “We’re just waiting on you, Darmstadt. Over.”

  After a moment, First Officer Koyich responded: “Roger that, Wallfish. Alpha Team will be there shortly.”

  “Alpha Team?” Kira asked as Falconi ended the call. They were in the cargo hold, overseeing the last delivery of foodstocks.

  He grimaced. “Akawe insisted on having some of his men on board to keep an eye on things. Nothing I could do about it. We’ll have to be ready in case they cause trouble.”

  Nielsen said, “If there’s a problem, I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with it.” She gave Kira a hard glance and then fixed her gaze straight ahead.

  Kira hoped she hadn’t made an enemy of the first officer. Either way, there wasn’t anything she could do about it; the situation was what it was. At least Nielsen wasn’t being actively unpleasant toward her.

  Alpha Squad arrived a few minutes later: four Marines in exos, towing boxes of equipment wrapped in webbing. Accompanying them were loader bots carrying cryo tubes and several long, plastic crates. The lead Marine jetted over to Falconi, saluted, and said, “Lieutenant Hawes, sir. Permission to come aboard.”