Across a Sea of Stars

by Michael E. Gonzales

  "What's a kerfee?" Cris asked.

  "Cris," Capek made use of his name for the first time, "it is the organization of the planets and their orbits around our sun."

  "So, it’s your solar system?" Cris asked.

  Tattie stepped up in front of Capek. "I must tell you. The planet, perhaps the entire system, is on the verge of civil war. Cris and I are wanted by Caval Du Mal who, in his absence, has set Bruckna the Sorgina against us. If you accompany us, there is danger, you could be destroyed."

  "Madam, those two were enemies of the Methderall even before my unfortunate semi-controlled landing here. As they destroyed the good Duke, I have every reason to work against their interests, and of course I am without fear."

  "Well, look at you Capek. You've taken the first step toward self-determination," Cris observed.

  "So I have. Remarkable."

  As they started walking away from the craft, Cris asked, "Hey, Capek, we've got to cross some streams and a river. How are you in water?"

  "Cris, I am completely submersible up to fifty atmospheres." Capek looked back at his half-buried and camouflaged craft. "Too bad."

  "Yeah," Cris said, "I know how hard it is to leave your ship."

  "Indeed, and I was so close to having it operational again."

  "What?" Cris stopped. "How close?"

  "There are several inoperative sub-systems. The cooling intakes and vertical thrusters need be cleared of soil and debris. Otherwise Unsate is ready."

  "Why didn't you say so?"

  "You seemed intent on walking."

  "Come on, you."

  The three returned to the craft and began to clear away the dirt, brush, and rocks from key places under the ship. Then they removed the old grass from its top.

  When finished, close to sunset, Cris got his first look at the thing. It reminded him of a flattened acorn. There were short, rounded wings near the rear and two vertical stabilizers like on an F-22. At the front, there was one long, horizontal window for the flight crew. The ship was about ten-and-a-half meters long and about four meters thick. At the rear were four translucent disks, flush with the stern. Cris concluded that these must be the propulsion units.

  "What's the power source for this thing?" Cris asked Capek.

  "Seques—"

  "Never mind!"

  Inside, there were seats for twenty people and a cargo area. The cargo area was full of boxes.

  "Capek," Tattie asked, "What is your cargo here?"

  "I was transporting clothing to the refugees of Jelnethta."

  "Then the Unsate is a Galla nava?" Tattie asked.

  "Ah—" Cris started to explain that he did not understand.

  Before he could ask his question, Tattie, who was apparently reading him quite well now, explained, "I asked Capek if his craft, the Unsate, is a Galla nava, a spacecraft."

  "Yes, ma'am," Capek responded, "I flew here from Nazer's senior moon, Natu, where I picked up the donations of clothing, and was on my way to Jelnethta on Kalob when—"

  "You suffered an unfortunate semi-controlled landing," Cris snickered.

  "As a pilot, have you never lost a ship?"

  "Yes, Capek, I certainly have," Cris said in all seriousness.

  "Cris," Tattie was standing by the crates, "this is an opportunity to upgrade your wardrobe, and to procure some warmer clothes."

  Cris approached the first crate. Some of the containers were wood, and some were metal. Most were square or rectangular in shape; however, there were barrels, as well. Cris tried to pry open a wooden crate with his bare hands but it was too well-built. He stood back and looked for a tool. "Well, I guess I could shoot it open."

  "Allow me, Cris." Capek walked up to the first crate and ripped it apart effortlessly.

  "Thanks."

  "You're welcome."

  Before long, Cris was attired anew in old, but quite serviceable indigenous clothing. He even replaced his NASA issued boots with some Cossack-looking foot gear. There was also a long, thick, wooly great coat, double breasted with a fur-covered collar. He found a scarf and mittens as well. The hat was the oddity. It was a decidedly military hat, what the Air Force called a service hat. It was dark blue with a red band and a visor made of some sort of ridged leather. There were no badges on the hat. "It fits," Cris said.

  "That is the hat worn by soldiers of the Duke's guard," Capek said, again sounding remorseful.

  Tattie selected a coat, too. She explained that in extreme cold, the coat would keep her heat next to her body and not allow the wind to carry it away. "But surely, Cris, this craft will carry us over the mountains, so there will be no cold for us to suffer with."

  "Well—let's keep these in the ship. The rest of the stuff, I'm sorry to say Capek, we'll need to dump. It's a weight issue."

  After the last items were tossed out, Cris noticed it was already dark. He quickly closed the door. Looking forward, he saw the cabin door was closed.

  "Capek, are the lights out on the flight deck?"

  "If you mean the control room, yes."

  "Good, it's dark, a light out here would be like a signal fire. And it's warm in here." His eyes met Tattie's. "Not that there was anything wrong with last night's arrangements."

  "A survival technique," she said dryly.

  They ate some dried meat and fruit and drank water. Cris converted two rows of passenger seats into makeshift beds, his on the port, hers on the starboard two rows behind his. "I'll take the first watch," Cris said. "No trees out here."

  "Cris," It was Capek's voice. "I require no sleep, therefore, I will keep the watch."

  "Here's my problem with that plan, Capek—"

  "Cris," Capek interrupted him, "how am I to earn your trust, or you mine without an opportunity? This is just such an opportunity."

  Cris was leery and Capek knew it. Tattie stepped in. "Cris, I told you—I trust him. Do you no longer trust my insight?"

  "Okay," Cris said reluctantly. "Do you need a weapon?"

  "No, thank you. I could not use it regardless. If I detect an intruder, I will sound an alarm. I will patrol outside, where you will find me at dawn."

  Capek departed, Cris closed the door and turned to face Tattie, who was suddenly right next to him.

  "Rest well, Cris. Turn the light off, please."

  Cris turned the lights off and started feeling his way toward the row of seats that would be his bed. He found that there was just enough light to see due to various controls and readouts on panels scattered about the cabin. He found his bed, sat to take off his boots—and then he saw her. Tattie was undressing. Her back was to him, she was little more than a slightly glowing silhouette, but nonetheless his eyes were riveted. She was thin and shapely. Alien to him or not, she was a breathtaking beauty. His jaw hung loose.

  Suddenly, her head snapped toward him. Her large almond eyes, like two beacons, were searching out his indiscretion. Quickly, he directed his attention to his boots. He felt her eyes on him, heavy and accusing. He swallowed hard.

  "Rest well, Cris," she said in that low soft voice she seemed to use only on him, and only at night.

  "Goodnight, Tattie." Glancing carefully up, he watched as she climbed into her bed and pulled her coat over her.

  "Tattie?"

  "What is it you want, Cris?"

  He swallowed again. "Ah—you're sleeping—be klided, aren't you?"

  "Why do you ask, Cris?"

  "Well—it's just that I heard you drop your clothes on the floor."

  "Cris."

  "Um—yeah?"

  "I hung them over the back of the seat. Rest now, Cris."

  Oh, God, she saw me looking.

  Cris lay on his back, looking into the dark above him. In his mind, he worried about their robot guard, he saw the thing radioing their location to their enemies, or waiting to kill them in their sleep.

  Worse, he saw Tattie's eyes watching him. She knew he had watched her undress! Damn, what’s the matter with me anyway? Then a voice in the back of his
head said, You're a man, Cris, and she is a decidedly beautiful woman. You know she is warm, now you've seen that figure, imagine how soft she must be to the touch, eh? Cris shook his head violently, closed his eyes, and forced himself to fall asleep.

  ○O○

  Dawn's light did not penetrate into the cabin of the craft. Cris woke slowly. He had that headache that always accompanied a night like the one that had just passed—a night filled with the horrific dreams that he could never get away from.

  Fortunately, he had little recollection of his nightmares, but he knew them quite well, regardless. Killing, screams, burning…Danny…

  When he opened his eyes, he saw the cabin was still dark. He knew his internal clock had roused him.

  When he attempted to roll over, he encountered an obstacle. He looked over his shoulder and there was Tattie next to him. She was barely visible in the pale glow of the instruments, despite his eyes being well adjusted to the dark. She was up on one elbow, her head in her hand. Her face was in silhouette, but her eyes were aglow.

  "Are you all right, Cris?" Her voice revealed deep concern.

  "Yeah, sure. Why?"

  "Do you not remember last night?"

  "No—I trust I was a gentleman."

  "Cris—do you want to tell me about these dreams?"

  "Not really, no."

  "Okay. Turn your head back away."

  She got up, wrapped her coat about herself, and returned to her bed.

  "I'm going to dress now," Tattie said. "Keep your head still."

  A few minutes later, Tattie sat in the seat Cris was facing, fully dressed.

  "You suffer terrible dreams, Cris, every night."

  "Not every night."

  "Every night I've known you."

  "Not the night before last."

  "Yes, you did. I gave you the elixir of Geldneth Nordthok and it eased your mind."

  "But you didn't give it to me last night?"

  "No, I didn't. Tell me why you have these evil dreams…perhaps I can help."

  "Tattie—let's just say some terrible things happened in the war back on my world and leave it at that."

  "I really can help you."

  "How?"

  "You must consciously and willingly open yourself to me completely. But to do that, you must achieve something you've never achieved before."

  "Yeah, what's that?"

  "You'll know when it comes…if it comes. And I truly hope it does."

  "You're not making any sense."

  "I know."

  Chapter 16

  The Ghosts of Galdo Heirya

  Cris now understood the winged acorn to be a spacecraft. He watched as Capek preformed his preflight checks of the vessel.

  "Capek, you flew this thing here from Methderall and then you were going to fly it to the planet Kalob?"

  "Yes, Cris. That was my mission. Methderall is—was, a nation on the senior moon called Natu."

  "Can we fly this thing back into space?"

  "No, I'm sorry. The hull has several small breaches. In fact, I am concerned about the overall structural integrity of the ship."

  "Capek, old boy, we're about to try to fly this thing over those mountains, and now you tell me you're not sure it'll hold together!"

  "Cris, I calculate we have a forty-seven percent chance of success."

  Cris checked to ensure Tattie was out of earshot. "That's a fifty-three percent chance of failure!"

  "I know my ship, and I have a firm reliance in its ability."

  "You trust her?"

  "If by her you mean Unsate—yes, I do."

  "Yeah," Cris uttered softly, "I've felt the same way about all of my ships. I think we'll trust your instincts."

  "You are residing trust in me, then?"

  Cris paused a moment and looked into the black visor. "Yes, Capek, until you give me reason not to."

  "That is fair. Thank you."

  "You're welcome. Now, show me how you fly this thing."

  The instruction did not take long at all as the ship's instruments were very intuitive. The navigation computer on the other hand, was a problem. The spoken words Cris heard were translated instantly in his mind, but he had no clue how to read their written language. Tattie would handle the navigation. Cris would fly the ship, initially, just to get a feel for the alien controls, then Capek would take over, his reaction time was infinitely faster than Cris's.

  "Tattie," Cris asked, "you know how to fly this thing?"

  "Of course, Cris, all flight controls are standardized on our spacecraft."

  "Capek, what's our heading from here to Emer Alda?"

  "We must head out on Heeru beragetia zapie."

  "Say again?"

  "Please, allow me to set the controls."

  "If you don't mind."

  "I do not."

  The three took their seats. Capek in the center pilot's seat, Cris on the right, and Tattie sat at navigation to Capek's left. Before he did anything else, Cris went over to check Tattie's seat and chest restraints.

  As he tugged on the buckle, Tattie grabbed his hand. "Thank you," she said, and smiled.

  Cris smiled back, returned to his seat, buckled up, and engaged the engines. His control panel lit up, but there was no sound.

  "VTOL please, Capek."

  "I'm sorry, that phrase holds no meaning for me."

  "What phrase?"

  "Vee Tea Oh Ell."

  "It's an acronym; it means Vertical Take Off and Landing."

  "I understand you wish to engage the lift engines."

  "Correct."

  "I will do so now. Please monitor your balance indicator here as instructed."

  "Increasing power incrementally," Cris said.

  "We are at ten percent now," Capek reported. "You should start to feel buoyancy at forty."

  "Keep going," Cris said, watching his instruments.

  "Twenty. Thirty. Thirty-five."

  Just then, the ship lifted gently off the ground, rising very slowly.

  "I am very pleased," Capek said. "Unsate has not been off the ground in a considerable length of time."

  "Increase ol' Unsate's power to forty-two and let's get some air under us."

  At an altitude of two hundred meters, Capek engaged the main engines and silently, Unsate started forward.

  Cris was going to have to fly by the seat of his pants, as auto flight systems were inoperative, this of course met with his approval.

  "Capek, what's our speed?"

  "You would refer to it as 804.65 kilometers per hour."

  "Actually, I would refer to it as about four hundred thirty-five knots."

  "Calculating. One knot is roughly one point eight kilometers per hour. Saved."

  As they sped toward the mountains, Cris gradually increased their altitude in order to clear the peaks along their flight path.

  He began to feel tired and light-headed. He glanced at Tattie, she was rubbing her forehead. "Tattie, what's wrong?"

  "I have developed a ringing headache."

  Cris instantly pushed the nose down and pulled way back on the power. Tattie became alarmed, Capek confused. Soon, they were hovering, stationary, a mere six meters off the ground.

  "Cris, what's happened, what's wrong?" Tattie asked.

  "I am such a bone head! Capek, What's the altitude of those peaks?"

  "The mean elevation is hogita zapie mil."

  "Meters, Capek, remember I taught you meters? What's that in meters?"

  "Approximately 8,230 meters."

  "I think that's our problem. On Earth, a planet roughly the same size as Nazer, pilots in non-pressurized aircraft require oxygen above 3,048 meters. I presume the same is true here."

  "Yes, it is," Tattie, said, rolling her eyes. "I should have known."

  "No," said Capek, "the responsibility is mine. Not requiring an atmosphere, I did not calculate your needs into my equation, a serious oversight on my part and illustrative of my diminished mental state as a result of prolonged solit
ude and myopic thinking."

  "We're all three of us pilots," Cris said. "All of us should have known. Not an hour ago, you told me the hull was punctured; still, I failed to make the connection.”

  "All right, we just have to fly through the mountains some place where we can remain below three thousand meters."

  "That puts us right back at the pass of Narowdep," Tattie said. “The walls are very close together and the path meandering."

  "Could the enemy be watching it?"

  "Absolutely. They could not approach from this side, the Avory would not allow them through, but they could have gotten in through the far side."

  "Okay, we'll assume they are there. We'll need to get through as fast as possible, so Capek, you fly us through."

  "Cris, I will prove your trust in me is fully warranted."

  "You do that. What kind of triple A are we facing?"

  "Triple A, Cris?" Tattie asked.

  "What will they be shooting at us with?"

  "Weapons just like that one you took from the Lautmen on the edge of the forest."

  "Well, they can certainly bring us down with those."

  "I don't see we have many acceptable options," Capek said. "The altitude is too great for you, and the distance to an alternative path will add several days to your journey."

  "Time is critical. Capek, you have got to get us through that pass."

  Tattie added, "Many more lives than our own depend on it."

  Capek turned back to his control panel. "Tattie, please bring up the map of the pass of Narowdep." The map appeared on Capek's, Cris's, and Tattie's holographic monitors.

  Very quickly, the computer displayed the pass in three dimensions from several angles. "Saving," said Capek. "I have analyzed the pass and computed optimum speeds and altitudes that will best avoid line of sight engagements, based on the most likely areas where such weapons can be deployed."

  "Okay, buddy, tally ho."

  "Okay—approval or endorsement. Buddy—a close friend. Tally ho—a largely British phrase, used in foxhunting."

  "Capek, I just meant let's go." Suddenly, Cris realized that Capek spoke those words in English. "Hey—you speak English!"

  "So it appears, sir."

  "How is it you know English?"

  "I do not know how, the language is present in my memory, both British and American versions."