Sunborn

by Jeffrey Carver

  Bandicut took a deep draft of ale, pleased by its rich malt flavor and hoppy aftertaste. He lowered the mug with a sigh, grateful to contemplate something simple for a while. “What do you think?” he asked Ik.

  “Most bracing,” Ik pronounced, stroking the two thumbs of his left hand together along his hard-surfaced lips. “If this is a sample of your Earth drinks, I believe I approve.” With that, he turned his attention to the dinner on his plate.

  The food was a respectable reproduction of Hraachee’an food bars, whole-grain bread rolls, cheese, and apples; and various fruits and other samplings of Hraachee’an, Karellian, and Thespi foods. They ate quietly for a time, before Antares broke the silence, wondering aloud what the others had thought of the haloes’ presentation. Li-Jared sputtered for a moment, but Ik answered first. “Truthfully,” he said, “I find it hard to fathom this business of living stars.”

  Li-Jared blinked, the bright blue and gold of his eyes going dark, then blazing again. “Well, remember, Ik, your people had only just ventured into space when your sun exploded—”

  “I hadn’t forgotten,” Ik said, his deep-set eyes narrowing, giving him an even more skeletal appearance than usual.

  Li-Jared drummed his fingers in exasperation. “I just meant that you had not had time to become intimately acquainted with your own star, or others. Would you have known it if your sun were sentient?”

  “Rrrm, what I was going to say was, I am willing to entertain the notion of sentient suns.”

  “Well, I hope you aren’t entertaining the notion that we might go there!”

  “I do not know. But, Li-Jared—” Ik turned his left hand palm-up, his long, bony fingers extended “—if there are whole worlds in danger, and there is something we can do to help—”

  Waving his arms, Li-Jared jumped up and stalked around in a fury. “Moon and stars—why must it be us, always us? We saved Shipworld! We saved the Neri! Are we the only ones in the galaxy who can do these things? Do we just keep doing it until one day we die?” He wheeled around and glared into the fire, his back to Ik.

  As Ik stirred, Bandicut tried to say something. But his voice caught; it jarred him to see the two argue—and the truth was, he agreed with both of them.

  “Friends, please—” Antares began, and then she too seemed at a loss for words.

  Finally Ik stretched out his long limbs. “I can only guess, hrrm, there are some things only we are in a position to do.”

  Li-Jared’s eyes narrowed visibly. “Yah, maybe we’re just handy and maybe we’re just—” rasp “—suckers.”

  “Hrah, maybe so. But maybe the need is still there.” Ik turned to Bandicut. “Hrrrm, Bandie, would you join me in having another one of these ales?”

  *

  Antares was beginning to wish she’d never started the conversation. It all felt like too much to think about right now: whether to go, or not go, on a dangerous mission to do something about sentient stars. Or worse, some mysterious agent attacking sentient stars. And wondering whether they were going to have a choice in the matter, any more than they had chosen to plunge into the ocean of the Neri world. Antares was very fond of Li-Jared and Ik; but she suddenly realized that right now, she needed not to be listening to this. The arguments were clamoring in her mind like a thousand voices...

  She rested her head against the sofa back and shifted her gaze to the fire. As she watched its dancing flames, she thought, How strange this little company is. I have known these people such a short time, and they are such a part of me now. To think how much I trust them! And John Bandicut—we’ve had so little time to really get to know each other. I wish we could put everything else aside for a while.

  Though her gaze was turned away from the others, she was aware of John Bandicut’s physical presence beside her. She was almost close enough to detect his feelings, but they were more like an aura, a shadow she couldn’t quite grasp. Time...I just need some time...

  *

  Li-Jared had sat back down, but still looked disgruntled, as Ik returned from the food table with two full mugs of ale. Bandicut accepted one and took a swallow. Ahh. Sighing, he glanced at Antares. She was turned toward the fire, but her eyelids were half shut. “You okay?”

  “I wish to sleep soon.” She shifted her eyes toward him. “John Bandicut, will you join me?”

  “Of course.” He took another swallow, then paused to eye his nearly full mug. “Do you mean now?”

  She whispered a chuckle. “I can wait.”

  Bandicut took another gulp, then caught her eye again. She means now. He raised his mug ruefully toward Ik. “Would you mind if we continued this later?”

  Antares leaned toward Ik and Li-Jared. “My friends, would you forgive us?”

  Ik sipped his ale and clacked his mouth shut. “Indeed. Rest well—both of you.”

  Li-Jared tapped his chest with his fingers and snapped, “What is to forgive? Ik and I will continue the—” brr-dang “—learned discussion. Good night.”

  As Antares rose, Bandicut took a last, long swallow of ale. He joined her in threading past the tables to the back of the room, where Jeaves was waiting. He floated ahead of them down a short hallway. “I wanted to make sure you were not in need of anything...”

  “Nothing, no,” Antares answered.

  “Then I will take my leave. We will discuss these matters further in the morning. Good night.” Jeaves left them at the door to their quarters.

  They entered a modest-sized room that contained a resilient, matlike floor and a single sleeping pad large enough for two people to stretch out on comfortably. The door materialized closed behind them. Bandicut sat on the sleeping pad and looked up at Antares. “You okay? Just tired?”

  “And overwhelmed.” She came and sat beside him, smoothing out the red, satiny fabric of her pantsuit. He squeezed her hand. “So much to think about,” she said, her breath hissing out. “Can we talk about something other than thinking stars, and missions to places we might rather not go to?”

  “Sure.” He was certain she did not have physical intimacy on her mind, but he felt her empathic touch at the edge of his thoughts. “Anything in particular?”

  “I don’t know. Bandie John Bandicut, so much has happened to us, so quickly. How long have we actually known each other?”

  Not that long. Only a short time on Shipworld, in the midst of chaotic and near-catastrophic events, before they were hurled to the Neri world—and similarly perilous events—until the Maw of the Abyss hurled them away again.

  Antares made a soft murmuring, almost purring sound. “And here we are, being asked to intervene in cosmic events. Stars with lifetimes of millions of years! What could we have to do with them? What could they have to do with us, even if they are awake and intelligent?”

  “I don’t know,” he murmured. I thought we weren’t going to talk about this.

  Antares leaned her head on his shoulder; her thick mane of auburn hair tumbled over him. “It’s just so hard even to know how to think about these things. I could grasp it when the Neri were in danger. And I could grasp it, on Shipworld, when the iceline was in peril from the boojum—and you and your friends, too. But stars and worlds?” She raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness.

  “Is it too hard to imagine their pain?”

  “To imagine their pain? No. But to feel their actual pain—that would be very different. I do not know how I can become a part of that.” She raised her chin, and her golden-irised eyes caught his. And he suddenly realized, this wasn’t just about making a rational decision: smart mission, dumb mission. This was about being part of something.

  “Then—”

  “I feel as if I need to grasp this before I can even consider what we should do.”

  “I understand,” he said, and it was almost true.

  “And Ik and Li-Jared’s pain and anger and frustration were so strong...that is why I needed to get away.” She closed her eyes and breathed slowly and deeply. “I could not get it clear in my
own mind.”

  “Does their presence bother you?”

  “What? No, my dear Bandie John Bandicut. They are my companions—” rasp “—friends. I would do anything for them.” Her hand turned and grasped his tightly, and he felt a wave of her feelings for Ik and Li-Jared. He also felt her feelings for him, which were...different.

  “As I would for you,” she added.

  He nodded, swallowing.

  “And you, John—what do you feel about this?”

  “You mean, what Jeaves—?”

  “Yes—no. About that, but not only that.” She shifted position to sit cross-legged, facing him directly. “Where do you belong?”

  “Well, I don’t know exactly what you—”

  She stopped him. “John.” Her golden-eyed gaze was intent. “Tell me...” She pressed her lips together. “Tell me, who did you love? Who did you leave behind? Who do you miss?”

  He felt a sudden upwelling of buried feelings, and a sharp lump in his throat, rendering him mute. His love for Antares, for this alien woman, this Thespi Third-female, auburn-maned and empathic, abruptly felt like a betrayal of the love he’d left behind, when a slingshot maneuver around the sun and a collision with a comet changed his life forever. He didn’t know what to say, or how to explain it. Antares seemed very human at times; would she feel human jealousy? But she was not human. She was Thespi.

  /// I think she’s asking

  because she really wants to know. ///

  /But where do I start?/

  “John,” Antares said softly. “Why don’t you tell me how you came to leave your home star. Can you do that?”

  He nodded. He’d told her much already in bits and pieces, but now he put it all together for her—how he had been working on Triton, moon of Neptune, as a mining surveyor. How he had found an alien artifact, the translator—and Charlie, the quarx now in his head. How Charlie had warned him of the comet that was going to slam into Earth, and how he was the only one who could save it—by stealing a spaceship and, with the help of the translator-stones, crossing the solar system to destroy it. By slamming into it and turning it, and himself, into a cloud of dust. But a funny thing happened on the way to the funeral, because he not only didn’t die, he wound up being slung halfway across the galaxy to the strange place called Shipworld—where he was almost immediately pressed into service to defeat an enemy called the boojum.

  Antares made a low humming sound. “Tell me, then, who did you leave? Who do you miss?”

  Bandicut suppressed a twinge. Julie Stone—are you waiting for me, thousands of light-years from here? Or are you long dead and gone? He forced himself to breathe. “I miss my friends Georgia and Krackey, on Triton. And my niece, Dakota, back on Earth.”

  Antares leaned forward, tilting her head. “Your niece?”

  “My brother’s daughter. My brother and my parents...died, about ten years ago.” He barked a sudden laugh. “Ten years ago, when I left, I mean. I don’t know how long ago, now...”

  Antares closed her hand over the top of his. “I understand. We are both in the same...”

  “Boat,” he said. “Circumstance.”

  “Not knowing how much time has passed, out there. Yes, I have often wondered the same. Tell me about...Dakota.” Antares gazed at him with what seemed a very human expression of sympathy. He wondered if he was losing his ability to distinguish between human and Thespi. Besides the three-fingered hands, the silken body hair, and the four breasts. “Is she very...precious to you?”

  A smile came, and went. “Dakota was—or is—an incredibly sweet, bright kid, who was orphaned when my brother and his wife were killed in a tunnel collapse.” He hadn’t thought about this in a long time. It still hurt. “That left her with just me and her mother’s parents. So Dakota’s the only family I have. And I promised her...I would take her up into space someday. A promise I’ll never be able to keep now.”

  Antares waited a moment, then touched his cheek. “Is there something more? About Dakota?”

  “Hm? I guess not.”

  “Nothing? And yet it sticks in you, like a—” rasp “—craw?”

  He chuckled. “Sticks in my craw. Okay. See, I created a trust fund for her.” How do I explain a trust fund? “It’s a savings of money—resources—to help her go away to a good school someday.”

  “This is good. Why does it stick in your craw?”

  “Because I don’t know if she ever got it. The government thought I was a deranged criminal, and they might have seized it; or her grandparents might have, I don’t know. So—” his breath caught and he had to force the words “—maybe I did keep my promise to her, through that. If she took the money and used it to pay for a good education, that could get her into space.” He drew a deep breath. “That’s what I want to think.”

  Antares parted her lips with a sigh. “Then perhaps that is what you should think.” He nodded and sighed. She gave him a moment, then continued. “There is someone else, though, isn’t there? You’ve told me...what is her name? Julie? Why don’t you want to talk about her?”

  “I—well—” Now he was struggling again. “I didn’t know her that long, really—just long enough. I really...hated to leave her. Especially the way I did—not even getting to tell her what I was doing. I can’t imagine what she thought.” He felt a pressure between his temples, and wondered if it was coming from Antares.

  /// Don’t you know? ///

  /Know what? It’s a hard memory to focus on./

  /// I’m not even human, and I can see it,

  plain as day. ///

  /See what?/ Bandicut felt a scowl surface on his face. He tried to wipe it away with his thumb and forefinger.

  /// You don’t want to deal with the pain. ///

  Bandicut muttered a growl at Charlie. Antares squinted. “Are you talking to me, or to Charlie?”

  “Um, sorry. It’s just that—”

  “It hurts?”

  “Well, yeah—”

  “It’s important,” she said softly. “That’s why I want to know about it.” She clasped his hand between hers. “John Bandicut, your thoughts and feelings about her will have an effect on us, will they not?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I suppose so...” His face grew warm again as he drew forth the memories. “She became the person I trusted the most, the one I wanted to be with all the time. I was falling in love with her just when I had to leave forever.”

  “And you are wondering, will you ever see her again?”

  “I don’t see how I ever can. Even if she’s still alive, what are the chances I’ll ever return to Earth?”

  Antares’s breath whistled out. “I do not know. And yet, in a way, does it even matter? You still feel what you feel, yes?”

  He nodded, shutting his eyes. “Yah...”

  *

  For some time after Bandicut and Antares left, Ik gazed into the fire—pondering sentient stars, and unseen masters who catapulted them off on hazardous missions. Despite his misgivings, he was intrigued by the possibility of sentient stars. Intrigued and frightened. A flaring sun had destroyed his homeworld—and along with it, his lifebonder Onaka and everyone else he had cared for. Had his own sun been a sentient being? Had it known what was happening? Ik drew a long swallow of the Earthman’s ale and held the half-full mug up to regard it against the dancing flames of the fire.

  “Ik?”

  He turned his head, looking at Li-Jared through a slight mental haze. The ale seemed to be doing more than just giving him a warm glow. /Please reassure me that my normalization is handling this ale,/ he said silently to his voice-stones. He remembered a very bad time on the Neri world, when the normalization had not protected him adequately from the local food. Without Bandicut and Charlie’s intervention, he might have died then and there.

  “Ik, are you here with me?” Li-Jared demanded. The electric-blue slits across his gold eyes reflected the flickering firelight, giving him a look of great urgency.

  “I am,” said Ik, still wa
iting for a response from his stones.

  *All appears within limits,* reported the stones.

  “Are you with me in opposing this insanity?” Li-Jared was nervously fingering the tall glass holding his cream-elixir. He raised it as though to drink a sip, then lowered it again. “Yes?” he asked.

  Ik tensed. “I, like you, have serious reservations.”

  Li-Jared’s fingers began twitching. “Serious reservations? Ik, this is a mad thing they want us to do! This robot, Jeaves—these Shipworld masters—they want us to take off on a suicide mission.”

  Ik sighed through his ears. “Possibly so.”

  “Don’t you remember what they’ve put us through? How they threw us into an ocean—not once, but twice? Are we going to let them keep doing this?” Li-Jared started to rise again, looking agitated.

  Ik gazed at him silently. In fact, he did remember, all too clearly. There had been another time—before the Neri, before meeting John Bandicut—when a star-spanner bubble plunged Ik and Li-Jared into the ocean of an alien world. That time, they hadn’t sunk into the depths, but bobbed on the surface, where a fishing-float rescued them. The nearby coast was populated by a strange fisher folk. Intelligent but not spacefaring or highly industrial, they were in grave danger from their planet’s fluctuating magnetic field and radiation from their sun. Ik and Li-Jared had the impossible task of persuading them that they had to shield themselves or move underground, or risk terrible losses. By the time they’d convinced the leaders of the impending catastrophe, Ik and Li-Jared were nearly executed as mutant spies.

  Li-Jared was still talking. “Is there any reason why they couldn’t just pull us back to Shipworld with the star-spanner, the way they did from the Matuni world? Don’t we deserve a—” rasp “—break?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ik.

  “But we intend to find out, yes? Truth, Ik! Truth is what I want to hear!” Li-Jared’s bright eyes glared out of his brown-haired face. When Li-Jared was angry, it made even his friend Ik want to step back.

  Ik sighed again. The ale seemed to make his thoughts foggy. “Truth, yes,” he said at last. “But first perhaps we should do what Bandie and Antares have done. Get some rest.”