by Alma Boykin
Zabet blinked, then called up the destination file. «Ever been to Taukankoli?» Rada shook her head and Zabet added, «How about landing underground?»
Rada entered the coordinates in the central processing computer, then stopped, turning to look over her shoulder at her boss. “Um, do you mean as in a sub-surface or otherwise enclosed landing area, or as in trying to occupy space currently full of rocks and dirt?”
«Our destination is in a cave,» the reptile clarified, settling herself carefully around the base of the symbiote’s habitat pedestal.
“No problem. Caves are fine. Trying to displace rock is not fine.” Rada sensed the symbiote growing agitated and she sent it a bit of reassurance, along with a generic image of a cavern.
Soothed, the creature settled deeper into its fluid-filled tank, ready to travel. You are not quite as primitive as the Traders think, are you? Rada wondered to herself. The Traders maintained that the psycho-symbiotes possessed only semi-sentience at best, but the Dark Hart seemed disinclined to fit that description. Once again, the Wanderer-hybrid shrugged and closed her eyes, first humming and then singing the mental link that provided her, the creature, and the rest of the ship with the ability to move through time and space. A six-dimensional image appeared in her mind and she confirmed their destination and track.
Rada opted to remain in the steering trance for the duration of the voyage. A picture of the planet appeared in her mind, followed by an image of the world’s dominant sapient species. The Taukanko lived underground. The paucity of other information told Rada that the Traders did little business with the species, although the file failed to state why. She shrugged. The business of market expansion interested her not one whit. Arriving at her destination on time, in time, and in as many pieces as she started with interested her greatly, and she closed the file, concentrating instead on the symbiote and on navigation.
Once they landed and confirmed a breathable atmosphere, Rada opened the Dark Hart’s “door,” letting Zabet step outside first. Well, perhaps ‘let’ was not the right word; she remained in her seat as Zabet bolted out the timeship’s portal. Rada took her time, eased around behind her employer, and opened the latches on the cargo pod. She managed to lift the heavy, cumbersome packages out by herself, setting them on the trolley that appeared beside her. Only after moving the fourth weaving, and then locking the pod’s latches, did Rada turn around. “Thank you,” she enunciated carefully in Trader.
“You are most welcome, Sister-speaker,” a pink-grey individual replied. The Taukan stood only a little taller than Rada. The being’s touch/sight organs covered its entire body and their constant motion reminded Rada of her timeship’s unstable, shifting exterior, except that the Taukan’s color remained unchanged as its “fur” rippled back and forth. The creature stood on four legs, and had two additional limbs on the upright section of its L-shaped torso. A hump in the middle of the Taukan’s “back” held its brain, surrounded by the lungs and other organs. The voice, emanating from the exhalation port above the grasping limbs, continued, “Please bring the items this way.”
Rada pushed the trolley, following her guide along a very dimly lit corridor. A constant breeze carried scents of moisture and decay, but Rada also caught hints of sulfur and something spice-like. She appreciated the moving air. Caves made her uncomfortable. She had no difficulty with the small spaces of space ships or drop-capsules. Underground spaces, however... She shivered a little and her fur rose. Her guide turned abruptly and Rada struggled to rotate the cart into the narrower space. The passage soon widened into a good-sized chamber, where five waiting Taukanko made beckoning gestures. Rada stopped the trolley where they indicated and they lifted the weavings up onto tables.
A faintly-striped Taukan entered the chamber from Rada’s left. It touched the seals on the four bags, then brushed Rada’s guide with its “arm.” The Taukan Rada was coming to think of as “Guide” turned and ordered, “unwrap the weavings for the senior.”
Rada did as ordered. She anticipated the next command, and as soon as she’d removed the white over cloth from the fourth tapestry she went back and unrolled the first weaving, smoothing out any lumps or creases before doing the same with the second. As soon as she’d finished all four, one of the watching Taukanko rolled a metal frame out into place behind the tables and turned on four small lights. Rada shrugged and kept out of the way, stepping off to one side so that Senior could move easily among the tables.
As Senior touched and studied the weavings, Rada looked at the pictures. Three appeared to tell a story, or at least depicted the same main figures. A rock-like object stood in the middle of a circle of garish flowers, the dark gray shape looming over rich purples, crimson, shining white, and glorious, glowing oranges. Yellow wisps of cloud floated in an emerald sky behind the garden, almost shifting shape as Rada watched. The same rock dominated the center of the second weaving. Light green snow covered everything and the dark green sky seemed lower, much as Drakon IV’s water-heavy snow clouds looked to Rada. Haze blurred the background, hiding whatever lay outside of the garden. In the third weaving, two smaller rocks flanked the original stone, again surrounded by flowers. Bright yellow light poured over the stones, illuminating the foreground and casting the background into deeper shadow. She thought she could see very, very dark red tree-like shapes in the distance, but the light in the foreground made them hard to differentiate from the green-black sky. The trio of tapestries felt comfortable, as if they depicted the peaceful progression of someone’s ordinary life. She would like having the set in her quarters at Singing Pines, Rada decided, but not the fourth weaving.
No, the last tapestry truly raised her fur and flattened her ears. Rada caught herself making an Azdhag warding-off gesture as she tried to repel the malign spirit radiating from the image in the weaving. Instead of the blues, greens, and grays soothing her eyes and calming her spirit, the swirling forms tried to draw her into their evil. The blue-gray reptilian individual at the center of the picture looked back at her with shining green eyes. Rada sensed that the creature had chosen the dark path with full knowledge of the price, and it reveled in the chaos and pain that it caused while inviting others to join it. The mammal’s hands itched and she fought down the urge to draw her dagger and attack the tapestry, shredding it and killing the creature. “Someone had a terrible nightmare,” Rada thought.
She must have spoken aloud, because the Taukanko turned as one towards her. “What do you mean?” Guide asked. Senior picked up a corner of the fourth tapestry and rubbed it against its fur/sense organ.
“Whoever dreamed the dream shown in the final weaving felt much fear,” Rada explained, or tried to. “That sort of bad dream is called a ‘nightmare’ in some languages, or a sleep-terror.”
Rada sensed telepathic communication of some form outside of her shields. Then the striped Taukan walked from the weaving and grasped Rada’s hand, setting it against the sensory fur on its back. “Explain ‘dream’,” a hollow voice commanded.
“The word has several meanings, but when members of some species sleep, our minds create images and stories. Sometimes the images make sense, or repeat things we have seen or done while awake. Other dreams make no sense, or only make sense within the story of the dream. Scary dreams are bad. Sometimes people wake up because the dream is so terrifying and are unable to return to sleep because they are afraid the dream will begin again.” Rada paused, thought for a moment, then added, “The Sisters can watch dreams and use them to design their weavings.”
Telepathic communication flowed around Rada and she waited without lowering her shields. Senior’s fur caressed Rada’s hand, then stilled. “How can a mind create stories that have not been lived?” Senior wanted to know.
Good question, Rada thought, scrambling for the words to explain. “Ah, some species have a way of thinking called an ‘imagination.’ Imagination allows us to devise new ways to use things, or to invent things, or to create stories that we have not lived. Some stor
ies tell about things that might happen if the thinker does or does not take an action, and others are completely new and involve things that do not exist or that cannot happen in this reality.” Her explanation sounded flat but Rada could not think of a better way to explain without lowering her shields and showing the Senior what she meant. And that might not be a good idea.
The Taukanko seemed to consider her words as Zabet and a seventh Taukan entered the chamber from the same direction as Senior had. Zabet did a double take, round ears flicking back and forward as her whiskers began stiffening. “Have permission,” Rada explained with her free hand, flashing the Azdhag forefoot-gesture.
“Explain later,” came Zabet’s answering forefoot motion.
“Taukan do not dream or imagination,” Senior’s voice caught Rada’s wandering attention as its fur gripped Rada’s hand. “The memory shows that Taukanko dreamed once, before the Dark Times. Dream no more. It is too dangerous.” With that the Senior released Rada’s hand and walked back to the tapestries. “Thank you for delivering our order. You may go.”
The Taukan beside Zabet handed her a data disk. The reptile slid it into her portable data tablet, extracted the information, and returned the disk. After she and the Taukan beside her conferred quietly, Zabet swept her tail in a summoning gesture. Rada joined her boss, and Guide followed. Guide accelerated a bit, getting in front of Zabet. “Follow this one, please,” it invited and the two females did as bid.
They passed several more Taukan on their way back to the Dark Hart, and Rada noticed that aside from the senior Taukanko, none of the creatures looked any different from the others. All of them sported the same coloring, identical fur/sensor length and body size, and moved with the same gaits and paces. An irreverent joke from Rada’s days with the Adamantine Division about “only they can tell” floated up from the depths of her memory and she squashed it as soon as it emerged, lest their hosts sense the thought. You never, ever made fun of the people who wrote the paycheck.
Whatever Zabet found on the data disk demanded her entire attention, and once the Dark Hart settled into the proper time stream and found a thread leading to the Dreamweavers’ cloister at the appropriate time point, the True-dragon busied herself doing arcane things with spreadsheets on her computer. Rada decided to satisfy her own curiosity and split the data display, leaving half on the current navigation problem and calling up a general species’ catalogue on the other half. The Wanderer needed three tries to find the correct species classification, but once she found it, a link to the Dukorlig Scholars network opened the Taukan data file.
The mammal skimmed through the biology notes, then scrolled back and studied the “development” section. Well that’s interesting. I didn’t think that was possible, she mused. She’d never heard of an entire species undergoing voluntary sense loss before. Rada jumped past the reproduction data to the culture and history portions of the file. She read it through twice, just to make certain that she’d grasped the story correctly.
By the time she finished, Zabet had wrapped up her own project. «Watching holo-dramas?» A tart mind-voice inquired.
“No. Trying to imagine a cataclysm so overwhelming that the survivors voluntarily underwent procedures and manipulations that turned them into a hive culture and in the process eliminated any traces of speculation.” Rada shook her head in wonder and Zabet’s whiskers snapped into surprised rigidity on either side of her narrow muzzle before relaxing again.
«I’m not sure I’d even want to imagine something that horrible,» the reptile slowly replied. «Is that why they are completely subterranean?»
“Apparently so. They’ve been underground at least a thousand of their orbital years—long enough to lose most pigmentation and light-based vision but not enough to change their methods of locomotion and certain other aspects of their physiology.” Many species’ moved underground or developed underground and then moved out, but the Taukan took it to an extreme. “After the critical event, whatever it was, the Taukan underwent genetic re-creation so that they could function in dark environments. That I understand. But the other part...”
«I’ve encountered cultures that suppressed or strictly channeled individuality, but never one that eliminated it completely. Ditto creativity and imagination. That’s just... I don’t even want to think about it.»
“Me either.” Rada shivered. She liked being Rada Ni Drako, enjoyed dreaming and creating in her own way. “Well, something tells me that we’re not the kind that would stick around when a disaster that big was looming, so we don’t have to worry about it,” she decided. “And we’re getting close to our destination.”
Once they landed, Zabet hurried off to give Sister Tweeli the transaction data. Rada opted to stay with the ‘Hart. She watched the evening light turn a distant storm into a pillar of gold and then of crimson as the sun moved lower in the sky. The Dreamweavers’ planet lay on the outer edge of the spiral arm, depriving Rada of the star-dense night skies she’d grown used to on Drakon IV. She stared at the scatter of distant lights, making up constellations and stories for the unfamiliar sky. One grouping reminded the Wanderer of a child’s toy that some humans called a teddy bear, and she tried to figure out who would hang a toy in the heavens, and why. Another cluster looked very much like a certain part of Azdhag male anatomy and several possible tales sprang to her mind, all of them salacious in the extreme.
When Zabet returned, Rada refused to explain to her boss why she was standing behind the timeship, staring up at the sky, and snickering.
3: Borrowing Tools
Aboard The Rakla da Kavalle – 4900AD
As warning sirens blared, the Rakla da Kavalle shuddered, and Rada tried to become one with the landing bay deck plates, she decided that this might not have been one of her brightest ideas.
It began as Rada studied her timeship’s cramped interior. “I need external cargo space.” The Dark Hart, a Trader scout ship, had limited internal storage. Once Zabet began travelling with Rada, between the True-dragon’s equipment and her two-meter body, Rada almost had to step outside the ship just to find room to change her mind. And while Zabet refused to admit it, Rada suspected that the True-Dragon suffered from mild claustrophobia. She tended to dart out of the craft as soon as the Dark Hart landed and she preferred not to enter the scout ship until as late as possible before departure. Add some cargo, especially high-value cargo that had to be rolled or carried in frames, and even Rada felt cramped and nervous.
At least Zabet’s claustrophobia was not as bad Yori dar Ohrkan’s had been. Rada, half-napping in the pilot’s chair, grinned at the memory of Yori’s misery when the Adamantine Division or Krather’s Komets did extra-atmospheric combat drops. The HalfDragon had wet himself with terror the first time the drop pod hatch closed, Rada recalled. She’d wanted to tease him about it, until she recalled her well-known fear of water. “And that has nothing to do with current conditions,” she reminded herself.
The psycho-symbiotic creature that steered the Dark Hart agreed with Rada’s decision to find external storage pods. At least, she thought it did. She knew for certain that it did not like having things piled on top of its habitat tank. The creature had made that abundantly clear after it happened the first and only time.
Rada laced her fingers together under her head and mulled over possible solutions. Walking up to a Trader and offering to buy their cargo pods would get her killed on the spot. She thought she remembered that the non-Trader Wanderers occasionally used similar equipment, but Rada shied away from trying to contact them, even through a third party. The Traders had almost ambushed her once already that way. And according to the manuals for the Dark Hart (such as they were), she could not simply hire someone to fabricate two pods and an attaching mechanism. Anything fastened to the ship had to mesh with the exterior in order to travel with the rest of the vessel, ruling out standard materials or even something like the Rowfow used. “Well damn. That leaves stealing a set.”
Which meant getting
into a Trader depot or tarqi transport, removing the identifying codes and chips from the pods, attaching them to the Dark Hart, and getting away again. Rada snorted. She closed her eyes and an image appeared in her mind, sent by the symbiote. Part of the map from one of their recent trips, the image focused on something Rada had noticed but dismissed at the time. Curious, she reached into the ship’s data banks and called up the full information. She shivered, making an Azdhagi warding off sign with one hand. “That’s bad luck. Very bad luck,” she reminded the Dark Hart. The psycho-symbiote did not acknowledge the comment, only nudging Rada to look at the information more closely.
Instead she opened one eye and studied the creature’s life-support tank, wondering yet again how much her teachers had failed to tell her and the other apprentices about the creatures that made time-travel possible. It was not supposed to have independent thoughts, could show no initiative, and was incapable of reason. Or so the Trader instructors had sworn.
“You know,” Rada told it, “I should give you a name. What about Jellico?” She winced at the reply, a mental slap and a surge of displeasure at her distraction. “Sorry.”
As much as she hated to admit it, the creature had a point about the damaged Trader ship. The Rakla da Kavalle floated dead in time and space, suffering from a propulsion system connection failure. Rada’s databases showed that at the present time the Rakla served as a scout resupply ship, so it would have the necessary cargo pods in its stores. By Rada’s time, it had been converted to a trade and residence vessel, but at this point in the timestream, a thousand years before her birth, the Rakla carried what Rada and the Dark Hart needed.
And truth be told, the Traders would never expect Rada to come walking in looking for supplies. “This isn’t just tempting the Debt Collector,” she warned the creature. “This is walking up to him, slapping him in the face, and saying ‘catch me if you can’.” The psycho-symbiote did not reply. With a loud sigh Rada picked up a strand of her brown-black hair and waved it towards the creature’s tank. “I can’t arrive looking like this,” she reminded it, planning the course for a small detour.