Pilgrim stars (wing commander)

by Peter Telep

  "Not at all. I have complete faith that you'll eventually resolve this situation, despite broken promises. I'm here to make sure you do so without sacrificing your career." She shifted her attention to Bellegarde. "I'll try to save yours, too."

  Unsure of whether to thank or curse her, Bellegarde opted for a weak nod.

  "Gentlemen, we're off to the map room for my update." She fetched her attache case and carried her solid frame toward the door.

  Bellegarde shared a weary look with Tolwyn as they followed her out.

  Who am I? Who am I Really?

  Paladin had not said a word to Amity Aristee during their trip down to Aloysius Prime. He had stared through one of the launch's portholes and had imagined himself as a numb, purely logical creature who knew what was best for the Confederation and for the Pilgrims. But he had kept returning to the notion that he should do what was best for himself, for his heart. Why couldn't that complement his duty? Why did they have to be at cross purposes?

  The launch had set down in a wide clearing encompassed by a dense rainforest that reminded Paladin of the holos he had seen of South America during his secondary education. Dark green fronds the size of Rapier wings created a fettered canopy that split the sunlight into thousands of glimmering blades. Trees with trunks as thick as three meters soared upward, losing themselves in their own limbs and the limbs of neighbors. Brown, moss-like vegetation blanketed most of the forest floor, with the occasional splotch of rich, black soil seeping through. Surprisingly, it had only taken a few minutes to grow accustomed to the air, and a strange, almost familiar scent lingered, a blend of anise and cinnamon that seemed wholly out of place given the damp terrain. Paladin presumed the odor came from a particular species of flora, though he had yet to find it. He had cautiously moved through the bramble, avoiding thorns and stroking the leaves and stems of several plants his terrain scanner identified as non-toxic. He had marveled over velvety textures and the trilling some vegetation made when touched, one of the few sounds in an area that, were it on Earth, would bustle with the hoots and cackles of its denizens. Aloysius's indigenous forest dwellers, mammals ranging from the size of a fingernail to three meters tall when standing on hind legs, were some of the shyest creatures in the known galaxy; the fact that any of them had been recorded stood as a triumph of some remarkably patient researchers.

  The slightly muffled roar of running water emanated about one hundred meters away from the clearing, and while Aristee had gone off to meet with Frotur McDaniel, Paladin had ventured down a steep, natural embankment to a spectacular waterfall that rose some ninety meters and thrust out its great chest for nearly twice that. The water fell partly in a large double drop and partly in a series of smaller cataracts that gave it a crescent shape at its apex. Clouds of mist surged up from the river below and wound their way through the verdant treetops guarding the falls. The soothing rush of water and the angelic vapor that glossed the scene had lifted Paladin out of the nightmare of Aristee's rebellion and had lowered him into a dream where he could be consoled, comforted, and loved without complications. After a few minutes of pure rapture, he had sat on a large rock whose face had been worn smooth. He had remained there for nearly an hour until Aristee had come down to find him. She had massaged his shoulders for a few minutes, then, like a giggling schoolgirl, had stripped out of her uniform and had jumped into the river. Paladin had shaken his head at her requests for him to join her. Then she had come ashore and had dragged him fully clothed into the water.

  They had spent the rest of that first day at the falls, swimming, climbing the slick rocks to find purchase beneath some of the less turbulent falls, letting the water cascade over their naked bodies. They had even discovered a cave behind one of the cataracts, had speculated on the treasure that lay within, but visions of sharp-toothed predators had cured their curiosity. They had eaten fruit and bread that Aristee had stowed in her pack and were disturbed only once by a call from the XO, who had delivered a routine progress report. Paladin had wondered when Aristee would return to the conversation they had begun on the bridge, but she had seemed at peace with the moment and had not wanted to spoil it. He had tapped into a little of her peace and had avoided the issue as well. Given his surroundings, he could easily pretend that he had but one task: to draw pleasure from the environment and the woman.

  After relishing in fourteen standard hours of sunlight, twilight had washed over the sapphire sky, and Paladin had suggested that they head back to the launch. Aristee had insisted that they camp near the falls. She had taken along a small, Marine Corps-issue survival tent, so they had sent up their bivouac on the shoreline. They had made love until they were breathless, then had remained in each other's arms, whispered to sleep by the falls.

  Morning's light cut through the flaps of their tent and drew a blinding line across Paladin's face. He suddenly bolted awake, wondering how long they had slept. 1125 CST. Aristee lay on her stomach, head resting on an arm, hair curving across her smooth cheek. She breathed softly and looked frail, a young girl incapable of all she had wrought. Paladin shifted gingerly toward her pack and removed the palmlink. He slipped through the tent flaps and stood shivering in the cool, moist air as he opened a channel to the Olympus.

  "Yes, Brotur Taggart?" came the comm officer's quick response, his face displayed on the link's tiny screen. "Get me the XO."

  "Aye, sir."

  After waiting but a few seconds, the XO appeared, seated in the command chair. "What can I do for you, Brotur Taggart?"

  "Status report on cargo and personnel loading."

  "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm not sure whether I can-"

  "Mr. Taggart has full security clearance, Brotur Vyson." Paladin glimpsed over his shoulder at Aristee, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, struggling to keep warm.

  "Yes, ma'am. Cargo and personnel loading proceeding behind schedule. Awaiting nineteen more troopship arrivals. Departure time now stands at 0200 hours on one-one-four." Aristee tore the link from Paladin's hand. "What's the problem?"

  "We've had a few delays on the flight deck, and we discovered minor hull breaches in two of the troopships. Repairs are nearly finished."

  "Why wasn't I notified of this earlier?"

  "To be honest, ma'am, I assumed you were… busy."

  "Assume nothing. See if you can shave a few hours off that DT, you read me, Vyson?"

  "Aye, ma'am. We're on it."

  She thumbed off the palmlink, handed it to him, then puffed air. "Maybe you were right. Maybe we shouldn't have come down."

  He shrugged and stepped away from her, conscious of his nudity. Back inside the tent, he retrieved his boxers. When he came out, she was already halfway to the shore line. She furrowed her brow at his underwear and beckoned him with an index finger. They did have the rest of the day to relax; why shouldn't he live the fantasy a bit longer?

  The palmlink beeped for an incoming message. He accepted, and the XO's face reappeared. "Brotur Taggart? We've just intercepted a communications drone. Message has been decrypted. The captain needs to hear this."

  17

  VEGA SECTOR,ROBERT'S QUADRANT,ALOYSIUS SYSTEM,CS OLYMPUS,

  2654.113,2230 HOURS CONFEDERATION STANDARD TIME.

  "Try it again. Yes, that's perfect. I can feel it. i Stronger now. Yes, stronger. What you see and what you feel-they should be much stronger, sometimes so strong that you can't bear them or distinguish between the two. But that's okay. That's normal, relatively speaking." In his mind, Blair reached out to Karista Mullens. He touched her cheek and could hardly believe that what he felt wasn't actually happening. Yes, the senses seemed heightened and blended together in a sensation entirely new to him. He snapped open his eyes, breaking the link. "We're tapping into the quantum bond between particles. That's how it works. Your cheek is over there, my hand over here. But the particles in my hand and your cheek are already connected at the quantum level. We think we're separate entities, but we're no
t. On one side of the universe a particle's rotation stops. On the other side of the universe, a particle linked to that one stops as well. Distances don't matter. And I guess as Pilgrims we're just able to recognize the connection."

  She rolled her eyes and fell back on his cot. "This is about being, about emotion, not physics."

  "There's a reason why we can do this, a scientific reason."

  "We could make love without laying a hand on each other. Why don't you consider that instead of trying to explain this away? Our ancestors suffered from Space Syndrome Mutation. So here we are. Isn't that enough?"

  He muttered, "Oh, man," and went to the bars of his cell, leaning back to work out a kink in his shoulder. She had to mention sex again.

  I'm not trying seduce you.

  Uh-huh…

  "Why won't you tell more about this ability?" he asked, steering them far and away from sexual speculation. "You've taught me how to focus my thoughts and tap into that quantum level, but what can we do with this? What kind of range does this power have? Can we use it as a weapon? Can I force someone's eyes closed, throw someone against a wall, squeeze someone's heart until it stops beating? What?"

  "You've reached out into gravity wells and found your way through them. No one explained how to do that. I've pointed you in the right direction, but I can't do any more."

  That drew his snort. "Where I come from we call that rhetoric. Why don't you just answer a simple question?"

  She sat up, pulled her long, blond locks behind her head, then lifted a narrow brow. "Because I don't know the answers. It's different for everyone, stronger in some, weaker in others. Not every Pilgrim has this ability. It's pretty rare. Even Frotur Johan can't do it. Neither can Amity Aristee."

  "How many are we talking about?"

  "Out of two billion or so Pilgrims, there are a hundred of us, maybe more. It takes time to realize you can do it."

  "It's like telekinesis or something. Maybe the mutation exploited this ability in our ancestors," Blair supposed.

  "This isn't just telekinesis. We've compared what we do to a few Terrans confirmed with those abilities. They can't feel the weight, the texture, or sense the smell of the objects they move. They describe the feeling as a force against another force. Sure, that's extrasensory, but what we have is much more. Some call it hypersensory or extrakinetic." She pushed herself up and came uncomfortably close, her eyes presenting a dangerous invitation. "But you-you're even more remarkable, Christopher Blair. You're a half-breed who's retained the power. As far as I know, you're the only one who has. I sensed the first time I contacted you that it was there. What you do with it is up to you. I can tell you this, though. If the universe has a consciousness, then it also has an eye on us. Some Pilgrims tried to exploit the power during the first war. They were successful at first, but when the Confederation finally captured some of them, they were taken to hospitals and… well, studied, vivisected, you know the rest. They were punished for breaking the edicts."

  "Are there more of us on board?"

  "At least twenty-two more, but some of us can keep it out of our scripts, hide it from each other. The number's probably higher. If I were Captain Aristee, I would recruit as many of us as possible."

  "Could we combine our power into a single force?"

  She hesitated, then finally nodded. "It's complicated and has never been done with so many, but it's possible. I don't think Aristee could get everyone to do it, not unless the protur endorsed the order. Even then…"

  "How much power are we talking about?"

  "We could reach out and murder a capital ship crew. We could tear apart its ion engines. We could destroy the ship within a minute or two. But what we have is regarded as sacred, a gift from Ivar Chu himself, something to be used for knowledge and discovery. We know Aristee plans to use us to the contrary. We believe in the cause, but most of us will draw the line there."

  He flashed a wry grin. "But some won't."

  "They're free to join her."

  "And they can cause a lot of damage. So how strong are they individually? How strong are you? Show me."

  His head slammed against the bars as unseen hands throttled him. He grabbed at his neck, trying in vain to pull the hands away as his air supply thinned.

  "You can't stop me with your hands, Brotur. What I do with my mind is only as strong as what I can do with my body. You have to fight me on my terms."

  Though still reflexively clutching his neck, Blair closed his eyes and concentrated on her image. He saw her standing beside him, eyes wide, arms extended, hands locked firmly around his neck. He seized her wrists and quite easily jerked himself free. Even as her hands left his neck, he gasped and opened his eyes.

  "I hate that," she said with a shudder.

  "I'm not exactly fond of it myself." He swallowed painfully. "What about objects? The cot? Move it across the room."

  "No. There's a cold feeling that gets inside when you do that. It can take weeks to get out."

  "Then maybe I can do it."

  This time Blair kept his eyes open but focused on his thoughts. He envisioned himself walking over to the cot. He slid his palms under the durasteel frame and heaved. The cot would not budge. He looked up and saw Karista holding the opposite side of the rack. "You don't want to feel this," she said. "This coldness… it's not for us. Touch scripts. Touch people."

  He strained against her and spoke through clenched teeth. "Let go."

  She shattered like glass, fragments of her tumbling to the floor and on to the cot as he slid it across the cell-

  And felt her promise of ice, of wind, of a winter colder than any he had known, a winter that coiled around his heart, gripped his head in a frosty vice, and sent chills dashing up his spine. He tore away from the rack and cried out, half surprised, half terrified. He focused on Karista, whose look of sympathy failed to warm him.

  "W-why does… it feel like that?" he asked, shivering uncontrollably.

  "The cot has no life force. You sense that. You sense one corridor of death. For the Terran, moving the cot is painless. But for us, well, you'll be cold for a long time. I'm sorry."

  "Hey," Maniac called from his cell. "You guys still talking in there? Shit, if I had a conjugal visit, you can bet your ass we would get conjugal. Hey, Karista, any chance you fixin' me up with a friend? C'mon, honey. Think of me. Be nice to get laid before I buy it down here."

  "W-we aren't m-married and this isn't… a conjugal visit Blair forced out. "Go b-back… to sleep."

  "Can't. 'Cause I'm sick of this. Sick of these walls. Sick of your special privileges. Sick of just lying here. Why don't they brainwash us? Torture us? Something? It's worse to be ignored."

  "Yeah, f-for once, you don't… have your… audience."

  Karista started for the door. "I'd better go."

  "Aren't you worried?" Blair asked, blocking her with his arm. "When you k-key open the door, I could tap into the quantum bond, rush you, and escape."

  "You won't. It's not time yet. You're waiting for your friends to come for you. But you're worried because you haven't had time to talk to the commodore. You could probably make it down to the flight deck and launch in the Diligent, but you're still worried about being shot down."

  The revelation that she had probed his script made him feel even colder than moving the cot. He battled against the shivers, keeping his voice hard and steady. "You didn't come here to teach me anything. This has just been an interrogation. You got me to sell out those pilots. And everything you've told me-was that a lie, too?"

  She took his hands in her own. "I didn't come down here to interrogate you. I wanted to meet my pair. I want to teach you. I haven't told the captain about your plans. And I won't. But I don't want you to throw your life away. Christopher, you're meant for so much more."

  "That does wonders for my ego, but it still doesn't convince me or get me out of this cell. You don't want me to throw away my life? Help me. Get a few of your friends. You could make this happen."
/>   "I'll think about it."

  "Think hard. Think fast."

  Blair shifted away and collapsed onto his bunk. Anguish seamed her face as she reached between the bars and keyed open the door. She gave him a final look, then fluttered off. He fell back on his pillow, lying in the cold clutches of himself.

  Then, with a volume and abruptness that nearly made him fall out of the cot, the general quarters alarm sounded.

  "Bet this ain't a drill," Maniac cried over the high-pitched tones.

  Even as Blair opened his mouth to voice his own speculation, a powerful explosion ripped into the ship and sent massive tremors through the starboard side bulkheads. Every barred door in the brig rattled, and the deck heaved as it absorbed the potent force.

  "Torpedo strike," shouted Maniac.

  "Yeah, but whose?"

  "Like it matters?" Maniac said through an ironic chuckle. "Our ride's about to end. I knew Aristee couldn't run for long. And now we pay for her mistake."

  After listening to Admiral Tolwyn's message, Amity Aristee had turned to Paladin, her face lighting with the realization that her hopper drive modifications would be completed ten days before Tolwyn's purported attack. She had snickered as she speculated on whether Tolwyn would actually sacrifice so many innocent lives.

  "Don't doubt him," Paladin had said. "I've known Tolwyn for a long time. He's a brilliant strategist with a touch of insanity thrown in for good measure. Makes for a deadly combination. He means what he says."

  "I've known him for a long time, too," she had countered. "He won't toss away his career for this."

  "Maybe not, but his blockade has been in place for awhile. And there's a witch hunt going on throughout the Confederation. Our people are already suffering and dying. By the time you're ready to make your statement, most of them won't be around to witness it."

  She had considered that for a moment, then had nodded. "I

  don't care what engineering has to do. We need that hopper drive modified much sooner. The second it's ready, we'll jump to Sol. But we have to finish loading cargo. I won't take us out understaffed and unprepared. Since we have to wait anyway, let's put this aside. I know that might seem absurd, but I have to clear my head. I have to get balance somehow. Come for a swim. You look like you need one, too."