To Guard Against the Dark

by Julie E. Czerneda

  Need. A word, simple and direct. Find what we need, Human. I hide nothing.

  Morgan didn’t hesitate, plunging deeper.

  He’d expected the worst, in this mind, and wasn’t wrong. Speed was his only defense, moving through and past the faces of Yihtor’s many victims, a panorama of lives destroyed for profit, for the Clansman had specialized in the theft of knowledge.

  Leaving ruin behind.

  He’d expected to find himself, here, a memory of when Yihtor had almost defeated him and won. Instead?

  Morgan found Sira.

  . . . in a room, no, their cabin, on the Fox. She wore the coveralls he’d found for her; they didn’t fit, but she’d rolled up the arms and legs.

  . . . she sat on the bed, their bed. Her hair was short, as when he’d first met her, short and dripping wet.

  . . . her fingers traced a vine he’d painted on their wall. Over and over. As gently as breathing, but she didn’t breathe.

  . . . which wasn’t right. And the painting was the last he’d done, of a vine they’d seen together, his gift for her. And her hair was a glory of fire and gold, down to her waist.

  . . . yet she looked as she had when she’d first arrived on the Fox. When she’d given him the name Kissue, unable to recall her own. He’d named her that day. Sira.

  She stays like this.

  . . . the voice didn’t belong here. He resisted. Sira. He tried to call her name, but she didn’t turn, didn’t breathe, kept tracing the memory of a vine with those fingers he’d kissed, over and over—

  Morgan. HUMAN!

  And it wasn’t just Yihtor taking hold of him, pulling him away from her; there were hands beyond number, and all of them cried out with sorrow and regret:

  She stays like this.

  Morgan found himself on the stool beside Yihtor, his hand a fist trembling in midair. He eased it down to his thigh, pressed it into the muscle, focused on that. The rest?

  “She stays like that,” Yihtor said, his voice coming from some great distance. “Did you expect any less?”

  “I expected more. I thought she lived!” The Human twisted to look at Rael. “What I saw isn’t life.”

  “Sira has made her choice. She abides in it.” Rael drew herself stiff and tall. “It is not for you or any Singer to question. Nor for Yihtor to share.” Pointedly.

  “I was her Choice,” Morgan said, reeling with grief. “Is that all she does now? Pretend our lives haven’t changed? Pretend I’m there? Forget—” Forgetting the pain, he’d grant Sira in a heartbeat. But to reject it? To live trapped in a lie? “—forget what happened to us?”

  “‘Forget?!’ How dare you, Jason Morgan.” Twin spots of red appeared on Rael’s pale face. “She stays like that because she chooses, as she did here, to have you in her heart. Sira cherishes what you had together over any other life. Forget?” Her voice lost its fury. “She knows what happened better than anyone. She knows the price you both paid and accepts it, gladly, knowing you’re alive. Knowing she never can be.”

  So soft, those last few words, they were barely audible.

  “While I appreciate there are feelings going on,” Terk broke in dryly, “we need a course. Morgan?”

  He gave himself an inner shake. “Understood.” This time, when the Human put his hand on Yihtor’s forehead and dropped his shields, he kept his eyes open. The Clansman met his gaze, his own guileless.

  Let’s do this.

  Aside: The Tidik

  “IS IT TRUE?” The ors trembled. “Can it be?”

  The wef raised milky eyes. “All things end.”

  “Journeys end,” the ors protested. “A story. A life. Not the universe.”

  “Why?” she asked gently.

  Because it was too big a thought, the ors wanted to admit, but felt ashamed. “I wish it wouldn’t. I wish to finish my work. To see this cycle’s tweels fix their paths and become wef or ors or wefors or orswef or something new. I wish a full life, so I may weave the dark and light within me into peace. Must the universe end before I’m ready?” Too small a thought, perhaps, but ors wished most earnestly to live and was an honest being.

  Her nessems glistened with approval. “The question we all ask, ors of my family and heart.

  “Let us hope the Consortium finds an answer.”

  Chapter 21

  “SLOW DOWN. Stop!”

  Morgan shortened his stride but didn’t stop. Rael caught up to him at the lift. “What do you want?”

  “To meet the captain.”

  The reasonable request, after all else, muted his protest. “Come, then.”

  They rode the lift in silence. Though he felt her eyes on him, the Human concentrated on his argument. Yihtor had had a block in his memory, not only smothering his knowledge of Snosbor IV—now confirmed as where they had to go—but the scope of his mother’s plans. Those plans presented a new and dangerous hurdle to overcome: a local population certain to be under Clan control.

  The Omacron he’d known were curious about other telepaths. Gentle beings. They didn’t deserve this. Terk and Finelle were to contact Bowman to arrange reinforcements and begin some hasty diplomacy.

  While he asked a captain to take her ship into what boded to become a small war.

  The lift stopped. Morgan waved Rael through the doors. “Left to the engine room.”

  “Destarians,” she said abruptly, then gave an odd laugh.

  Morgan looked at her. “What?”

  “Clan, naming themselves after a Human starship? I’d have thought Wys less—” her lips thinned, “—whimsical.”

  He halted. “Rael. We need a way to resolve this, quickly and without casualties.” Other than the Destarians.

  “I know.” Her face filled with determination. “Get us there, Jason. By then, I hope we have an answer for you.”

  Captain Erin’s face was all frown when they arrived, and Morgan’s heart sank. “Fem di Sarc,” Erin greeted, giving a nod. “I’m pleased to see you out of medbay.”

  No, she wasn’t. At least, she wasn’t pleased to have a passenger—even one in the ship’s coveralls—walk in on a problem. For problem there was. Morgan’s experienced eye had spotted it immediately: the carefully reassembled sequencer housing, with its “pretty” new core, was in pieces. Again.

  Rael, for a wonder, saw it also, or recognized the mess didn’t bode well. “Forgive my intrusion, Captain. I see this isn’t a good time.”

  “Few are,” Erin said, then added with better grace, “I’ll have Noska dig out some entertainment vistapes.”

  “A pleasant way to pass the journey, I’m sure,” the Clanswoman replied, a glint in her eye. “Thank you.” With a last look at Morgan, perhaps wishing him luck, Rael left.

  “What went wrong?” the Human demanded, joining Erin to look down at the parts.

  “Ran a test, and it blew the last high-limit statcontroller.” She puffed out her cheeks, letting out a long slow breath. “That’s it, then.”

  Morgan half smiled. “Only if we worry about having one. Let me show you.” The result was ugly and broke regs, but when he made the final connection and Erin connected the power?

  The sequencer glowed blue, its new core spinning free and clear. Erin checked it twice with her scanner, then again. “This shouldn’t work,” she told Morgan half angrily. “The statcontroller has to be in there.”

  “That’s what scoundrels like Big Bob’s would like us to think,” he replied, wiping his hands. “They burn out faster than any other part—and cost more than they’re worth.” Her pride being what it was, Morgan didn’t bother telling her most free traders figured that out in their first year of operation. “The bypass? Just a trader trick.”

  “Any more tricks I should know?” with a calculating look around the engine room. He wouldn’t be surprised if she’d developed a few of her own; s
ometimes all it took was knowing rules could be broken.

  “It’d take a while,” he answered honestly. “We need to talk, Captain.”

  Disconnecting the sequencer’s core, she stood with it in her hands. “So talk.”

  “Maybe you should put that down first.”

  In case she broke the new one, throwing it at him.

  Interlude

  I WALKED DOWN THE CORRIDOR to the lift, seriously tempted to throw something. If I’d anything to throw. Starships—ideally—lacked loose objects. “‘Vistapes,’” I growled under my breath.

  Who’d this Erin think she was?

  The captain, I reminded myself. A captain faced with a passenger in her engine room. An engine room full of fascinating bits. I hadn’t seen that light in Morgan’s eyes since my return.

  Which would be why, I sighed to myself, I chafed at being summarily dismissed. I’d been his crew—his shipmate. Not that Morgan let me near anything that could be damaged by willing but ignorant hands, but I’d passed tools. Cleaned. I’d graduated to monitoring the plumbing—the safest part of life support, if hardly glamorous—and hadn’t always messed that up.

  There’d been, occasionally, more cleaning.

  Above all, I’d made sure the most important “part” of the Fox—Morgan—ate and slept.

  Bury my face in vistapes during my last voyage in a starship? With him?

  Arriving at the lift, I stepped inside, then reached for the com panel.

  We’d see about that.

  The Whirtle humped over to a cupboard, opening it wide. “If you’re sure about this, Fem—Hindmost Rael—here are the supplies.”

  Who’d have thought I’d smile to see a sweeper? “I’m sure. I don’t enjoy being idle. Thank you, Noska.”

  By the look on its face, I’d grown a second head. “Do you need instruction?”

  I pulled the device out of the cupboard, turned it on, and checked the status of its container and filters.

  “I see not.” The Whirtle sighed happily. “All the decks, any deck, whatever deck you like. I haven’t been able to keep up, you see. Not and prepare for lift, and now I’ve bridge duty while the captain is working very hard. With Morgan. Very hard. They don’t come out,” woefully. “They keep eating those revolting e-rations when I’ve just restocked the galley.”

  Not overly subtle, our Noska, but as this fit my own inclination, I nodded obediently. “I’d be happy to take them suitable meals.”

  “And sweep.”

  “And sweep.” As proof, I swung the sweeper to face the corridor with what I considered definite flair. “Anything else?” I asked, all innocence.

  “More?” The Whirtle crooned and hugged itself. “Oh, yes.”

  Then assigned me enough tasks to keep three of me usefully occupied until Snosbor IV.

  Interlude

  Enforcer Battle Cruiser Conciliator

  THERE WERE CERTAIN TRUISMS accepted throughout the Trade Pact, regardless of species. Scats weren’t to be trusted. Lemmicks stank. And Sector Chief Lydis Bowman wasn’t, in any sense, a fool.

  Given some Scats could be as trustworthy as their natures allowed, and Lemmicks, some, aspired to less olfactory impact on their neighbors, eventually someone would test the last item of the list.

  Not that it ever ended well when they did.

  This being a thought no doubt of benefit to Captain Lucic before embarking on its own attempt, it came much too late at this juncture.

  Given the being waiting at its table.

  “YoutooktherunnertomeetwithBoard!”

  Bowman lifted a brow. “Apparently not.”

  The Ordnex chose bluster. “Howdidyougetin? Thedoorwas locked!”

  The brow lowered. “Apparently—not. Sit, Lucic.”

  Somehow, the captain found its behind planted in a chair.

  “Let’s put aside, for the moment, the tracer specialist you provided for me when I went to Norval. Who is in custody, by the way.”

  Lucic’s fingers tangled in one another. “Icanexplain—”

  “Oh, allow me.” Bowman took out a noteplas, flipping slowly through pages, each flip making Ordnex fingers tighten a little more. She paused. “Ah, yes. Troudor 3. Silcil 48.”

  “Pirates. Iwastheonewhotoldyou.”

  “Yes, you did. Fine intel, that. Earned trust.” Somehow, her mild tone gave the last word a threatening emphasis. “You also informed me these pirates did some work for the Clan—for Clan I happen to be interested in now. Care to tell me where they might be?”

  Fingers went white and a knuckle popped with a sound like a snapping stick. “Iwouldn’tknow. I’mabusybeing. Captainofthis ship—”

  “Apparently not,” Bowman commented idly, flipping more pages. “Here we are. Another interest of mine. Manouya.”

  Three pops. “Iwasinpursuit!”

  “So I noticed. Without me or my staff. Interrupting a mission of significant import while you were at it. Doesn’t inspire confidence in you or your motives, Lucic, let me tell you. What I want to know?” She put down the noteplas and leaned on her elbows to regard the other being, chin on her fists. “Why. You’ve done well by the Conciliator, according to the bridge crew. An unblemished record. I’ve no complaints—till recent events. One chance, Lucic. Why?” Bowman waited, her patience a terrible thing.

  Fingers slowly untangled. “Tofindhimfirst.” The flaps over its nasal cavity flared with a long exhalation. Shoulders sagged. “Toaskmyquestionfirst. Beforeyoulockedhimaway.”

  She lowered her fists to the table between them. Opened them, palms up, fingers spread in the Ordnex offer of reciprocity. “What question?”

  Lucic’s hands hovered in the air, shadowing hers. “Can’ttell can’triskit.”

  “One. Chance.”

  The Ordnex set its hands above hers. Larger hands, probably stronger. They trembled at such proximity, and avoided contact. Offer acknowledged—and refused. “Itisofnoimportancetoany oneelse.” Regret, in that tone, and dignity. “Therearegreatmatters underway.”

  Bowman’s eyes didn’t leave Lucic’s. “You’ve sent my ship to Plexis. That part I get. If you were guessing, I’ll confirm. Manouya’s there, all right. Showed his ugly face, bold as a Scat.” She raised her hands, touching palm-to-palm. Insisted, by that. “Here, it’s you and me, Lucic. What would you ask first?”

  Fingers wound, with care, over hers—acceptance—then:

  “Whohasmybabies?”

  Chapter 22

  “SNOSBOR IV. Snosssborrr IV. Snosbor IV.”

  In lieu of throwing parts of her ship at him, Captain Usuki Erin elected to repeat the planet’s name to herself as if tasting it.

  Or questioning his sanity. “I’ve the coordinates,” Morgan interrupted.

  “Doesn’t surprise me,” dryly. “What does is you asking permission. You could have entered those. I wouldn’t have noticed till too late.”

  Had Terk failed to keep their conversation secret? No, Erin was smart, too smart for games or tricks.

  “It occurred to me,” Morgan admitted. “I changed my mind.”

  Her wrist turned in invitation.

  Morgan sat on the bench. “We’re on a mission. Terk and Finelle—”

  “Who are what: Enforcers or Port Jellies?”

  Smart, indeed. “Constables under Sector Chief Lydis Bowman.” Her eyes widened at the name. “Rael and Yihtor were kidnapped.” He kept it simple, stuck to what truth he dared give her. “With Thel’s help, we were able to rescue Yihtor before the Worraud could lift, but they still had Rael. We needed a ship to follow them. Yours.”

  “Huh. Thought Thel was cagier than usual.” Erin studied him, then sat on a stool. “Spoke well of you, Morgan.”

  “And of you.”

  “So what are you, exactly?”

  He spread his hands. “What you
see.”

  A sardonic look, but she let it go. “That spacewalk?”

  “I had to—” some things he hoped she’d never know, “—free Rael before they could harm her.”

  “Do more, you mean.” The captain’d seen Rael carried in, the blood smeared over staples, the filthy blanket for clothes. “Scats.” She spat over her shoulder.

  “They weren’t working alone.” Morgan leaned forward. “We’ve a chance to catch those responsible, Erin, if we can get to Snosbor IV in time. I’ll pay for your time and the ship.”

  “Deviating from a posted course is an offense.”

  “Our posted course will remain Plexis till the last minute. Bowman will take care of any charges.” He hoped. “She’s covering our costs.”

  Erin looked surprised. “The voucher’s real?”

  His turn. “You came this far without checking it?”

  “We’re cousins, remember?” With complete confidence. “You don’t pay up, in full, for what’s done and this new course of yours? Thel’ll strip your hide from your bones.”

  There was that.

  And there was this. “We don’t know what’s waiting for us,” Morgan cautioned. “The plan—if you agree—is to get us to Snosbor IV. Bowman will be there,” not that they had confirmation, but it was the plan, “we’ll transfer over to her ship, and the Wayfarer’s free to go where you will.”

  Erin frowned. “If there’s no ship?”

  “A quick land and dump, the Wayfarer to wait for us in orbit.”

  The frown deepened. “What good are we up there?”

  Finelle had asked the same question. Morgan shook his head. “Whatever happens, planetside isn’t where you want to be, Erin.” Especially with Clan involved.

  Especially these Clan.

  “Huh.” She rose to her feet.