Chapter 20: Return to Space
IT TOOK less than three hours from the time Ar received a call, for them to meet and reach agreement with the master of the two-rigger ship. The ship was corporately owned, fully registered, and under the command of one Mariella Flaire, an affable businesswoman whose homeport was the same as the ship's next destination, a world named Vela Oasis. Flaire was a tall woman with rosy skin and silver-streaked reddish hair drawn back into a tight coif. She spoke with Ar and Jael for almost two hours, showing them the pertinent logs and reviewing their rigging performance records. Flaire seemed favorably impressed. Jael felt a passing urge to ask why she was even being considered for the job—she had, after all, killed her last captain—but Flaire addressed the question without being asked. Looking straight at Jael, she said, "You come well recommended by the police investigation team. They said that you know how to take care of yourself, and your psych-profile is good. I guess you had a tough flight last time."
Jael opened her mouth and closed it, staring at the woman. She seemed to be waiting for a reaction. Jael didn't know what to say, so she just swallowed and nodded. Flaire's eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. "Is it safe to say that if I don't give you a hard time, you won't give me a hard time? Can we work together?"
For a moment, Jael felt her voice frozen in her throat. The last time she'd trusted a ship's captain . . .
But this isn't Mogurn. Ar trusts her, and Ar can read emotions better than I can. Something loosened in her voice then, and she heard herself saying, "Yes, ma'am. I'd like that a lot—to be able to work together. To cooperate." The words, in her mouth, sounded empty; but in truth, she meant them.
Flaire cracked a smile and turned her attention back to the records, nodding in apparent satisfaction. Jael remained silent after that, her heart thumping.
A short time later, Flaire granted them their commission, and they shook hands all around. They would be lifting off the next morning.
* * *
Starship Seneca was a tall, shiny craft, no larger then Jael's last ship, but with a steely, needlelike appearance that contrasted with Cassandra's teardrop shape. Jael hoped, gazing up at it, that it would contrast in other ways, as well.
"It looks well kept," Ar remarked, standing with her on the ramp. "The maintenance log was quite complete."
Jael nodded. Her thoughts were scattered. She was thinking about the world they were setting sail for, and wondering how they would fare on it; she was thinking about rigging with Ar, and wondering what it would be like to have a partner in the net, after flying alone with Mogurn; she was thinking about Dap, whose gold chain she still carried. She was thinking about a bird whose personality and memories she carried in tiny data grains in her pocket; and she was thinking about Highwing. "Shall we board?" she murmured.
Ar hefted his bag, and together they strode up the ramp. A lift took them to the entry point, high on the ship's gleaming silver flank. Stepping aboard, they found the flight deck, bridge, and living quarters. The accommodations were arrayed along the ship's long axis, flanking a central hallway, with the bridge at one end and the commons at the other. They went to the bridge first, to acquaint themselves with the layout.
They were not long on board before Mariella Flaire arrived to join them. She invited them to take their pick of the empty cabins, of which there were several, and disappeared after saying that she was ready for departure whenever they were.
It took them very little time to settle in, and by the time Flaire reappeared, they were completing the final checkout on the bridge. Jael was in the number two rigger-station, testing the Burnhardt neural network, while Ar monitored the systems from the external control. "Does the ship meet with your approval, riggers?" Flaire asked, standing at the rear of the bridge.
"Everything seems in order, Captain," answered Ar. "Jael, are we ready?"
Jael was half in and half out of the net. "Anytime," she answered, her voice coming out in a dreamy drawl. She withdrew from the net and lifted her head to peer at Flaire. "Do you have any special . . . requests . . . about the route?" she asked, remembering Mogurn and the mountains.
Flaire raised her eyebrows. "Just get me there safely. Do you have all the information you need?"
Ar responded from the forward end of the bridge. "We have everything provided by the library, Ma'am. And I myself have passed along this stretch more than once. I anticipate no problems."
Flaire nodded. "Make ready for the tow, then." She stepped to the com and called the spaceport dispatcher.
* * *
Hours later, when the tow released them to the darkness of space, Jael and Ar were waiting, poised to take the ship down into the currents of the Flux, visible from within the net as a soft layer of clouds beneath them. They grinned at each other across the winking traceries of the net, and when Flaire gave the okay, they reached out together and seized the cottony stuff of the Flux and drew the ship down into it.
The wispy clouds caressed them as the ship sank, and then the Flux turned clear as a glassy sea. Jael and Ar became swimmers, stroking side by side through the water, dipping their arms in rhythm. After a time Ar dropped back a little, bringing up the rear with a smooth backstroke, while Jael took the lead. They had to cross a few shifting currents before they found one coursing in the desired direction, but from that point on, they made smooth and steady headway toward the distant shore of Vela Oasis.
Time passed quickly in the net, as did the leagues, miles, and kilometers of the Flux—all of those units of measure being equally irrelevant to the light-years of normal-space. They made good progress in their first hours, and in the sessions that followed, and they found that they were indeed well suited to working together. Ar had a deft touch in the net, and a good sense of stability, while Jael excelled in glimpsing changes in the stream and crafting new images to help them move smoothly through the changes. Jael adjusted quickly to sharing the net. If she occasionally missed her solitude, she felt more than compensated by the joys of mutual aid and challenge, of trading and sharing images with another.
The sea became a dancing stream, and they, fish darting in it. Later, the stream of water became a jet of golden oil coursing through a clear-walled pipeline, and they, a pair of bubbles joined at the waist to a larger billowing bubble sailing down the stream of oil. Take care that we don't burst! Ar laughed, as they quivered and stretched in the stream. And she answered, poking and testing at the limits of her bubble, If we do, we'll just make ourselves over! There was no real danger as long as the flow remained stable; the only thing they really had to watch for was a divergence or turbulence in the stream, which could indicate dangerous conditions developing along their course. So far, the way was smooth.
Out of the net, in the ship's commons, they talked of the route ahead and of the future. Jael felt a curious contentment in working with Ar, a kind of happiness she'd not felt in a long time. She was amazed to discover that they were growing steadily closer in friendship, and she wondered, had her life before this been so lonely that it could shock her to sense a true friendship developing? Did she dare trust what was happening? It was a disorienting prospect, growing close to this Clendornan; yet it was easier in a way than it might have been if he'd been human, and therefore more threatening.
Still, for all that they were comfortable together, she felt an awkwardness in discussing certain subjects with him . . . such as Highwing. She suspected that Ar simply did not like the thought of dragons. Several times he skillfully deflected their conversation away from the subject, or simply drifted off into a reverie, humming Clendornan chants. It was clear that he did not believe in the reality of her experience, though he soberly respected the effect that her perceived experience could have on her life. Eventually she gave up trying, and as the trip went on, her memory of the dragon realm blurred a little more around the edges, seeming ever less real, even to her. Alone in her cabin, she thought often of Highwing, but her memories had an increasingly dreamlike quality.
/> One worry she didn't have, and for which she was grateful, was whether her friendship with Ar would turn into something sexual, real or potential. While there was, physically speaking, nothing to prevent intimacy between a human woman and a Clendornan male, the urges didn't seem to arise, at least not as they did between the human sexes. Perhaps the reasons were biochemical, perhaps something else. It was a concern that she was frankly relieved to be free of; she was far from ready for that sort of thing, even with a human male, had there been a suitable candidate around. She was content to spend long hours close to Ar, knowing that the bond growing between them was of the mind and the spirit, rather than of the body.
It wasn't until they were well into the flight that she seriously entertained the idea of releasing Ed from his cybernetic containment. Since she was a little uncertain how Ed would work out in the net, she'd held off until she and Ar had worked out their own rhythm of flying together, smoothing out minor differences in style, and until they had earned Flaire's confidence in their rigging. But by the fourth shipday of the journey, she felt ready to try.
It's okay with me, Ar said. But will he know what to make of this landscape? They had taken the form of great-winged birds, soaring over a softly rolling plain marked with patches of scrub.
Why don't you change it to something he might like, while I step outside and hook him in.
Ar agreed, and she left him flying while she withdrew from the net. She paused a moment, relaxing with deep breathing. They were already accustomed to working in overlapping shifts—sometimes rigging together, sometimes not—so there was no need to hurry. Once she felt back in her own body, she climbed out of the rigger-station and went to her cabin. She retrieved the data interface device containing Ed and brought it back to the bridge. Reclining on her couch, she peered overhead for an input socket to the rigger-net computer. After examining the clear plastic connector on her storage device, she plugged it in, then tested the connection. But she hesitated before returning to the net. She was eager to see Ed, yes . . . but a little nervous, as well. What if something had gone wrong in the capture process? Or what if it went wrong here? She wondered if she could accidentally terminate Ed by hooking him up incorrectly.
Quit worrying, she thought. The ship could spring a leak, too, but you're not worried about that, are you?
She closed her eyes and sank back into an awareness of the Flux. The landscape was changed, startlingly so. The scrub and the plains were gone. The currents of the Flux were flowing by in great literal streams, colored in gorgeous sunset hues of oranges and reds and golds. The ship itself was a small oasis floating in a sea of color: a tree anchored on an uprooted, flat-topped clump of earth, just large enough for the riggers to walk around on. Tree and ground, the entire oasis was gliding majestically through space. Ar was sitting cross-legged under the tree, seemingly lost in meditation. Both hands were pressed to the ridges high on the sides of his head; his luminous eyes were fixed straight ahead. He was humming soft, strange syllables, through pursed lips. He was humming several pitches simultaneously, with a result that could not be called harmonic.
Jael stepped carefully around the tree. Let me know when I can talk, she said softly.
Ar nodded almost imperceptibly; he was steering the ship from within his meditation. Jael sat beside him and enjoyed the view. After a time, the humming stopped, and she sensed him emerging from his solitude. He turned his head and smiled in crinkling fashion. We're stabilized. Do you have him ready?
I think so. Jael gestured at their surroundings. What's all this?
Do you like it? I thought we'd give him a tree, for starters, and keep everything else spare. We'll fill in as we need to.
Jael nodded. Shall we let him out now? She tried to keep the worry out of her voice and failed.
Ar tipped his head slightly. Are you having second thoughts?
Just afraid it won't work, that's all.
The Clendornan's eyes widened, luminous and expectant. He nodded slowly.
Jael worried her lips together. Well, here goes then. She closed her eyes and reached back into the system, nudging the controls with her thoughts. Opening her eyes, she extended a hand and gestured upward into the tree.
There was a shimmer in the lowest branch, and a flicker of emerald green, then a squawk—but no parrot. Ed? she called.
Yawk! said the branch.
I can't see you. Do you see us?
The branch rustled, and the parrot's head appeared, disembodied. Jayl? Jayl! Brawwww! it shrieked, turning to and fro, trying to locate her. Jael started to call out again, when the parrot-head finally tilted down and spied her. Yawk! Jayl! The head hopped forward, and as it did so, the rest of the body emerged, apparently from thin air. Ed stretched his wings and tail-feathers wide. Trilling in wonder, he peered around. DID IT! Yawk! You did it! Did you do it?
Jael grinned up at him. Looks like I did, Ed. I wasn't sure until now. She beamed at Ar. Thanks, Ar.
Yow! Where—b-b-rawk—where are we?
How do I explain that to a parrot? she wondered.
She didn't have to. Ar replied, We're about halfway between where we were when we met you, and where we're going to be. When that elicited only a puzzled craning of the neck from the bird, he added, You're a rigger now, Ed. We're between the stars, but what you're seeing is something that only we riggers see.
Ed made a creaking noise deep in his throat and hopped down from the branch with a flutter of scarlet on green. He paced up and down the strip of ground between Jael and Ar, and looked from one to the other. Rigger? he crowed. Rigger?
That's right, Ed. Be prepared to see a lot of things you would never have imagined, Ar said.
Rigger! Braaw-w-k! No kidding!
No kidding, said Jael.
The parrot cocked his head and peered up at her with a glistening dark eye. He made a swallowing movement, seemingly speechless. He peered at Ar. He hopped forward to the edge of the flying wafer of earth they were riding on, and peered over the edge, at the streaming currents of space. With a shiver, he stepped back. He flapped his wings and hopped up onto Jael's knee. Long way down, he said, clacking his beak.
Long way, Jael agreed.
Ar, crinkling a smile, extended a hand toward their direction of flight. He closed his eyes and did something. The earth, the tree, and the riggers came gently to a new heading and picked up speed.
Chapter 21: Parrot Rigger
MARIELLA FLAIRE joined them in the commons that evening. They had seen little of her since the trip had begun; she seemed to have had her own work to do, which kept her in her cabin much of the time. But now she wanted to know how her riggers were faring in the journey.
Ar and Jael glanced at each other over their dinner plates. Jael wondered, should she tell the captain that they had loosed a parrot in the rigger-net? There was nothing unusual about riggers bringing helpful data-additions into the net, but most riggers didn't bring in live additions. Flaire seemed to sense their unspoken communication. "You both look pretty happy with yourselves," she observed. "Does that mean it's going well?"
Ar and Jael nodded together. "Progress is fine. We're right on schedule," Ar said, sparing Jael the need to decide how to answer.
"That's encouraging. So you haven't had any problems? You will let me know if you do?" Flaire looked from one to the other, with a bemused smile. "Is it my imagination, or are you both being awfully quiet?"
Jael stirred self-consciously. It was a good-humored query, and yet she found the unwelcome memory of Mogurn and his suspicions crowding into her thoughts. For an instant, her head was filled with her past warring with her present. Ar, however, was already answering Flaire's question. "I think we're both remembering some of the imagery from the net," he said. "Sometimes it stays with us afterwards. Ordinarily we don't discuss it on the outside. But we can, if you wish—"
Flaire raised a hand to stop him. "Not necessary. I don't believe in interfering with the work of my crew, beyond expecting an honest accoun
ting of progress, or of problems, if you're having any." Her gaze shifted to Jael. "And you're not having any. Is that correct?"
Jael nodded emphatically, forcing a smile onto her face. "Yes," she said, clearing her throat. "We're working together quite well. And the route so far has been smoother than we could have hoped for."
"Good. Then I'll leave you to it." Flaire rose from the table, disposed of her own dishes and, wishing them a good evening, retired to her cabin.
Jael sighed, glancing at Ar. He grinned, in his crinkle-faced way, and after a time, she felt her tension melt away like snow on a sunny day.
* * *
The next morning, back in the net, they woke Ed from the storage device to join them in flight. Jael instructed him to stay clear of their manipulations of the Flux, but the warning seemed unnecessary. Ed appeared content to perch and watch, perhaps rustling around from time to time, but generally staying out of the way.
Dragons in the Stars Page 22