The Stars Blue Yonder

by Sandra McDonald

  “I got Grandpa,” Kyle said. “So he could help. Where’s Twig?”

  “What did you tell him?” Myell asked.

  “Everything. He believes me.”

  That was in doubt. Myell knew that this Osherman couldn’t talk yet. It would be a long time before the effects of his Roon captivity wore off enough for him to start communicating. But he’d come with Kyle into the woods, so that was something.

  “How did you convince him?” Myell asked.

  “Birthmark. We’ve got the same one.”

  “What birthmark?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” Kyle said, and there was a definite sneer in his voice. “Where’s Twig?”

  “This way,” Myell said.

  On the muddy, wet hike back to the cave Myell imagined a dozen different ways Jodenny and Twig could have come to harm in the short time he’d been away. Maybe the water had dislodged mud and rocks, sending down a torrent to bury them alive. They’d be entombed in that hillside forever, like he was in his grave on a hill on the other side of the valley. Or maybe the fall had made Jodenny go into premature labor or start hemorrhaging, or done some other harm.

  He hurried onward, careful to make sure Kyle was keeping up but less worried about Osherman. Occasional thunder shook the air and trees, but by the time they reached the caves the rain had thoroughly abated. Myell scrabbled up the hill, sure of the worst, but Jodenny and Twig were both sleeping peacefully.

  “Thank you,” Myell said aloud, and Jodenny opened her eyes.

  “Hey,” she said. “You okay?”

  He couldn’t help a crooked smile. “Fine. I brought company,”

  Osherman and Kyle squeezed into the cave behind Myell. Jodenny blinked at Osherman several times. “How’d you get here?”

  “Kyle,” Myell replied.

  Osherman retreated as far as he could without actually leaving the cave. He slid down to a wary, hunched crouch. Kyle met Jodenny’s gaze and said, “We brought stuff from your house. In case we couldn’t get back in the storm.”

  Jodenny sat up. “You’re Kyle?”

  He nodded, hesitant.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Jodenny said, and to Myell she sounded sincere. “What stuff did you bring?”

  Kyle distributed blankets, clothing, and food as if it were Christmas morning. Myell almost woke Twig, but decided to let her sleep a while longer. Osherman remained as far apart from them as the small space permitted. In the light of the heat globe, he and Kyle resembled father-son more than grandfather-grandson. They had the same narrow face and long nose, and chins that could take a solid punch. Myell could see Jodenny staring at them.

  He opened up a tube of analgesic healing cream from the ship’s infirmary and said, “How’s your knee and hip? Some of this might help.”

  “A lot of that might help,” Jodenny agreed. She wasn’t deterred off the topic, though. “Twig said you two are cousins, Kyle. Who’s your mom?”

  Myell tried to shoot Kyle a warning look, but Kyle ignored him.

  “My mom’s named Teresa,” he said. “She’s your other daughter.” Jodenny caught Myell’s fingers just as they started to spread the cream. “How can we have another child?”

  “Not his,” Kyle said. “Him. Grandpa Osherman.”

  Osherman, busy staring at Jodenny, didn’t react at all. Myell felt a flush go through his face for no good reason at all. Jodenny smiled uncertainly, and cupped her belly as if to protect it.

  “That’s not possible,” she finally said.

  Myell smoothed the salve on her knee, trying to be careful with the swollen, tender skin. “It sort of is. In the future.”

  “You marry him later.” Kyle shook out a blanket and wrapped himself up in it. “And my mom is Teresa, your daughter. And she marries my dad, and here I am, and then he showed up, and we’ve been jerked around in time ever since.”

  The “he” of Kyle’s bitterness was Myell himself, who capped the analgesic and tucked it into his pocket. “That’s about right. Look, it’s late. We’re all tired and with this weather, we’re not going anywhere. Can we talk about everything in the morning?”

  Jodenny gripped Myell’s hand. “Twig says the ring comes for you every twenty-four hours, sometimes less. How do I know you’ll still be here in the morning?”

  He smoothed the hair from her forehead. “We’re not going anywhere. I promise. Close your eyes, and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  She curled up against his side. Myell tried to tell himself that he hadn’t just lied to her. Osherman stared at him, eyes burning and bright, from the other side of the cave. Outside, the rain picked up again and began battering against the hillside.

  CHAPTER NINE

  When Jodenny woke the next morning, she kept her eyes closed for several long moments. The warmness beneath her, the smell of river water, the shape of a man. Her husband, returned to her. But if she opened her eyes and saw someone else, that would be proof positive that she’d gone batshit crazy. And it wasn’t as if the possibility were that remote—she’d felt crazy for months, crazy with grief and loneliness—but psychosis would be a whole new trick to add to her repertoire. If Myell wasn’t the one she was lying against, she’d have to scream.

  She cracked open one eye and saw her Terry. He was battered and thin, his hair dried in crazy directions, but he was there, tangible and irrefutable.

  Jodenny reached up, planning to kiss him awake, but he jerked awake at that very moment, and his chin knocked into her forehead.

  “Ouch,” he said.

  “Ow,” she said.

  After they sorted out that nothing was bleeding, they settled into a proper kiss. But then Myell, his hand against her belly, made a surprised sound.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  Jodenny said, “junior’s got hiccups.”

  His face broke open with wonder. “Does that happen a lot?”

  “Enough. It’s perfectly normal.”

  He patted junior’s bump with gentle fingers, then looked up for the kids.

  And blanched.

  “Where is everyone?” he demanded.

  The other blankets were all empty. Jodenny’s gib was gone as well. But the bag Myell had brought from her house was still there.

  “They must be outside, checking on the weather,” she said.

  Myell eased out from under her and scooted toward the cave mouth. She wasn’t worried about Osherman. He was far more stable than most people gave him credit for. Even her. Jodenny drank some water from her canteen, eased more healing cream on her knee and hip, and stiffly followed Myell into the brightness of day.

  The weather was still wet, the sky filled with gray, fast-moving clouds. The wind swept branches back and forth vigorously enough to drop twigs and leaves on the forest floor. The river was running high under the footbridge, and the water churned a dark angry color. But there was no sign of Osherman or the kids, and Myell had a worried expression on his face.

  “Where would they go?” he asked.

  “Maybe they just took a walk to get some fresh air.”

  He valiantly stood guard while she relieved herself several meters from the cave mouth. After that she settled onto a large flat rock, glad for the fresh air.

  “How’s your knee and hip?” he asked.

  She flexed her whole leg. “Not bad at all.”

  He nodded, distracted. Still worried about the kids. She asked, “Where did you get them?”

  Myell gave her a puzzled look.

  “In the future, sure. How far?” she asked.

  “Forty years,” he said.

  Easy math, that, and the result made her wrinkle her nose. “I’m a little old lady?”

  “Sure,” he said, eyes on the valley.

  Jodenny grabbed his hand and waited for him to look at her. Maybe talking about the future was the wrong conversation to have. He didn’t seem comfortable about it. But she hadn’t been comfortable either, these past months, grieving over his death. She thou
ght of him cast back and forth through the decades, never able to stay in one place. Adrift and lost.

  Goosebumps rose across her shoulders and climbed up her scalp. “You said you weren’t leaving. But Twig says you can’t control it. Tell me the truth.”

  Dismay crossed his face, quickly shuttered.

  “You can’t,” she squeaked out. She stood up, both hands supporting her back. “You have to stay.”

  His shoulders tensed. He was looking down the valley still, unhappiness radiating out of him.

  “Look me in the eye.” She grasped his arm. “Tell me you’re here for good. Because if you’re not, if you think you’re going anywhere, you better think again, mister. I’ll tie you to a goddamned tree. I’ll sit on you. Me and your baby here.”

  He turned from the valley to face her full on. His mouth was a downward slash and his hands were cold on her shoulders.

  “I can’t do anything about it,” he admitted.

  Jodenny felt numb through and through, so numb she wasn’t even sure her legs were still supporting her. Junior twisted around inside her, the only sign her body was still working.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said, and brushed his hands away.

  Before she could even pick a good destination, she was heading down the slope to the footbridge. Home, she decided. Her little house and little bedroom, where she would lock the door forever. Because if there was a thing worse than being widowed it was having your husband come back from wherever he’d been, past or present or future be dammed, and announcing he wasn’t staying.

  “Jodenny!” he called out, following her. It wasn’t as if she could set a land-speed record, not with her extra weight and the remaining twinge in her knee. But she stormed ahead of him anyway, the wet forest floor slippery beneath her sandals.

  “Wait!” he said, very close behind her.

  “No,” she snapped. “I don’t want to hear excuses. You can’t control it? You find a way. You figure out how you’re going to stay, because you’re not going anywhere, and if you think you can just leave me here—”

  Myell said, “You don’t need me. You marry him. You marry Osherman.”

  She’d reached the footbridge, and her hand closed so tightly around the railing that her knuckles cracked. Jodenny stopped fleeing and turned. “I wouldn’t.”

  He spread his hands wide. “You do. You’re happy together. You make a life here without me.”

  Her heart skipped. “So this is revenge or something? You’re not staying now because you’ve seen the future and I marry someone else?”

  “Not seen it.” His chin lifted, and a mulish look came into his eyes. “Been there. At your wedding. And later.”

  Jodenny abruptly had to sit. And for that there was either the muddy bank or the cold grates of the bridge, with the water rushing beneath. She sat on the grates with her back against a pole, breathing deeply through her nose.

  “Easy,” he said, touching her arm. He sat down beside her.

  She swatted his hand away. “I won’t. Now that you’ve told me. I’ll never marry him, just to spite you.”

  “That’s not how it works.” He leaned his head against the railing, as if holding up his head was too much work anymore. His feet dangled over the rushing water. “You won’t remember me after I’m gone. No matter what I do, nothing ever changes. This eddy—this moment of time—will just fix itself. Time heals all wounds, I guess.”

  “You don’t know for sure,” Jodenny said. “I mean, yes, from your perspective, maybe. But time could be changing in other places, or other ways. What’s going to happen if you take Kyle and Twig home? Will they meet themselves?”

  “I don’t know if I can. It wasn’t something I planned. Homer says they’re just copies, that the real ones never left home. He says that I have to leave them behind, or we’ll all end up drowning in space and time.”

  Jodenny’s stomach twisted at the thought of that. “Could that be true?”

  “I don’t know. But if I leave them, that means they’ll just evaporate when this eddy dissolves. Either way, I’ve doomed them.”

  Despite her earlier anger, she wanted to find a way to comfort him. To ease the tight lines between his eyes and somehow make everything all better. Instead she found herself saying, “So take them. And take me. I’m willing to risk the chance. Wherever we go next, we’ll face it together. And we’ll find a way to stop all this.”

  “He can’t take you,” said a voice from behind them. A Roon stood at the end of the bridge, a silver ouroboros spinning around its boots. “Go with him and your baby will die.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jodenny surged to her feet. Myell rose just as fast beside her, shielding her as best he could. Though she was glad for Junior’s sake, the gesture irritated her. She could take care of herself, thank you very much. Usually.

  Then again, she had no weapons or means of defense.

  Neither did Myell.

  The Roon said, “I told you that you the network was ours, Teren Myell. Every corner and every whirl. Take her with you and your child will die.”

  “It can talk,” Jodenny murmured. None of the aliens she remembered from Burringurrah had been able to speak English.

  “You lie,” Myell said. “If you control the network, why haven’t you stopped me? Why haven’t you just killed me?”

  It was silent for a moment. Jodenny wondered if it was surprised at Myell’s impertinence. Thunder rolled through the sky as dark clouds moved in over the hill. Myell glanced upward, a small awareness flickering across his face.

  “She protects you,” it finally said. “She encourages you. But we have our own gods, and to you they’ll show no mercy.”

  “Who protects me?” Myell asked. “Kultana?”

  The silver ouroboros sped up.

  “Step out of that,” Myell dared it. “If you can.”

  The Roon made no move. “You persist,” it said, “but you will fail. Again and again you will fail. And we will meet again until you are nothing.”

  The ouroboros vanished, taking the Roon with it.

  Myell let out a shaky breath and turned to hug Jodenny tightly. She found herself shaking—not in fear, but in anger. “Who the hell was that?” she asked.

  “It calls itself the Flying Doctor. I’ll tell you everything, but let’s get out of here first.”

  They walked along the riverbank but kept the cave within sight. Myell kept a protective hold on Jodenny’s elbow and supported her whenever the ground grew too slippery. She couldn’t bear to look at him, and couldn’t bear not to. Surely the Roon was a liar, but the thought of endangering Junior with a trip through the blue ring was a terrible pressure in her chest. She couldn’t even consider the idea. But she also couldn’t stand the idea of casting Myell back into the sea of time alone, with or without Twig or Kyle, on his mysterious heroic quest, while she would go on to find happiness with Osherman.

  “Here’s good enough,” Jodenny said, once they found some flat rocks to sit on. “Everything, please.”

  He told her about waking on Garanwa’s station, and traveling through the ring, and the first appearance of the Flying Doctor outside Lisa’s house that night in Providence. “It was raining pretty hard,” he said. “And the next day, when it showed up again, there was more thunder. Like now. I don’t think it’s all just a coincidence.”

  “You think Kultana is some kind of weather god?” she asked skeptically.

  “There are some legends of Kultana as a goddess of rain, or a god from the Land of the Dead. Anything’s possible.”

  “Do you believe that Roon? That if I go with you, Junior will be in danger?”

  Myell gazed past her to the river. “It doesn’t matter. We can’t risk it.”

  “There has to be something we can do,” Jodenny said. “There’s still equipment on the Kamchatka, up in orbit. If we could somehow capture your blue ring, maybe keep you from leaving—”

  “We’ve tried,” he said. “Before. You and I, i
n the future. It doesn’t work.”

  “This time could be different.”

  “It’s never different. Homer says only the gods can change history.”

  She hated the bleakness in his voice. Wanted to reach over and shake him by the shoulders, jar that helplessness loose. “Then we’ll just have to find some, won’t we? But don’t get any funny ideas. No more sacrifices, no more turning into a god yourself.”

  He stared at her.

  “On Burringurrah,” she said. “You died, and transformed. Sort of. Into Jungali, one of the Nogomain.”

  “That wasn’t me,” he said slowly. “Or, if it was me, someone changed history so that it never happened. I’m certainly not a god now.”

  “And you’re not going to become one again,” Jodenny vowed. “We’ll just have to find Kultana, or someone else, to help us. Obviously the chances are pretty good, otherwise the Roon wouldn’t be trying to stop you.”

  He didn’t answer.

  Twig’s voice rang out over the hillside. “Uncle Terry!”

  They turned their heads. The kids and Osherman had returned. Jodenny and Myell met them under a gum tree near the bridge. Twig’s cheeks were bright, and Kyle seemed less grim than he had the night before. Osherman was uneasy, shuffling from foot to foot.

  “Where have you been?” Myell asked.

  “We went foraging,” Twig said. “See? Nuts and these berries and this wild plum, but it’s still kind of sour.”

  Kyle said, “I’m starving. Is there any real food left?”

  Now that she thought of it, Jodenny was hungry too. Junior wanted his breakfast. Her breakfast, Jodenny reminded herself. Her daughter. She wasn’t used to that idea after all these months of imagining the fetus as a boy. Myell fetched the heat globe from the cave and set it out by the river. He warmed up oatmeal for everyone and made coffee for the adults. Osherman declined to eat or drink, and sat near the bridge with his arms folded over his chest.

  “How long are we going to be here?” Kyle asked Myell. “It’s already been twelve hours.”