Neogenesis

by Sharon Lee

  He tipped to one side, considering.

  “I think—no. Let us allow the situation to clarify. We may well have more information to share, by the end of our sojourn here.”

  “Yes,” said Dulsey. “Going off-shift.”

  “Enjoy your moments of leisure,” he said.

  “My rare moments of leisure,” she corrected him, but he did not smile.

  * * * * *

  The accelerated schedule of exercise was…not precisely taxing. She never, Aelliana thought, as she pushed against the weight with real force, felt that she had done too much, but at least she felt that she had done something.

  It was gratifying, too, that their exercise sessions per ship-day had been increased from three to six, and that their reps increased in every session.

  In between, there was time for daibri’at—neither she nor Daav felt that the klaxons would allow them menfri’at, and neither was of a mind to try the case—for meals, reading, and naps.

  While still pleasant, the necessity for naps—and there had been that, at first—had lessened considerably, opening time for board drills, and for reading such news as gradually became available to their suite’s console. It was old news, with the subtle feel of filtering about it—Taggerth’s still notable by its absence—but in their present case, any news was welcome.

  They had neither of them as yet hit the plateau the Uncle had warned of, but took the precaution of believing it yet in their future.

  “If it has not befallen us before we are brought together with a ship,” Aelliana asked Daav, over what they were pleased to dignify as their midmorning tea, “ought we to stay in place until it has arrived and passed?”

  “That would seem to be prudent,” Daav said. “However, I note that we are not in receipt of information regarding the relationship, if any, of the accelerated course to the plateau state.”

  “There is that.”

  She broke her slice of bread into quarters, to all appearances utterly intent upon the task.

  There are other complications, once we are united with a ship, she said. I will have no license, nor any papers at all. And you, van’chela…

  And I, Daav caught the thought and continued it as he sipped tea, am perhaps in even worse case, being in possession of a master-level license which is plainly older than I am. You, at least, may test and gain a ticket more in keeping with your face.

  But accumulating flight time is so tedious, Aelliana protested. Note that I do not mention the lack of other necessary proofs of my existence.

  True. I had not considered.

  Shall we ask Uncle for…credible documentation?

  I’m more inclined to an alternate source. Daav’s answering thought was slow. My license is good, after all, and has recently been in use. I believe we will be able to finesse our way to Surebleak.

  I had thought your opinion was that the delm will not have us.

  An opinion which was formed before the Tree had its way with the Uncle’s handiwork.

  “So!” Aelliana said aloud. “We shall solicit more specific details from our host so that we may better plan our course, when we have left his care.”

  “Agreed,” Daav said, and raised the pot. “More tea?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder…” she said, receiving the replenished cup.

  “Wonder?” he prompted.

  She sipped, frowning.

  “The case is, van’chela, that I have not had weapons practice for two decades and more.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “You would ask the Uncle to allow us target practice in sim?”

  “If it is imprudent, he need only say no,” she pointed out, putting her cup down and picking up the last piece of bread. “He has not in the past shown himself shy of saying no.”

  “Very true. I shall append it to the rather lengthy list of questions we have compiled for our host’s consumption. I note that we have not had the pleasure of his company for quite a number of shifts.”

  “He is busy about his own affairs, surely.”

  Daav, what do you think the delm will do with us?

  My hope is that they will only banish us, after providing funds and papers sufficient to our survival, and changing the keywords and locks on all of the clan’s secrets.

  Yes, but we already know the clan’s secrets.

  True. And in the end, the delm will do what they must, in order to preserve the clan in good order. Who, indeed, can know what a delm might do?

  Aelliana laughed, drained her cup, and stood.

  “Come,” she said. “Let us clear the table. We have time to read another chapter of that absurd novel before our next exercise session.”

  * * * * *

  A message from Indira had arrived during Yuri’s rest period, acknowledging orders and stating that a rendezvous had been set up with Kalib. That was well, but nothing so urgent that she need break Yuri’s sleep. Dulsey placed the message at the top of his queue.

  When he saw it, he sighed.

  “Advise me, old friend. Do we Jump to another deviant point in order to collect our mail, or do we tarry here yet awhile?”

  “There’s nothing to be gained by tarrying, if you have a destination.”

  He considered her.

  “You have a destination, I think.”

  “Yes. I think that we will be able to raise the docking acknowledged by Pilot Caylon, before Indira and Kalib have finished their investigations.”

  “And thus we may see our guests honorably established and well away from a volatile situation that cannot possibly be bettered by the interference of Korval’s so-called Luck.”

  He nodded.

  “I agree; best to move forward along those paths which are open to us.”

  “I have the course laid in,” Dulsey said, which elicited a puff of laughter.

  “Of course you do. Pray proceed, Pilot, in your own good time.”

  She reached to the board, bringing the ship to full wakefulness, feeding the course to navcomp, as the Struven unit roused itself—

  A bell tolled. Yuri fairly snatched at the comm board, accessed the pinbeam and threw it up onto screen four so that they both could read it.

  The first thing Dulsey saw was that, unlike the first, which had supposedly been openly sent by “Ops” from Seignur Veeoni’s residence, this message had been properly routed through the undernets and bounced between eight anonymous addresses before arriving in-queue. Another from Indira, then, Dulsey thought—

  But, no.

  Not from Indira.

  The message was one short line.

  I am in the Dragon’s lair. Come quickly.

  Following was what at first looked to be a jumbled coord set transcribed by an inept hand, but was very familiar to any who remembered the protocols of the old universe—and the Uncle’s sanctuary in the asteroid zone.

  Save for the usual sounds generated by the instruments, there was silence on the bridge. Dulsey scarcely dared breathe. The Dragon? But—

  “Korval working with the Lyre Institute,” Yuri said slowly. “Can we believe that? Are we meant to believe that?”

  “It came through proper channels; the code is correct,” Dulsey pointed out.

  “Indeed. And who knows better than we two, Engineer Dulsey, that there is no system yet contrived which cannot be subverted?”

  Dulsey was still staring at that single line. It was entirely of a piece with Seignur Veeoni’s usual style of communication. She rarely bothered with explanations, assuming that all the mysteries of the universe were self-evident to anyone who would but take a moment to think.

  “Assuming that the alliance was made,” she said slowly, “what does Lyre gain by leaving the prize in the Dragon’s hands?”

  “They gain distance, should aught go awry,” Yuri said, who was a past master at such puzzles. “And they gain what they may believe to be the larger prize, if we come to ransom our hostage.”

  “That hangs together as a tale,” she
allowed. “But is the young delm likely to play such a game?”

  He sighed.

  “They seem conservative—as they ought to be, given that Korval’s future is as yet unsteady. And yet, Korval is known for bold action…”

  “But in this instance,” Dulsey said, “What does the Dragon gain in the venture? They needed no hostage against the return of their elders. Even if they had become impatient for that return…”

  “The Lyre Institute can offer Korval many things,” Yuri said, staring at the screens, but not, Dulsey believed, seeing anything but his own thoughts. “However, I am inclined to agree. Korval takes all the risk here, even if Lyre provided the bait. By report, the new delm is neither of them a fool, and Captain Robertson, at least, is known to be a practitioner of extreme straightforwardness.”

  “So, then. The Dragon offers sanctuary?”

  “That becomes difficult—no,” he corrected himself sharply. “It becomes inevitable, if we are to deal Korval’s damnable Luck into the game. Which I do not think we can avoid. Also, at such a distance, the line between sanctuary and detention becomes…indistinct.”

  He closed his eyes and reached to the comm board, whisking the pinbeam into the archives.

  “Yes, it does,” Dulsey said, turning back to her screens, and tapping up navcomp. She worked for a minute or two in silence.

  “Composite Jump brings us into Surebleak orbit in six Standard Days,” she murmured and looked up. Yuri was watching her, amused.

  “Composite Jump,” she added, eyes back on her equations, “will be a strain upon our guests.”

  He inclined his head.

  “Indeed. One might say, an unacceptable strain.” He sighed.

  “Skip-Jump,” he said and pulled his webbing tight. “Once we are under way, I will inform our guests of the change in necessities. I will offer a therapy session in the autodocs.”

  Dulsey looked at him sharply. “Therapy?”

  “Only until my sister has been recovered. Certainly, we do not wish to dismay our guests by openly calling their standing with us into question.”

  “Six days in the ’doc? Will they agree to that?”

  “They do not need to agree,” said the Uncle.

  Dulsey sent him a glance, considered what she had been about to say—and simply nodded.

  “Locking course,” she said.

  * * * * *

  The warning bell rang when they were in the midst of exercise.

  Spacer reactions took over; they dogged the equipment, threw themselves onto the Jump couches at the back of the room, and pulled the webbing tight.

  By the time the all-clear sounded, both were shivering in reaction, a peculiar weakness in their limbs.

  “The pilot was certainly eager to fly,” Aelliana said, her voice unsteady. She leaned against him unabashedly.

  He slipped an arm about her shoulders and tucked her closer against his side, but there was no doubt that they supported each other as they left the exercise room and navigated the corridor to their quarters.

  It took Daav two attempts to connect with the door plate. Once inside, they staggered to the couch and collapsed there, side by side, and shivering still.

  “Do you think the shock has triggered the plateau state, Daav?”

  “It is possible, I suppose. Or it might only be that we have become unused to such drama in our staid time as professors.”

  “You were a professor,” Aelliana reminded him. “I was a ghost.”

  “A ghost tethered to a professor, then, and neither obligated for a number of years to leap into Jump with abandon. Rest here, Pilot, and I will bring tea.”

  It was, he thought as he rose carefully to his feet, a measure of her distress, that she did not assert that she was perfectly able to fetch her own tea.

  He made the galley, though there was a noticeable wobble in his knee joints that he disliked profoundly.

  Tea, he thought; hot and sweet. Also, some of the protein bars from the…

  The annunciator chimed, and he diverted his course.

  “I will open,” he said, feeling Aelliana gathering herself to rise. “Rest.”

  He touched the pad, keeping one hand braced against the wall as the door slid open.

  The Uncle’s eyes widened slightly, he half-extended a hand, pulled back, and looked beyond Daav’s shoulder.

  “Pilots, my profound apologies,” he said. “Sweet tea and protein will be of benefit.”

  “In fact, I was en route to those very things when the door chimed,” Daav told him. “How may we assist the host?”

  “Firstly, by returning to the couch. I will bring what is required. You may recruit yourselves while I share my news.”

  Daav caught himself on the edge of insisting that he was the equal of making a pot of tea, and instead inclined his head.

  “Thank you, sir. I fear I am not as steady as I would like.”

  He stepped back, giving the Uncle room to enter. The door slid shut.

  He is concerned, Aelliana murmured inside his head. It would seem we are in worse case than he had anticipated.

  “Forgive me if I offend,” the Uncle said. “Do you require assistance to reach the couch?”

  Daav gave the question serious consideration. It was a matter of some dozen paces to the couch, and he could feel the shiver in his leg muscles.

  “An arm would be appreciated,” he said, and the Uncle complied, guiding him to a seat beside Aelliana, before whisking away into the galley.

  “How fare you, Pilot?” Daav asked.

  “Well, so long as I remain in one place,” Aelliana answered. “And yourself?”

  “I find resting on the couch at this moment to be quite pleasant.”

  “Hah.”

  Well, so long as he has not come to tell us that our ship is to hand…Aelliana said.

  Even if so, we had agreed to be prudent, had we not? I particularly recall that you assured the host that we are not stupid.

  Did I so? Would he have believed that, do you think?

  “Tea first, Pilots. I warn you it is well sugared.”

  The Uncle shook the legs down from the tea tray and placed it within their easy reach. He poured, handing the first cup properly to Aelliana, the second to Daav. He did not, himself, take any, for which Daav, after his first sip, could scarcely blame him.

  “Pilots, I again offer my apologies,” the Uncle said, settling himself on the bench, as he had done before.

  “Is this the plateau stage?” Aelliana asked, in the aftermath of a sip and accompanying shudder.

  “Yes, I fear it is, and exacerbated by our necessity to travel quickly. Our hurried entry into Jump has overstrained organic systems which are still fragile.”

  Daav finished his tea with relief, and placed the cup on the tray. The Uncle immediately refilled it.

  “It is a dreadful concoction, Pilot,” he murmured. “You have all of my sympathy. However—”

  “However,” Aelliana said, placing her cup on the tray, and gaining a refill in her turn. “Needs must.”

  “Precisely.” He moved the plate with its several protein bars closer to them. “After the second cup, at least one of these for each. Then, with your permission, I will have each of you in the ’doc. This would be in service of making you physically less vulnerable to such stresses as you have just experienced. You will be fortified with key nutrients and vitamins. Though in general I find that the exercise regimen, while requiring more time to complete, yields results that are far superior to those produced by alternative therapies—given our present necessities, I would see your muscle tone and endurance increased, so that you will be physically more resilient to stress.”

  Daav considered him.

  “You intend to continue to press hard.”

  The Uncle inclined his head.

  “Necessity, as I said. We have lain in a series of skip-Jumps, and plan to raise Surebleak in six Standard Days.”

  “This is a change, indeed,” Aelliana said
. “Does one understand that your recent difficulties have been resolved?”

  The Uncle smiled and shook his head.

  “Alas, my difficulties have become…confused, Pilot. It would seem that my sister has been…removed from a secure situation and sends that she is in the Dragon’s lair. She bids me join her there—quickly.”

  Oh, dear, said Aelliana.

  Well you should say so.

  “Has our delm also sent?” Daav asked.

  “They have not, and one…hesitates to disturb them. I am certain that you understand.”

  Until he knows if Korval has taken his sister or is merely her host, Daav said to Aelliana. And if we, therefore, are guests or hostages.

  Hostages or guests, we remain important to him, she answered and leaned forward to take up a protein bar.

  “Confusion is never a happy state,” she murmured. “We join you in hoping for a speedy return to clarity.”

  She looked up and met his eyes straightly.

  “We accept your offer of additional therapy,” she said. “Certainly, you will wish to go as quickly as you may, and we would not in any case delay you.”

  “Then I will leave you for a time. If I may advise—a nap after you have consumed at least one bar each and one more cup of tea. I will come again in six hours, to escort you to the ’docs.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Aelliana said.

  Daav made to rise—and paused as the Uncle raised his hand.

  “I will see myself out. Please, tend to your needs, Pilots. Until soon.”

  “Until soon,” Daav said, and they watched the Uncle leave, the door locking behind him.

  Aelliana handed him a protein bar.

  Well, she said. The Uncle has a sister. That’s interesting, isn’t it, Daav?

  Ahab-Esais

  I

  Ahab-Esais was being towed, inexorably, toward the tower—the repair station—Tinsori Light. Life support and the scrape of dust along hull plate were the only sounds.

  A…presence had touched the ship; a hard, dark thought that moved over and through the ship systems—searching?

  Perhaps it was searching, Tocohl thought, prudently withdrawing herself from systems. Perhaps, in the universe the Old One had known, there had been protocols, or particular systems designs, for which it scanned.