by Sharon Lee
“Thank you, sir.”
“You are welcome. Please ask Mr. pel’Kana to deny me to any who are not kin for the next three hours.”
“Yes, sir,” Jeeves answered, and there was a definite feeling of withdrawal.
Val Con sighed. Jeeves had learnt the trick from Bechimo then. He supposed that was progress.
He spun the chair ’round to face the desk, off-loaded Fondi to a pile of printout beside the keyboard, and tapped up his mail queue before he closed his eyes.
Gods. First we conquer a planet, then at once we save the universe and overthrow a space station—all unwitting, but who will believe it?
How Miri will laugh.
* * * * *
They had been placed in the formal parlor, and left with promises of tea and Professor Waitley’s attendance very soon.
She will not recognize me, he said to Aelliana.
Theo recognized you, she answered.
Kamele is not Theo.
Very true. But I think she will know you.
Footsteps in the hallway, light and quick. Daav felt a tightening in his chest and walked to the center of the room, where she would see him at once from the doorway.
A shadow, then here she was, her hair coming loose from its binding, soft curls tangled about her face. She was abstracted, which naturally she would be, called from study, and she did not see him until she was fairly in the room. She walked with sure grace and was armed.
Her eyes widened, and she stopped.
The moment stretched; he recruited himself to patience, wanting to give her time to see, to absorb—or to deny—and she came another step into the room, her eyes flicking to the fireplace where Aelliana stood silent, then back to his face.
“Jen Sar?” she said, and shook her head, lips shaping a soft smile. “You must forgive my lapse; I do know better. You are Daav yos’Phelium.”
His throat tightened, but he smiled for her and inclined his head.
“In fact, I am Daav yos’Phelium. I did not expect you to know me—like this.” He swept a hand down, showing himself to her.
That brought a true smile as she came further into the room, until there was scarcely any distance between them.
“Actually, you look very like your portrait, now. Kareen showed me.” She turned her head.
“Are you Aelliana Caylon?”
His lifemate smiled.
“Yes. I hope you may accept my thanks for your care of us, and for the fact of Theo, who continues to astonish.”
Kamele laughed.
“She does, doesn’t she? And—you know, I don’t wish to offend, but you don’t owe me thanks. I only followed my heart; it was no effort to care.”
Aelliana bowed slightly.
Kamele turned back to him. He held his hands out, palms up. After a moment, she put her palms against his.
“Kamele, I’m sorry to have involved you in one of my dreadful scrapes. I hope you may forgive me.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said, though he could see tears in her eyes. “And, you know, I’m not sorry. Not at all—you—Jen Sar—” she gave a small laugh. “I’ve been studying melant’i, but I’m still not sure how to parse all the yous of you.”
His breath caught, but she was sweeping on.
“You—all of you!—gave me so much that I would never otherwise have had. Sunsets—gardens—cats. And Theo.” She shook her head. “I can’t be sorry.”
“Then,” he said gently, “I am relieved, because I am not sorry, either, for those things that we shared. Only that I distressed you at the last, and put you in the way of danger that is none of yours.”
She laughed and took her hands away from him, shaking her head to clear the tears.
“But I don’t regret that, either! Do you know I can shoot a pistol? I finished third out of twenty-four in the novice round at Sherman’s Shoot-Out. If I hadn’t met you, I would never have come to Surebleak, and I would have never found what might well be my lifework! Do you remember how we used to argue about the proper role of knowledge?”
“I do, indeed.”
“Well, I’ve come ’round to your way of thinking. I am exhilarated, and it frightens me that I might so easily have missed this!”
“Ah, now I see that I am a hero!” he said, teasing.
She put on a stern face.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said, and turned to gather Aelliana into her glance.
“Have you some time? I would like to catch up—to hear the story—the other story. Or at least find out how you’ve lost so many years! And Scholar Caylon…” She hesitated.
Aelliana came forward and took her hand. “Yes? You will not offend me.”
“Well. Kareen told me that you—were dead.”
“And so I was, though not completely so.” She smiled. “And as you see, I’ve gotten better.”
Tinsori Light
The space around Tinsori Light had changed. She could see that, of course, though she found M Traven’s technical discussion fascinating.
The dust clouds had dissipated. Andreth, at the research station, had shown her their analysis. The clouds had been pulverized crystal, but why they had dispersed or what the agent of dispersal had been he could not guess.
Well, it was a secondary concern, Seignur Veeoni told herself. Her first concern—the reason Yuri had called her into being, trained her himself, and given her the smartstrands so that she could remember the old universe—her first concern was Tinsori Light.
Yuri had built Tinsori Light, of course. That it had been stolen and subverted to the Enemy’s purpose had pained him for hundreds of years. Its appearance, its entanglement with two universes—he must repair it: there was no choice but that one.
She knew.
“Tinsori Light,” a light female voice spoke from the comm. “Do you wish docking?”
“We do,” M Traven said gravely. “I bring Seignur Veeoni, with relief.”
“What sort of relief?”
Seignur Veeoni leaned slightly forward and spoke at the comm.
“I bring newly derived and manufactured fractin sets. They are stable and clean and ready to be installed so that the Light may move its systems and itself.”
There was a long pause, then a new voice on comm.
“Seignur Veeoni, this is Tollance Berik-Jones; I’m a trained mentor, and I’m on staff specifically to monitor the Light’s integrity.”
“Excellent!” she said, pleased. “I am a technician, sir. For the frames and the fractins, I will vouch. But I have no such skill as yours. I will welcome a collaboration with you.”
“Sounds like we have an accord,” Tollance Berik-Jones said. “I’ll meet you on the dock and guide you in.”
“Thank you,” Seignur Veeoni said. “That will be very helpful.”
“Stand by for docking instructions.”
* * *
Seignur Veeoni considered the three craniums on-screen. They were, of course, situated securely elsewhere. One took great care to protect the station’s mind.
“I am familiar,” she said to Tolly Jones, who stood beside her, “with the cranium environments. They are more than adequate for most modern intelligences. However, Tinsori Light is a product of the old universe, and her needs are subtly different. The relationship between sister fractins, the interaction of the sets with the frame, and the frame sets with others of their kind…is unique in this universe. In this situation, I believe it may be superior. Certainly, the builder of this facility believed it to be so, utterly. He went to a great deal of trouble to have these sets engineered.”
“You know who built the Light?” Tolly Jones asked.
“Yes, of course. The Uncle, as he is known, built Tinsori Light back in the old universe. I can tell the tale, if you like, but first I would like to demonstrate this technology to Tocohl Lorlin and allow her to examine it.”
“Yes,” said the new voice of the Light—Tocohl. “I’m curious.”
“Good,” said
Seignur Veeoni. “I propose to assemble one complete frame set here in this workroom. You may study it at your leisure, and assure yourself that it is in no way a threat. As I said, I believe that use of the fractin sets will greatly enhance your comfort and productivity.
She paused, thinking, and added slowly, “It may be possible that the two systems—cranium and fractin—can be brought into harmony; one system supporting the other. I will think more deeply on this.
“Mentor, have you an opinion?”
“It sounds like something we ought to explore,” he said, smiling easily. “First thing, though, is to get one of the frames together so Tocohl can study it. She gives the affirmative, then we’ll work out the rest.”
“Yes,” she said, soothed by his voice and good common sense. “Of course.”
She turned to the packing case and began to withdraw the parts needed.
“This will require a few minutes only.”
Vivulonj Prosperu
The packet caught them on the approach to Skempel’s Jump point.
“From Seignur Veeoni,” Yuri said and sent it to Dulsey’s screen.
As usual, there was no salutation or other pleasantry, only an immediate plunge into business.
Yuri, I have not failed, but neither have I succeeded.
I arrive to find Tinsori Light well in hand, with a Korval Intelligence in firm control of all systems. She has accepted the fractin sets; they have been installed and are performing well in tandem with three cranium units. I note that there is evidence that the universe may have ended and been respun during the change of control; I append records of the event, provided by Tinsori Light.
The light keepers, of whom we had known, are now joined by Mentor Tollance Berik-Jones, in service to Tinsori Light, and Hazenthull nor’Phelium. Light Keeper Jen Sin yos’Phelium stands as chief, with Light Keeper Lorith in support.
I am informed that the delm of Korval is considering how best to go forward with the Light. Under discussion, according to Mentor Berik-Jones, is a plan to open the Light to the Free Ships. If this comes to pass, I will seek Korval’s permission to rehabilitate the damaged section into a residence, and offer my services as a technician to those of the Free who may require aid.
For the while, I remain at Tinsori Light, with M Traven to guard me. I am very safe here, so you need have no concern.
Tinsori Light sends to you, under separate wrap, information that you may find instructive.
The message ended with no such niceties as a signature or a well-wish.
Dulsey raised her head and met Yuri’s eyes.
“Free Ships?” she said. “What does Korval care for Free Ships?”
“Apparently more than we knew. Tinsori Light, who signs herself ‘Tocohl Lorlin Clan Korval,’ is kind enough to send the full text of a recent field judgment rendered by Scout Commander Val Con yos’Phelium. This judgment addresses the condition of Independent Logics, which is—in short form—that any such persons who are gainfully employed, members of a family, or otherwise an asset to society shall be considered free, with all the rights and benefits that accrue to all free persons, and specifically exempt from harassment, detention, and, most especially, deactivation.
“This is of course in direct opposition to the Complex Logic Laws.”
“Will it stand?”
Yuri sighed. “Does the wind of their damned Luck rise beneath the Dragon’s wings?”
“It would appear so.”
He fell silent. When he spoke again, it was with something like humor in his voice.
“Well, here’s a conceit, Dulsey. With Korval claiming the Light, and Seignur Veeoni establishing her residence there, it would appear that we and the Dragon are partnered.
“I wonder if that has occurred to them yet.”
Surebleak
Miri watched the car out of sight, then turned back toward the house. She’d argued for the delm’s office today, and Val Con hadn’t fielded anything more than token resistance, which meant they’d been on the same page, and it really didn’t matter if that was courtesy of the lifemate link or just a case of great minds thinking alike.
What mattered was getting him another set and order of problems to consider, so he could come back fresh to the mess that was Korval’s ongoing personal business. And, truth told, they had to open the Road Boss’s office today—most especially with the survey team from TerraTrade still on port, asking questions, counting heads, reviewing systems, and in general making everybody nervous.
There was, Miri acknowledged, as she walked down the hall to the delm’s office, a certain risk in having Val Con on the same port as the survey team, but after the little dust-up at the reception, she counted on Team Leader Kasveini to make sure it was herself who conducted the interview with the Road Boss.
And if it turned out that the team leader wasn’t sensible or wanted to push an issue, then she’d just have to depend on Val Con wanting Surebleak Port upgraded and certified more than he wanted to visit mayhem on idiots who questioned Clan Korval’s honor.
In the meantime, all they really had to do was to keep their heads down, not doing anything outlandish that skewed any more attention their direction. How hard could that be?
She opened the door to the delm’s office and walked directly to the buffet to pour herself a cup of coffee. The scanner was on, which was Val Con’s habit. The names and home ports of ships incoming and the filed destinations of ships outgoing imparted actual meaningful information to him. To her, not having been raised with a familiarity of ships and ports and politics, the scanner was at best an occasional amusement and at worst just…noise.
Still, she didn’t detour on the way to the desk to turn the thing off. Today, the unfamiliar voices dealing with the details of her homeworld’s traffic were…comforting.
She pulled out the chair, checked to be sure a cat hadn’t taken possession before her, and sat down, tapping the screen on.
There was mail in the delm’s in-box. What a surprise.
She sipped and pulled up the first, which was from Ms. dea’Gauss, acknowledging receipt of the delm’s direction to discover funding for the clan’s newly acquired space station. She assured them that the project was a priority, and that she expected to have preliminary figures within the week. In the meanwhile, she allowed that a schematic of the station, a systems inventory, a list of needed upgrades in order of urgency, as well as a detailed report on the damaged portion of the ring would assist her greatly in her work. Also, if the station keepers could send their estimate of expected traffic and a ranked list of services and amenities that would be required by said traffic, that would also be of great assistance.
Miri sipped coffee while she wondered whether the keepers had any notion how much traffic they were likely to see, and what services the Free Ships, who she understood were expected to be Tinsori Light’s main clientele, would want most. Well, they had Tolly Jones to consult there…she shook her head.
“Gonna be a job of work,” she commented to no one in particular, and that was before anybody figured out how Free Ships paid their bills.
“Jeeves—” she started…
“Sleet and snow!” the scanner shouted. “Didja see that! It come right outta the sun, I’m telling you, no signature, no glare—”
“Meteor alert! Incoming! Keep to assigned orbits. If you are on approach, stay on course.”
Miri spun to stare at the scanner. Meteor? she thought. Came right out of the sun, was it? She felt a slight chill in the warm office.
“Jeeves, can you see that rock?”
“Yes, Miri. I am coordinating with Bechimo. The route is…unconventional, but we believe that it is a route, not a mere rock, but—”
“A ship,” she interrupted, finding that she had come to her feet.
“Yes,” Jeeves said again. “I have a broad match with the Clutch vessel that transported us to Surebleak. However, this incoming vessel is…much smaller and—ah. Bechimo has backtracked to the entry poin
t. We have very good reason to believe that it is using the electron substitution drive. I have extrapolated its course—on a heading for—”
“Our field?”
“No, Miri,” Jeeves told her solemnly. “It is on course for our driveway.”
She blinked.
“Odds of survival?”
“One hundred percent,” Jeeves said promptly. “It is already slowing its descent. I estimate arrival in—”
“I have a communication from the approaching vessel,” came a pleasant, unfamiliar voice. Comm Officer Joyita that must be, Miri thought, patching in on the shielded house. She decided to be pissed about that later.
“Proceed, please, Mr. Joyita,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. It identifies itself as Emissary Twelve and states that it is on the business of the Elders. An immediate meeting with the Delm of Korval is requested.” There was a small pause.
“It also apologizes for its unseemly haste, and pleads…necessity, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Mr. Joyita.” Miri sighed, and turned toward the door.
“Jeeves, attend me, please.”
“Yes, Miri.”
Keep our heads down, she thought. Sure.
How hard could that be?
The Space at Tinsori Light
by Sharon Lee and Steve Miller
Space is haunted.
Pilots know this; stationmasters and light keepers, too; though they seldom speak of it, even to each other. Why would they? Ghost or imagination, wyrd space or black hole, life—and space—is dangerous.
The usual rules apply.
* * * * *
Substance formed from the void. Walls rose, air flowed, floors heated.
A relay clicked.
In the control room, a screen glowed to life. The operator yawned and reached to the instruments, long fingers illuminated by the wash of light.
On the screen—space, turbulent and strange.