Eternity's End (21 page)

With all due regards—El'ken."

Legroeder looked up at Morgan. "You've read this?" She nodded, her eyes troubled. Legroeder looked at the note again, then closed his eyes.
Surgical alterations and augmentations
... Visions of Robert McGinnis and Jakus Bark danced before him. Had he avoided cyber-implants all these years, only to be trapped into accepting them now?

Morgan perched on the edge of his bed. "Is it the augmentation part that worries you?"

"Good guess."

She seemed to suppress a shudder. "I wish we could just send you the hell away from all of this. Someplace where no one's ever heard of you." Her eyes seemed to say she didn't really want him to do that. Was she feeling attached to him? Personally?

"Yeah, well..." Legroeder managed a laugh. "I guess my mistake was picking Faber Eridani as a port of refuge in the first place."

Morgan caught his hand and gave it a squeeze. He was startled; he liked the feeling.

"Of course," he said awkwardly, "I wouldn't have met you and your mother then. But..."

"Legroeder?"

"Yeah?"

She tightened her grip on his hand. "I..." Her eyes seemed to be welling up.
"Oh hell."

Legroeder cleared his throat, trying not to seem obtuse. He hadn't had much practice reading women in recent years. Or even paying attention to his own feelings. Here he was, alone in a bedroom with Morgan, whom he found quite attractive in an understated way. He liked Morgan; he liked her warmth, and the intelligence that shone through her eyes. As he thought about it, he realized it wouldn't take a lot for her to seduce him right here and now—in spite of everything that loomed over him. Was that what she wanted? Was it what
he
wanted? He wasn't likely to have too many more chances—with Morgan, or anyone else. He returned the pressure on her hand.

"Since you're not jumping in to fill the awkward silence," Morgan said with a nervous laugh, "I guess I should."

He drew a silent breath.

Her voice fell to a near whisper. "I like you, I want to help you, I want you to come through this." She pushed her hair back with her free hand. "And I feel like a complete fool right now."

Legroeder squeezed her hand harder.
Yes? So do I
...

"But if... there's anything I can do..." Morgan met his gaze. "If you'd like me here with you tonight..."

Legroeder smiled, or tried to, past the lump in his throat. He tried to speak, but could only think,
Want you... do I... so rushed? I don't know; give me more time. I need more time! Will I ever have another chance?

Morgan continued, looking away, "I don't even know if you and... Maris... or if the two of you..." She frowned. "I'm sorry—here I am, and we don't even know if she's still alive, or what's happened to her."

"That's all right," Legroeder said softly. "You can't help about Maris—not right now. Anyway, she was a friend—
is
a friend. But we weren't—lovers." He tried to stop thinking about Maris. What she might be going through right now.

Morgan's grip tightened again.

"But I—" Legroeder's voice caught, and he suddenly found himself breathing harder. Did she want him to kiss her? He envisioned her in his arms, and a confused part of him suddenly yearned for that. Without quite consciously deciding, he leaned to kiss her. Her breath went out with a strained sigh, and her lips met his, tentatively, and then softened against him. She leaned into him, slipping her arm around his waist. For a moment, he focused only on the pressure of her lips, and her breath, and the warmth of her body pressing against him. He felt a powerful stirring of arousal; but it was confused, uncertain. He wasn't sure what he was feeling. He kissed her more urgently, felt her tongue flicking at his. Her hand started to move over him; he drew a sharp breath and touched her breast, reveling. And then hesitated. It didn't feel right; he didn't know why.

Both their eyes blinked open, and their gazes met. Morgan pulled back from him, head cocked. Her face reddened with embarrassment as she seemed to read his thoughts. "You don't... really want that, do you?"

"No, I don't mean—it's just that—Morgan, I don't—you're very beautiful—"

"Shh. Stop." She put a finger to his lips. "I'm
sorry
. I shouldn't be doing this. I should be helping you, not messing you up when you've got so much on your mind." She stood up, readjusting her blouse.

He followed, his emotions churning. "Morgan, don't—"

"No, look—"

"Don't
you
apologize. I'm the one who—"

"I wasn't exactly—

"Yes, you were." Legroeder suddenly burst into laughter, and then she did, too. He hugged her tightly. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

She nodded and pulled away toward the door. "Call me if you need... to talk... or whatever."

"I will. Good night."

The door clicked shut, and he stared at it in dumb bewilderment, before mentally kicking himself.
Idiot
...

They found the Narseil historian swimming back and forth in his pool, his neck-sail cutting through the surface of the water like a shark's fin. He lifted his head, spotting them, but did not stop until he had finished swimming his laps. When he stepped out of the pool and into the soft whoosh of the dryer, he was breathing hard, with a whuffing sort of sound.

"My apologies," he said, joining them in the dry section of the cavern. "I am old. If I do not keep up my daily exercise, my mind and body will both fall into decay. Have you decided?"

"I have," Legroeder said. "When do we leave?"

El'ken bowed in acknowledgment. "I am pleased, and grateful. You will be an invaluable addition to the party. If you will excuse me for just one moment, I will begin making the arrangements." He turned toward his communications console, then paused. "Regarding Mrs. and Ms. Mahoney..."

"What about them?" Legroeder asked, before either of the women could speak.

"Well, since you will not be accompanying Rigger Legroeder, and you have problems in terms of getting back home..."

"I was hoping you could help them with that."

El'ken visibly suppressed his annoyance at the interruption. "I can offer hospitality here, as long as necessary. Perhaps once the mission has been completed, and security for it is no longer an issue, we will be able to assist you—"

"No," said Legroeder.

"I beg your pardon?"

"If you keep them prisoner here, the deal's off."

El'ken spread his long-fingered hands. "I assure you, they would not be
prisoners
. They will be very comfortable."

"They have important work to do, back on Faber Eri. If you don't let them go, they're prisoners."

"Legroeder, wait," said Harriet.

"No—it's that or nothing." Legroeder rubbed his jaw. He hadn't realized until just now that this was part of his decision. "Look, Academic—if I'm going to entrust my life to your people, then you have to trust my people. Quid pro quo. Isn't that what they call it, Harriet?"

Harriet opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Yeah, that's what they call it. Look," he said. "Maybe you see this in just one dimension, which is your secret mission. Well, my friends won't peep a word about it. You can trust them. And I'm not only concerned about their freedom. They have work to do while I'm gone, and I'm hoping you can help them. I expect to return to find that I've been cleared of all charges back on Faber Eridani."

Everyone else seemed at a loss for words, so Legroeder kept talking. "I notice your eyes narrowed just a bit at the word
return
."

The Narseil winced slightly.

"I thought so. Maybe you don't think I have all that much chance of returning. But you wouldn't be undertaking this mission if you thought it had
no
chance, right? And you will offer me the same prospects for safe return as your own people, won't you?"

He was aware of Morgan stirring uneasily beside him, but he kept his gaze on El'ken's.

Finally the Narseil said, "Your chances are exactly the same as any other member of the crew. I hope very much for your safe return."

"Good. Then what can you do to help my friends on their way?"

El'ken hesitated a long moment. "I suggest a cooling off period, at least until the Spacing Authority cruiser leaves. Then perhaps I can arrange for a diplomatic transport to take them back to Faber Eridani. Barrister Mahoney, can you perform your duties from within the Narseil Embassy in Elmira?"

Harriet looked surprised. "Better than I could do them from here, or in prison, I suppose."

El'ken bowed. "Then I will endeavor to arrange it. And I would very much appreciate it... if you would do all in your power to learn who was responsible for the death of a good man."

"McGinnis? You have my promise."

"Thank you. Before I make the call to my people, Rigger Legroeder—when can you be prepared to travel?"

Legroeder shrugged. "I'm ready now."

"Excellent. A transport will be standing by."

"And its destination?"

"That, I cannot tell you." The Narseil stretched out his hands. "I suggest you make your appropriate farewells in the next few minutes. You will not hear from him again until he returns. Go and make your preparations, and come back when you are ready."

Legroeder felt like a body being viewed at a wake. "Look—I'm not dead yet, okay?"

Harriet nodded miserably, and Morgan was too busy leaking tears to say anything. Legroeder tossed his bag over to the door of their little dining room. "It's not as if I'm never going to see you again. So for chrissake, how about showing me a smile. Morgan, you were terrific in bed last night."

Harriet's eyebrows went up. Morgan made a choking sound, and for a second he didn't know if she was going to laugh or sob. She smacked him on the shoulder—hard—then burst into tears. "Asshole," she muttered.

Legroeder sighed. "Doesn't anyone have a sense of humor around here?" He knew he was just making it worse, but couldn't help it. "Look—I'm sorry—you were awful in bed last night.
Terrible
. In fact, you weren't even there. Harriet, she wasn't—
ow!
" Morgan had just hit him twice as hard. Now she was covering her face, making hiccuping sounds.

He sighed again. "Morgan, I'm just trying to make you a little less funereal, okay?"

"No, it's not okay," she said, voice muffled by her hands.

"All right. But look—don't be so scared for me. Be happy that I have a chance I didn't have before." He moved awkwardly to put his arms around her. She grabbed him in a sudden, powerful bear hug. They embraced for a long time, before stepping apart. Morgan wiped at her eyes.

"Good-bye, Legroeder," said Harriet, putting her arms around both of them. "Take good care, dear—and come back safely, so I can collect my thirty percent, okay?"

Legroeder struggled to answer, as Morgan shook, hugging them both. "All right, you two," Morgan said hoarsely. "Can we please get moving, before I go to pieces again?"

Legroeder picked up his bag, and they walked off together, back to El'ken's chamber.

Chapter 12

Narseil Mission Center

Once more, Legroeder rode as a passenger, this time on a Narseil diplomatic transport three times the size of the corporate ship that had brought them to the asteroid. And this time, traveling through the Flux, he fairly twitched with frustration, wishing he could get up there on the Narseil bridge and see what rigging was like among these amphibious star travelers. Eventually he sent a message to the captain, asking for a visit to the bridge. He received a polite rebuff: forget it, while they were en route to the secret base.

He chafed at having nothing to do but sit and wonder what the hell he was doing, and what would become of his friends. Where was Maris by now? And what would happen to Harriet for helping him? Was her grandson Bobby alive?
Gah
. He was going to be cooped up way too long to spend all his time fretting.

Eventually, a crew member pointed him toward the ship's library, where he occupied himself delving into the Narseil files on
Impris
. At first he read grudgingly, to kill time. Soon, though, he became fascinated reading about the ship from the alien perspective. Inspector Fandrang was mentioned only fleetingly. Considerably more space was given over to the propaganda campaign that was launched against the Narseil, blaming their navy for the loss of
Impris
. Various searches of the Narseil's meticulously kept naval archives, over the years, had turned up no record of any engagement with such a ship—or any ship even remotely close to
Impris
's course. It was clear from the sheer volume written on the subject that
Impris
remained a sore point with the Narseil.

Legroeder browsed for writings by El'ken, and found quite a lot; he was a prolific and respected chronicler of Narseil history. There was nothing by him on the subject of
Impris
, though, except for a third-level footnote in one article—the Narseil loved footnotes—mentioning that
Impris
was to be a subject of future research. Legroeder closed the file, feeling unsettled at having recognized himself as a tool in the august historian's "future research."

As the days wore on, he found himself reflecting on how far one could travel in a dangerous and possibly quixotic search for truth. He also found himself reflecting on the irony of his own worlds' failure in space exploration—no vision, no courage, no willingness to sacrifice and take risks—and how strange it felt knowing that he was, in some sense, in accord with those he so utterly despised. What if he were given a chance to participate in deep-space exploration, but only in the company of pirates, or the likes of Centrist Strength?
Jesus
. Would he do it?

No...
no
... he wasn't that desperate to go. Not yet...

By day four, the feelings of isolation were starting to close in around him. He finally found some company in the crewman who had shown him the library, a young Narseil named Korken. Korken was interested in learning about humans. He had never been to a human world, but had studied the major Earth-standard language, Anglic, and talked when he could without the assistance of the implanted translator. "The closssest I ever got was the asssteroid where we gathered you," he said ruefully.