Eternity's End (56 page)

"So," said Cantha, "we can look for
Impris
up here—" he rotated the image and highlighted their present destination "—under the nose of KM/C, where we won't be able to reach her anyway. Or we can try to
enter
that fold down here—" he rotated it again, highlighting the Sargasso region "—where the pathways converge and there may be openings that will let us reach her
from within the fold
. Where, I might add, Kilo-Mike/Carlotta will see much less of what we're doing."

"Carlotta will love that when she finds out," whispered a Kyber rigger.

He was silenced by a look from Glenswarg. The captain's eyebrows looked like two caterpillars trying to merge. He scowled into the display. "It's an interesting idea. But it'll be dangerous as hell, won't it?"

Cantha shrugged. "The Kyber are known for their courage, yes?"

Glenswarg's scowl darkened even further. "These paths in the folds—are they fast moving?"

Cantha cleared his throat with a rumble. "If they are Deep Flux, they may be
very
fast. Or short. So if you're asking, could we hope to make our way to her quickly once we're in the fold—"

"Not just that," said Glenswarg. "Are we going to be able to find our way out again?"

The Narseil hesitated.

"
Impris
couldn't find
her
way out. What makes you think we're different?"

The blood pounding in Legroeder's ears competed with Palagren's answer. "
Impris
probably didn't know
why
she was trapped. We will. We're going to have to
look
for a way in. Which means we'll be noting exactly where and how we enter. That'll make us better equipped to find our way out again." Palagren turned to Legroeder, then the captain. "With your permission, we would perform some retuning of the rigger-net—to take maximum advantage of our versatility. Human, Kyber, Narseil. All together. That's another advantage we have that
Impris
didn't."

Glenswarg rubbed his chin. "And assuming we make it out of this fold of yours, what about getting out of the Sargasso itself—once we're back in the normal Flux?"

"The Sargasso has extremely slow and tricky movement," said Palagren. "Not
no
movement. If we plan ahead and map with care, we should be able to manage. I won't deceive you, though. There's a degree of risk."

"
High
risk, if you ask me," said Navigator Derrek, leaning into the holo and craning his neck as though trying to extract more information from it.

Glenswarg turned to stare at Legroeder, who was responsible for the rigging decisions. Legroeder took a deep breath. "It has to be the Sargasso?" he asked the Narseil.

First Cantha, then Palagren nodded. "It's the only place we see an opening," Cantha said, unfolding his fingers in a humanlike palm-up gesture. "If we want to find
Impris
, that's where we have to go.

Legroeder closed his eyes, asking the implants if they had any wisdom. They didn't. He gazed at Glenswarg and sighed. "I'm afraid I must recommend, Captain, that we take this ship to the Sargasso."

Glenswarg's gaze bored into him, as though waiting to see if he would change his mind. When Legroeder held his gaze, the captain grunted and turned to his exec. "Prepare a message to the escort ships. And tell the bridge crew, we're changing course."

Chapter 28

Ghost Hunting

It was hard to be sure precisely when they entered the Sargasso, but soon enough the signs became unmistakable. The net softened around them like sails gone limp, as the currents of space slowed to a crawl. Legroeder gazed out at a tenuous skyscape of ocher clouds, and felt the image changing of its own accord to a vision of water. The mists flattened to become the foggy surface of a still sea, with a half-shrouded sun burning overhead.

Nothing moved. Even the water lapping at the side of the ship sounded like something caught in a time warp, the chuckling slap of listless waves drawn out into a croaking sound, like the monotonous drone of some primordial, throaty-voiced creature.

The riggers scanned in all directions. Legroeder half expected to see the cluttered flotsam of drifting ships; instead, what he saw was a profound and oppressive emptiness. It seemed to permeate not just the outward scene, but the mood inside the net, as well. All four riggers were silent, as though a single word might destroy the fragile magic that held it all together.

The Narseil had spent hours working with the Kyber crew, carefully retuning the flux reactor, adjusting the sensitivity of the net in painstaking increments. Palagren and Cantha were trying to make the net more responsive to emotional fluctuations among the riggers. That was easy; what was hard was to do it without losing the usual buffers against mood shifts. The other riggers, especially the Kyber who flew the alternate shifts, felt uneasy about the changes—and even Ker'sell seemed uncertain—but Legroeder and the captain had allowed Palagren and Cantha to try. They were convinced that, by heightening their sensitivity to fainter stirrings of the Flux, they could improve their maneuverability in the Sargasso. And Legroeder was very much in favor of being able to maneuver out of the Sargasso.

Right now, he couldn't see much except the stillness. He found himself thinking of Com'peer, the Narseil surgeon, quoting from the book of Psalms. How had one of them gone?
He leads me beside the still waters
... Yes, Legroeder thought. Still waters, indeed.

An unfamiliar inner voice offered a comment:

// The quote refers to "safe" waters, actually. Are these waters safe?//

(I doubt that,)
Legroeder muttered.
(Who are you? Do I know you?)

// I am an analytical subroutine. My exegetical database includes many of the known galaxy's religions.//

(Oh. Well, what do you analyze about this place?)

// Difficult to know... //
said the implant.

(Yah.)

// But I am working on it.//

As are we all, Legroeder thought. But perhaps the implant was right about one thing: it would be very helpful to keep in mind an image of these waters as safe—particularly since the net was far more sensitive now to fear or anxiety. But they were also looking for evidence of any opening in the underflux, any opening through which a ship might pass into a hidden fold—a ship such as
Impris
. Or
Phoenix
. Legroeder wondered where their escort ships were by now. They had been unable to make contact; and though
Phoenix
had transmitted their intentions, they had no way of knowing if the escort had received the message.

Legroeder watched his crew watching the Flux. While commanding the rigger crew, Legroeder occupied his customary stern position, with Palagren at the bow and Ker'sell at top gun. Deutsch, at the keel, seemed intent on something.
Freem'n. What are you picking up?

Deutsch didn't answer at once. He seemed to be processing through his augments. Finally:
Nothing that I can describe clearly. For a moment, I thought I'd sensed some ghost traces... I don't know of what. Like shadows. Maybe echoes from the underflux. Not clear
. Deutsch fell back into silence, but he seemed more emotionally connected to the imagery than usual.

Legroeder, for his part, felt a strange, listless foreboding, as if he were floating under a tropical sun, awaiting the arrival of some vaguely defined enemy. So far, though, he'd seen nothing; he found it hard even to focus on the features of the Flux. The ship was drifting sideways, very slowly. The only visible features on the sea were the fog banks, and if you watched them carefully you could see that they too were shifting with dreamy slowness, as if stirred by convection currents rising from the still surface of the water.

Turning to watch Palagren and Ker'sell, he noted their unstirring poses. He did not interrupt them; they were stretching out through the tessa'chron, probing as far into the future as their senses would allow, seeking any whorls or eddies in the flow of time, anything that might suggest the presence of a change or a flaw in the local fabric of spacetime. So far, they'd seen nothing suggestive of the entry point they were looking for. The net sang like a charged high-tension wire as Palagren came to and peered back at Legroeder.

I'd like to retune further,
Palagren said.
I think we need more sensitivity
.

Legroeder frowned. The net was already a roomful of suppressed emotions waiting to erupt. With increased output from the flux reactor, they would shift even further into an experimental operating regime. He wasn't sure how much more he wanted to experiment.
Cantha? Agamem?
he called to the bridge.
Are you picking up anything useful?

From the bridge, the two Narseil replied in the negative.
No movement visible,
Cantha said.
Not much energy gradient of any kind
.

If they wanted to be able to maneuver, they had to do better. Legroeder glanced at the ethereal vision of Palagren, waiting at the front of the net for an answer, then called to Deutsch.
Freem'n, will it interrupt your AI scans if we increase the sensitivity further?

I don't think so
.

Was that a trace of nervousness in Deutsch's voice? Well, they were all nervous.
All right, Palagren, let's go ahead
.

Commencing now,
replied the Narseil.

Legroeder felt a momentary tingle, followed by a heightened awareness of... what? His heartbeat, pulsing in his ears? Light and shadow, boredom and fear?

It seemed to fluctuate through a variety of responses, as Palagren made cautious adjustments—backing off here, enhancing there. Legroeder's implants flickered, joining in a circle with the others', as Palagren gauged the new settings. Legroeder became aware of a smell of the sea that he hadn't noticed before, of brine and seaweed.
Everyone okay with this?
he asked softly.

As the others agreed, he disengaged his augments from the circle. The others could use their augments for flying, but he was going to stick with his human senses.
Begin cycling the images
.

The plan was to try a variety of image types, in hopes of revealing patterns or movement beneath the surface. If the patterns were there, they might well manifest as different images for different individuals.

The first was an undersea vision: a clear and still place, with sunlight slanting down through the water as far as the eye could see. Far off, Legroeder saw floating tufts of seaweed and detritus—perhaps areas of altered density, or mass concentrations in nearby normal-space.

Legroeder was surprised to feel a profound sadness welling up in him for no apparent reason, a feeling of indescribable loss. His thoughts flickered to Tracy-Ace, and he felt himself on the verge of tears. Would he ever see her again? Had she deceived him to get him on this mission? Was he on a fool's errand? No... he remembered the intimacy of their joining, and refused to believe that it was false.

He drew a sharp breath, startled by the power of the emotion.
Good Lord
. Glancing around, he realized that everyone in the net seemed preoccupied. Palagren appeared wistful and distracted; Deutsch was concentrating fiercely on the Flux beneath him. Only Ker'sell showed any awareness of Legroeder, and he was staring down at the human with apparent suspicion. Legroeder looked away, hoping he had not let actual images of Tracy-Ace into the net.

Focus outward, he thought. We're here to fly, not gaze at our navels.

The silence was interrupted by:
This is Cantha. Nothing visible on instruments out here
.

Nothing here,
Deutsch said.

Nothing,
said Legroeder.

Ker'sell didn't answer.

Palagren changed the image again.

The crystal clarity of the seascape closed in, and
Phoenix
was transformed to an aircraft flying straight and level through solid cloud; the forward motion, of course, was purely an illusion. Legroeder felt his feelings changing with the image. At first he was oppressed by the clouds, but that gave way to a sense of freedom and exhilaration. Not everyone in the net shared the feeling, however. Palagren was focused deeply, as though pondering a mystery. Deutsch's mood was inscrutable. Ker'sell was snapping his gaze around with angry energy.

Before Legroeder could learn what was bothering Ker'sell, the Narseil changed the image—as though he could not bear the clouds any longer. Dark forms loomed in the fog, then faded back, like dream-shapes. What were
those
—something they needed to see? Too late: the fog dissipated and the surroundings changed to night. Now they were floating in a glass bubble over a dark, featureless plain.

Featureless plain like the featureless sea.

But was it? Legroeder sensed that something was building beneath the surface. The plain below was not altogether still and motionless; it was smoldering with sulfurous fire. Once he realized that, the fire seemed to spread. In just a few heartbeats, the plain was sprinkled with burning pools of sulfur, reddish orange, like a collection of portals into Hell. Legroeder's pulse quickened.
What do you all see down there?
he whispered.

Looks pretty featureless to me,
said Deutsch.

Also to me,
murmured Palagren.

Was he the only one who saw the fire? Legroeder glanced up at Ker'sell, and knew the answer. The Narseil was staring down from the top gun position, not at the landscape, but at Legroeder. Those weren't portals down there; that was Ker'sell's anger. Flickers of fire, of suspicion and rage.

Legroeder spoke softly to Ker'sell.
What is it? What's bothering you?

What's to tell? Ker'sell's eyes seemed to say. The Narseil was eaten up by distrust of Legroeder, but he wasn't going to speak it aloud.

If you think I betrayed you, I did not
. Legroeder was surprised by his own calm, in contrast to the smoldering sulfur.
I see your anger down there. That's you, not the Flux, isn't it?