Rift in the Races (45 page)

“Brilliant,” cooed the R-class sitting next to him as similar sentiments were echoed by the rest.

“No, no,” said the conduit as he wriggled out of the chair and took a bow. “It really was a group effort.” Which it was, but the tone of his voice did not convince Roberto or Ensign Nguyen that he meant a single, self-deprecating word. “Envette, my dear, you are exquisite. And the rest of you, well, that was just perfect. I can’t believe I finally got one off that far. I have astonished even myself. I believe I may actually be the genius everyone says I am.” Of course it came around to that. He was a conduit after all. He stood like a maestro at the end of a masterful performance and let them gawk at him, or at least he was sure that’s what they all did. Ultimately, however, and regardless of who took credit, the distance of that last spell was truly an accomplishment for all of them. A significant one, and none of them cared all that much that he would receive all the accolades when they got home. Such was the nature of being a concert mage.

Finally, when Conduit Huzzledorf was done congratulating himself, which took a few minutes more, he turned to Roberto. “Captain, how far did it go?”

“How far did what go?” Roberto immediately regretted the reflex that made him say such a thing. His thoughts caught up to it a moment after, so he added, “You mean the diamond?”

“Of course the diamond. I was not serious when I suggested you read something while the rest of us were at work.”

Roberto looked to his copilot, who shrugged back.

“I have no clue,” he answered honestly.

“Can’t you … detect it with your machine? Measure it in your cosmic scale, some numbers and decimal points, that sort of thing? Isn’t that what you were brought here for?”

“I doubt I can find it,” he said, ignoring the condescension that came his way. “But I’ll look.” He turned and tapped out a sensor sweep of the space around them.

“Nothing, sir. I can’t pick up something that small from any significant distance. At least not without spending an awful lot of time on it. Probably not even then, not without knowing where to look.”

“All right, then shall we give it a real test?” He turned to his circle of sorcerers, his expression expectant, just short of command. “Anyone tired yet?”

No one spoke.

“You, Captain?”

“As long as you guys know what you’re doing, I’m up for anything. I just had a nutrition bar anyway, so I feel good.” He looked to the young ensign next to him. “You good?”

“I’m good,” said the ensign, “but does anyone else want something to eat?”

Roberto pulled out a container filled with orderly rows of nutrition bars and presented them to the Prosperions. “Take as many as you want. The peanut butter ones don’t taste too much like crap. I’d stay away from the salmon salad, though. You’re better off eating a tube of radiation caulk.”

Conduit Huzzledorf looked as if Roberto had just kicked him, but the magicians all began nodding in unison. None of them had expected the trip to be this long. They each took a nutrition bar, all but the conduit of course, who threw himself into his chair and looked as irritated as a wet cat. A few of them struggled with the alien wrappings, but after a brief respite all were ready again.

“Envette,” barked the conduit. “Where are you?”

She grinned, youth sparkling in her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Kindlemet, Mason, Pingers?”

All fine. The conduit nodded, convinced that he could do it with any of the three of them, maybe even two. Half the mages were convinced they could do it by themselves. All were more than ready to try. “Then let’s see what we have done.” They wasted no time getting the spell under way, the conduit again taking the feed from Envette, who once more sat chanting quietly, her eyes closed and partly concealed by her long copper-colored bangs.

Roberto looked over at Ensign Nguyen and grinned. “Well, if it all goes to shit, it was nice working with you.”

The ensign didn’t laugh.

Everything went dark. They expected that. The red glow of the emergency lights came on as before. No one worried that the systems didn’t come back right away either. They knew they’d gone much farther this time. The interval of systems flux had been slightly greater between their internal solar systems jumps than it had been for the starships using Combat Hop. So nobody worried. At first.

Several minutes went by, or at least the sense of them. Roberto had no way to tell. The console was blank. Then several more went by.

People began to shift in their seats, exchange nervous glances. Ensign Nguyen tapped on his console, calmly at first but with increasing rapidity as seconds passed.

“Well?” asked Conduit Huzzledorf after a suitable wait. “What’s wrong with this old sallet? Dent too big to put it back on?” He reached up and rapped on the ceiling as if pounding out a dent made from a mighty external blow. “Let’s go, Captain.”

Roberto got up and went into the back of the ship, crawling through an access panel in the bulkhead and into the engine compartment beyond. It was nearly dark, despite the battery-powered backup lights.

“Oh, shit,” came back through the opening a few moments later.

“‘Oh shit,’ what, Captain? Speak up, boy. This is not the time for cryptic alien profanity.” His lips wriggled wormlike in the soft garden of his face as several long moments passed. Roberto could be heard shuffling around in the darkness beyond the bulkhead, but no explanation came, prompting the conduit to say, “All right, perhaps profanity is in order, but the cryptic variety is of no use. What is the problem?”

Roberto’s head appeared through the narrow opening. “It’s out.”

“What’s out?”

“The reactor. It’s out. Like,
poof
, somebody threw water on the fire. Never seen anything like it. Didn’t even know it could happen.”

“Can you relight it?”

“No, we can’t relight it. We didn’t bring anything for that. And without it, we can’t restart any of the other systems. Battery is only good for gravity, core computer systems and backup lights. And as you can see, we’ve only got two of three for that.”

“Ahhh,” breathed the conduit, sounding only marginally annoyed. “For a moment I thought it was serious. No problem then. It’s not as if we were using much of those ‘systems’ anyway. You two can just do the thinking for the ship in the absence of your machinery. I trust you are capable. You did fine stopping the movement earlier today. I’m sure we’ll manage. These lights are adequate.” He waved his hand dismissively in the air.

“Well,” said Roberto, climbing back out into the main passenger cabin. “I’m afraid it’s not quite that simple.”

“Of course it is. It will simply require a bit more effort on your part. Let’s be honest, the two of you have hardly broken a sweat thus far. I was being kind when I mentioned the motion thing.”

“Sir,” said Roberto, looking the conduit straight in the face. “You want to talk about sweat? There is a box full of nuclear fuel back there that, while it ain’t working right, is also no longer being properly cooled. In less than an hour it’s going to start to overheat, the core will eject itself and our bacon will just be sitting here in the frying pan.” He glanced out the window to see how far off Prosperion’s sun appeared to be—still by far the brightest light in the sky. “If the explosion doesn’t kill us, it will be a toss-up to see whether we toast in the heat of that sun over there—don’t let the size fool you—or from the ejected core. On a positive note, we might just suffocate first, given how many breathers we got in here, so radiation may not really be that big a concern. My money is on the explosion, but I’m taking all bets.”

“Surely it can’t be as bad as all that?”

“Every breath you take is ticking off the time we have left. So, unless your magicians feel comfortable doing their thing in one of those suits and singing through a visor, it’s time to go.”

The conduit started to reply, but Roberto got up from his chair and got very near him, only a few inches between. “Conduit. This is
my
ship, remember? And I said it’s time to go.”

“Oh, Captain, don’t you think you are being a bit dramatic? You spent all of twenty heartbeats trying to get us going back there. Perhaps if you went and had another look.” He turned to his circle of mages, intent on saying something cavalier along the lines of, “These Earth people are so easily put to flight,” but he stopped because Envette was already casting the spell.

Chapter 30

O
rli awoke to the greatest breakfast she had ever experienced. It was not simply the greatest because it was the most exquisite example of culinary mastery she had ever encountered, nor was it a matter of it being one of the very few meals she’d ever had that was made completely from scratch and entirely from ingredients grown within less than ten miles—make that ten measures—from the kitchen in which it was prepared. No, despite all that, it was the greatest meal because it was the first she’d ever helped prepare.

Orli had never cooked before. Not once in her life. Not even as a child had she helped in the kitchen. Nobody close to her in her life had ever cooked. But here, in this place, on this wonderful world, people cooked. They rolled up their sleeves and rolled out their own dough. They chopped and diced and wallowed in the feel of the ingredients, smearing this, squeezing that, and doing simply everything by flour-dusted, oil-soaked, juice-stickied hands. It was glorious, and Orli laughed more and longer than she could ever remember as she worked alongside Kettle, Nipper and little Pernie.

“No, child,” scolded Kettle without the slightest dash of anger or impatience in her words—and not talking to Pernie—“toss a bit more flour on it an’ a won’t stick ta the pin like that.”

It was Orli’s third attempt. Frustration only sprinkled itself like a pleasant spice across the meal of her merriment as she balled the dough back up and tried again.

“Na’ too much or ya dry it out, now.”

“Want me to show ya how, Miss Orli?” offered Pernie. “I can do it fast as Kettle can.” She glanced up at the stout woman whose cheeks were flushed a bit redder than usual with the heat of an extra body in the kitchen this day and the joy that particular extra presence had brought. Kettle didn’t look like she was going to call the girl on the exaggeration, but Pernie amended just in case. “Almost as fast.”

“I think I can do it,” Orli said, smiling down at the child. “Besides I have to learn.”

“That’s true,” explained Pernie. “Practice makes perfect. That’s what everyone always says. Master Altin, Kettle, Nipper, Gimmel, even Master Tytamon sometimes. They all say it, every one. Sometimes I think it’s the only thing they know how to say, they say it so much, don’t ya think, Miss Orli?”

If happiness were measured in pounds-per-square inch, Orli would have blown up right there in the kitchen where she stood.
How can anyone be so sweet?
she thought as she regarded the open expression on the child’s face. She took the time to lean down, hands on her knees, and reply quite seriously. “Yes, I imagine from your perspective that’s exactly how it seems. That grouchy old Captain Asad on my ship is always saying things like that to me too.”

Pernie nodded, happy that someone finally shared her opinion on such things.

Eventually, Orli got the crust flat enough, yet thick enough, but not too wet, and not too dry, and uniformly shaped to fill the pie pan Kettle had set out.

“There’s a girl,” praised Kettle, “a fine bit a’ work there.” Orli flushed with pride as if she were Pernie’s age again. “Now spread it in that there tin, and make sure ta push it up all inta the edges, just so.” She made a gesture with her thumbs to illustrate the technique. “Don’t ya go an’ mash it now, neither. An’ don’t poke no holes. Gentle like.”

Orli just couldn’t stop grinning. How could anyone be so happy one day when so completely miserable just the day before?

“Nipper, can I get them bellies already. Fer Mercy’s sake, do I ha’ta do it all mah’self?”

“They’s a comin’, ya puffy old hen,” Nipper called from his place at the end of the kitchen where he was bent over a pork belly cutting bacon in long, fat strips near the fire.

“I’ll help,” Pernie offered cheerfully.

“No ya won’t, demon-child,” Nipper snapped, though there was love in his eyes. “Kettle needs strips, not sausage ground, an’ I ha’na got all day.”

Pernie looked put out, but the emotions lingered on her pouting lips only long enough for her to realize someone was going to have to spoon the berries into Orli’s pie. Any that might accidently spill onto the table were fair game; that was Kettle’s rule. The somber and optimistically long preamble of the request she delivered to Orli following this realization made Orli laugh for such a long time that Pernie nearly gave up waiting for the answer. Of course, when she could, the Earth woman finally, and happily, deferred all berry-scooping duties to the girl, including the rights to any and all berries that went AWOL.

It was into this joyous occasion that Tytamon finally arrived. The lines in his face were less deep this morning than yesterday, and he’d taken the time to tidy up his beard and find a clean and newly pressed set of robes.

Pernie blew away at his arrival like a trained breeze, testament to her nascent maturity, and the lot of the kitchen staff evaporated nearly as fast. It must have been something in his expression that she missed because Orli straight away found herself and Calico Castle’s master alone.