Summerhill (12 page)

“So let’s see what our limits are,” Katherine offered. “Apparently I can’t just conjure a spaceship out of thin air, but do you want to see if there’s a seashore beyond the next hill?”

The hostess had a gleam in her eyes that made Summerhill smile. “A seashore, huh?” he asked. “Just like that?”

“Race you for it.”

Summerhill twitched his whiskers. The hazy sun grew brighter. “Seriously?” he asked.

A broad grin appeared on Katherine’s face. “On three?”

“All right, fine,” Summerhill agreed. “Ready? One—”

But Katherine didn’t wait. The moment Summerhill started counting, she was off in a full sprint. One of her hands came up to catch her hat before it blew off in the wind.

Summerhill called after her, then broke into a run as well. He could hear her laughing, which made him smile even more in turn. She wasn’t as fast as him, but he wasn’t sure he’d overtake her before she made it to the top of the hill. He swung his arms and worked his legs as hard as he could, but she was too far ahead.

Sure enough, Katherine made it there first, coming to a dead stop at the very top, her arms falling to her side, hat still in hand. Summerhill slowed to a trot and came to a stop alongside her. “No fair,” he panted, tongue lolling out of his muzzle for a few more breaths. “You said on three.”

Katherine didn’t reply right away, though. A moment later, Summerhill realized why.

Stretching out far below was a winding coastline, presumably ripped right from Katherine’s imagination. A wide strip of white sand separated the dry green grass from the bright blue sea. Quite unlike the poorly detailed landscapes Summerhill and Katherine had come through, the ocean was a crisp and brilliant blue, the ripples of gentle waves visible even from far away. In the sky above danced the tiny forms of mewling seabirds, their cries echoing over the sounds of the tide crashing against the beach.

After several long moments of being caught up in the beauty of the view, Katherine brought her hand up to her forehead, shielding her eyes as she gazed out into the distance. Summerhill tried to follow her line of sight, squinting.

“Is that what I think it is?” she asked.

Summerhill tried to resolve the speck in the far distance. From so far away, it was little more than a featureless silhouette at the water line, but every so often, a bit of white would flutter into view before disappearing again. “Is that a ship?” he asked.

“I think it is.” Katherine was beaming again. “And if it is, then that means we’re not alone down here!”

This time, Summerhill didn’t wait for Katherine to get the jump on him. He hopped down from the crest of the rise and started to run downhill. It was a little steep, but with his tail he was able to keep balance well enough that he didn’t trip. Soon, thanks to gravity and momentum, he was racing down towards the beach at breakneck speed.

Katherine trailed close behind. The air echoed with her exultant laughter, and Summerhill joined in. Sometimes she would overtake him, and he would overtake her in turn, the two of them trading places, switching back and forth as they hurtled down the embankment in their ecstatic race for the seashore. Wind whipped through Summerhill’s fur, and sunlight glinted off of the waves into his eyes. At some point he clasped Katherine’s hand in his own, and then they ran together.

When they reached the beach, it felt like they’d arrived in
the first “real” place since falling into the nevereef. The white sand underfoot was fine and soft. Bits of driftwood and pieces of seashell jutted into view here and there. Clumps of reedy grass grew, and patches of dried kelp were strewn about far from the water’s edge. Tiny crabs skittered about, darting out from behind rocks or piles of sand before scurrying out of sight.

Katherine and Summerhill walked along the beach together. The slope they’d run down turned out to be part of a much larger and steeper escarpment that ran parallel to the shoreline. The heat was strong but pleasant, not at all oppressive, adding to the very welcome realism of the beach scenery.

“So, what are we looking for, Mr. Summerhill? Anything in particular?”

“Any sort of sign that we really aren’t alone, I suppose. I’m guessing you didn’t imagine that ship into being out there?”

Katherine shook her head. “I was just thinking about the seashore. Exactly like this. Reminds me of back home.”

Summerhill smiled, and felt a mix of comfort and anxiety at the thought. He’d find his way home someday, he resolved. Just as soon as he had a way of finding out where home was.

A few hundred yards farther down the beach, tucked into an alcove in the cliff face, Katherine spotted a small wooden dinghy. She and Summerhill gave it a thorough check, and the little wooden boat appeared to be of sturdy make, with no visible holes or leaks. There was some wear and tear, but nothing that suggested the craft wasn’t seaworthy. It even came complete with a pair of oars.

“We should try to make for the ship out there,” Katherine said. “No sense ignoring our one obvious lead.”

“It’s our only real landmark to shoot for,” Summerhill agreed. He shared some of the food in his satchel with her, then they went about getting the boat ready, dragging it along the soft sand toward the water. Soon enough, they’d both know if this was a dumb idea or not.

Their assessment of the dinghy’s structural integrity proved accurate enough. The waves weren’t as gentle as Summerhill had been expecting, but the boat held up, rocking up and down as the ocean steadily tossed them about.

Katherine took charge of the rowing. “You’re pretty good at that,” Summerhill noted after they were a ways out.

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things,” she replied with a chuckle. “Besides,” she added with a grunt as she rowed harder to overcome the current trying to push them back toward the shore, “it’s not exactly rocket science.”

Summerhill leaned back in the dinghy and draped one arm over the edge. His fingers dipped into the water, which was cold enough that he didn’t want to fall in. If Katherine knew how to row a boat, he was fine letting her be the one to do it. Perhaps he could conjure up some sort buoyant seaweed to act as a flotation device if things got worse.

After several minutes, the ship’s form was easier to make out. It was a large one, with a long prow and four tall masts, its sails currently furled. At this distance, there was still no sign of any activity on deck.

“Do you think they have cannons?” Summerhill asked. “Any likelihood of them hitting us at this distance?”

Katherine snorted. “If I were them, I’d be more curious to see who we were first before just blowing us out of the water.” She looked back over her shoulder at the waiting vessel, then turned back to Summerhill. “I hope they think like I do.”

The dinghy drew closer and closer to the ship. Summerhill continued to hope that the crew would be friendly and helpful, even as the ship itself grew more imposing. There were definitely cannons, too.

The ship appeared to lurch and loom higher above them, and it wasn’t until too late that Summerhill realized the ship actually had risen up. An enormous wave, much larger than anything before it, came rolling towards the small dinghy at terrifying speed.

“Oh, bugger. Grab onto something, Mr. Summerhill,” Katherine said as she worked the oars frantically, but the dog was already clutching the sides of the small boat as hard as he could. The wave cast its shadow over the dinghy, and then the sea rose from underneath.

Summerhill lost his grip on the sides of the boat and fell into Katherine as they shot upward. With what little concentration he could muster, he tried to impose his will upon the huge wave, to shrink it with the force of his mind, but fear overcame his imagination.

The dinghy crested the wave, momentum carrying it airborne, and rather than gently sliding down the other side, it dropped through the air several feet, hitting the water below with a crash. The oars were ripped free of Katherine’s hands, and then the wind took her hat.

Water filled the bottom of the dinghy now. Summerhill tried to use his own hat to bail the water out, but the ear-holes made his attempts futile. He felt the next wave coming before he saw it.

The dinghy pitched upward faster and higher than before. Katherine shouted something, but her words were lost under the roar of the sea. Looking back over his shoulder, Summerhill was almost able to read the name of the sailing vessel on the prow, but then the dinghy dropped again and was pulled underwater.

As freezing cold overtook his body, and as Katherine was pulled away from him by the undertow, all Summerhill could think about was whether or not he’d ever see his antique pocket watch again.

Eleven

Tautologies

The roar of the ocean echoed in Summerhill’s ears one last time before fading away. There was no sign of the dinghy, no huge waves casting shadows, no seawater and no cold and no desperate need for air. The dog found his feet on solid ground, his heart pounding, his stomach still queasy.

With his eyes still screwed shut, he heard the low, constant drumming of machinery. In the air hung the scents of oils and coolants and strange gases. The sturdy floor beneath his feet pulsed and shook in time with the sounds that ran up through his bones.

Summerhill opened his eyes slowly, daring a look at his new surroundings. He was in a drab industrial complex of some sort. Tubes and pipes ran along the ceiling, and assorted valves and seals jutted out from the walls. Next to him was Katherine, her features looking as they did when he’d first met her, khaki bush gear replaced by her hostess’ uniform. A brief look of panic crossed her face, then she brought her hand to her chest and breathed a sigh of relief as her fingers found the outline of the small pendant beneath her blouse.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” Summerhill asked aloud. “That wave didn’t drown me, I hope.”

Katherine pinched herself and winced. “If you’re dreaming, then you’re dreaming of a part of the
Nusquam
that you never saw.”

“The
Nusquam
?” Summerhill took another look around, but nothing about this place appeared familiar. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll be damned if I know how we got here,” Katherine said. “But this is one of the service passageways that leads back to the engineering section and the reality jump drive. Which means that if we go that way—” She pointed down the narrow hallway to her right. “—we’ll come back out somewhere down in the lower decks.”

Summerhill hopped up onto his toes and clasped his hands together. “That’s great!” he chirped. “That means we can sail on to some other world, right?”

Katherine shook her head as she began making her way down the corridor. “I don’t know if it’s that great. We have no idea whether the agents the Consortium sent are still on board. This might be the worst possible place for us to be.”

“Okay, that’s not what I was hoping to hear,” Summerhill said. He stayed close to her as they both hunched down to make their way underneath a low-hanging bundle of exposed wiring. “What do we do, then?” he asked, cautiously sneaking looks behind them as they went.

“The plan,” Katherine said as she gripped a hatch with both hands and pulled it open, “is that I figure out ASAP whether the Security Chief will offer me asylum or extradite me. Hell, I don’t even know if the ship recognizes Consortium jurisdiction. Either way, it looks like my career as a cruise ship hostess is over.”

Summerhill scratched his head. “Wait, there’s a question,” he said, holding the hatchway open after Katherine stepped through. “You were on the run from the Consortium before all this started, right? So how did you end up working on the
Nusquam
in the first place if you were a fugitive back then, too?”

“You know, I almost didn’t think you were going to piece that together.” Katherine shot him a proud grin and tapped him on the nose. “It’s a little trick I call ‘act like you’re supposed to be there and nobody will call you out on it.’”

The dog’s eyes widened. “Wait. Meaning that you were—”

“A stowaway, yes,” Katherine finished for him. “At least initially. After I sold off the modu—the, ah, object I stole, I brokered passage to a drydock in the Orion Nebula, snuck aboard the ship, then just acted like I worked here.”

“And that actually worked? Nobody caught on?”