Sunborn (10 page)

    Julie nodded and poked the privacy-curtain open to look for the waiter. The bartender was just walking by with a small tray, and she received her beer from him gratefully. She lifted the mug and took a long swallow of the amber brew. “All right, that’s settled. What else is new?”

    Georgia slowly raised one eyebrow. “Well, this isn’t exactly a change of subject. I might have some news you haven’t heard yet. Promise you won’t hit the ceiling.”

    Julie implored with her open hands. “What?”

    Georgia adjusted the privacy-curtain to close a small gap, and leaned close over the table. “I was taking a look at the in-system comm traffic and I read some things maybe I strictly shouldn’t have.”

    “Shame on you.”

    “I read a few things addressed to Herr Envoy Lamarr.”

    “Maybe not so shameful. What did they say?”

    Georgia gazed at her for a long moment. “Well, if you had any hopes that they might let the translator sit undisturbed...I’d forget them.”

    Julie felt a chill take over her body. “What are they planning?” she asked, her voice thick.

    Georgia cleared her throat. “There’s a shuttle arriving in twenty-nine days from the InterExploratory Coalition. Said shuttle has orders to pack the translator up and take it to Earth under the watchful eye of the Coalition. Now, you know how well MINEXFO and the IE Coalition get along—so you can bet that MINEXFO
really
 doesn’t want the Coalition meddling with the translator, much less trying to take custody of it. As you said, they consider it theirs.”

    Julie eyed her mug, but didn’t drink. “And?”

    “The MINEXFO ship that’s here now has a launch departure window for Earth that opens in three days. I think they’re planning to take the translator and run. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, and if they can be on their way back to Earth before the other shuttle arrives, there’s no way to catch them.”

   
Assuming the translator is willing to let them move it.
 “There’ll be one hell of a legal battle back on Earth,” Julie said, taking a gulp and coughing as the carbonation went the wrong way.

    “Sure. But they’ll have the whole trip back to make studies...”

   
And maybe establish a relationship with it?

   
“And they’ll definitely need help from you, Julie.” Georgia was peering over the top of her wineglass at her.

    Julie didn’t know how to react; it was too much to absorb all at once. She wanted to yell, argue, dig in her heels and fight—for something. But all she could do was stare across the table at her friend.

    “
Breathe,
 Julie.”

    She drew in a ragged breath.

    “You were about to turn blue there,” Georgia said, touching her wrist. “So what do you think? What will the translator do if they try to dig it up?”

    “The last time they tried, it cost them twenty million dollars in ruined equipment.” Julie felt a sudden tingle in her wrists, and closed her eyes. It wasn’t often that the stones rang to let her know they had something to say. /Yes?/

   
*The translator will accept an offer to travel to Earth.*

   
Julie coughed again. /
Now?
You mean,
now
 it’ll go along? On the MINEXFO ship?/

   
*Yes. You may inform your colleagues.*

   
“Julie? You still with me?”

    “What? Yes! Yes, I’m here.” Julie tried to force a smile, but it came out crooked with puzzlement. “It’s just that—” She shook her head and started laughing out loud. “The translator—the mokin’ translator
wants
 them to take it to Earth!”

    Georgia could only gaze at her in amazement.

Chapter 7

Almost Like Home

    The halo spoke sonorously as it led them through the ship. They peered into sleeping quarters and a common room for meals, then various work compartments. The vessel seemed cavernous, or at least endless, and the passageways all looked bewilderingly identical. The ship’s facilities included what appeared to be laboratories full of incomprehensible gear, a docking bay carrying a small scout craft, and several compartments that on first glance appeared to be empty—then, when Bandicut glanced back, were humming with strange machinery.
    Copernicus and Napoleon roved around taking readings. Upon crossing paths with the company, Copernicus noted aloud what Bandicut felt—that there was far more space inside the ship than they could account for, from the external dimensions. Delilah confirmed that it was not their imagination. The spacecraft did not just travel
through
n-space; it
was
an n-space projection. Its hull was not matter at all, but an orchestration of n-space force-fields.

    “You mean,” Bandicut asked, “the only thing between us and a hard vacuum is some clever manipulation of
dimensions?
 Nothing solid?”

    Delilah warbled softly. (N-space has many aspects. The outer hull is created from the boundary conditions between different layers of n-space: what you might call a force-field. Inside, we have expanded the compartments into hyperdimensional volumes to enlarge the usable space.)

    “Enlarged by how much?” Ik asked.

    (There is no defined limit. It stretches or contracts as we wish. It greatly increases the versatility of the craft.)

    “I’m sure it does,” Bandicut said.

   
Bong.
 “Could you maybe change the colors of some of the walls—so we can find our way around?”

    The halo swayed gently in the air. (That is one of the refinements the shadow-people had planned. We will see.) The halo trilled briefly. (Jeaves wonders if you would like to try the dining quarters.)

    “Indeed,” Ik said.

    (Then please follow me...) And as the halo passed back the way they had come, the walls turned a deep forest-green.

*

   
The dining room was a cozy place, with padded booth seats at right angles to each other. The room was just large enough for the four of them and the robots, though it felt larger after a wraparound window appeared, providing a panoramic view of their destination. The view of the nebula had been enhanced and brightened so that it glowed prettily in the distance—prettily and dangerously. There had been no further quaking. Perhaps whatever layer of n-space they were traveling in was isolated from the gravitational disturbances.

    They spent a couple of hours nibbling biscuits and fruit, and periodically trying to converse with Jeaves, who still couldn’t get his voice to work properly. After a while, Delilah reappeared and asked if they’d like to be shown to their sleeping quarters. Bandicut and Antares looked at each other, and Antares caught Bandicut’s hand and rose.

    They followed the halo to their room, which turned out to be a spacious, dome-shaped compartment. Bandicut laughed when he saw his backpack on the floor. He had forgotten all about it. The halo floated across the room, showing them where, by touching the wall, they could open a passage to the shower and lav, and where another touch caused a part of the floor to rise, turning it into a bed. Then it left, saying they would be summoned when needed.

    Bandicut sank onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. Antares leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her, and they sat like that for a time, without speaking. After a while they stretched out on the bed, loosely in each other’s arms. “John Bandicut,” Antares murmured at last, pressing her forehead to his neck, “I am frightened, a little.”

    “Just a little?”

    “More than a little.”

    He took a deep breath. “Me, too.”

    “But I am glad to be here with you, instead of alone.”

    He drew back so he could see her face. “Me, too.”

    Antares stared up into space. Her forehead, framed by thick auburn hair, was drawn in thought. Her eyes shone, thin gold irises floating over ebony pupils. Her mouth crinkled in response to his smile. Her gaze shifted to meet his, and the furrows faded from her brow. “John Bandicut—do you remember, back on the world of the Neri, when we were—”
rasp
 “—intimate?”

   
He chuckled. “Did you think I was likely to forget?”

    She hiccupped a laugh. “No, not really. But I wondered...how are you feeling about it now?” She tapped his chest with her forefinger. “I don’t know what sticks in your human mind and what doesn’t.”

    “Well, that does. Vividly. It’s a very happy memory.”

    Antares made a soft humming noise, and he realized that she was exploring his feelings empathically. There was a time when he’d found that unnerving. Now, he found it reassuring. “How do
you
 feel about it?” he asked. “Are you still glad?”

    “Uhll, yes,” she said. “But...it’s difficult for me, even so. Because, what I did with you—what I’m doing with you
now,
 even—is forbidden for a Thespi Third. I—”

    “Yes, I know—but Antares, you’ll probably never be among the Thespi again!”

    “Aiiee—” she raised an open hand toward the ceiling “—how can we know?”

    “I don’t think
any
 of us is ever going home again. So what does it matter what your ruling class thinks?” She stiffened as he said that, and he wondered if he had pushed too far. She was uncomfortable with these thoughts, even if they were true.

   
/// So are you, aren’t you?

   
You should tell her. ///

   
He sighed. “Antares? I’m sorry. We all miss our homes. And we can’t just snap our fingers and forget about them. I’m sorry I said that.”

    Antares’s hand tightened on his; she gazed into his eyes, then touched his left cheekbone, then his right cheekbone, with the three fingertips of her other hand. Her touch was soothing, so much so that he found himself not just relaxing, but actually growing drowsy. He tried, unsuccessfully, to force his thoughts awake.

    “Perhaps,” she said, “one day we will...”

    He never heard the rest, as sleep stole over him.

*

   
Bandicut was dreaming of a small boy standing in a wheat field. A rising wind rippled his hair. The sky was unsettled, a darkness in the west—a deep turbulence, and maybe trouble brewing. (Had he once stood in such a field as a boy? His grandfather had been a farmer, on the plains of the American Midwest. He wondered as he watched the dream unfold if this was a memory, as well as a dream.)

    Still, if there was trouble in the distance, overhead the sun was dancing among the clouds. Out ahead somewhere, his dog was running through the field. Was that rustling of the wheat tops Blackie charging through the field?

    Or was it something else, darker than a black dog?

*

   
Antares sighed as John Bandicut slept. It wasn’t quite the result she’d been aiming for. But John was bone-tired, and sleep was what he needed. She gazed at him, surprised by the depth of her affection. Finally she closed her eyes and went to sleep herself.

    At some point she woke with a start, with images of the floor shaking under her. She felt nothing now. Groggily she raised her head and peered across the room. A distorted ring of greenish light was glimmering on the far wall. She thought she heard a whisper like a breeze:
“Com-m-inggg...are you com-inggg? Cannot-t-t fin-n-nd...”
 She blinked in the semidarkness; there was nothing, no light, no whisper. She let her head fall back on the pillow. Had she seen that or dreamed it? She imagined she had felt the presence of the creature called Ed; but it had been so fleeting, she wasn’t sure. Had something shaken the ship? She stretched a hand out and touched the floor. It was cold, still.

   
Turning, she studied the dark form of John Bandicut, asleep beside her. He was stirring, dreaming. Had he felt it, too? She touched his shoulder, and through it his feelings. He was dreaming, reliving something, she realized, and she found that unaccountably reassuring. Comforted by his presence, she thought of the intimacy they had shared once, under the Neri sea. She felt a growing urge to repeat it. She also felt a reluctance. She craved closeness to him; she was torn by shame for her forbidden actions. Those on her homeworld would never know, but that seemed irrelevant.
She
 knew.

    Sighing, she rolled onto her back and soon fell back asleep. As she slept, she dreamed of walking over shifting sands, the waters of the sea rising over her feet.

*

   
Bandicut sat up, trying to recover a dream that was already skittering away. Something about a field. And an exhaust pipe. Was that what had woken him? Before he could follow the thought any further, he heard a ringing sound from the far side of the room. What was that?

    A moment later, Jeaves’s voice rasped from the same part of the wall:
“Come to...the bridge...as soon as...possible.”
The robot’s voice sounded as if it were being wrung out of an old, handheld radio.

    “What is it, Jeaves?” he asked. Antares rolled over, and sat up, asking what was going on. “Don’t know yet. Jeaves wants us. Is something wrong, Jeaves?”

   
“Contact approaching. Need you...on the bridge.”

   
Bandicut threw off the thin blanket. “Let’s go. I hope we can
find
 the bridge again.”

*

   
They indeed nearly got lost in the luminous maze of n-space corridors. They were soon joined by Li-Jared, bonging in bewilderment, then Ik. “I swear this corridor has changed since last night,” Bandicut said, and no one argued with him. Finally Delilah appeared and led them, changing the color of the corridor to crimson on the way.

   
The bridge now looked less like a theater and more like a lounge in two sections: the inner half enclosed and protected by three walls, and the outer half a kind of wide ledge or balcony that extended directly into space. The view, Delilah explained, was corrected to display what they would see if they were not enveloped by n-space fields. The result was a spectacular view of the rose and sapphire mists of the nebula, and an equally spectacular invitation to vertigo. Napoleon was pacing around the room, clicking furiously, while Copernicus sat at rest near the edge of the balcony, sensors swiveling.