GALAXY BLUES:

CONCLUSION:

THE GREAT BEYOND

by Allen M. Steele

 

Now that he’s finished two spin-off novels set in the same universe (i.e., Spindrift and Galaxy Blues), Allen Steele tells us he’s hard at work on Coyote Horizon, which will continue the storyline established in the original trilogy. Allen blames his frequent returns to Coyote on his readers. “They have demanded that I keep writing these books, and I’m all too happy to comply.”

 

* * * *

 

Synopsis of Parts One through Three:

 

My name is Jules Truffaut, and this is the story of how I redeemed the human race.

 

It all began when I stowed away aboard the starship Robert E. Lee for its monthly voyage to Coyote, humankind’s first interstellar colony. Technically speaking, I was a first-class passenger, having already booked passage to 47 Ursae Majoris. However, as a former ensign in the Union Astronautica of the Western Hemisphere—whose relationship with Coyote is strained at best—it was necessary for me to sneak aboard the ship just before it departed from Earth.

 

My plan was to travel to Coyote under an assumed identity; once there, I would plead for political asylum. But my scheme backfired when a steward who’d found me became suspicious. Checking the manifest, she discovered that, although I had indeed purchased a ticket, there was no record of me actually boarding the ship. So shortly after the Lee jumped through Earth’s starbridge to 47 Ursae Majoris, the chief petty officer placed me under arrest.

 

On the bridge, I met the Lee’s commanding officer, Anastasia Tereshkova. Realizing that I was in serious trouble, I revealed my true identity and informed her that I was seeking amnesty. However, I’d overlooked the fact that one has to actually set foot on foreign soil in order to defect. Since the Lee was still in space, Tereshkova was obliged to take me back to Earth and turn me over to the authorities.

 

So I took matters into my own hands. On my way to the brig, I escaped from my captors and stole one of the ship’s lifeboats. I was trained as a pilot, so I was able to guide the craft to a safe touchdown on Coyote. However, almost as soon as I landed, I was apprehended by the colonial militia.

 

The soldiers brought me to Liberty, Coyote’s largest colony, where I was thrown in jail. I had little doubt that the local magistrates would order my deportation. Before that happened, though, I had two visitors. The first was a mysterious figure who appeared at my cell window. As he stared at me, a door opened in my mind, releasing all my memories. I fell unconscious; when I awoke, the stranger had disappeared.

 

The second was Morgan Goldstein, the billionaire founder of Janus, Ltd., an interstellar shipping company. Impressed by the way I’d escaped from the Lee, he offered a way out of my predicament. Goldstein was recruiting a crew for an expedition to Rho Coronae Borealis, with the intent of opening trade with its inhabitants, the alien hjadd. If I signed on as shuttle pilot, he would make sure that I wasn’t deported. Having little choice, I agreed to work for him.

 

After arranging for my release, Goldstein took me to a tavern where I met the rest of the crew: the captain, Ted Harker, and his wife and first officer , Emily Collins, both of whom were on the first ship to contact the hjadd; the helmsman, Ali Youssef; and the cargo master, a lovely young woman by the name of Rain Thompson, who was oddly cold toward me. And finally, another passenger besides Goldstein himself: Gordon Ash, whom I recognized as the stranger who’d visited me in jail.

 

Our ship, the Pride of Cucamonga, hadn’t arrived from Earth yet, so we cooled our heels in Liberty for a few days. That gave me time to get interested in Rain. She didn’t want anything to do with me, though, and it wasn’t until I had breakfast with her that I found out what the problem was. Somehow, she had learned the reason why I’d been thrown out of the Union Astronautica—I was caught helping my younger brother Jim cheat on his academy exams—and, believing that I’d betrayed him, thought I couldn’t be trusted. I was telling her my side of the story when Ted showed up. Our ship had come in, and it was time for us to leave.

 

When we arrived at the spaceport to board our shuttle, the Loose Lucy, a couple of surprises awaited us. The first was our cargo: two and a half tons of marijuana, which the hjadd apparently regarded as a delicacy. The second was that we had another passenger: Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda—Jas for short, the hjadd Prime Emissary. When I committed a faux pas during my introduction to himher, Ash stepped in to quietly correct me. Clearly there was more to him than met the eye.

 

The Pride of Cucamonga turned out to be an old freighter, but its chief engineer, Doc Schachner, assured us that it was fit to fly. While loading the cargo, Rain and I had an argument which nearly cost me my job; to give me a chance to cool off, Ted had me take a jug of corn liquor to Ash’s quarters. I’d already figured out that Ash was an alcoholic, but while visiting him, I discovered something else: he was capable of reading people’s minds.

 

The next day, the Pride launched from Coyote orbit. While en route to the starbridge—which could only be opened to Rho Coronae Borealis by a coded key Jas carried—the Prime Emissary invited Rain and me to his quarters.While waiting for himher to let us in, Rain offered an apology for her rude behavior, which I accepted. But she wasn’t the only person to surprise me: once we were alone with Jas, heshe asked what we knew about something called the Order of the Eye. I professed ignorance, but after we left hisher cabin, Rain informed me that the Order was a secret cult of telepaths rumored to be funded by Goldstein. This explained why Morgan had invited Ash along: he wanted someone who might be able to tell him what Jas was thinking.

 

Then Pride made the jump to Hjarr, where we rendezvoused with an enormous space colony, the Talus qua’spah, in orbit above the planet. As circumstances would have it, Rain and I were the first people to leave the ship. Upon entering what appeared to be an interspecies reception area, we were informed that the two of us needed to undergo decontamination. There was an awkward moment when we had to get naked in front of each other; once we got past that, though, we proceeded to living quarters specially designed for human visitors, where we were soon joined by the rest of the crew.

 

Cargo unloading went as planned, but not the trade negotiations. Goldstein found that, in exchange for the cannabis we’d brought with us, all the hjadd were willing to give us were two thousand artifacts little more useful than as paperweights. Nor was Ash much help; since the hjadd didn’t actually think in our language, his ability to read their minds was useless. Frustrated by his failure to gain the advanced technology he desired, Goldstein took it out on us. I was informed that my job would be terminated as soon as the ship returned to Coyote, with my amnesty arrangement rendered null and void.

 

Before the Pride left Talus qua’spah, though, we were obliged to attend a reception being thrown in our honor. Just prior to this, the hjadd sent food to our quarters. Ted warned us against sampling the native cuisine, but I was hungry enough to try something that tasted like spice cakes. Little did I know that they’d been made with some of the cannabis we’d brought with us. So I was quite stoned when we arrived at the reception; in my looped state of mind, I inadvertently insulted the chaaz’braan, the supreme religious leader for most of the civilized galaxy.

 

The hjadd were not amused, and it appeared that relations between humankind and the rest of the galaxy had come to a premature end. However, the High Council offered us a chance to make amends: take the Pride via starbridge to a distant solar system, where we were to place a probe directly in the path of Kasimasta, an enormous rogue black hole that had already destroyed several inhabited worlds and was about to annihilate yet another.

 

Unwilling to put his ship in jeopardy, Ted refused to do this. But the hjadd weren’t taking no for an answer. When the Pride jumped away from Rho Coronae Borealis, we found ourselves not back in the 47 Ursae Majoris system, but instead above a so-called “hot Jupiter” in close orbit around 51 Pegasi. Jas had reprogrammed the navigation computer to bring us there, and told Ted that heshe would not release the proper coordinates unless we agreed to undertake the mission that we’d been given. Our choice was plain: face Kasimasta, or be roasted alive.

 

So off we went, to HD 70642 and a rendezvous with the most terrifying force in the galaxy.

 

* * * *

 

SIXTEEN

 

Firemen in a burning house ... who bells the cat? ... the trouble with women ... words for the blues.

 

* * * *

 

I

 

We came through the starbridge at HD 70642 to find ourselves in a traffic jam.

 

That’s the only way to describe what I saw through the portholes. Emily had raised the shutters just before the Pride made the jump from 51 Pegasi, and it’s fortunate that she’d taken that precaution—otherwise we might have struck the nearest starship waiting to enter the ring. As it was, the first thing we heard upon coming out of hyperspace was the shriek of the collision alarm, followed by a string of Arabic blasphemies from Ali as he hastened to switch off the autopilot and take control of the helm.

 

Jas hadn’t been kidding when heshe told us that the nordwere evacuating their home world. All around us, as far as the eye could see, was a vast swarm of what appeared to be titanic jellyfish, their umbrella-like membranes several miles in diameter. It wasn’t until the Pride passed the one with which we’d nearly collided that we saw its translucent hood was, in fact, a solar sail. Tethered behind it was a streamlined cylinder a little smaller than our own ship, its hull ringed with dozens of portholes.

 

A high-pitched voice like that of an irate turkey gobbled at us from the speakers, its language indecipherable but the meaning nonetheless obvious: watch where you’re going, jackass! Jas patched into the comlink and responded in hisher own tongue. Apparently the nord captain had his own translator, because after a brief bit of back-and-forth between them, the com went silent.

 

It’s been said that a fireman is someone crazy enough to run into a burning house while everyone else is running out. That’s what I felt like just then. As the Pride slowly glided between the scores of nord vessels waiting their turn to collapse their sails and enter the starbridge, I saw a civilization in full rout. Several hundred thousand miles away, Nordash was a blue-green marble that bore an unsettling similarity to Earth; it was all too easy to imagine multitudes of nord—whatever they looked like—clamoring to board the shuttles that would ferry them to starships in orbit above their doomed world. How many of their kind would be left behind, though, and where the survivors intended to go, we did not know. Nonetheless, we were witnessing an interstellar diaspora.

 

No one said much of anything as the Pride carefully picked its way through the evacuation fleet. Save for a few subdued words between Ted and Ali, a dark silence fell over the command center, and it wasn’t until our ship had eased past the outermost ships of the nord armada that anyone was able to breathe easy again. But we were far from safe. The nord were leaving ... and we’d just arrived. Like firemen in a burning house.

 

Ted instructed Ali to get a fix on Aerik and start plotting a trajectory, then he unfastened his harness and pushed himself out of his seat. “Right, then,” he said quietly, grabbing hold of the ceiling rail. “Everyone who doesn’t have business here just now is relieved ... at least for the time being. Take a nap, get a bite to eat, whatever. We’ll call you back when we need you.”

 

Good idea. I got up from my seat, arched my back to get rid of the kinks, then looked over at Rain. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave the bridge; there was a pensive look on her face as she gazed out the nearest window. I hesitated, then decided to let her be. All I wanted to do was follow Ted’s advice: change out of my sweaty clothes, grab a sandwich, and maybe catch a few winks in my hammock.

 

As I floated over toward the manhole, Ash rose to join me. Morgan didn’t pay any attention to him—indeed, it seemed as if Goldstein was deliberately ignoring him—and Jas remained strapped into hisher couch. Ash didn’t say anything as we entered the access shaft, but as soon as we were alone, he took hold of my arm.

 

“Keep an eye on Youssef,” he whispered. Before I could ask why, he beat me to it. “I caught something from him just before we went into hyperspace. The only reason Jas is still alive is because Ali knows we still need himher.”

 

“Yeah, well...” I was too tired to deal with it just then. “I figured that already. But Ali’s not dumb enough to...”

 

“All I’m saying is, keep an eye on him. Okay?” Ash let go of my arm and pushed past me. “We have enough problems as is.”

 

* * * *

 

II

 

I went down to my cabin and put on some fresh clothes, then floated down the corridor to the wardroom. I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when three bells rang, giving me just enough time to stow everything away and plant my toes within a foot restraint before main engine ignition. I could tell from the way the ship trembled that it was no maneuvering burn; the Pride was slowly building up thrust, and it wouldn’t be long before its acceleration reached one gee. The captain wasn’t sparing the horsies. At least we’d be able to move around the ship without having to use hand rails.

 

Just about the time I was finishing lunch, Ted’s voice came over my headset, asking if I’d return to the bridge. So much for my nap. When I got to the command deck, I found that everyone had left except for him, Doc, and Ali. Ted’s face was grim as he waved me toward Emily’s seat.

 

“We’ve set course for Aerik,” he began, “and Ali and I have come up with a tentative mission profile. Sorry to bother you, but we thought that you needed to be in on this stage of the planning.”

 

“Sure. No problem.” I gazed at the holo tank. A model of the local system was suspended above the console, with the orbits of Nordash and Aerik depicted as elliptical circles surrounding HD 70642. A curved red line was traced between the two planets. “Is that our course?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Ted entered a command in his keyboard that overlaid a three-dimensional graph upon the holo. “We’re pretty lucky, actually. They’re presently in conjunction, with both at perihelion on the same side of the sun. So instead of being three a.u.’s apart, their average distance at almost any other time, instead they’re only about one and a half a.u.’s away from each other ... approximately two and a quarter million kilometers.”

 

I nodded. The Nordash system wasn’t nearly as large as Earth’s, which was fortunate for us. The nord would’ve disagreed, of course. Just then, they would have preferred that their world was at aphelion on the far side of the sun ... or, in fact, anywhere Kasimasta wasn’t.

 

“Anyway,” Ted continued, “this means we should be able to reach Aerik before Kasimasta does ... provided, of course, that we don’t do any sight-seeing along the way. I’ve given the order to run the main engine at its rated capacity, two hundred and fifty thousand impulses-per-second. Once we reach cruise velocity, we’ll be doing about twenty-five hundred kilometers per second.”

 

My heart skipped a beat. Maybe it wasn’t light-speed, but it was a sizable fraction nonetheless. “Good grief, skipper ... do we have enough fuel for that?”

 

Ted glanced over at Doc. “The Pride has sufficient reserves for four and a quarter a.u.’s,” he said, “enough to get from Earth to Jupiter and back again. We barely put a dent in that on the way to Hjarr, thanks to the starbridges, and the hjadd were kind enough to top off our tank before we left.”

 

“Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but—” Ted grimaced “—well, we now know that they didn’t exactly do this out of the kindness of their hearts. From what Jas told us, the Talus High Council never intended to take no for an answer.”

 

“Of course,” Doc continued, “we may need a tow by the time we return to Talus qua’spah, and I can tell you right now that Mr. Goldstein is going to have to pay for a major overhaul ... but, yeah, I think we’ll make it.”

 

“At any rate,” Ted went on, “this means that our ETA will be approximately thirty hours from now. That should give you enough time to prepare for your part of the mission.” He hesitated. “And here’s where things become a bit dicey.”

 

He magnified the image within the holo tank so that Aerik and its satellites increased in size. “There’s Kha-Zann,” he said, pointing to a large moon at the periphery of the system. “Approximately the same mass and diameter as Europa, with much the same surface gravity. Carbon dioxide atmosphere, but not very dense ... about a hundred and fifty millibars at the equator ... but enough to give you some measure of protection.”

 

“Protection?” Although I’d had experience with landing on atmospheric planets, I would have preferred to set down on an airless moon. “Against what?”

 

Ted took a deep breath. “By the time you get there, Kasimasta will only be about eight hundred thousand kilometers away...”

 

“Oh, hell!”

 

“I told you this was the dicey part.” A humorless smile played across his face. “At least the atmosphere will provide you with some radiation protection while you’re down there. And Kasimasta will be coming in hot ... mainly X-rays from its accretion disc. So the less time you spend on the surface, the better. In fact, I’d recommend landing close to the daylight terminator, if at all possible.”

 

“Uh-huh. And how long will I have to...?”

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First things first.” Ted pointed to the red thread of the Pride’s trajectory. “Here’s the game plan. Once we’re on primary approach to Aerik and the Pride has initiated its braking maneuver, you’ll take Lucy away. Our trajectory will bring us within a hundred and thirty thousand kilometers of Kha-Zann, so you shouldn’t have to consume much fuel getting there.”

 

The holo image zoomed in again, this time to display Loose Lucy’s departure from the Pride and its rendezvous with Kha-Zann. “In the meantime,” Ted went on, “the Pride will continue toward Aerik and swing around it, initiating a periapsis burn at closest approach to the far side of the planet. That’ll put us on a return heading that’ll bring us back toward Kha-Zann, where we’ll pick you up.”

 

“Why not go into orbit around Kha-Zann itself ?”

 

“We thought of that,” Ali said, “but when we ran a simulation, we discovered that it would take too much time to establish orbit around Kha-Zann. Not only that, but once we broke orbit, we’d have to build up enough thrust again to achieve escape velocity, and by then Kasimasta would catch up with us. This way, we use a slingshot maneuver around Aerik to keep from shedding too much velocity. Once we fire the main engine, we blow out of there before Kasimasta reaches Kha-Zann.”

 

“If all goes well, that is,” Ted added.

 

I didn’t like the sound of that. “What could go wrong?”

 

“Well...” Doc began, then shook his head. “All this means you’re going to have a very tight window. No more than an hour on the surface ... and believe me, that’s stretching it.”

 

I stared at him. “An hour? You’ve got to be...”

 

“No, he’s not.” Ted’s face was serious. “And neither am I. You land, you drop off the probe, you take off again. If everything works according to plan, you should be able to reach the rendezvous point just in time to dock with the Pride as we swing by again. Otherwise...”

 

His voice trailed off. Not that he had to spell it out. If I failed to reach the Pride, then the captain would have no choice but to leave me behind. By then, the ship would be racing just ahead of the Annihilator, with no time left to make orbit around Kha-Zann and wait for me to show up.

 

“Yeah. Got it.” I let out my breath. “So I’m the poor mouse who gets to put the bell around the cat’s neck.”

 

“Mouse? Cat?” Ali’s expression was quizzical. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Old fable, courtesy of Aesop,” I said, and Ali shook his head. Chalk it up to cultural differences. “Never mind. Just do me a favor and download everything into Lucy’s comp. I’ll run a simulation from the cockpit, make sure that everything...”

 

“Just one more thing.” Ted looked at the others, then back at me again. “You’re not going to be able to do this alone. Someone will have to help you unload the probe and place it on the surface, so you’re going to have to take another person with you.”

 

That hadn’t occurred to me, but now that he mentioned it, I knew he was right. I’d have to use the cargo elevator to remove the probe from Lucy’s hold and put it on the ground. I could conceivably do it by myself, but not within the short amount of time I’d have on Kha-Zann. Like it or not, someone else would have to ride down with me.

 

“Yeah, okay.” I glanced at Doc. “You up for this, chief ? I know it’s a lot to ask, but...”

 

“Sorry. Not me.” Doc shook his head. “I’ve got to stay aboard, try to keep the ship from rattling apart at the seams.”

 

“And don’t ask for Emily, either,” Ted said. “I know she’s qualified, but there’s no way I’m putting my wife at risk.” He hesitated. “Besides, we already have someone ... Rain.”

 

A chill ran down my back. “Skipper ... Ted ... please don’t do this. I can’t...”

 

All of a sudden, I found myself unable to finish what I wanted to say—I can’t put her life in jeopardy any more than you can put Emily’s—because that would’ve meant admitting more than I was willing to these men, or perhaps even to myself.

 

So I played stubborn instead. “Look, I can take care of this on my own. No reason to get her involved.”

 

Ted frowned. “Are you telling me you’re still not able to work with her?”

 

That looked like an easy way out. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. Cap, you don’t know what a pain in the ass she...”

 

“Well, that’s just too bad ... because she’s already volunteered.” A sly smile; Ted didn’t have to be a telepath to know a lie when he heard it. “And here I thought the two of you were getting along so well.”

 

“Nice try, though,” Doc murmured.

 

My face grew warm, but before I could respond, Ted nodded toward the manhole. “Right, then ... unless you have any more questions, you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you. All of us do.”

 

There was nothing left to be discussed, so I headed for the access shaft. I waited until I shut the hatch behind me before, still clinging to the ladder, I threw my fist into the nearest bulkhead.

 

* * * *

 

III

 

The rest of the day was spent preparing for the mission.

 

Before that, though, I tracked down Rain and gave her a piece of my mind. Not that it got me anywhere. She was having lunch with Emily when I found her in the wardroom; seeing the look on my face, the first officer quietly excused herself and gave us the room, and once the door was shut I blew up. I don’t remember most of what I said—I was just venting, really—but Rain just sat there and took it, silently regarding me with solemn eyes that I couldn’t quite bring myself to meet. And when I was done, she polished off the rest of her coffee, stood up from the table, and quietly suggested that we head down to the shuttle and check out the probe.

 

And that was it. We never had an argument because she refused to argue in the first place. Besides, she’d already received Ted’s blessing, so my opinion didn’t really count. That’s the trouble with women: they’re smarter than men, and therefore enjoy an unfair advantage. And the hell of it is that they know it, too.

 

The hjadd probe was located in Lucy’s cargo hold, strapped to the deck right where Jas said it would be. Hisher people had smuggled it aboard inside a crate identical to those they’d used to pack the gnoshes; even if I’d spotted it before we left Talus qua’spah, I probably would have assumed it was a box that had somehow got misplaced.

 

Before I could open it, though, Rain stopped me. “Perhaps we should ask Jas to do it for us; no telling what other tricks heshe had up hisher sleeve.” So I got on the comlink and asked Ted to relay our request to the Prime Emissary, and a little while later Jas came down from hisher quarters.

 

I noticed that heshe still wore hisher weapon around the left wrist of hisher environment suit; apparently Jas wasn’t quite ready to trust anyone aboard not to take revenge for hisher actions. Remembering what Ash had said to me earlier, I couldn’t blame himher. Nonetheless, I didn’t say anything about it. Rain saw the weapon, too, but kept her mouth shut. Like I said, a smart girl.

 

Jas assured us that the crate wasn’t booby-trapped, and I opened it just the way I had the others. Tucked inside was a compact sphere, about three and a half feet in diameter, its burnished silver surface lined with hexagonal panels. Arranged around its equator were rungs suitable for either hjadd or human hands; recessed within the topmost panel were three small studs, blue, red, and white. Once the probe was in place, Jas told us, we were to press first the blue button, then the red, and finally the white. That was it—the probe would do the rest.

 

“Of course,” I said, “you can come along with us and make sure that we get it right. We’ve got lots of room for passengers.”

 

I was only half-joking when I said this, but apparently I struck a nerve, for the faceplate of hisher helmet swung sharply toward me. “My suit is not meant to be worn outside an atmospheric environment,” Jas replied, as if that explained everything. “The probe is designed for simplicity of operation. My assistance is not necessary.”

 

“How interesting.” Rain bent over the probe to study it closely. “Your people build a device to study a black hole, but you made it so that it could be operated by another race.” She looked up at himher. “Guess you’re just lucky we happened to come along at the right time.”

 

Jas was silent for a moment. Hisher suit concealed the mannerisms I’d learned to interpret—the attitude of hisher fin, whether or not hisher throat sacs were inflated—but nonetheless I had a sense that hisher reticence stemmed from embarrassment. “My people always have others assume risks on our behalf,” heshe said at last. “It’s our way.”

 

“So that’s how we...” I began, but before I could finish, Jas turned away from us. Without another word, heshe left the hold, climbing back up the ladder toward the top hatch.

 

“Coward,” I murmured, once he was gone.

 

“Don’t blame himher,” Rain said quietly. “Morgan told us about the hjadd, remember? They’re not accustomed to taking chances.”

 

“Yeah, well ... why is heshe aboard, then?”

 

“I have a feeling that being here isn’t hisher choice either.” She swatted my arm. “C’mon. Back to work.”

 

We made sure that the cargo lift was operational, then returned to the flight deck. I downloaded the mission program from the Pride and began to put Lucy through a complete diagnostics check. Rain stayed for a little while, but there wasn’t much she could do, so after a bit she returned to the ship with the intent of outfitting our suits for surface work.

 

I remained in the shuttle for the next few hours, repeatedly running simulations of our flight plan, tweaking the variables with each iteration so that I’d have practice dealing with whatever problems we might encounter along the way. I was feeling a little more confident about the mission, but I still wasn’t satisfied that I’d considered everything that might possibly go wrong. Still, I knew that if I didn’t get some rest, my reflexes would be sluggish by the time I had to do this for real. So I put Lucy to sleep and returned to the Pride.

 

The ship was quiet, save for the background rumble of the main engine, and I figured that everyone had sacked out. I was still wide-awake, though. Even as I opened the hatch leading to Deck Two, I realized that, if I went back to my cabin, I’d probably just stare at the ceiling. I was thinking about going up top to visit whoever was on watch—Doc, probably, or maybe Emily—when a familiar sound came to me: Ash’s guitar, its melancholy chords gently reverberating off the corridor walls.

 

What the hell. Might as well see what the ol’ geek was up to. Before I had a chance to knock at his door, Ash’s voice came to me from the other side. “C’mon in, Jules. We’ve been waiting for you.”

 

We? Ash usually kept to himself. When I slid open the door, though, I found that he wasn’t alone. Ash was sitting in his hammock, his guitar cradled in his lap, and seated on the floor next to him was Rain.

 

She smiled up at me. “Don’t look so shocked. We figured you’d show up sooner or later.” She patted the floor beside her. “Here. Sit.”

 

“And while you’re at it, have a drink.” Ash picked up a jug of bearshine and offered it to me.

 

“Umm ... no thanks.” I shook my head as I squatted down next to Rain. “Better not.”

 

“Oh, c’mon.” Rain took the jug from Ash. “We still have—” a quick glance at her watch “—sixteen hours before we have to leave. Plenty of time to get properly pissed and sober up again.”

 

With that, she pulled out the cork and, using both hands, tilted back the jug. For a woman who’d once told me she didn’t drink, Rain certainly knew how to swallow. A long gulp that seemed to last forever, then she gasped. “Hot damn, that’s good.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, then held out the jug. “Go ahead. Don’t be shy.”

 

The old pilot’s rule is twelve hours from bottle to throttle; I had that, with a few hours to spare. So I accepted the jug from her and raised it to my mouth. I’d never had corn liquor before. It went down like molten lava, burning my throat, and I nearly choked on it. But she was right; just then, it tasted pretty damn good.

 

“There’s the man.” Ash grinned, then held out his hand. “Here, now. Time to pay the piper.” Rain took the jug from me and passed it back to him. A quick, thirsty slug, then he set it on the floor between the three of us. “All right, then ... piper’s been paid. Let’s see if he can entertain the rats.”

 

His hands returned to his guitar, but instead of the random progression I’d heard before, this time his fingers produced a slow, boozy ramble, like something that might come from a roadhouse band south of the Mason-Dixon. “Been working on that song,” Ash added, glancing up at me from his instrument. “Think I finally might have some words for it...”

 

Then he sang:

 

Ninety light-years from home,

Lord, you gotta pay your dues.

Ninety light-years from home,

I got nuthin’ to lose.

My spaceship’s a junker, and I’m out for a cruise,

I gotta bad ol’ case of the Galaxy Blues.

 

All right, so maybe it wasn’t Jelly Roll Morton. All the same, it gave me a reason to smile for the first time in days. “I thought you said music doesn’t need words,” I said, reaching for the bearshine again.

 

“Changed my mind,” Ash muttered, then he went on:

 

Stars all around me,

And I got nowhere to go.

Stars are all around me,

And light moves too slow.

I got planets in my pocket and black holes in my shoes,

It’s another phase of the Galaxy...”

 

Wham! Something hit the door so hard that Rain and I both jumped an inch. My first thought was that there had been some catastrophic accident, such as the main fuel tank exploding, yet when it repeated a moment later—wham! wham!—I realized that someone was hammering at the door.

 

Ash was the only one who wasn’t perturbed. Although he stopped singing, he continued to strum at his guitar. “Yes, Mr. Goldstein, you may come in,” he said, as calm as calm could be.

 

The door slammed open, and there was Morgan, bleary-eyed and wearing only his robe. “All right, you punks, that’s enough!” he snarled. “Some of us are trying to sleep here, and you three are keeping us...”

 

“Mr. Goldstein ... Morgan...” Ash sighed, still not looking up at him. “If you don’t shut up and leave, I’m going to tell my friends how you earned your first million dollars.” He paused, then added, “How you really earned your first million dollars.”

 

Morgan’s face went pale as all the bluster and fury of his entrance suddenly dissipated. He started to open his mouth, but then Ash lifted his eyes to gaze at him, and he abruptly seemed to reconsider whatever he was going to say. The two men stared at each other for another moment ... and then, without so much as another word, Morgan stepped out of the cabin and quietly pulled the door shut.

 

For a second or two, no one said anything. I finally looked at Ash. “Y’know,” I murmured, “I want to be just like you when I grow up.”

 

Rain was similarly impressed. “How did you do that?” she whispered, just as awestruck as I was.

 

Ash only shrugged as he went on playing his guitar. “If there’s one thing that scares guys like Morgan, it’s having people find out the truth about them.” A secretive smile. “And believe me, he’s got some pretty nasty skeletons in his closet.”

 

I remembered the last time Ash had told Morgan to shut up, back on Talus qua’spah. I’d thought then that it was some sort of psychic trick ... and perhaps it was, to the extent that the Order knew things about Morgan that he’d rather not be made public. But the fact of the matter was, all Ash had to do was verbally remind Morgan that he had the boss by the short hairs.

 

“Oh, do tell.” Rain inched a little closer. “I’d love to know what...”

 

“Sorry. My order prohibits me from talking about things like that.” Ash gave her a wink. “Not that Morgan knows this, of course. Now pass me the jug, and I’ll tell you about a sweet young girl from Nantucket....”

 

And it pretty much went downhill from there. In deference to anyone besides Goldstein who might be trying to sleep, we tried to keep it down ... but nonetheless, as the jug made its way around the circle, the songs became ruder, the jokes more coarse, as the three of us laughed and sang our way long into the perpetual night.

 

The irony wasn’t lost on me that, only this morning, I’d sworn I’d never drink again. Nor did I have any illusions about why we were doing what we were doing. It was all too possible that, come tomorrow, we’d all die a horrible death, consumed by a monster black hole. But there was little we could do about that at the moment except celebrate what might be the last hours of our lives.

 

Eventually, though, there came a point when the jug was empty. By then, Ash’s voice was nothing more than a slur, his fingers clumsy upon the strings. I was seeing double and Rain had collapsed against my shoulder; it was plain that none of us would be able to stay awake much longer. Wincing against the dull throb in my head, I stumbled to my feet, pulling Rain with me. Ash was falling asleep in his hammock as we found our way to the door.

 

Half-carrying Rain, I hobbled down the corridor, heading for my cabin. Rain woke up a little as I opened the door. “Uhh ... hold it, this’s where I get off,” she muttered. “Gotta go thataway ... my room.”

 

“Sure, sure.” Yet I was reluctant to let her go. Perhaps I was stinking drunk, but nonetheless I was all too aware that there was a pretty girl draped across my shoulders. “But, y’know, y’know ... I mean, y’know....”

 

That seemed to wake her up a little more. “Oh, no,” she said, gently prying herself away from me. “Don’t you start. Not th’ ... this’s not th’ time or th’...”

 

“Place,” I finished, and that gave her the giggles. “Whatever, sure, but...” I stopped and gazed at her. “If not now, then when ...?”

 

“‘Nuther time, maybe, but not...” She shook her head. This nearly caused her to lose her balance, so she grabbed my arm to steady herself. Somehow, my hands fell to her hips, and for a moment there was a look in her eyes that seemed as if she was reconsidering my unspoken proposition. But then she pushed herself away from me again.

 

“Definitely not now,” she finished.

 

Despite all the booze I’d put away, I was still sober enough to remember the definition of the word no. “Yeah, s’okay....”

 

Rain leaned forward and, raising herself on tip-toes, gave me a kiss. Her mouth was soft and warm, and tasted of bearshine. “Get us through this,” she whispered, “and maybe we’ll see about it.”

 

And then she wheeled away from me. I watched her go, realizing that I’d just been given another reason to live.

 

* * * *

 

SEVENTEEN

 

Eye of the monster ... a fine time ... nice place to visit, but et cetera ... root hog or die.

 

* * * *

 

IV

 

Fourteen hours later, Rain and I were on our way to Kha-Zann.

 

By then, I’d sobered up enough to climb into Lucy’s cockpit. Knowing that he’d have a drunk aboard his ship, Ted had made sure that the med bay was stocked with plenty of morning-after pills, eye drops, and antioxidant patches; finally I knew why Ash had been able to recover from his binges so quickly. Two each of the former and one of the latter, along with hot coffee and a cold sponge bath, and I was ready to fly.

 

Rain met me in the ready room. She didn’t mention the inebriated pass I’d made at her the night before, but I couldn’t help noticing the way she blushed when I suggested that we save time by suiting up together. She declined with the polite excuse that she wanted to double-check her gear before putting it on. I didn’t argue, but instead suited up by myself. I worried that I might have damaged our friendship, but there were more important matters to deal with just then.

 

Over the course of the last sixteen hours, Aerik had steadily grown larger. Through the starboard portholes, the superjovian appeared as an enormous blue shield, its upper atmosphere striated by thin white cirrus clouds. By the time I’d slugged down my third or fourth cup of coffee, Kha-Zann had become visible as a reddish-brown orb in trojan orbit a little less than a million miles from its primary. We couldn’t make out Kasimasta just yet, though; it was still on the opposite side of Aerik from the Pride, and no one aboard would be able to see it until the ship initiated the maneuvers that would swing it around the planet’s far side.

 

Yet we were all too aware that the Annihilator was coming. I had just put on my headset when Ted informed me that the sensors had picked up a slight disturbance in Aerik’s gravity well, coming from an unseen source approximately twelve million miles away. That sounded too far away to worry about, until the skipper reminded me that Kasimasta was traveling at four hundred miles per second. According to Ali’s calculations, the black hole would reach Kha-Zann in little more than eight hours ... which meant that Rain and I hadn’t much time to waste.

 

Fortunately, we didn’t have to cycle through the airlock on the way out. Doc was waiting for us at the shuttle airlock; he insisted on giving our suits a quick check-out, but I think he’d really come down from the bridge to wish us good luck. Just before I climbed through the hatch, he produced a rabbit’s foot on a keychain, which he claimed had been in his family for three generations. I really didn’t want the mangy thing, but Doc was adamant about me taking it along, so I let him clip it to the zipper of my left shoulder pocket. A solemn handshake for me, a kiss on the cheek for Rain, and then the chief pronounced us fit to travel.

 

Doc had just shut the hatch behind us when we heard the muffled clang of two bells. Ali was about to commence the rollover maneuver that would precede the deceleration burn. So Rain and I hustled into the cockpit; we’d just strapped ourselves into our seats when we felt the abrupt cessation of g-force, signaling that the main engine had been cut off. As I began to power up the shuttle, there was the swerving sensation of the Pride doing a one-eighty on its short axis. Emily’s voice came over the comlink; a quick run-through of the checklist, and when everything came up green we went straight into a thirty-second countdown.

 

Loose Lucy detached from the docking collar, and for a few moments the Pride seemed to hang motionless just outside the cockpit windows. Then I fired the RCS to ease us away from the ship, and our respective velocities changed; in the blink of an eye, the big freighter was gone, with little more than a last glimpse of its forward deflector array. From the seat beside me, Rain sighed; a couple of tiny bubbles that might have been tears drifted away from the open faceplate of her helmet, but I didn’t say anything about them.

 

As soon as the Pride was gone, I used the pitch and yaw thrusters to turn Lucy around. Once she was pointed in the right direction, I switched to autopilot and fired up the main engine. A muted rumble pushed us back in our seats; a few seconds of that, then the engine cut off and we were on the road to Kha-Zann.

 

Rain and I had decided we’d remain on cabin pressure until just before we were ready to make touchdown, at which point we would close our helmets and void the cabin. That way we’d save a little time by not having to cycle through the airlock once we were on the ground. We’d also been careful not to have any solid food for breakfast or lunch; our suits’ recycling systems would get a good workout, but at least our diapers would remain clean. And we’d stuffed our pockets with stim tabs and caffeine pills; maybe we’d be too wired to sleep once we returned to the Pride, but at least we wouldn’t doze off on this mission.

 

So she and I had thought of everything. Or at least we believed we had. Even so, nothing could have prepared us for our first sight of Kasimasta.

 

I had just removed my helmet and was bending over to stow it beneath my seat when Rain gasped. Looking up, I noticed she was staring past me out the windows. I turned my head, and for a moment all I saw was Aerik, which by then had swelled to almost fill the portside windows. Impressive, but...

 

Then I saw what she’d seen, and felt my heart go cold. Coming into view from behind the limb of the planet was something that, at first glance, resembled an enormous eye. Red-rimmed, as if irritated by something caught in the cloudy white mass of its pupil, it wept a vast tear that seemed to fall away into space. Altogether, it resembled the baleful glare of an angry god.

 

So this was Kasimasta: a cyclops among the stars. Although still several million miles away, it was awesome, and utterly terrifying. The black hole at its nucleus was invisible to us, surrounded by the ionized gas that made up its ergosphere, but we knew that it was there, just as we knew that nothing could survive an encounter with the ring of dust and debris that swirled at sublight velocities around its outer event horizon.

 

As we watched, Kasimasta slowly moved toward the cockpit’s center window ... and stayed there. Loose Lucy was taking us straight toward the moon that lay between us and it. I had an impulse to disengage the autopilot, turn the shuttle around, and flee for ... well, anywhere but there. An insane notion; there was no way Lucy could catch up with the Pride, just as it would be impossible to outrun the monster before it caught up with us. Like it or not, we were committed.

 

For a minute or so, neither of us said anything. Then we found ourselves reaching out to take hold of each other’s hand. Despite the fact that I hadn’t wanted her to come along, I suddenly realized I was glad Rain was here.

 

Yeah. I’d picked a fine time to fall in love.

 

* * * *

 

V

 

For a moon on the verge of destruction, Kha-Zann was strangely beautiful. As Lucy closed in upon it, we looked down upon a world that somewhat resembled a miniature version of Mars, save for a noticeable lack of polar ice caps. A reddish-brown surface, streaked here and there with dark grey veins, whose cratered terrain was split and cracked by labyrinthine networks of crevices, fissures, and canyons. Early morning sunlight reflected off a thin, low-lying haze that quickly dissipated as the day grew longer, with shadows stretching out from crater rims and bumpy hills. Probably an interesting place to explore, if one had time to do so.

 

But we weren’t there to take pictures and hunt for souvenirs. In fact, all I really wanted to do was drop in, drop off, and drop out. So once we were a couple of hundred miles away, I picked out what looked like a low-risk landing site near the daylight terminator—a broad, flat plain just north of the equator, away from any valleys and relatively clear of large craters—then switched off the autopilot and took control of my craft again.

 

By then, Rain and I had put our helmets on again; once we were breathing suit air, she vented the cabin. A final cinch of our harnesses to make sure that they were secure, then I turned the shuttle around and initiated the landing sequence. As we’d been told, Kha-Zann didn’t have much in the way of an atmosphere; there was some chop as Lucy began to make her descent, and an orange corona grew up from around the heat shield. But it quickly faded, and after a few seconds the turbulence ended and we had a smooth ride down.

 

Even so, my hands were moist within my gloves as I clutched the yoke. Sure, I had plenty of experience landing on the Moon and Mars, but never had I expected to touch down on a world ninety light-years from home. Even putting down on Coyote in a stolen lifeboat wasn’t as butt-clenching as this. Maybe it was because I was landing where no one—or at least no human—had ever gone before. Or maybe it was simply because I was all too aware that, if I screwed up, my life wouldn’t be the only one placed in jeopardy.

 

In any case, my attention never left the instrument panel, and I kept a sharp eye on the aft cams and the eightball all the way down. Rain helped by reciting the altimeter readout, but it wasn’t until Lucy was six hundred feet above the ground and I was certain that there were no surprises waiting for us at the touchdown point that I lowered the landing gear and throttled up the engine for final descent.

 

We landed with little more than a hard thump, but I didn’t breathe easy until I’d safed the engine and put all systems on standby. Through the windows, the dust we’d kicked up was already beginning to settle, revealing a barren landscape beneath a dark purple sky. We’d landed in the last hour of the afternoon, on the side of Kha-Zann that still faced the sun; to the east, just beyond the short horizon, Aerik was beginning to rise. Kasimasta was nowhere to be seen, but I knew that the Annihilator would soon make its appearance.

 

“Okay, no time for sightseeing.” I unbuckled my harness. “Let’s do this and get out of here.”

 

“Really? No kidding.” Rain was already out of her seat. “I sort of thought we could look for a nice place to build a house.”

 

If I’d been listening a little more carefully to what she’d just said, I might have given her a double-take. Perhaps she was only being sarcastic, but it might have been a serious proposition. The only plans I had for us were no more than a couple of hours in the future, so my response was nothing more than a distracted grunt as I followed her from the cockpit.

 

In Earth-normal gravity, the probe probably weighed about two hundred pounds; on Kha-Zann, though, it was only one-fifth of that. The case was bulky, though, so it took both of us to load it aboard the elevator. Once it was securely lashed to the pallet, I opened the cargo hatch. The doors creaked softly as they parted, and a handful of red sand, caught upon an errant breeze, drifted into the hold. I used the elevator controls to rotate the T-bar of the overhead crane into position, then I turned to Rain.

 

“You know how to operate this, right?” I pointed to the joystick. “Up for up, down for down, and it stops in the middle. Take it easy when you lower me, though, because I don’t want to...”

 

“You’re not going down there.” She shook her head within her helmet. “I am. You’re staying here.”

 

“No, you’re not. This is my job. You’re...”

 

“Jules...”

 

“We don’t have time for this. One of us needs to stay behind to run the elevator. You’re the cargo master, so that’s you. End of discussion.” I paused. “If I get into any trouble down there, I’ll tell you ... but I should be able to handle this by myself. Just do your job, and with any luck we’ll be out of here before the engines cool down. All right?”

 

Before she had a chance to argue any further, I stepped into the cage. I suppose I should have been impressed by Rain’s willingness to accept the risk, but I was stronger than her, and it would take muscles to manhandle the crate from the elevator and haul it a safe distance from the shuttle. She pouted for another moment or so, but surrendered to the inevitable. Once I’d grabbed hold of the hand rails on either side of the cage, I gave her a nod, and Rain pushed the levers that raised the cage from its resting position and telescoped the T-bar through the hatch.

 

The breeze was a little stiffer than I’d expected. The cage gently rocked back and forth on its cables, and I held on tight and planted my boots firmly against the pallet. Once the crane was extended to its full length, I told Rain to lower away. The cage shuddered and jerked a bit on the way down, but I didn’t worry much about it; the elevator had a load capacity of one and a half tons. It was just the wind giving me a hassle.

 

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the ground. As soon as the cage touched down, I untied the crate and, taking hold of its handles, picked it up and carried it off the elevator. Even in the lesser gravity, the crate was just heavy enough to make it hard work; if I hadn’t been burdened with it, I might have been able to bunny-hop across the desert floor. As it was, though, I found it was just as easy to put the crate down, then pick up one end by its handle and drag it behind me.

 

“What’s it like down there?” Rain asked.

 

I stopped to look up at her. She was standing in the open hatch, watching me from above. “Like Kansas,” I replied, “only without cornfields. Ever been there?”

 

A short laugh. “You kidding? I’ve never even been to Earth.”

 

I’d forgotten that. “I’ll take you sometime. To Earth, I mean ... believe me, you can skip Kansas.” I started to pick up the case again, then paused. “Hey, if you’re not doing anything, patch into the long-range com and see if you can reach the Pride. They might be back in range by now.”

 

“Wilco.” There was a click as she switched from one band to another. Not waiting for a response, I went back to work.

 

The terrain was rough, its coarse sand strewn with rocks the size of baseballs. Every so often I’d have to veer around boulders or haul the crate through small pits formed by micrometeorite impacts. Through my helmet, I could hear the faint moan of the wind; the atmosphere wasn’t dense enough to hold up a kite, but I still had to use my free hand to clear silt from my faceplate.

 

It took about fifteen minutes to drag the crate nearly a hundred yards from the shuttle; I figured that was far enough to keep the probe from being damaged by Lucy’s exhaust flare once we lifted off. I checked the chronometer on my heads-up display; we’d been on Kha-Zann for just over half an hour, so time was getting short. I opened the crate and tossed away the lid, then reached inside. The probe wasn’t hard to remove; a couple of hard tugs at its rungs, and it came straight out of its packing material.

 

“No word from the Pride yet,” Rain said, “but that’s probably because I’m getting a lot of static. How are you doing out there?”

 

“Almost done.” I grunted as I carried the sphere a few feet from the crate, then gently placed it on the ground. It rolled a couple of inches, forcing me to roll it back so that its top hexagon was positioned right-side up. Once I was satisfied that it wasn’t going anywhere, I pressed the blue button on the control hex.

 

The button lit up, but nothing happened. I waited a second, uncertain whether or not the thing was working, then I pushed the red button. This time, the reaction was immediate; the panels surrounding the lower hemisphere sprang open, and small multijointed legs unfolded from within the sphere, their horseshoe-like pads firmly anchoring the probe against the ground.

 

I pushed the white button, and had to jump back quickly to avoid the rest of the panels as they peeled apart to reveal a smaller sphere hidden inside. From the probe’s core, a narrow cylinder raised itself upon a stalk, then unfurled to become a dish antenna. The hyperlink transmitter, no doubt. As it swiveled around to point toward the sun, two more cylinders rose into view; judging from the lenses at their ends, I figured they were multispectrum cameras. One of them rotated toward me, and I took another step back. Realizing that it looked straight at me, I restrained an impulse to wave at whomever might be watching. Or perhaps give them an obscene gesture.

 

A slender wand shot out from the core, then buried itself in the sand; that must be the seismometer. And meanwhile, valves opened and fluttered, wands were elevated, lights began to flash. It was like some weird toy that belonged to an equally weird kid.

 

“Jules...”

 

“Wow.” I stared at the probe in amazement. “You should see this thing. It’s like some kind of...”

 

“Jules ... look up.”

 

Something in Rain’s voice gave me a chill. Turning around, I raised my eyes toward the sky, and immediately forgot about the probe.

 

While I’d been busy hauling the crate out into the desert and deploying the probe, the sun had begun to set. Aerik had fully risen into view, but that wasn’t what got my attention. It was Kasimasta.

 

I couldn’t see all of the Annihilator, but what I could was enough to freeze my blood. The edge of its accretion belt was coming up over the horizon, with the nimbus of its ergosphere just behind it. The damned thing was four or five times larger than when we’d first seen it, and no longer looked like an eye, but rather the storm front of a hurricane mightier than the wrath of God.

 

And it was heading straight toward us.

 

“Hell with this.” I forced myself to breathe. “We’re outta here.” And then I turned and began to high-tail it back to Lucy.

 

* * * *

 

VI

 

No longer encumbered by the crate, there was nothing to prevent me from bunny-hopping. The gravity and atmospheric pressure were just low enough for me to make broad jumps that covered five or six feet at a time, just as I learned to do in Academy basic training on the Moon. Yet I hadn’t covered half the distance between the probe and the shuttle when I went sprawling face-first across the ground.

 

Under other circumstances, it might have been funny. Spacer fall down, go boom. And my reflexes were good; I managed to raise my arms and cover my helmet faceplate before it was cracked open by a rock. But nonetheless, I knew at once that this was no mere accident; I hadn’t tripped over anything, nor had my last jump been misguided.

 

The ground had moved beneath my feet.

 

I was picking myself up when I felt it again, a mild tremor that caused the sand beneath my hands and knees to shift ever so slightly. At that instant, Rain’s voice came to me through my headset: “Jules, get back here! We’re getting...!”

 

“Earthquakes. I know.” I struggled erect, continued running toward the shuttle. Fortunately it had remained stable, its landing gear still firmly resting upon the ground. I knew, though, that if the tremors became much more violent, there was a good chance the craft would be rocked so hard that one of its legs might snap ... in which case, we wouldn’t be leaving Kha-Zann.

 

Rain remained at her post until I reached the elevator; I’d barely climbed aboard when she put the crane in reverse and began to haul me back upstairs. The wind had picked up as well; I had to hold on tight as the cage swung back and forth, and I didn’t feel safe until it reached the top and she’d retracted the T-bar into the hold. Yet that safety was little more than temporary; we had to get off Kha-Zann PDQ.

 

While Rain stayed below to shut the hatch and lock everything down, I scrambled up to the cockpit and got Lucy ready to fly. I’d just powered up the engine when she joined me on the flight deck. No time for a prelaunch checklist; I did my best to make sure I hadn’t neglected anything, but even as we were strapping ourselves in, another tremor passed through the hull, this one violent enough to scare me into thinking that the ship was about to topple over.

 

Rain felt it, too. Her eyes were wide on the other side of her faceplate. “Jules...”

 

“Hang on, sweetie. We’re gone.” And then I fired the engine.

 

Launch was more difficult than landing. By then the wind had picked up sufficient speed that, if I had been attempting to lift off from Mars, the ground controller would’ve probably called a scrub. But I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for optimal weather conditions; no choice, in fact, but to root hog or die. So I kept the engine at full throttle all the way up and gripped the yoke with both hands as Lucy clawed her way into the sky, her hull plates creaking ominously with every bump and jolt she took.

 

In less than a minute, though, it was all over. The sky darkened, purple turning jet black; the rattle faded away and everything smoothed out. On the screens, the aft cams captured a brief glimpse of Kha-Zann falling away, our landing site no longer visible. Then the moon disappeared somewhere behind us and we were back in space.

 

Rain let out her breath. “Nice flying, pilot,” she murmured. “If I wasn’t wearing this thing, I’d give you a kiss.”

 

“Save it for later.” I was still on manual, but since we were through the rough patch, I throttled down the engines and engaged the autopilot. “See if you can raise the Pride. We should be able to get her by now.”

 

“Right.” She reached over to the com panel, patched us into the long-range relay. “Loose Lucy to Pride of Cucamonga, do you copy?”

 

A moment of static, then Emily’s voice came over: “We copy, Lucy. What took you so long?”

 

I almost laughed out loud. “Sorry ‘bout that, Pride. Had a bit of a...” I stopped myself. “Never mind. Mission accomplished and we’re off the ground. That’s all that counts. What’s your position?”

 

A brief pause, then Ted came online. “We’re on course for the rendezvous point, same coordinates as before. ETA in forty-seven minutes. Think you can make it?”

 

“Hold on.” I finished reloading the program, then checked the comp display. Everything was copasetic; we’d arrive with just enough time and fuel to spare. “Roger that. We’re on the beam and on our way for pickup.”

 

“Very good. We’ll see you there.” Another pause. “Good work, guys. And, by the way ... Mr. Goldstein has asked me to extend his compliments.”

 

“Oh, how lovely,” Rain muttered. “Be still, my beating heart.”

 

“Repeat, please? I’m afraid we have some interference.”

 

“Negatory, Pride. Just some static. Lucy over and out.” I made the kill sign, and grinned at Rain once she’d switched off. “What do you want to bet Morgan gives you the pink slip for that?”

 

“Ask me if I...” Her voice trailed off as she gazed toward the starboard side. “Oh, god....”

 

I looked past her, and was suddenly grateful for having had the foresight to wear diapers. Kasimasta filled the windows. Its accretion belt resembled a whirlpool of colored dyes, its ergosphere as bright as a star. Now that it had entered Aerik’s orbit, the Annihilator’s gravity well was beginning to affect the planet itself. Aerik’s night side was turned toward the rogue, and even from the distance we could see brilliant flashes of lightning within its darkened skies, like the death throes of a swarm of fireflies, while the blue clouds of its daylight side seemed to writhe and roil in agony.

 

But that wasn’t all. Aerik was no longer a perfect sphere; its equator was showing a pronounced bulge, as if it were a massive balloon that was being squeezed at its poles. As I watched, a wispy stream of blue-white haze slowly began to move outward from the planet’s upper atmosphere. Kasimasta wasn’t just a killer; it was a vampire, the vast mouth of its singularity drawing blood from its latest victim in the form of hydrogen and helium. Kha-Zann would be little more than an appetizer for such a voracious appetite.

 

It was hard to be sure, but I guessed that Kasimasta was about a half-million miles away. Way too close for comfort. I fought the impulse to throttle up the engine. Our rendezvous window had been calculated with precious little margin for error; if we arrived too early, we would miss Pride just as surely as if we’d been marooned on Kha-Zann. I couldn’t afford to take that chance; like it or not, I’d have to place my faith in Ali’s calculations.

 

The next forty minutes were the longest in my life. There was nothing for us to do except wait for Lucy to intercept the Pride. If I’d brought a deck of cards, I might have broken them out and had a few hands of poker with Rain; as things stood, though, we could only stay on the lookout for our ship.

 

I was just beginning to regret not having written my last will and testament—not that I had much to bequeath anyone—when the lidar beeped; something was coming within range. A minute later, a tiny cruciform appeared through the starboard windows, its shape outlined by the red and green flashes of its formation lights. Rain and I were still whooping it up when Emily’s voice came over the radio.

 

“Pride to Lucy, do you copy?”

 

Rain toggled the com, then nodded to me. “Affirmative, Pride,” I said. “Great to see you again.” A quick glance at the nav panel. “On course for rendezvous and docking.”

 

“Roger that.” Now we heard from Ted. “Ready to match course and velocity.”

 

“Copy.” I disengaged the autopilot one last time, then put my hands back on the yoke. Next was the tricky part. Although the Pride had cut its thrust, its momentum was still such that Lucy would have to run hard in order to catch up with it. I’d have to expand the last of our fuel in order to do so.

 

But if all went well, it wouldn’t matter. And if it didn’t go so well...

 

I pushed that out of my mind. Keeping my eyes fixed on the instrument panels, I kicked up the engine, coaxing the shuttle closer to the rendezvous point. The next few minutes were as harrowing as any in my life, but when I looked up again, it seemed as though the Pride were hanging motionless directly before us, its docking collar a big, fat bull’s-eye that a rookie couldn’t have missed.

 

I was just about to let out a sigh of relief when Doc’s voice came over the com. “Jules, is your cabin still depressurized?”

 

“Roger that.” I’d been too busy to think about that. “Want us to pressurize?”

 

“Affirmative. I’ll be waiting for you at the airlock. Over.”

 

“Copy. Over.” I glanced at Rain. “What do you think that’s all about?”

 

“Guess he wants to save time by not having us cycle through.” She reached up to the environmental control panel. “I’ll handle this. Just keep your eyes on the road.”

 

She needn’t have worried. A few final squirts of the thrusters, and a couple of minutes later there was the welcome jolt of the docking flanges connecting. I shut down the engine and major systems, then reached forward to pat the instrument panel.

 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” I whispered. “You’re a good girl.”

 

I didn’t know it then, but those were my last words to Lucy. Doc was waiting for us at the airlock, just as he said he’d be. As soon as we were aboard, he slammed the hatch shut behind us.

 

“Sorry, Jules,” he said, unable to look me in the eye, “but we’re going to have to ditch her.”

 

“What?” Rain and I had already removed our helmets; I gaped at him, not believing what I’d just heard. “Why do you...?”

 

“Skipper’s orders. We can’t spare the extra mass, so...”

 

I was about to argue with him when Ted’s voice came over my headset. “Jules! Get up here now! We’ve got an emergency!”

 

* * * *

 

EIGHTEEN

 

Never piss off a turtle ... faster than dirt ... doomsday ... what’s harder than flying a spaceship?

 

* * * *

 

VII

 

I headed straight for the bridge, leaving Rain behind to help Doc jettison Lucy. There wasn’t enough time to pay last respects; I’d grieve for the loss of my ride later, if and when we survived. Ted hadn’t told me what had happened, and he didn’t need to: when the captain says jump, everyone makes like a frog.

 

I was halfway up the access shaft before I realized that I was still using the hand rails. If we were in zero-g, that meant the ship was still coasting. Now that Rain and I were safely back aboard, though, the main engine should have been on fire and Pride should have been at full thrust. I was trying to figure this out when the bridge hatch slammed open and Emily came through, her left arm curled around something that, at first glance, looked like a bundle of clothes upon which someone had spilled ketchup.

 

“Make a hole!” she yelled. “Coming through!”

 

I flattened myself against the shaft as much as possible; hard to do, since I was still wearing my EVA gear. When she got closer, I saw that the object in tow was a person: Ali Youssef, unconscious, with a blood-stained shirt wrapped around his chest as a makeshift bandage.

 

“What the hell ...?”

 

“Jas attacked him.” Emily squeezed past me, using her free hand to grasp the rails. “No time to explain. Get up top ... Ted needs you to take the helm.” I couldn’t get anything more out of her, though, because she continued to haul Ali down to Deck Three, no doubt taking him to the med bay. She glanced back at me, saw that I’d frozen. “Move!”

 

That snapped me out of it. Hand over hand, I scrambled the rest of the way up the shaft. The hatch was still open; I sailed headfirst through the manhole, nearly spraining my wrist as I grabbed a ceiling rail to brake myself. Ted was on the other side of the console, floating next to the helm station. He was bare-chested, and I realized that it was his shirt Ali was wearing as a chest bandage.

 

“Come here and take over.” He didn’t raise his voice, nor did he need to. “Course is already laid in ... you just need to take the stick.”

 

I was wondering why he hadn’t done so himself when I saw the stun gun in his right hand, and that he was using it to cover Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda. The Prime Emissary was backed against hisher couch; heshe was still wearing hisher weapon around hisher wrist. Behind himher, Morgan Goldstein cowered against the bulkhead; for once he was speechless, apparently terrified by whatever had just happened.

 

“Skipper, what...?”

 

“Just do it.” Ted grabbed a ceiling rail and pulled himself toward the engineering station, carefully keeping his distance from Jas. “I’ll watch Jas. Just...”

 

“I assure you, Captain, I mean you no harm.” The voice that emerged from Jas’s environment suit was higher-pitched than I’d heard before. “I was only defending myself. Mr. Youssef...”

 

“Shut up.” Ted didn’t take his eyes from himher. “Jules...”

 

“I’m on it.” Suspended within the holo tank was an image of Kasimasta; one glance told me the Annihilator was way too close to our own position. Pushing myself off the bulkhead, I sailed straight through the miniature black hole, an irony that might have been poetic if I’d been in the mood for such a thing. Just then, though, my main concern was taking control of the helm and getting us away from the annihilator.

 

I grabbed hold of Ali’s seat and shoved it back as far as I could. Since I was still wearing my suit, there was no way I could sit down, so instead I anchored myself by shoving the toes of my boots within the foot rail below the console. Bending over the console, I quickly studied the comp readouts. They confirmed what Ted had told me; our course was set, and all I needed to do was bring the ship around, point it in the right direction, and fire the main engine.

 

Silently thanking Ali for having shown me how to operate the helm, I pulled off my gloves, tossed them aside, and rested my right hand on the trackball. A faint tremor passed through the ship as I carefully rotated the ball, firing maneuvering thrusters until the Pride was brought back into proper trim. Once the x, y, and z axes were aligned, I locked in the heading, then flipped back the cover of the ignition key. No time to sound general quarters; I’d just have to hope that everyone below was holding onto something.

 

“Main engine ignition, on your mark,” I said, glancing up at Ted.

 

“Mark.” He didn’t take his eyes from Jas.

 

A deep breath, and then I turned the key. Green lights flashed across the console as the hull gently shuddered. I took hold of the thrust control bar and pushed it forward, and the shudder became a smooth, steady vibration. An invisible hand tried to push me over; nothing I could do about that now, though, except adjust my stance, hang onto the edge of the console, and not let the g-force make me fall down.

 

For the moment, it seemed as though everything was fine. Then there was a sudden jolt, as if something had hit the ship from behind. An instant later, there was a gentle rattle against the outer hull, almost as if we’d run into sleet. I glanced up at the overhead screen where the view from the aft cam was displayed, and what I saw nearly gave me a heart attack. Kasimasta completely filled the screen, the vast band of its accretion belt rushing toward us. What we’d just felt was its bow shock; the rattle was the sound of sand and dust hitting the ship.

 

“Ted!” I snapped. “The deflector...!”

 

“Got it.” He reached down to adjust the forward deflector, turning it up to full intensity. The rattle subsided as the field expanded to clear a path for us, but it didn’t do anything for Kasimasta’s gravity well. The Pride was shaking like a tree limb caught in the wind; all around us, I could hear deck plates groaning. If only the main engine had been fired sooner...

 

No time to worry about that now. The ship was just a few seconds away from being pulled into the accretion belt. Whatever we were going to do, we needed to do it fast.

 

I prodded my headset. “Rain, are you and Doc ready to detach Lucy?”

 

“Roger that. Inner hatch sealed, outer hatch still open, cradle and docking collar disengaged.”

 

I looked at Ted again. He nodded, then snapped a pair of switches, and an instant later there was a hard kick from the port side as Loose Lucy was jettisoned. Now I understood why Doc had insisted that we repressurize the cabin; the blowout helped knock the shuttle away from the ship.

 

“Sorry, Lucy,” I muttered. “You were a good old bird.”

 

Ted glanced at me. He said nothing, but his face was grim. We’d lightened our load by a couple of hundred tons, but even that wouldn’t be enough to save us. One way or another, we had to find a way to outrun Kasimasta.

 

All at once, I figured out how to do it ... and found myself grinning. Raising my eyes from the controls, I looked across the compartment at Morgan. “Say, Mr. Goldstein ... how much would you give me to save your life?”

 

He stared back at me. “What?”

 

“You heard what I said. How much would you give me to...?”

 

“Anything!” He couldn’t believe that this was a matter open to discussion. “Whatever you want ... just do it!”

 

“Thank you.” I looked at Ted again. “How about you, skipper? Anything you’d like from Mr. Goldstein in exchange for his life?”

 

For a second, Ted gaped at me as if I’d just lost my mind. Then he caught on. “Sure,” he said, his right hand creeping across the engineering console. “I can think of one or two...”

 

“For God’s sakes!” Morgan glanced at the nearest window. “Whatever you want, you can have it. Just hurry ... !”

 

“Very well, then.” Ted rested his fingertips on a pair of switches, then snapped them. “Jettisoning cargo modules.”

 

If Morgan had any objections—and I had no doubt that he did—they were lost in the warning alarm of the emergency pyros being fired. Two hard thumps, and Cargo One and Cargo Two were decoupled from the hub. I glanced up at the screens in time to see two massive cylinders tumble away from the ship, taking with them forty crates of alien knick-knacks.

 

Morgan stared in horror as his payload fell toward Kasimasta. For something that he’d once derided as all but worthless, he certainly seemed upset by their sacrifice. He didn’t seem to notice the abrupt change of velocity as the Pride, having shed nearly one-fourth its mass, surged forward. Leave it to a businessman to put a higher value on his merchandise than his own life.

 

I held my breath as I watched my instruments. The delta-V was steadily increasing, just as I thought it would. Another brief tremor as the Pride crossed the bow shock once more, and then we were racing away from Kasimasta, accelerating beyond reach of its accretion belt.

 

The ship stopped shaking, and I slowly let out my breath. “I think we’re going to make it,” I murmured, then I looked over at Ted. “Now ... would someone mind telling me why I’m here?”

 

Ted wiped sweat from his forehead. “Ali lost his temper and attacked Jas, and Jas shot him. That’s pretty much it, in a nutshell.”

 

“For the love of...” I’d seen this coming, sure, but nonetheless I couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

 

“Heshe said that we should have left you behind, made a run for it to save ourselves.” Ted glared at Jas. “Perhaps that’s something the hjadd do, Prime Emissary,” he added, his voice rising in anger, “but we humans have a slightly higher standard.”

 

“It was only an observation, Captain.” Jas settled into hisher couch. “Nothing more. I did not expect your pilot to react so violently.”

 

“Yes, well ... your own reaction left something to be desired.” Ted looked at Morgan. “Mr. Goldstein ... Morgan ... if you’re through crying over spilled milk, you can make yourself useful and disarm your friend.”

 

Morgan’s eyes widened. “I can’t...”

 

“Yes, you will ... or I’ll be tempted to lessen our load by a few more kilos.” Ted hefted the stunner. “Glad I had this squirreled away. Never thought I’d actually have to use it, though.”

 

I nodded, but said nothing. Although it wasn’t standard operating procedure, ship captains often concealed a sidearm somewhere aboard the bridge, in the event of mutiny or a possible hijack attempt. Such occurrences were so rare, most spacers considered them unlikely. This time, though, I was glad my CO had erred on the side of caution.

 

Morgan hesitated, then turned to Jas. The Prime Emissary had already removed hisher bracelet; heshe pushed something on its side that might have been a safety catch, then surrendered the weapon to Morgan. “My most profound apologies, Captain. It was never my intent to put this ship in danger.”

 

“Right.” Ted stood up and walked over to Morgan, who reluctantly gave the bracelet to him. “Now go below to your cabin. I’ll summon you once we rendezvous with the starbridge.” The Prime Emissary rose from hisher seat, started toward the manhole. “And Jas ... next time we jump, no tricks.”

 

Jas said nothing, but hisher head briefly moved back and forth in the hjadd affirmative. Then heshe disappeared down the access shaft, with Morgan behind him/her. Ted watched them go, then sighed as he dropped the bracelet on the seat behind him.

 

“God, what a nightmare.” He shoved the stunner into his belt, then massaged his eyes with his fingertips. “If I ever let an alien aboard this ship again...”

 

“You and me both.” Then I chuckled. “Hey ... trade you a spacesuit for a shirt.”

 

Ted looked at me, and a wry grin slowly appeared on his face. “Go on, get out of here.” Going over to the helm, he pulled up the seat and sat down. “I’ll stand watch ... but just do me one favor.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

He rubbed at the goose pimples on his arms. “Fetch me another shirt. I’m freezing.”

 

* * * *

 

VIII

 

I went below to the ready room and got out of my suit, then went up to Deck Three and dropped by the med bay to check on Ali. Emily was still with him; she’d managed to carry our pilot to the autodoc, where she’d placed him on the table and activated the system. When I found her, she was standing outside the surgical cell, gazing through the window as the ‘bot’s insectile hands stitched the wounds in Ali’s chest. He was kept sedated, with a gas mask over his face and IV lines feeding fluids into his veins.

 

“He caught four darts,” Emily said, motioning to a small kidney tray on the stand next to the table. “Lucky they didn’t have enough forward velocity to pierce the rib cage, or he’d be dead by now.”

 

I peered at the tray. Within it were four bloodstained flechettes, each no larger than a fingernail yet razor sharp. Apparently human bones were a little tougher than a hjadd’s, because a couple of them looked as if they had fractured upon impact. Still, it was enough to make my blood turn cold. “And Jas shot him because...?”

 

“Ali wigged out when Jas said that you and Rain should’ve been left behind. Happened right after you docked.” Emily sighed, shook her head. “I know, I know. It’s stupid, but ... guess the pressure finally got to him.” I nodded, regretting the fact that I’d neglected to mention Ash’s warning to anyone. Stupid of me not to take him more seriously. “At any rate,” she went on, “I’m just glad you made it back in time to take over the helm.”

 

“Yeah, well ... so am I.” I looked around the med bay. “Where’s Rain?”

 

“Don’t know. Maybe in her cabin. She looked pretty beat.” She glanced at me. “How did it go down there?”

 

“Piece of cake.” I was too tired to talk about it; just then, all I really wanted to do was get a shirt for Ted, then have something to eat and maybe catch a few winks. I looked at Ali once more. “How long do you think it’ll be until he’s up and about?”

 

“Not soon enough for him to do his job again, if that’s what you’re asking.” Emily smiled, patted my shoulder. “Don’t fret about it. Ted and I will take turns at the helm until you’ve had a chance to recuperate.”

 

I thanked her, then left the med bay and went up to Deck Two. A quick stop by Ted’s cabin to grab a shirt from his bag, then I headed for the access shaft again ... but not before I stopped at Rain’s quarters. The cabin door was shut. I lingered outside for a moment, considering whether or not I should knock, before deciding that I owed her a nap. I hadn’t seen Ash since we’d returned, but his cabin was quiet as well. I figured that he’d probably passed out again.

 

Ted was still at the helm when I returned to the bridge. He was grateful for the shirt, but said that he didn’t need to have me take over just yet. I went back down to Deck Two, where I made myself some lunch in the wardroom. I was about halfway through a tomato and cheese sandwich when the door slammed open and Morgan barged in.

 

“Who do you think you are, jettisoning those modules without my permission?”

 

I took my time swallowing what was in my mouth before answering him, “You’re welcome.”

 

That brought him up short. “What?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry ... I thought you’d come to thank me.” I pushed aside the rest of my sandwich. “I asked what you’d give for me to save your life. You said anything, and I assumed that would include the cargo.” I picked up a napkin and wiped my mouth. “Silly me. Didn’t know you thought gnoshes were more important than your skin.”

 

Morgan scowled at me. “That was completely unnecessary. We could’ve gotten away without...”

 

“Probably not. Once we shed the extra mass, the ship was able to reach escape velocity ... but not before then.” I wadded up the napkin and pitched it at the disposal chute, and got two points for a perfect shot. “Ask the skipper if you don’t believe me. It was his decision, not mine.”

 

Ted couldn’t have picked a better moment to call. Morgan was still mustering a retort when my headset chirped. “Jules, where are you right now?”

 

“Wardroom,” I replied. “Need me back up there?”

 

“Negatory. Stay where you are, but turn on the monitors. I’m going to patch you into the aft cams ... there’s something you really ought to see.”

 

Standing up from my chair, I reached up to switch on the flatscreens above the table ... and promptly forgot how to breathe. Displayed on the screens was a departure angle view. With the cargo modules gone, the ship’s stern was clearly visible, yet it wasn’t that Ted wanted me to see.

 

Now that we’d put some distance between ourselves and Kasimasta, it once again resembled a cyclopean eye. Kha-Zann had disappeared, and a chill trickled down my back as I realized that the small world upon which I’d walked only a few hours earlier had been reduced to little more than dust and rubble. And now the Annihilator’s angry glare was fixed upon Aerik.

 

The superjovian was no longer a distinct sphere, but rather a bauble at the end of an immense rope. Captured by the intense attraction of the rogue black hole, the planet was being pulled apart; a vast blue-white stream of gas flowed outward from what had once been its equator, curling across space to become part of Kasimasta’s ever-expanding accretion belt. It was impossible to tell with the naked eye, but I didn’t need the ship’s sensors to know that Aerik’s mass had already been reduced by half.

 

“Oh, my...” Morgan stared at the screens as if not quite believing the vast forces on display. “It’s ... it’s...”

 

“Yup. Ain’t it, though?” I pointed to the accretion belt. “See that? There’s where you and I would be right now if we hadn’t dumped the modules. Want to go back and look for them?”

 

Morgan didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes told me that he’d finally comprehended the fate we’d barely avoided. “Have a sandwich,” I added, then I left the wardroom and headed for my cabin.

 

* * * *

 

IX

 

I slept like a stone for the next twelve hours or so, stirring only when I felt the shudder of maneuvering thrusters being fired to correct our course back to Nordash. When I finally woke up, it was to the sound of Ash’s guitar coming through the air vent. I listened for a little while, letting my mind replay the events of the previous day, before deciding that I really should report back to the command center. With Ali down for the count, I’d become the Pride’s de facto pilot; time to go topside and take over the helm again.

 

So I fell out of the sack and put on a fresh change of clothes. Ash was still noodling at his guitar when I left my cabin. I thought about dropping in, but changed my mind and instead went down the corridor to visit Rain. I hadn’t seen or heard from her since we’d gotten back from Kha-Zann; she might want to talk about what we’d been through.

 

Her door was still shut, and there was no answer when I knocked. At first I thought she wasn’t in, but when I tried the door, I found that it was locked from the inside. I knocked again, this time calling her name, but again there was no reply. I was beginning to get worried, so I headed back down the corridor, intending to inform Ted that Rain ... well, I’m not sure what I would’ve told the captain, other than expressing vague misgivings about one of my crewmates ... when Ash abruptly stopped playing his guitar.

 

“She doesn’t want to talk to you,” he said from behind the door of his cabin.

 

I started to say something, but again he beat me to it. “Seriously. She doesn’t want to see you right now. If I were you, I’d leave her alone.”

 

He already knew I was there, so I didn’t bother to knock, but instead slid open his door. Ash was in his hammock, guitar lying across his chest. There were dark circles under his eyes, and I could tell from the absence of booze on his breath that he was sober.

 

“Been dry since yesterday,” he said, in response to my unasked question. “That little party we had the other night pretty much pissed away the last of my supply.” Ash idly strummed at his guitar. “That’s why I’m staying away from you guys. Too many strong emotions right now ... especially from you and her.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Oh, c’mon.” He looked at me askance. “Maybe you can hide from each other, or even from yourselves, but you can’t hide from me. A lot has changed between the two of you, and...” He shook his head. “Go on, get out of here. Please. It hurts too damn much to be around you.”

 

Perhaps I should’ve left him alone, but his comfort was the least of my concerns. “Sorry, Gordon,” I said, closing the door behind me. “Can’t do that. Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

 

Ash said nothing for a moment, then he let out his breath as a long sigh. “Y’know, it almost would’ve been easier if you guys had failed.” Propping his guitar against the bulkhead, he sat up in his hammock, slinging his legs over the side until his bare feet almost touched the floor. “In fact, I kinda thought that was what would happen. The shuttle would crash, or you’d miss the rendezvous ... and that would’ve been it.”

 

I stared at him, not quite believing I’d heard what he’d said. “Is that what you wanted?”

 

“Oh, no, no ... not at all.” He winced, perhaps from the second-hand impact of my emotions. “I’m happy you made it back, really I am. But—” he hesitated “—do you remember what she told you? When you suggested that she spend the night with you, I mean.”

 

My face felt warm. “Ummm...”

 

“Right. And so does she ... but the truth is, deep down inside, she really didn’t think she’d have to make good on that promise.” He forced a smile. “And then you had to screw things up and...”

 

“Yeah, okay, I get the picture.” Then I shook my head. “No, I don’t. I mean, that was something I did when I was drunk. She doesn’t have to...”

 

“You know something, Jules? You talk too much. Just shut up and listen.” Ash waited until he was sure that I wouldn’t interrupt him again, then went on. “If you think you’re confused ... well, so is she, and even more so. If it were just about sex, that would be easy. You guys hop in the sack and bang each other’s brains out. Problem solved. But the fact is you’re in love with her, and she’s falling for you, too, and neither of you know what to do about it.”

 

Bending forward, he clutched at his head. “God, I need a drink. Just get out of here, okay? Leave me alone.”

 

There was little else for me to say, so I eased out of his cabin, shutting the door behind me. For a few moments, I stood in the corridor, uncertain of what to do next, then I finally decided to head up to the bridge.

 

Sure, I knew how to handle a spaceship. But I didn’t have a clue how to handle a woman.

 

* * * *

 

NINETEEN

 

The deserted world ... return to Talus qua’spah ... another point of view ... a line in the sand.

 

* * * *

 

X

 

Half a day later, the Pride returned to Nordash. I was back in the pilot’s seat again by then, and had initiated the braking maneuver that would slow the ship down and put it on course for rendezvous with the nord starbridge. Through the bridge windows, Kasimasta was a distant blur little less than half an a.u. away; at that distance, it looked no more threatening than a cloud of interstellar dust and gas.

 

Yet even if the Annihilator wasn’t going to collide with Nordash, the planet was doomed. Once Kasimasta passed close enough to HD 70642 for its intense gravity to have an effect upon the star, solar flares would be kicked up that would bake the planet’s surface. As the Pride made its primary approach to the starbridge, we saw that the vast armada that had greeted us only a couple of days earlier had disappeared. Apparently the nord had completed the evacuation of their world; if any of their kind had been left behind, they were helpless against the monster rapidly closing in on them. In any event, there was no traffic around the alien starbridge, nor did we receive any radio transmissions. Nordash was an abandoned house, its former residents long gone.

 

Once again, I performed a one-eighty that turned the Pride around, then fired the maneuvering thrusters that would put us on a proper heading for the ring. Everyone was in the command center except for Ali; although he’d regained consciousness, Ted had relieved him from duty and confined him to the med bay until we returned to Coyote. So the ship was mine, and I’d be lying if I said that I minded having the stick. Perhaps I’d lost Loose Lucy, but being able to fly the Pride of Cucamonga, at least for a little while, more than made up for it.

 

As we closed in upon the starbridge, Jas left hisher seat and used the ceiling rails to pull himherself over to my station. I was relieved to see that the Prime Emissary no longer wore hisher weapon; at Ted’s insistence, Jas had left it in hisher quarters. Nonetheless, I couldn’t help but feel nervous as Jas reached past me to insert hisher key into the hjadd navigation system. Nor was I the only one who was on edge. From the other side of the console, Ted kept an eye on Jas as heshe entered fresh coordinates into the keypad.

 

“You are taking us back to Talus qua’spah, aren’t you?” he said at last. “No surprises, right?”

 

Jas’s head rose slightly upon hisher long neck. “There is no deception, Captain Harker. Your ship has been programmed to return to Hjarr.” The Prime Emissary turned to me. “You may now engage the control system, Mr. Truffaut.”

 

I looked over at Ted. He gave me a nod, so I took a deep breath and switched to autopilot. Lights flashed across my panel, telling me that the Pride’s AI was slaved to the starbridge. Now I knew exactly how Ali felt when he’d done this; there’s nothing worse than having to put your fate in someone else’s hands.

 

The thrusters fired again, and the Pride began moving toward the ring. I checked my harness to make sure it was tight, then settled back in my seat. But just before the ship crossed the event horizon, I looked across the bridge to where Rain was seated. She’d continued to avoid me, and although our eyes met for a moment, she hastily looked away. Once again, I wished I could talk things over with her, but now that was out of the question. I was the pilot, and she was counting on me to get her home.

 

The wormhole opened. A blinding flash of light, and then we plunged into hyperspace.

 

* * * *

 

XI

 

Jas kept hisher promise. When we came out the other side of the wormhole, we were back in the Rho Coronae Borealis system.

 

The second time around, though, there was nothing surprising. Jas got on the horn and spoke with someone in hisher own language, and a few minutes later the local traffic system took control of the ship and guided it the rest of the way to Talus qua’spah. I sat with my hands in my lap and watched while the Pride entered the same saucer that had berthed it before. Once the ship glided to a rest within the docking cradle, the gangway arms telescoped out to mate with our airlock hatches. Ted and I shut down the main engine and put all systems on standby, then the captain turned to Jas.

 

“Right, then,” he said. “We’re back. Now what do you want us to do?”

 

Morgan was already unbuckling his harness. “For one, I’d like to speak with someone about replacing my cargo. I’m not responsible for...”

 

“Remain seated, Mr. Goldstein.” Jas barely looked his way. “Our visit will be brief, but during this time, only one individual will be allowed to disembark.” Then hisher helmet swiveled in my direction. “Jules, please come with me.”

 

As startled as I was, I couldn’t help but notice that the Prime Emissary had addressed me by my first name. Now that was a change; no longer was heshe calling me “Mr. Truffaut.” I was about to respond when Ted shook his head. “I’m sorry, but no. As commanding officer, I’m the person who speaks for the ship and her crew. If the High Council wants to meet with anyone...”

 

“It’s okay, skipper. I can take care of myself.” Taking a deep breath, I unfastened my harness. “I think I know why.”

 

Ted hesitated, then reluctantly nodded. It only made sense that the High Council would want to see me. After all, it was my screw-up that had forced us to undertake the task we’d just completed, and it was also yours truly who’d delivered the hjadd probe to Kha-Zann. If anyone was going to answer to the Talus, it should be me. Yet I’d just pushed myself out of my chair when Rain spoke up.

 

“I’m going, too.” She’d already risen from her seat and was pulling herself across the compartment. “I was with Jules, remember?” she added, looking at Jas. “If they’ve got a bone to pick with him, then they’re going to have to pick it with me as well.”

 

Jas’s translator must have had trouble making sense out of Rain’s colloquialisms—pick a bone? whose bones?—because a few moments went by before the Prime Emissary made a reply. “Yes, you may join us,” heshe said at last, hisher head swinging back and forth in the hjadd affirmative. “However, you should be warned that, by doing so, the Council’s judgment may be extended to you as well.”

 

“Rain, don’t...”

 

“Hush.” Rain gave me a stubborn look, then turned to Jas. “I understand. So ... let’s go.”

 

With Jas leading the way, we made our way down the access shaft to the primary hatch, then cycled through the airlock. Jas told us we didn’t need to put on spacesuits, and artificial gravity was restored as soon as we entered the gangway. I was half-expecting to have to undergo decontamination again, but instead we went straight through the reception area without having to stop, take off our clothes, and get another dart in the ass. Yet when we found ourselves at the tram station, Jas stopped and stepped back from us.

 

“I am leaving you now,” heshe said. “You may see me again later, but at this point you will travel in a different direction.” Heshe motioned to the waiting tube car. “This will transport you to where you are supposed to go. May fortune be with you.”

 

I didn’t quite know how to take this; it sounded rather ominous. As heshe began to turn away, though, Rain spoke up. “Just one question ... would you have really left us on Kha-Zann, if it had been your choice?”

 

The Prime Emissary halted, and hisher head swiveled around. “I was considering the safety of the ship. You were expendable.”

 

There wasn’t much to say to that, really, except perhaps that I strongly disagreed with hisher assessment of the value of our lives. I doubted that would’ve made much difference, though, so I simply nodded, and Rain reluctantly did the same, and then we climbed into the car. Jas watched as the canopy slid shut; one last glimpse of himher, standing at the platform, and then the car shot down the tube and out into space.

 

Hard to believe that we were back here, and so soon. Only a few days ago, I thought I’d seen the last of Talus qua’spah. Yet as the car hurtled through the immense habitat, I found myself wondering whether I should have stayed aboard ship. Sure, we’d kept our side of the bargain—the Pride had deployed the probe and survived to tell the tale—but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the Talus wasn’t done with us quite yet. Only this time, I wouldn’t have Ted or Emily or Ash or even Morgan to pull my bacon from the fire. Only Rain ... and I couldn’t figure for the life of me why she’d insisted on sharing the risk.

 

I didn’t get a chance to ask, though. The car took an abrupt right turn and headed toward a cylinder that we hadn’t visited during our previous trip. I’d just noticed that it didn’t have any windows when the car began to decelerate. It entered a portal and coasted to a halt at another tram station, and then the canopy opened.

 

Rain and I climbed out onto the platform and looked around. As before, a sphincter door was recessed in the nearby wall. But this time, there was no friendly voice to tell us what to do; the door irised open, revealing another copper-paneled corridor. The message was clear: this way, and don’t forget to wipe your feet.

 

“Y’know,” I murmured, “this is a bad time to know me.”

 

“Oh, hell, Jules ... I’ve regretted knowing you from the moment we met.” I glanced at her, and she softened the blow with a wink and a smile. “Just kidding. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

 

The corridor took us to another door. Upon our approach, it swirled open, but beyond it lay only darkness. I stopped, reluctant to venture in. Rain was just as hesitant; her hand trembled as she took mine. Then a narrow beam of light came from a high ceiling, forming a circular spot upon a bare floor. Again, a message that was both unspoken and clear: come in and stand here.

 

Still holding hands, we entered the room. The door slid shut behind us, and when I looked back, I found that I couldn’t see where it was. The spot-lit circle was just large enough for the two of us. The room was cold; when we exhaled, the light caught the fog of our breaths. It was as if we’d entered limbo, some netherworld between one plane of reality and the next.

 

“Okay,” Rain let go of my hand to rub her shoulders for warmth, “I guess this is the part where the trap door opens and...”

 

At that instant, the whole place lit up, and we were...

 

* * * *

 

XII

 

Back on Kha-Zann.

 

Everything about the place was just as I had last seen it—same dark purple sky above a barren plain; same sun hanging low upon distant hills—yet somehow different. It took me a second to put my finger on it: utter silence, not even the wind. Yet it was unquestionably Kha-Zann: a ghost of a world that had recently been reduced to nothing more than debris. But how...?

 

“Jules?” Rain said.

 

I thought she was talking to me. But when I looked around, I saw that we were no longer alone. A couple of feet away, a human figure wearing EVA gear was staring straight at us. His helmet faceplate was polarized, so I didn’t recognize him at first. Then he took a step back. And that’s when I realized who it was.

 

“Good grief,” I murmured. “That’s me.”

 

I seemed to be watching old footage of myself, scanned two days ago and reproduced as a hologram. Behind me was the crate I’d dragged from the shuttle, its lid on the ground nearby, and now I could see that it was empty. But if that were so, then where was...?

 

Rain laughed out loud. “Oh, now I get it,” she said. “This is what the probe saw, right after you turned it on.” She looked to the right, then pointed to the ground beside us. “See? There it is.”

 

She was correct. Where our shadows should have been, instead lay the elliptical shadow of the hjadd probe. I remembered the instruments that emerged from the probe’s core right after it opened; as I’d figured, one of them must have been a camera, which in turn captured ground-level images of Kha-Zann and transmitted them via hyperlink back to Talus qua’spah.

 

“And there’s me.” Rain pointed to the left; about a hundred yards away stood LooseLucy. A tiny figure stood within the open hatch of its cargo bay, gazing in our direction. “If I’d known what was happening,” she added, suppressing a laugh, “I would’ve waved.”

 

I was still getting over the strangeness of seeing myself. As I watched, my doppelganger turned its back to us, and I knew exactly what he ... or rather, I ... was looking at. To the east, Kasimasta was coming into view over the horizon, larger than when we’d seen it from space.

 

“Oh, look ... there you go.” As Rain spoke, I saw myself begin to run away, heading for the shuttle. After the first few steps, I started doing bunny-hops, trying to make up for lost time. “Okay, now,” she said, “here it comes ... one, two, three....”

 

Everything around us suddenly blurred and jiggled, as if reality itself had turned to gelatin. Apparently this was the moment when the first tremor hit. Right on cue, I went sprawling face-first against the ground. Rain laughed out loud, and I gave her a sour look.

 

“Not very funny,” I muttered. She hadn’t realized how close I’d come to smashing my helmet against a rock.

 

“No, it really isn’t ... sorry.” But she was amused all the same. As we watched, I struggled back to my feet and continued running toward Lucy, no longer performing broad-jumps but instead making an all-out dash for the shuttle. By then the image was in constant vibration; the wind had picked up, and Lucy was obscured by blowing sand. “Oh, c’mon,” she said. “What’s taking you so long?”

 

“You try...” My voice trailed off as, through the windborne silt, I saw myself climb aboard the elevator. As the cage began to make its ascent, I could see the shuttle rocking back and forth upon its landing gear. Even though I knew how this would turn out, my throat felt dry. Sure, it had been a close shave ... but until then, I hadn’t realized just how close.

 

The cage reached the top, then the crane’s T-bar was withdrawn into the cargo hold. A couple of minutes passed, then the hatch shut. At this point, the image was shaking even more violently, but there seemed to be a long, breathless pause to the entire scene. I waited, and waited, and waited ... and then, all of a sudden, there was a billowing explosion of sand and grey smoke from beneath the shuttle.

 

LooseLucy silently rose from the ground, riding atop a fiery column that scorched the place where it had once rested. Craning our necks, we watched the shuttle as it grew ever smaller, becoming a tiny sliver that was soon swallowed by the dark sky. By then the tremors were continuous; the shuttle had barely disappeared when the dust storm obscured everything in sight. I caught a glimpse of the crate lid being picked up by the wind and hurtled away, followed a second later by the crate itself falling over on its side. And then...

 

Everything froze.

 

One minute, we were in the midst of a world’s dying moments. The next, we found ourselves caught within a split-second of suspended time, as if reality itself had come to a standstill. And at that instant, words appeared in the air, holographically superimposed upon the landscape.

 

Impressive. Quite impressive, indeed.

 

The words wrapped themselves around us, forming a semicircle of script. As we turned to read them, we discovered someone was with us.

 

The chaaz’braan.

 

* * * *

 

XIII

 

The askanta holy man ... well, holy frog ... stood only a few feet away, unobscured by the dust that masked everything else in sight. Obviously another hologram: no breathing apparatus, but instead the same robes he’d worn the first time we’d met. His heavy-lidded eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement as he raised a four-fingered hand from beneath his robes, but when his thick lips moved, we saw his words instead of hearing them.

 

Allow me to make us a little more comfortable.

 

His fingers twitched slightly, and suddenly the scene around us reverted back to the way it had been a few minutes earlier. Once again, my doppelganger stood nearby, caught in the act of backing away from the hjadd probe.

 

There. That’s better.

 

The chaaz’braan sauntered toward my image, stopping to look at it more closely. When he spoke, his words curled around us, forming a ring.

 

This really was quite an act of courage. You could have simply thrown the probe from your spacecraft and launched again, but instead you chose to place it on the ground and make sure that it was properly activated.

 

“Thank you.” Rain then shook her head. “Pardon me, but I don’t understand why you’re...” She gestured toward the holographic script, which was already fading from sight. “Communicating with us this way, I mean.”

 

The chaaz’braan turned to us. Again, when his mouth moved, we heard nothing but silence.

 

It is the custom of Sa’Tong that my voice remain unheard, save during religous ceremonies. Like other races of the Talus, I use a translator. Unlike them, though, what I say is transcribed. So this is my way of addressing visitors during informal occasions.

 

As he spoke, other figures began to materialize, forming a broad circle that surrounded us: aliens whom we’d seen during the reception, apparently representatives of the High Council. They observed our conversation in silence; I assumed that they were also seeing what the chaaz’braan had to say, only translated into their own languages.

 

“But you didn’t do that before.” I did my best to ignore our audience. “I mean, when we were at the reception.”

 

Saliva drooled from the chaaz’braan’s fleshy mouth as it spread a broad smile.

 

You didn’t give me a chance. That’s understandable, considering that you were not in a sober state of mind. Otherwise, we might have had a pleasant discussion.

 

Again, he turned toward my image. It seemed as if he was studying it with admiration.

 

This truly is amazing. Such courage is rare among intelligent races. Particularly the hjadd, who seldom take risks. At least not if they can get someone else to do it for them.

 

“So you’re satisfied that we’ve done what you asked us to do?” Rain had noticed the other aliens as well, but she kept her attention on the chaaz’braan.

 

You’ve performed an immense service to the Talus. The probe didn’t survive very long, but while it did, data was gathered that will be invaluable to our scientists. In time, it may eventually help us devise the means by which to destroy Kasimasta.

 

“Destroy a black hole?” I shook my head. “That’s ... I’m sorry, but that’s impossible.”

 

The chaaz’braan regarded me with what seemed to be condescension.

 

Nothing is impossible. Once your kind becomes more sophisticated, you will learn this. Perhaps as you interact with other races of the galaxy.

 

“Then I take it that we’ve fulfilled our obligation.” I let out my breath. “I didn’t have a chance to say so myself, but I’m very sorry that I offended you. We will try not to do so again.”

 

It was only a misunderstanding. You were not informed of the practices and customs of Sa’Tong. The god that is you will know better next time.

 

The god that is you? “What do you mean by that?”

 

Sa’Tong holds that there is no god except those which we create ourselves. Therefore, if you have created a god, then you yourself are a god, and therefore are responsible for your own actions.

 

I nodded. Made sense, although I imagined that a few theologians among my own kind would argue with it. Before I could say anything, though, my image faded away, and the chaaz’braan spoke again.

 

Be that as it may, you must know that, before your kind is allowed to join the Talus, there are other obligations we may wish for you to fulfill.

 

“Other obligations?” I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

 

As I said, you have demonstrated a certain fortitude that is rarely seen. This will be useful to us. So before your race is admitted into the Talus, you will be given other tasks that we wish to have performed on our behalf.

 

“No.” I shook my head. “Sorry, but ... no.”

 

Rain looked around at me, her mouth falling open in astonishment. And indeed, I almost regretted my words even as I spoke them. After all, you don’t tell the great galactic frog to go jump a lily pad.

 

But I knew where this was going to lead. One day, it was risking life and limb to place a probe in the path of a rogue black hole. The next ... well, what then? Dive a ship into the heart of a supernova to see if we’d get burned? Take on a race of killer tomatoes? Maybe Goldstein would assent to all this in hopes of getting a good deal for his next shipment of cannabis, but I wasn’t about to let humankind become the crash test dummies of the galaxy.

 

“Look,” I went on, “we’ve kept our side of the bargain ... and believe me when I tell you that we thought we were going to die doing it. But it’s done, and that’s it. No more.”

 

The chaaz’braan’s eyes narrowed.

 

You don’t have a choice.

 

“Oh, yes, we do.” Sucking up my courage, I took a step toward him. “We can go back to where we came from, and never have anything to do with you again. Nice to make your acquaintance, but ... well, if you think we’re going to be your cabana boys from now on, then think again.”

 

From the corner of my eye, I could see the members of the High Council turning toward one another. We couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I had little doubt that I’d ruffled fur, feathers, scales, or whatever else they had on them.

 

“Jules...” Rain whispered. “What are you...?”

 

I ignored her. Too late to back down now. And damn it, it was time to take a stand.

 

“We are what we are,” I went on. “Perhaps we’re not as mature as you’d like us to be. Maybe we’re going to make mistakes. I know I have, and my friends have had to pay for me being a fool. But you’re just going to have to accept that and cut us some slack.”

 

I paused, then shook my head. “But no more conditions. No more jobs. Period.”

 

The chaaz’braan said nothing. For several seconds, the air around us remained clear, vacant of floating words. He stared at me for a long time, the wattles of his thick neck trembling with what I assumed was irritation. Around us, the other aliens continued to talk among themselves. Hard not to figure out what they were saying: who the hell does he think he is?

 

I stole a glance at Rain. Her face had gone pale, but she nodded in quiet agreement. I’d just drawn a line in the sand; now we would have to see whether they would cross it. At last, the chaaz’braan spoke.

 

You may return to your world. We will be contacting you soon with our decision.

 

And then, without so much as a farewell, he faded from sight. An instant later, the other aliens vanished.

 

The room went dark, save for the shaft of light in which Rain and I once again found ourselves. The door through which we’d entered swirled open, revealing the corridor beyond. Neither of us said anything as we left the room, but as the door shut behind us, she let out her breath.

 

“So—” she hesitated “—what do we tell the others?”

 

I shrugged. “We tell ‘em we can go home. After that ... I don’t know.”

 

* * * *

 

TWENTY

 

Home run ... a sudden Rain ... key to the galaxy ... the narrative ends.

 

* * * *

 

XIV

 

Three days later, I was sitting in the bleachers of University Field, watching the Battling Boids thump the Fighting Swampers.

 

The Boids had gotten a little better since the last time I’d seen them ... which seemed like a lifetime ago, although it had only been a week. Either that, or I’d become a little more forgiving; when the Boid pitcher allowed a Swamper to slide into first on a bunt, I wasn’t cursing the way I once might have. Perhaps I’d grown up a bit. Or maybe it was simply because, once you’ve been halfway across the galaxy and back again, it’s hard to take baseball seriously any more.

 

Indeed, ever since my return from Rho Coronae Borealis, it had been hard for me to get back into the habits of my old life. Ash was right; now that I’d seen the Great Beyond, nothing was the same again. Oh, I still had my room at the Soldier’s Joy, and the previous night I’d trooped over to Lew’s Cantina and put away a few pints of ale ... but when I’d finally left the bar, I’d found myself standing in the middle of the street, staring up at the night sky. Somewhere out there were countless worlds whose inhabitants were waiting for humankind to join them. What’s beer and baseball compared to that?

 

But it was more than that. I was alone.

 

Rain wasn’t with me.

 

When the Pride of Cucamonga finally made the jump back to 47 Ursae Majoris, hardly anyone took notice of our return. I wasn’t expecting a parade, mind you, but it was still disappointing to find that no one paid attention to the fact that we’d just completed a journey of more than four hundred and fourteen light-years. Indeed, we practically limped home; there was barely enough fuel left in the tank to get us there from the starbridge, and a shuttle had to be sent up from New Brighton to meet us once the ship settled into orbit above Coyote. As the shuttle detached from the docking collar, I caught one last glimpse of the Pride through the window beside my seat. Before we’d left, she had merely been a beat-up old freighter. Now, with her cargo modules gone, her shuttle missing, and her hull plates pitted, warped, and scorched, she looked like a candidate for the junkyard.

 

Nonetheless, she’d brought us safely home. No one said anything as the shuttle peeled away, but I couldn’t help but notice Emily rubbing the corners of her eyes, or the way Doc gnawed at his lower lip. I think everyone was saying farewell in his or her own silent way.

 

We touched down in New Brighton, and it was there that we saw the last of Morgan Goldstein and Mahamatasja Jas Sa-Fhadda. Once Rain and I returned to the Pride after our meeting with the chaaz’braan, I was surprised to learn that Jas had already come back aboard and programmed the coordinates for 47 Uma into the nav system. After that, the Prime Emissary spent the rest of the trip in hisher cabin; when the shuttle landed, Morgan escorted himher to a waiting hovercoupe, and the two of them departed without so much as a goodbye, leaving the rest of us to catch the afternoon gyrobus to New Florida. Hell, we even had to pay the fare ourselves.

 

Not that our merry band had much left to say to one another. Perhaps it’s uncharitable to say it, but we were sick and tired of each other. It had been a long and exhausting journey, and I think all of us were just happy to get home alive. So the ride to Liberty was made in near silence, and once we got there we all pretty much went our own separate ways. Ted and Emily caught a shag wagon to their house, Doc escorted Ali to the hospital for further treatment, Ash lurched off to the nearest watering hole, and Rain and I...

 

Ah, but that’s a different story, isn’t it?

 

Sure, we went back to the Soldier’s Joy together. That’s where we’d left our belongings; for me, it was the only home I’d known, at least on Coyote. But if I’d had any notions that Rain and I would consummate our romance with a playful romp in bed, I was sadly mistaken. Once we retrieved our room keys from the front desk, Rain gave me a quick buss on the cheek and said that she’d see me later. Since the landlady was giving us the eye, I figured this would be a bad time to push the issue. Besides, I was dead tired; all I wanted to do in bed just then was study my eyelids.

 

So I went up to my room and rediscovered the subtle charm of being able to sleep on a mattress. Eight hours in the hay, followed by a hot shower and a change of clothes, put me in a better frame of mind. The sun had risen on a new day, and I figured that the proper thing to do was to find Rain and buy her breakfast. And while we were at it, perhaps we’d figure out what to do next.

 

Yes, well ... maybe that’s the way things should have gone. But it wasn’t the way it went.

 

When I knocked on her door, there was no answer, and when I checked the dining room, I saw only a handful of strangers. I was about to go back to her room and try again when the innkeeper spotted me crossing the lobby. Was I looking for my lady friend? Sorry, sir, but she’d checked out earlier that morning ... and no, she hadn’t left a forwarding address.

 

And that was it. She was gone.

 

* * * *

 

XV

 

So there I was, watching a baseball game and trying not to feel like a guy whose heart had just been carved from his chest and handed to him, when someone sat down on the bench next to me. I looked around, and saw that it was Rain.

 

“Hi,” she said. “Miss me?”

 

“Umm...” About a half-dozen possible responses flashed through my mind, some more heated than others. I settled for the simplest and least angry. “Yeah, I did. Where have you been?”

 

“Away.” She wore a homespun hemp sweater and a long cotton skirt, and it was the first time in awhile that I’d seen her in anything that wasn’t suitable for space travel; the change was nice. Aware that her reply didn’t explain much, she went on. “I needed to get away for a bit, think things over. So I went to stay with my aunt and uncle, and now...”

 

A crack of a bat, and we looked up in time to see a Boid send a fly ball into center field. The Swamper outfielders scrambled to retrieve it, but they recovered too late to prevent the batter from making it safely to first or the guy on second to grab third. The crowd around us clapped and shouted, save for the handful of Swamper fans who scowled at another lousy defensive play by their team.

 

“So you’re back,” I said, once everyone had settled down again. “Did you ... I mean, have you worked things out?”

 

Rain didn’t say anything for a moment. She sat next to me, arms propped on her knees, a smile on her face that was both warm and cautious. “What about you? I see you’ve still got a room at the inn ... or at least you did when I checked a little while ago.”

 

That must have been how she’d found me; I’d mentioned to the landlady that I was planning to go to the ball game. “Yeah, I’m still there. Right after you left, Morgan sent over his man Kennedy with a check for what he owed me. Not much, but enough to pay the rent,” I shrugged. “Or at least until the proctors haul me off to the stockade.”

 

“They won’t.” She shook her head. “Whatever else happens, that’s not something you have to worry about any more.”

 

She said this with such confidence that I forgot about the game. “How do you know?”

 

“Umm...” Rain hesitated. “I told you I went to stay with my aunt and uncle, right?” I nodded. “And you know, of course, that my family is pretty well connected?”

 

I recalled my argument with Ted, shortly before the Pride set out for Rho Coronae Borealis, during which he’d quietly let me know that Rain’s family owned the Thompson Wood Company. I hadn’t thought much about it since then, but now... “Yeah, I know that.”

 

“But I bet you don’t know just how well-connected they are.” Moving a little closer, she dropped her voice so that she wouldn’t be overheard. “Ever heard of Carlos Montero? Or Wendy Gunther?”

 

I hadn’t been on Coyote long enough to learn all of its history, but even so, those were names that even people on Earth recognized. “Sure. Original colonists. Led the Revolution. Went on to become presidents of the Coyote Federation, one after the other. Why do you...?”

 

My voice trailed off as I suddenly realized what she was saying. Before I could do much more than turn my mouth into a bug trap, she gave me a solemn nod.

 

“Uh-huh. My mother is Carlos’s younger sister. She married into the Thompson family, which makes Hawk and me...” Realizing that she was about to mention her brother again, she stopped herself. “Anyway, they’re my aunt and uncle. Surprised?”

 

“Yes.” That was all I could manage at the moment.

 

“Thought you might be. At any rate...” Rain folded her hands together in the lap of her skirt. “While I was staying with them, I told them all about you, and how Morgan tried to screw you out of the deal you guys made. Now, even though Uncle Carlos also happens to be one of Janus’s major investors, he’s also learned not to trust Morgan very much. And if there’s anyone in Liberty with more clout than Morgan Goldstein, it’s my uncle.”

 

“So what does this...?”

 

“Mean?” A sly smile. “To make a long story short, this morning he met with the chief magistrate, and over coffee he managed to persuade her to drop all charges against you. Not only that, but your plea for political amnesty is being—” a sly wink “—considered. But since you’ve got him on your side, I’d say it’s a safe bet.”

 

I let out my breath, shut my eyes. For a few moments, I didn’t know how to respond. Rain must have sensed this, because she took my hand. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “All you have to do is say, ‘Thank you, Rain.’”

 

“Thank you, Rain.” Then I looked at her again. “Do you know just how much I...?”

 

“I’m not done yet.”

 

Down in the batter’s box, a Boid finally struck out, ending the fifth inning. I wasn’t paying much attention to the game anymore. “There’s more?”

 

“Uh-huh.” Rain gently removed her hand from mine. “Speaking of Morgan...”

 

“Oh, crap. Here it comes.” I shook my head. “He’s not very happy with me, y’know. Not after I dumped his cargo. And I can’t imagine he’s going to be very pleased about...”

 

“He’s not, but that doesn’t matter anymore.” She hesitated. “He knows about what happened back there. On Talus qua’spah, I mean.”

 

I stared at her. We’d been careful not to reveal the details of our encounter with the chaaz’braan and the Talus High Council, other than to tell the rest of the crew that we’d met our obligation and we had been given permission to return to Coyote. “You didn’t tell him ... I mean, about what I said to...?”

 

“I didn’t, no ... but he learned that for himself. From Jas.” Another pause. “That’s the other reason I’m here. Heshe called me last night, and told me that heshe wants to see you.”

 

“Jas?” I asked, and she nodded. “When? Now?”

 

“Uh-huh. Now.” She glanced at the field. “Unless, of course, you’d rather wait until this is over.”

 

It was at the top of the sixth, with the Boids leading the Swampers 5-2. I figured my team could get along without me, so I stood up. “No sense in keeping himher waiting,” I said, offering her my hand. “Let’s go.”

 

* * * *

 

XVI

 

We climbed down from the bleachers and left the field, then walked across the university campus until we reached the low hill overlooking the hjadd embassy. An ironic moment; it was at this very same spot that Morgan had told me how he’d wanted to gain access to their technology. In only a week or so, I’d come full circle.

 

I thought Rain was going to take me the rest of the way to the compound, but instead she stopped and took a seat on the wooden bench beneath the trees. Puzzled, I was about to ask her why, when she looked past me and nodded. I looked around as two familiar figures emerged from the shadows behind a tree.

 

Jas, once again wearing his environment suit. And with him, Ash.

 

I couldn’t say which of them I was more surprised to see. The hjadd seldom left their embassy. Not only that, but judging from his steady gait, I could tell that Ash was stone sober.

 

“No, I haven’t been drinking.” As usual, Ash was one thought ahead of me. “To tell the truth, I haven’t touched a drop since...” A sheepish grin from within his hood. “Well, since the bender I had right after we got back.”

 

Two days. For him, that was something of a record. “I’ve been wondering why I haven’t heard from you ... your guitar, that is. You’re not at the inn anymore?”

 

“Checked out the next morning, after I spent the night in an alley.” He reached up to pull back his hood. “Y’know, every now and then, an alcoholic receives a moment of clarity when you come to realize that, if you don’t stop drinking, you’re going to die. I think I had my moment while we were out there ... just took a little while for it to sink in, that’s all.”

 

“So you’re on the wagon?” I asked, and he nodded. “Good for you.”

 

“Well...” Ash glanced at Jas. “I’m getting a little help from a friend.”

 

“Mr. Ash is working for us now.” Jas’s voice purred from the grille of hisher suit. “The High Council has reached its decision, so we will need someone to act as an intermediary. I have offered him that position, on the stipulation that he discontinue his alcohol abuse.”

 

“Sa’Tong is an interesting religion ... well, it’s not really a religion, or at least not as we know it. However you want to call it, though, it has some neat tricks for learning mental discipline.” Ash paused. “I’m not over it yet, but I’m getting there.”

 

“Well, that’s...” I suddenly realized what Jas had just said. “Whoa, wait a second ... what’s that about the Talus?”

 

Jas moved a little closer, until I could see my reflection in the faceplate of his helmet. “Upon the recommendation of the chaaz’braan, the High Council has decided to invite humankind to join the Talus, provided that your race accepts and agrees to abide by its rules. Even as we speak, the hjadd embassy is sending a formal communiqué to the Coyote Federation, requesting a meeting in which we may negotiate trade and cultural exchanges.”

 

For a moment, I was unable to speak. Feeling my knees giving way beneath me, I hobbled over to the bench. “Easy, now,” Rain murmured, reaching up to help me find a seat. “Deep breaths ... thataboy...”

 

“I thought ... I thought...” For the second time in the last hour, I didn’t know quite what to say. I took Rain’s advice, and once my head stopped spinning, I tried again. “I thought the chaaz’braan ... well, that I’d blown it.”

 

“Blown it?” Jas’s helmet cocked to one side. “I fail to understand.”

 

“That I’d said too much. Or said the wrong thing.”

 

“No. What you said to the chaaz’braan and the High Council was correct. Humankind has the right to exist on its own terms, without being subservient to others. Your race has met its obligations. There will be no others.”

 

“In other words, they’ve decided to trust us.” Rain smiled at me.

 

“She’s right.” Ash nodded. “I’ve heard about what you said to them. They didn’t like hearing it, but it went a long way toward redeeming us.” Another pause. “That took a lot of guts, man ... but it paid off.”

 

Now that was a lot to absorb. At the very least, it wasn’t what I’d expected to hear. Another deep breath, then I sat up a little straighter. “So ... well, that’s great. Glad to hear everything’s going to work out for the...”

 

“I have not yet finished.” Jas held up a hand. “Once the Talus has completed negotiations with your race, the hjadd will resume trade with Coyote. Morgan Goldstein has already expressed his desire to continue transporting consumer goods to Talus qua’spah, although I understand that he wants a more equitable arrangement.”

 

I couldn’t help but grin. Couldn’t blame Morgan for desiring something more useful than two thousand paperweights. And if I never saw another gnosh again, it would be too soon. “Sounds reasonable. Of course, he’s going to have to get another ship.”

 

Rain nodded. “Another ship, yeah ... the Pride is pretty much shot. Doc’s gone back up there to see what can be salvaged before she’s scuttled.”

 

I grimaced. That wouldn’t be a pleasant task; the Pride was Doc’s ship, and she’d brought us home alive. Maybe Morgan didn’t consider it cost-effective to have her refitted again, but it would still be painful for Doc to let her go. “I hope he doesn’t plan to retire after this,” I said. “He’s a good man.”

 

“I hope not either. I’d like to work with him again.” Rain hesitated. “I hope you will, too ... once we get the new ship.”

 

“Huh?” I gave her a sharp look. “But Morgan...”

 

“Morgan fired you, yes ... and now he wants to rehire you.” She shrugged. “Or maybe he just decided not to fire you in the first place. At any rate, I’ve been told to tell you that he’d like to offer you a permanent contract, once the new ship is delivered.”

 

“Same job?”

 

“No.” She smiled at me again. “This time, you’ve got the helm ... unless, of course, you’d really rather be a shuttle jockey.” She paused, then quietly added, “Don’t say no. Please.”

 

I wasn’t about to refuse, even if it meant having Morgan as my boss again. “I take it that Ted and Emily still have their jobs, too,” I asked, and she nodded. “And you?”

 

“The only person who isn’t being offered a contract renewal is Ali,” Ash said. “Or at least not until he learns to manage his temper a little better.”

 

“Do I assume correctly that you are willing to accept this position?” Jas stepped toward me. “Or should I wait until you’ve made a final decision?”

 

I didn’t reply at once. Instead, I looked at Rain. She said nothing, but something in her eyes told me she’d make it worthwhile. And I still had a room at the inn...

 

“Sure. I’m in.” I grinned. “Why not?”

 

She moved closer to me. Before I knew what was happening, she’d given me a kiss. For someone whom I’d once considered a prude, she knew how to do that pretty damn well. I was about to put my arms around her when Ash cleared his throat. Damn telepath. I was about to tell him to get out of my head and go take a cold shower when I felt something prod my shoulder. Looking around, I saw what it was.

 

A hjadd navigation key. Jas held out hisher hand and offered it to me.

 

“You will need this,” heshe said.

 

* * * *

 

XV

 

All this happened many years ago. I was a younger man then, immature and a little too full of myself. Looking back at it now, I realize that perhaps there were things I should have done in a different way. On the other hand, if I hadn’t been so young and stupid, would I have been so fortunate to be where I am now?

 

I don’t know. Perhaps it’s human nature to second-guess ourselves. What I do know is that I’ve got a woman who loves me, a ship to fly, and the key to the galaxy. We’ve been out here for quite a while, and there are still plenty of stars left for us to see.

 

And I also know Ash was right. If all you want is a normal life, then it takes nothing to stay home. But once you’ve been to the Great Beyond, nothing is ever the same again.

 

Trust me.

 

Trust yourself.

 

Copyright (c) 2007 by Allen M. Steele