Primary Inversion (Saga of the Skolian Empire) Paperback (38 page)

And that was it.

I leaned back in my
seat and closed my eyes, overwhelmed by exhaustion as the rush of adrenaline
eased in my body.

“I think I had better take over,” O’Neill said.

I managed to nod. While
O’Neill took the controls, I floated over to the bunk with Jaibriol. As soon as
we maneuvered ourselves into position on it, the medweb slid around us and held
our bodies secure on the bunk.

Jaibriol and I both
slept a bit, wrapped in each other’s arms, dozing and waking sporadically. O’Neill
took us into inversion so smoothly I hardly noticed it. When we actually
inverted my stomach rebelled, but this time the twisting lasted only an
instant.

I came fully awake to
see O’Neill floating next to the bunk. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“All right.” My voice
still sounded raspy, but I felt steadier than before. “Who’s flying the racer?”

“I put it on autopilot.
It will be a few hours, ship’s time, before we reach our destination.”

Jaibriol stirred. “Where are we going?”

O’Neill grabbed the
edge of the bunk and drew herself down so she was eye level with us. “A planet
called Gamma IV.”

“That’s not a proper name,” I said. “What star? What
constellation?”

O’Neill didn’t answer.
Instead she said, “No one knows about it except us, President Calloway, and the
robot scout that found it four standard days ago—” She paused. “Four days and
three months ago. President Calloway intercepted the robot’s data before it
reached its destination, so only she knows it found anything. By now, she will
have erased that record.”

So. She wasn’t going to
tell even us where it was. “Are there people on the planet?” All these
precautions would do no good if anyone recognized us.

“The only intelligent
species isn’t human,” O’Neill said. “They appear vaguely humanoid, nomads at a
stone age level of development. They live several thousand kilometers south of
where I’m taking you.” She tilted her head. “There are some beautiful wild areas,
like the mountains where we’ll put down. But that’s all we know. We have no
surveys, no analysis, nothing else on this world.” She motioned around at the
cabin. “I brought as much survival gear as I could without drawing attention. I
also got you a solar-powered computer with a library. But other than that, you’ll
be on your own.”

That was an
understatement. True, as a Jagernaut I had survival training. My enhanced speed
and strength would also help, as would Jaibriol’s youth and intelligence. But
it wasn’t going to be easy. There was a certain logic to that, I supposed, at
least from the Allieds’ point of view. What better way to keep the Highton and
Imperial Heirs out of trouble than to set us down in an uncharted wilderness
where all of our energy would go into keeping ourselves alive?

O’Neill cleared her
throat awkwardly. “If you wish—I can perform the ceremony now.”

“Ceremony?” I asked.

“The marriage.” She hesitated. “You asked about it ... ?”

I rolled over under the
medweb to face Jaibriol. “Want to marry me?”

He smiled. “All right.”

O’Neill didn’t have
much in her computer files on marriages besides the traditional Skolian and
Highton ceremonies, neither of which we wanted. Then one caught my attention.
It was an old ceremony from Earth, one derived from the Maya Indians. I noticed
it because it came up with the image of a woman who reminded me of holos I had
seen of my grandmother. She had that same dusky skin and large eyes, the same
luxuriant braid of black hair that hung down her back.

The only words we could
find for the ceremony were in Tzotzil. Since none of us spoke it, and since we
didn’t want a computer translating in the middle of our wedding, O’Neill made
up words in Skolian, the one language we all had in common, trying to keep the
spirit of the ceremony.

We needed three
candles, a ribbon, thirteen coins, and two rings. For the candles, O’Neill dug
out penlights from a locker in one of the bulkheads. She found a meter-long
string we could use as a ribbon, and she had a handful of coins buttoned in her
pocket. The rings gave us the most difficulty. We finally took two fittings off
a brace on the bunk. We were supposed to kneel at an altar, but since we had
neither altar nor gravity, we improvised by floating over the bunk.

O’Neill turned on the
penlights and gave us each one, keeping the third for herself. She spoke
gently. “May these lights keep your future well lit.” Then she tied the ends of
the string together and slipped the loop over our heads. “May this ribbon join
your lives together as one.” She counted out the coins. “May your souls remain
safe within you.” Handing them to Jaibriol, she said, “Tell her, ‘I give these
to you, wife.’”

Jaibriol pressed the
coins into my hands. “I give these to you, wife.” Softly, he added, “It’s all I
have and I’m afraid it’s borrowed. But I give it with all my heart.”

I lifted his hand and
pressed his knuckles against my cheek, sending us floating into a strut of the
bunk. “Then you’ve made me a rich woman.”

O’Neill peered at her
notes. “Actually, you say, ‘I receive them, husband.’ It’s the first time you
call each other husband and wife.”

I kissed Jaibriol’s
hand. “I receive them, husband.” I glanced at O’Neill. “Don’t I give him
anything?”

She looked over her
notes again. “It doesn’t look like it, at least not in this version of the
ceremony. You give the coins to whoever is marrying you.”

I offered her the coins. “Thank you.”

She smiled. “Keep them.
For a memory.” She pulled the rings out of her pocket, the motion bumping her
against a carton of supplies. Lifting Jaibriol’s left hand, she slid one ring
onto his fourth finger. Then she handed him the second ring. “You may give it
to your bride now.”

Jaibriol put the ring
on my left index finger, where it fit best. It felt odd; I rarely wore jewelry.
But that was all right. I would get used to it.

“If I were a priest,” O’Neill
said, “I would read Mass now. But since I’m not ...”

“We understand,” I said.

“Well. I guess that’s
it, then.” She unhooked a computer pad from her belt. “As Captain of this ship,
I pronounce you married.” She extended the pad toward me. “You both have to
sign.”

I tensed, grabbing hold
of a brace on the bunk. “You want to make a record of this?”

“Of course. Otherwise, it’s not legal.”

“If a record exists,” Jaibriol said, “someone might find it.”

“I’ll give it to
President Calloway.” O’Neill offered me the pad again. “There’s not much point
in getting married if it doesn’t mean anything.”

“It means something to us,” Jaibriol said. “That’s what matters.”

“No. She’s right.” I
smiled wanly. “That’s how they used to end wars, right? Marry off the children
of the opposing forces. And think of our children, if we have any. Illegitimacy
will weaken their position. If something ever happens to us, that may mean a
lot more to them than we can imagine now.”

Jaibriol glanced at O’Neill. “Only President Calloway will see
this document?”

She nodded. “Unless
you ever have reason to ask her for it yourselves.”

He considered her. “Very
well.”

So we both signed. And
then we were married.

Jaibriol stood with me,
both of us looking up at the evening sky. Long after O’Neill’s ship had
dwindled to a speck and disappeared we continued to stand there, as if by not
moving we didn’t have to acknowledge we were alone now, cut off from the rest
of humanity.

Finally Jaibriol
sighed. He took my hand and tilted his head toward the entrance of a cave in
the hill next to us. “We ought to set up some sort of defense.” He motioned at
the heavy forest around us. “In case anything is out there.”

I nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

But after we walked
inside the cave, we just looked around. The feeble light from our hand lamps
lit up the rocky walls, showing us a cavity not much bigger than the cabin of
the racer. Crates and barrels, boxes and bundles lay in piles, as well as the neutrino
transmitter O’Neill had left us, our one link to the rest of the universe
should we ever decide to use it.

Jaibriol walked over to
a pile of blankets and took one. “Let’s go outside, Sauscony. Just for a while.”

The thought of escaping
the dark cave appealed to me also. “All right.” I slung the laser carbine over
my shoulder.

Outside, we set up an
electrified screen to guard the cave entrance. It was still light enough for us
to see the area. A forest of soft-needled trees surrounded us, thinning out to
the west into a scorched clearing where the racer had landed. To the north the
trees also thinned out, opening into what from here looked like another
clearing.

We went north, getting
the feel of the land, scouting the area. Instead of a clearing, we came out
onto the bare apex of a cliff. Peaks carpeted by forest spread out as far as we
could see, towering slopes that plunged down into valleys and then sheered back
into the sky. Vertical cliffs showed here and there, their nude faces making
patches of white in the otherwise unbroken green of the forest. Above the
mountains, the sunset burned as vividly as any I had seen anywhere, red fire
lapping against clouds that hung low against the mountains. Straight above us
the sky had darkened, letting stars wink here and there. In the east, the
ragged wedge of a broken moon hung above the peaks.

“It’s beautiful,” Jaibriol said.

“Yes.” Beautiful.
Wild. Unknown.

After making sure the
area was secure, we sat on the edge of the cliff with the blanket wrapped around
us and the carbine resting on our knees. The wind whispered across our faces
while shadows darkened the mountains. More stars appeared, one by one, then
tens of them, then hundreds and thousands.

Jaibriol spoke softly. “Home.”

I touched his cheek. We
had lost so much; everything we knew, everyone we loved. And despite all that
had happened, I knew Jaibriol loved his father, whom he would never see again,
at least not alive. But in exchange for those losses, we had gained the hope
that someday we, or perhaps our children after us, could make a difference in
the war we had, for now, left behind. There were no guarantees, no promises, no
certainties.

But the hope was there.

Jaibriol laid his head
against mine and we sat together, warm under the blanket. Soon we would return
to the cave to make love, and sleep, and gather our energy for tomorrow, and
the tomorrows that came after that, as we learned to know this world and each
other, preparing not only to survive, but to heal for the future, for that day
when we might leave here and resume our heritages.

But right now we sat together in peace and watched night unfold.