To Dream in the City of Sorrows (21 page)

No. In her gut she was sure these had to be the things Jeff had been trying to warn her about. She wondered how he knew about them. What he knew about them. She wished he had been able to get just a little more information to her, although she also knew he would have if he’d been able to.

With no other information, it seemed best to wait for the moment, to see what they would do. She was still not that far off course yet, nothing that couldn’t be made up to keep her scheduled rendezvous with the Ops ship. Perhaps she could find some way to ease away from the fleet. Once again, the sensor alarms sounded. “Now what?” She turned off the alarms, pulled up the new readings, and felt a flood of relief, hoping it was justified. The ships seemed to be leaving, peeling off from the formation one by one.

She double-checked with a visual scan. The three dark ships that had been in front of her were gone. She had the computer do a full-grid visual check at maximum magnification even as she continued to scrutinize the sensor readings. She wanted an exact count. She had determined with a fair amount of certainty that there had been twelve ships. Now the readings indicated that nine ships had moved off on new headings. That left three ships that had simply vanished from her view and her sensors. But however they had done it, they all appeared to be gone.

Was it going to be that easy? she thought. “Sakai,” she said aloud, “when has it ever been that easy? Computer, do another sensor scan at maximum detection for any apparent anomalous objects, sensor shadows, or echoes.”

She didn’t have to wait long. “Confirmation, at maximum sensor range, one eight zero by one eight zero.”

Straight behind her. She checked the numbers on the screen. It might be a sensor anomaly or a hyperspace artifact, but it was the computer’s judgment it was probably a ship. It was her judgment as well. Now to see if it was following her.

“Computer. Set course adjustment, original heading and increase speed to reach jump gate at scheduled rendezvous time.” Then she watched the readings. Her new companion matched course and speed.

They had noticed her after all, and apparently now wanted to see where she was going. And then what would they do? Simply note it in their logbook? Or blast her ship into a cloud of dust before she could report what she had seen of them? She feared the last option was the most likely. She had no proof of that, just once again a gut reaction. And no pilot lived for long without learning how to trust her instincts.

She had to hope that the alien ship planned to follow her all the way to the jump gate. If it decided to attack her before then, that would be that. She would have no options. Sky dancer carried no weaponry or defensive shielding, and Sakai felt sure her ship wouldn’t be able to outrun or outmaneuver the alien ship.

But if it waited until she got to the jump gate – well, then she might have a chance. One of the other things she had learned as a pilot, was that even the slimmest of chances was better than none.

She was running across a devastated landscape, as massive ships, jagged and dark, thrummed low overhead, blasting everything in their path, their destructive weapons just missing her again and again. She had to keep going. There, just ahead, on the horizon, she saw Jeff caught in a glowing sphere of light, a terrifyingly easy target for the alien warships. She had to get to him, but she could not run fast enough, could not close the distance between them ...

“Thirty minutes to jump-gate rendezvous.” The computer voice woke her up where she had drifted off to sleep in the console chair. That would not do at all. She was going to have to take another stim shot. She would pay hell for it later, but there wasn’t any other choice.

As she put the hypo to her arm, fragments of the dream came back to her. Talk about your psychological displacement, she thought with grim amusement. She was the one who might have to gamble everything on one chance to save herself from destruction, and she was dreaming about trying to save Jeff.

She checked the sensors. Her alien companion was still with her, still at the same distance it had maintained for the last three days. Did it know they were approaching an Earth-built jump gate? Could they tune in to what was supposed to be a coded homing beacon usable only by authorized ships? How quickly could the alien ship cover the space between them? Did the alien ship really plan to do anything at all? It was amazing how thoroughly she could be convinced of one thing – that the alien was bent on keeping her from leaving hyperspace in one piece – and yet still keep hoping with all her heart hat somehow she really might be wrong – that the alien was just observing her, and meant her no harm – and she wouldn’t have to do what she was planning to do. Right, Sakai. Don’t be a sap, she thought. Check the sample bay one more time and make sure everything’s ready. And don’t overthink the consequences on the other side. Just be ready to do it.

It was very simple really. She had to shut down the jump gate after she went through it but before the alien ship could follow her. All she had to do was dump her entire sample bay, all the valuable material she had spent four months gathering, the very reason she had been sent out to the Rim, and she had to dump it at precisely the right moment. Too soon, and she wouldn’t make it through the gate herself, leaving her to be destroyed by the alien, or by the malfunctioning of the gate itself. Too late, and the alien ship would still be able to get through before the gate shut down, leaving the alien free to destroy her, and quite possibly the Ops ship as well.

For good measure, she checked everything two more times. She finished just in time for the computer’s announcement.

“Approaching jump gate Quadrant one hundred three zero, coordinates five four by eight zero two by six five in ten minutes.”

This was it.

“Computer, initiate hyperspace departure sequence. Establish contact with the exit jump gate. And report on position of alien ship.”

“Acknowledged. Alien ship increasing velocity, on collision trajectory, estimated intersection in nine minutes at present acceleration.”

Would it fire before she went through the gate? It was a secure, coded gate. If it wanted to know where the gate opened into normal space, it should have to follow her through the gate. How much sooner would it be able to get an accurate fix on her for weapons fire? Perhaps it wanted to get at least one shot at her here, and would only follow through if it missed.

“Computer, load new instructions E-X four two into the hyperspace departure sequence and initiate. Increase speed to maximum and ignore safety override.”

It was not a good idea to enter a jump gate at the speed she had just ordered her ship to attain – but by catching the alien off guard, she hoped to be through that gate before the other ship got within firing range.

“Approaching gate entry point,” intoned the computer. “Prepare for jump to normal space.”

“Acknowledged.”

“Entering gate.”

Sky dancer flew through the jump-point opening. The cockpit started to spin around Sakai even as she gave the final order.

“Eject full contents of sample bay.” She felt Skydancer recoil as every last ton of radioactive soil and rock spewed out behind her, hit the folds of hyperspace, and carried forward with Skydancer toward the jump gate’s transition point where she hoped it would foul the transition boosters, overload the energy exchange, and shut the gate down behind her.

Energy crackled around Skydancer like a lightning cocoon, and other massive discharges of energy flashed and thundered beyond the ship, Sakai held on as Skydancer pitched and rolled, then shuddered furiously. What should have taken no more than an instant, was taking long seconds. Why wasn’t she moving through the transition point? Had the radioactive debris shut down the gate before she could pass through?

Finally, Skydancer stopped shaking and she felt the Universe elongate.

Only this didn’t feel right, either. As always at the point of transition, physical reality seemed to stretch into an infinite, one-dimensional length of atoms. But this time it continued to stretch and extend far beyond anything she had ever experienced before during a jump. The distance between each individual atom was greater than the gulf between the galaxies. She felt reality itself evaporating away into an absolute nothingness from which she would never return.

The Universe snapped back into place with shocking suddenness. A last discharge of energy crackled over Skydancer’s hull and faded away, even as the ship continued to shudder for another five long seconds. Then Sakai saw the stars. Sky dancer limped into normal space and slowly headed toward the UTC Ops ship ahead.

“Computer! Did anything follow us through the gate?”

“Negative. Jump gate is currently nonfunctional.”

She hadn’t expected such a violent reaction from dumping the material into the transition point. She had only meant to clog up the works, not set off a fireworks display that almost took her ship apart, and that may have done more damage to the jump gate then she had originally planned.

The electrical system in Skydancer failed, and the small emergency generator took over. Time to stop worrying about the jump gate, and see what she did to her own ship.

“Computer, display damage assessment.”

A lengthy damage report scrolled by: life support systems at minimum functioning, electrical systems nonfunctional except for emergency systems, propulsion unit two damaged and nonfunctional, damage to the hull, including ruptures in bays 3, 5, 7, and 9. This much damage, coupled with the unexpected pyrotechnics in the gate, led Sakai to wonder ...

“Computer. Was Skydancer fired upon by the ship that was following us?”

“Energy weapon discharge indicated.”

She called up the readings on the screen, and began to analyze the data. Did she once say she hated hyperspace? Wonderful hyperspace with its twisted topography and unpredictable currents? Those properties of hyperspace, assisted in some small measure by the debris she had ejected and the turbulence of the jump transition itself, had apparently saved her life. The alien must have fired from practically point-blank range as she entered the gate, and just missed by a hair’s width, scorching the outer hull in places and igniting the debris-filled hyperspace around her. But the force of it had actually propelled Skydancer forward and out of harm’s way.

She decided she might even owe the mysterious alien a thank you – at least she now had some defense for her actions other than gut instinct. This gave her some small measure of comfort as Skydancer – damaged and empty of its valuable cargo – entered the docking bay of the massive Universal Terraform Operations ship.

C
HAPTER 17

MARCUS didn’t notice the startled looks on the faces of his employees as he said a cheerful good morning to everyone he passed by on his way to meet his brother. They were not used to seeing their boss in a good mood, and were careful to return the morning cheer – and move on quickly.

It had been a good couple of days. Marcus had shown William every aspect of the orbital side of the operation, top to bottom, both on the Refinery Platform and here on the Inhabitants’ Platform. William had seemed eager to see everything, asking a lot of informed and perceptive questions, and not just because he was striking a business deal for the Rangers with Marcus. He appeared genuinely interested. For the first time in a long while, Marcus felt truly proud of what he had been able to build here – and William seemed to be proud of him for it.

William had also continued to talk about his time with the Rangers as Marcus had shown him around, but without saying it aloud they had struck a truce. Over these past few days, Marcus hadn’t tried to convince William to leave the Rangers and join him in the business, and William hadn’t tried to convince Marcus to leave the business and join him in the Rangers. They had gotten along better than they had since they were kids.

“Good morning, Marcus.”

He had just a turned a corner to come upon Hasina. “Good morning to you. How are things in Planetary Forecasting?”

“Quiet so far in the mining areas,” she said. “In fact, unusually quiet planetwide. Volcanic and earthquake activity are lower than normal for Arisia. It’s as if the old girl is holding her breath.”

Marcus laughed. “Is that your scientific appraisal?”

“No,” said Hasina, also with a laugh. “My scientific appraisal is waiting on your computer for your inspection. “

“Seen it,” said Marcus. “Your usual fine job. Just thought I’d get your personal observations.”

She smiled in return. For some reason, Marcus couldn’t think of a thing to say, even though he really wanted to.

Hasina rescued them both. “How does your brother like our little operation here? He seems like a fine young man.”

“He is, isn’t he?” said Marcus, as a thought occurred to him. “Listen, would you like to join us for dinner tonight? We’ve got all our business talk out of the way. It would be nice just to have a social dinner.” In fact, thought Marcus, it would be his first since coming to Arisia.

“I’d like that very much. And I have an idea. I still have that authentic African cuisine dinner my mother sent out to me,” she said. “It’ll be fresh in that stasis pack for another year at least. Anyway, she sent more than enough for three people ...”

“Sounds great. I’m sure Will would love a break from commissary food.”

“My quarters then? At seven?”

“We’ll be there,” said Marcus. “Now I have to roust my brother out of bed.”

Marcus continued on his way. Maybe William had been right about one thing. Maybe it was time to expand his definition of a “real life.”

Marcus reached his brother’s small visitor’s quarters and entered without knocking, intending on rudely and loudly waking him up. Instead, to his profound amazement, he found William sitting in the middle of the floor, fully dressed, apparently meditating. During the last few days Marcus had been too busy to see his brother before lunch, and had just assumed William would welcome the chance to sleep in as he always had.

William didn’t open his eyes. “Good morning, brother. I heard you coming down the hall.”