Going through the jelly bridge was less difficult this time. Once again Emma felt herself falling into blackness. A moment of silence went by, and she couldn’t feel anything. She thought she’d let go of the Markab’s wheel and that she was falling down the same deep, dark well, but with a jolt she was back on the water, Herbie standing safely beside her. For all they knew, it might have been a trick of the mind, this passing from outer space to a planet.
They were not in space anymore. They were on a planet bursting with orange-golden sunlight. A buoy announced that they were entering Porta Amphitrite, and a brilliant blue sea shimmered all around them. In the distance were land and a large harbor crowded with ships. A small village lined the coastline, its dockside houses tall, colorful, and ornamented with richly carved facades.
They gaped at the ships that were passing by—great squat catamarans and slender, brightly rigged ketches. A massive wooden caravel was sailing out of the harbor. It was painted blue, its crisp white sails neatly rolled up. On the ship’s bowsprit, the figure of a woman was painted to resemble Virgo in her white peasant dress and bare feet. She was holding an ear of wheat. As the ship drew closer, they saw merchants on board.
Herbie shook his head. “We are out of meteorites, we have a hole in the hull because we’re taking in more water than we should, and now we’re entering Mos Eisley.”
Emma gave a shriek of delight as one of the ships in the harbor before them rose up into the air. “Look!” Two great masts on its sides were spread open like wings, pumping steadily as the small ship gained altitude.
“How are they—what the—is that even possible?” Herbie gaped.
A huge grin spread across Emma’s face. “Herbie, we are on ANOTHER PLANET!” She punched his arm gleefully. “Can you believe this?” He was still gawking at the flying ship, so she grabbed his shoulders, shook them, and said, “Duuuuuuuude! Herbie! We’re in outer space!”
“Yeah,” he said, letting himself smile. “That is pretty cool. Look at that one!”
Emma turned just in time to see the tail end of a ship slipping under the water. It seemed to be covered in iridescent scales.
“So many ships…,” Herbie said.
“Every constellation must have its own,” she said excitedly. “Look!” She pointed to a large ketch made of sleek black wood. Its bow was pointed like a pair of joined pincers, and its mainmast curled upward like an insect tail.
“Scorpio,” Herbie said.
“No, Cancer,” she said.
“But then it should have more masts, only that wouldn’t be practical…”
They continued chattering as Emma navigated through the traffic that was swelling around them. It seemed not to matter where they docked the ship, so Emma chose a small pier at the farthest end of the harbor and pulled the Markab into an empty slot.
They tied the yacht to the pier. Making sure the cabin was locked, they grabbed their things, climbed onto the pier, and looked around.
Emma’s first impression was that a zoo had docked there. Two sloops that appeared to be from Aries were unloading herds of goats and flocks of sheep, and the animals’ bleating competed with the frustrated cawing of toucans in cages. From another set of cages, dogs—from Canis Major?—were letting out an energetic yelping of their own, confronted with a skulk of foxes. (“Vulpecula,” Herbie whispered. “There’s only one fox constellation.”) All the foxes were tied to leashes and being led down the pier by a thin, nervous-looking merchant in spectacles. The occasional shadow fluttering in the water below appeared to be a school of dolphins.
Emma and Herbie picked their way through the creature crowd, stopping only once to avoid two burly men who were chasing a runaway hare. (“Lepus!” Herbie said.) From all sides came the calls of eager buyers—“Ho, sir! You there! Is that your ship?” and “Sell me the little craft and I’ll make you the king of Indus!”
“They speak English here?” Herbie asked, looking amazed.
“I guess so.”
They walked a few more feet, and indeed they could understand what everyone was saying, but their voices, although clear, didn’t always match the movement of their mouths. Herbie stopped to puzzle about this.
“It’s like…their voices are being translated,” he said. “How is that possible?”
“Maybe something in the meteorites?” Emma suggested. “Look, I don’t see a harbormaster, but we should ask someone about docking permission.”
“Yeah,” Herbie said. “We don’t want to get a fine.”
She laughed. “Yeah, since we don’t have any money.”
“Oh!” His face fell. “We don’t even know what the currency is here. How are we going to get more meteorites?”
“Don’t worry,” she said nervously. “I’m sure we’ll find something.”
She knew that Herbie would start to argue that they should go back to Earth, so she strode quickly into the crowd and Herbie jogged to catch up, his backpack clinking at his shoulder. It had the Almagest inside, along with the boat keys and two more sandwiches just in case.
They approached a harbor gate, two great wooden doors bleached gray by the salty air. On either side, a narrow cobblestone street lined the wharf like a frill on the ocean’s bright-blue bonnet. The road was crowded with shops, taverns, and inns. Emma headed to the left, where the dock was busiest. They walked for a while, but there was no sign of a harbormaster.
“Do you think anyone’s going to notice we’re not from here?” Herbie asked.
Emma shook her head. “Everyone looks weird.”
They wandered down the street, glancing in shopwindows and staring at the surprising variety of people. Many of them looked very much like the humans on Earth, but when a pair of lanky creatures stepped out of a tavern right in front of them, Herbie grabbed Emma’s arm. She stopped in her tracks. The two creatures had wicked lizard faces, goatlike torsos, and long green fish tails that could cut brutal slashes in anything standing behind them. Sauntering confidently onto the sidewalk, one of them threw back his cloak, revealing a row of pistols and deadly knives dangling from his belt.
“What. Is. It?” Herbie whispered.
“Just keep walking,” she whispered back. They forced themselves past the creatures, who were eyeing them aggressively.
At the end of the block, Herbie let out his breath. “I have seen a lot of weird things today, but that was—that—the most—I can’t even believe—”
He only stuttered when he was really upset, but Emma couldn’t suppress her excitement.
“I think they were Capricorns,” she said. “You know, part goat, part fish. What if that map was right, and all the stars are connected? Forget traveling around the world—we could travel the galaxy. Think about it, Herbie. With the Markab, we could go anywhere!”
“But we’re going back to Earth, right? I mean, after we find your parents.”
She hesitated. “Yeah. Don’t worry. I’ll get you home—I promise.” He glared at her. “I’m just saying, we could go anywhere. If we wanted to.”
They kept walking. A man was coming down the sidewalk toward them. He was carrying a stack of papers, a hammer, and a bag of nails. He stopped at a lamppost ahead and posted a few notices there.
“You would think with all this jelly technology,” Herbie said, “they could do better than a hammer and nails.”
Emma and Herbie went closer.
“Oh wow…,” Herbie whispered. “Is that your…?”
Emma froze. At the top of each notice was a photograph of Mom! She looked much younger. And her clothing! Emma had never seen Mom in such attire. She wore a flowing white shirt held down by a dark-red corset. Her long black skirt was slit on both sides, revealing high leather boots and quite a lot of leg. Black gloves reached to her elbows, and a huge captain’s hat dwarfed her delicate face. From her belt hung two enormous pistols. She was standing in a pose—one hand on her hip, the other holding a sword over her shoulder—that suggested she was as comfortable wielding that sword as she was chopping carrots in the kitchen. There was a vicious, cunning look on her face.
“Whoa,” Herbie whispered. “Your mom’s totally a pirate.”
Then Emma got another shock. Standing behind Mom was a group of men, all wearing doublets and breeches. Dad was just behind her left shoulder, and the cold look on his face was equally foreign to her. She gulped.
The notice read:
Emma and Herbie stood gaping at the picture.
“Yep,” she managed. “The same mom who grounded me for borrowing change from her purse.”
Herbie was shaking his head. “I was so wrong about your dad. Your mom is the badass.”
Emma’s jaw dropped. “What. The. Hell with my parents?”
“I think your dad knew this was going to happen,” Herbie said. “Remember how, when the kidnappers broke into your house, he reacted right away? He shoved us into that closet fast. I mean, the fact that he had a secret closet at all. He was prepared for it.”
Emma felt queasy about this, but he was right: her parents must have been waiting for the day when their past would catch up with them, and Dad had been surprisingly well prepared….
She peeled the notice free, revealing another one beneath it.
PIRATES DON’T DIE!! was scrawled over it.
“Your mom was executed?” Herbie said.
Emma was stunned. She felt a weird tingling, as if at any moment the sidewalks might turn into rivers, the lampposts into ships. And if she looked out at the harbor, she might not see water, but stars and planets and the blackness of space. It was not exciting anymore to feel that the whole world could change in an instant, because now the deepest and most fundamental part of it had changed.
Her parents, who had always just been her parents, were people she never knew.