Rayne stared blindly at Shadowen’s screens, reliving the last few seconds on the Draycon ship. The intensity of her anguish had startled her. How could she feel so much for a man whose face she had never seen? Why had he risked his life to save her?
She addressed the ship. “Shadowen, can you find out how the Shrike is?”
“Of course.”
Several moments passed, and then Shadowen said, “The Shrike is undergoing surgery at Dermoin, his nearest outpost. His condition is serious, and he is unconscious.”
“Does he have healers on Dermoin?”
“No, but he has competent doctors and surgeons.”
“I could heal him.”
“You would not be allowed to see him.”
“Why not?” she asked, surprised.
“You would be considered a security risk.”
She snorted. “Of course. But he’s going to be okay?”
“His prognosis is good.”
“Can you find out what’s happening at Atlan?”
“I tap the Atlanteans’ communications as a matter of course. They’re sending warships to intercept the crystalline entity that appeared close to the planet a short while ago.”
Rayne raked a hand through her damp hair. Endrix had said the Crystal Ship could not be destroyed in space. She sighed. “How long before we reach Atlan?”
“Seven and a half hours.”
Vidan gazed at the Shrike, trying to remember how many times he had stood at his bedside after a dangerous confrontation, battle or semi-suicidal mission had left him wounded. For as long as he had been Tarke’s second-in-command, the man with no face had risked his life with frightening regularity, despite his importance to the millions of people who relied on him to save and shelter them. This was not the first time he had led his ships into battle to save slaves, but never before had it been only one. The harsh rasp of Tarke’s breathing was reassuring, and Vidan scanned the holographic readouts of the various machines that monitored him. Blood seeped from the edge of the mask, pooling on the pillow. The readouts showed a strong heartbeat, laboured breathing and dangerously low blood pressure. A bag of blood replacement fluid was hooked up to a needle in his arm. The hospital had become a hive of activity since his arrival, and orderlies, nurses and medics rushed around on urgent errands.
Dermion’s top trauma surgeon, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline named Grayal, peeled off Tarke’s space armour and blood-soaked shirt, revealing a black-edged wound. A second doctor cut away the Shrike’s trousers and probed the shrapnel wounds in his hips and thighs. Nurses clustered behind them, awaiting orders, their expressions tense.
Grayal shot a concerned glance at the blood that oozed onto the pillow. The resilient, flexible and almost indestructible plycon material of the mask and skullcap was undamaged. Vidan wondered if Graval would suggest removing it, but few were keen to undergo the mind-wipe afterwards to remove the memory of Tarke’s face. Vidan knew how unpleasant it was, from experience. Unless Tarke stopped breathing, the mask would remain in place.
Grayal positioned a surgical robot over the injury and took up his post at its controls. The web of old scars on Tarke’s chest gleamed in the harsh lights. An alarm sounded, and the second doctor glanced at the holograms.
“He’s regaining consciousness. Prepare the sleep inducer.”
A medic moved a saucer-shaped instrument over Tarke’s head, but Vidan held up a hand to prevent her switching it on. The Shrike’s wheezing breath caught, and he tensed. He turned his head towards Vidan, who leant closer.
“The girl?”
“The Atlanteans took her. She’s safe.”
Vidan nodded to the medic, who turned on the sleep inducer, and Tarke relaxed. Vidan hovered while the surgeons closed the wound.
Rayne sipped a cup of Atlantean coffee, called najad, and stared at the stars beyond the energy shell’s crawling fire. After five hours of induced sleep, she had eaten and enquired about Tarke’s health again. He was out of surgery and asleep, apparently. She had sent a message telling the Atlanteans not to attack the Envoy, but Endrix had not responded to her calls, making her wonder if he would show up. Her stomach was a tight knot, threatening to squirt the najad she had just swallowed back up her throat. Shadowen interrupted her thoughts, making her jump.
“I am decelerating towards Atlan. I will stop close to the alien ship.”
“Not too close.”
“There are many ships in the vicinity.”
“What are they doing?” she asked.
“Not much. The alien ship is moving towards the planet, but at this range I cannot scan it in any detail. It is almost the size of a moon, and causing some strange distortions in the spacial fabric.”
Rayne wished she knew what lay ahead, so she could prepare. How was she supposed to fight this monster, and with what? She tensed as a flicker of prickles passed across her mind, like a sweep of pins in her brain. The strange sensation was unsettling, and she checked the holograms. Whatever it was, Shadowen was apparently unable to detect it.
As she relaxed, Rayne became aware of a strange tickling sensation at the back of her skull. Someone, or something, was trying to read her mind. She raised the weak mental shields she had tried so hard to cultivate, but the sensation increased, becoming a faint hiss of alien thoughts. Her alarm grew as she experienced a flash of telepathic sight; a seething chamber filled with a rosy glow, snakes of Net power, or something like it, sliding down dark walls.
Rayne jerked back as the vision vanished, gasping. Reality returned, and she longed to order Shadowen to flee, certain it was the Envoy that had probed her mind. The sensation returned, but stronger, filling her head with alien sentience, so strange she could make no sense of it. Another flash of the rosy chamber was followed by a brief vision of Atlan, then a dull pain throbbed through her, as if she was bruised all over. The creature suffered, and shared a tiny part of its pain with her and everyone else who could hear it.
The alien mind touch receded, leaving her stunned. She stared at the writhing golden fire on the screens. Shadowen still decelerated prior to shedding the energy shell, so only seconds had passed, but she had learnt something of what she faced. She was certain the mind that had touched hers did not belong to an enemy. It had sought something within hers, which it evidently had not found, and had gone on to touch others. What would happen when, or if, it found what it was searching for?
Rayne recalled Endrix’s description of the Crystal Ship’s attack on Tarke’s home world, how it had broadcast friendship and goodwill, tricking the people into welcoming it. Not that they could have stopped it, but it had prevented any form of defensive measures that might have harmed it. This one would do the same thing, yet she sensed, in its brief contact with her, that whatever controlled it had not yet commanded it. The realisation struck her like a bucket of cold water. The mind that had touched hers was not the Envoy’s, but the Crystal Ship’s.
Driven by some obscure instinct, and not certain she was doing the right thing, she reached out with her mind, striving to touch the entity. It rushed into her mind again, eager, seeking, crying out to be heard and understood, to share its pain and despair, to find someone or something that could understand it. Rayne opened herself to it, allowed its pain to permeate her and responded to its sadness with a deep wellspring of sympathy. It engulfed her, frightening in its intensity, but softening its hold when it sensed her fear.
A line of communications opened, and she sank into the soft embrace of a powerful psyche. A rush of warm thoughts suffused her mind with a vast cauldron of information. She sorted through it, trying to make sense of alien thoughts and perceptions, half of which were beyond her ken. One overriding sensation came clearly from the glut of alien knowledge. The creature was a slave. It called itself by an unpronounceable name; the closest she could come to it was Scrysalza, but that was only a fraction of its true appellation. Its pain and despair made her loathe those that lived within it like parasites, like worms in an animal’s gut, bringing it sickness and pain.
Kill them, she told it, cast them out. It could not, it said, it had tried many times and failed. As a youngster it had fought the invasion of these things, but they had taken control of it, and now to rebel was to suffer. It asked for her help, and, although she had no idea how, or if, she could, she agreed. The alien mind receded, and she became aware of her surroundings again as reality returned.
Shadowen was shedding the energy shell, and the crawling fire leeched away from the windows as the stars settled into their places. The bridge’s silent gloom was soothing in its normality, and she gazed out of the clearing windows, eager for her first glimpse of the alien ship. An alarm beeped in her ear.
Shadowen said, “Ship dead ahead. Collision proximity. Shields up. Repellers on maximum.”
Rayne gripped the arms of her chair as the last of the golden haze faded.
The alien entity filled the screens with a dreadful, awesome beauty. Scintillating crystal spears radiated from it, and refracted light weaved webs of brilliance through the space around it. Immense beyond imagination, alien beyond belief, it scattered shards of radiance from numberless crystalline facets. No form or shape confined it; no words could accurately describe it. Vast webs of crystal surrounded it in huge butterfly wings of gossamer glass ablaze with liquid light.
The Crystal Ship.
Rayne was oblivious to Shadowen’s attempts to analyse and categorise it. It had an awful fascination about it, a radiant, glorious splendour that drove the breath from her lungs and captivated her. She sat frozen, unable to tear her eyes away from its brilliant beauty.
Shadowen’s words impinged, and she shook off her enthralment to listen to him.
“Net link broken; unable to restore. Powering down all non-essential functions. Ship ahead, structure crystalline and biological, outer skin particles over two millions years old, sentient, alien life forms aboard, race unknown, language unknown, origin unknown -”
Rayne shouted, “Endrix!”
Silence answered her, and she asked Shadowen, “Where is he? He must be somewhere close by. He wouldn’t abandon me now.”
The consoles flared with sparkling light, like shoals of glowing fish crossing a black sea. “I can find no trace of the ship you call Endrix. We are no longer in the normal space-time continuum.”
“Then where the hell are we?”
“I cannot formulate an answer from the data available.”
Rayne stared at the awe-inspiring spectacle outside, amazed that she had touched the mind of this beautiful, massive creature. Undoubtedly that was what had made it transfer them all into this other place, wherever this was. The Crystal Ship rotated slowly, shafts of light slashing the blackness around it. She wondered how long it would be before it renewed its contact, and whether its masters had realised that something was amiss. What could she do to help this alien creature? How was she supposed to rid it of the creatures that infested it when it could not?
Shadowen broke into her thoughts. “The ship you call Endrix has just appeared off my starboard bow.”
She searched the blackness, but he was invisible against the starless space. “Endrix?”
“I am here.” His voice spoke from the air beside her.
“I was beginning to think I’d have to do this alone.”
“You do.”
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Ultimate space, I’m afraid. It’s what my masters call the third dimension.”
“The one where no energy exists, only void?”
“Correct. The Crystal Ship has entrapped you in an energy net much like the one you use, and is preventing the void from tearing your ship apart. I assume you have made contact with it.”
Rayne watched the Crystal Ship rotating in gargantuan incandescence. “Yes.”
“Good, now you must wait and see what it does next. But bear in mind that it has you at its mercy. Although the Ship itself is not hostile, it is under the Envoy’s influence. The Ship cannot disobey its master easily, so be careful not to alert the Envoy.”
Still gazing at the mind-numbing spectacle outside, Rayne wondered what was going to happen next. The Crystal Ship hung in space like a bizarre jewel of immeasurable immensity.
“Is the Envoy asleep or something?”
“Or something. Its attention has not yet focussed on you. In fact, it does not even know the Ship has changed course.”
“Changed course! It’s gone into another dimension.”
“To one of these creatures, the dimensions are like your different modes of travel. The second dimension would be like a road, easy to traverse, requiring little energy. The first dimension is like an ocean, a little more difficult to navigate, but easy enough. This, the third dimension, is like air, much harder to fly, requiring a lot of energy, but it can see the other two, like a bird flying along a beach. The universe, with all its dimensions, is to this creature what your world is to you. It finds nothing dangerous or strange about it. Even the worst space storm or energy vortex cannot harm it.”
“Why has it brought me here?”
“You would know that better than me,” Endrix said. “You were in communication with it.”
“It was seeking help, trying to find some way to get rid of the Envoy. The Ship regards the Envoy as a parasite. It asked me to help it. But I fail to see why that would make it bring us here.”
“Probably to isolate you, so it can concentrate on you.”
Rayne shivered. “I hope I did the right thing.”
“I’m sure you did. It’s your destiny.”
“It may be my destiny to confront this damned thing, but there’s no guarantee I won’t muck it up. For all I know, I might have landed myself in the poo.”
“Just follow your instincts. It’s why you were chosen.”
Rayne was quite sure time was passing; she could sense the seconds ticking past and becoming minutes, but when she looked at the holographic readout that kept the ship’s time, it had stopped.
“Did the last Crystal Ship ask you for help, before it went to the planet?”
“Yes. I think they ask that question of every creature they meet, but they rarely get a reply. I could do nothing to help the last Ship, nor can I help this one.”
“How can I?” she cried. “I know even less than you.”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you will find out soon.”
Rayne thought about Tarke, wounded because of her, and unable to help her now. “Should my guardian be here?”
“I don’t know.”
Rayne made a feeble gesture towards the Ship. “Why can’t I see the energy shell you say it has? All I see is raw space.”
“Low-grade energy shells are visible, but the Ship is using an energy shell of such intensity that it is invisible, as Net energy becomes when it’s very dense. This creature has Net energy running through it like blood. It’s saturated with it. Even I can only remain in the third dimension for a short duration. It could stay here for decades.”
“So that’s why I can’t see you, either.”
“Yes,” Endrix replied. “Of necessity, my shell is also intense.”
Rayne became aware that the light from the Crystal Ship was changing, no longer slashing aimlessly through space, but congealing, forming into long streamers of tangible brilliance that reached out towards her.
She tensed. “What’s happening?”
“I believe it is about to transfer you within itself.”
“I don’t want to do this!” she wailed, pushing herself back in the chair.
“It means you no harm.”
“It may not, but the Envoy does!”
“Whether or not the Envoy can harm you without the Ship’s help remains to be seen. No one has ever encountered an Envoy in person, so to speak.”
“That’s a great comfort!”
The light was all around her now. It came through the Shadowen’s hull as if it did not exist and spread across her skin in icy rays. Cold sank into her, and she shivered.
“Endrix, do something. Help me!”
“I cannot.”
“Shadowen!”
Rayne gasped as the icy light crept over her, her heart hammering so hard she was sure it would burst. The creeping, frigid fingers of light had almost engulfed her. Shadowen’s lights flickered and flared as he scanned the bridge for an alien presence.
“I can detect nothing,” he said. “There is no entity aboard this ship.”
“There is! Can’t you see it?” She brushed at the light on her arms, causing it to swirl, like mist.
“I can detect nothing.”
A strange slipping sensation gripped her, as if she was sliding through the fabric of space.
“No!” Her despairing cry filled the bridge as it vanished.
Tarke opened his eyes and stared at a plain white ceiling. He lifted an arm, finding himself weak, and touched the mask, reassured by its presence. Raising his head, he surveyed a hospital room. A bevy of machines stood watch over him. Holographic readouts monitored his heart and blood pressure, measured his breathing and tested his temperature. They were all normal. He was alone, but the door’s green light told him it was unlocked.
Sitting up, he fingered the mask, longing to remove it and get at the terrible itch that plagued his face. Two remote sensors were stuck to his chest, feeding information to the machines, so he could get up if he wanted. Someone had switched off the sleep inducer, so evidently his doctors had decided he was well enough to get up, and left him alone to do so. His people knew how much he treasured his privacy, and Vidan was undoubtedly here to ensure his care. Vidan always arrived within hours when Tarke was injured, to hover over him like a broody hen. He had given the poor man many frights over the years with his frequent brushes with death. He swung his legs off the bed, pausing to allow a wave of dizziness to pass, and ordered the door to lock. The light turned red, and he pressed his fingers to the release studs on the sides of the mask.
With a sigh of relief, he pulled it off, breaking the glue of dried blood. He tossed it onto the bed and rubbed his face, ridding himself of the itching, then unclipped the skullcap and removed it, along with the neck guard. After a pause to gather his strength, he tottered into the washroom and peered into the mirror above the basin. Dried blood caked his chin and cheeks from his nose, probably from the concussion that had knocked him senseless. He washed it off with warm water, then peered at the wound in his chest.
Pink regeneration jelly smeared it, and already new skin had started to cover it under the glue that held it together. He was clad only his undershorts, and he poked the wounds in his thighs and hips. Satisfied that he was in one piece and healing, he returned to the bed and donned the robe beside it, finding a clean mask and skullcap, too. This anticipation of his needs told him Vidan was here, and he smiled as he picked them up. Donning them, he sent a summons to his loyal lieutenant, unlocking the door at the same time.
Vidan entered a few minutes later, smiling. “Looks like you’re feeling better.”
Tarke inclined his head. “Not too bad. Tell me what’s happened; all of it.” He leant back against the pile of pillows.
Vidan sat on a chair beside the bed. “Well, Norvar was destroyed in the end. It broke up after we released it. The Draycons have returned to their planets. They don’t seem inclined to pursue the matter. Valiant is too badly damaged to repair, so I’ve ordered her to be broken down. The other two cruisers suffered major damage, but can be saved. They’ve gone to Almaritze for restructuring. The rest of the ships suffered only minor damage, and they’re being repaired. The Atlanteans left shortly after we did, and we tapped into their communications. It seems a massive alien entity appeared near Atlan during the battle, and they were recalled to investigate it.”
“Any word from Shadowen since then?”
“No.”
“Contact him and find out what’s going on.”
Vidan’s brows rose. “Why are you so concerned with this human girl? It isn’t like you to take such risks for the sake of one person.” He smiled. “Is she that pretty?”
Tarke snorted. “You should know better than that. She might be important. You know the legend of the Golden Child?”
“I should, I’m Atlantean.”
“She’s supposed to be it.”
“Really.” Vidan looked thoughtful. “And do you think she is?”
“She fits the description. I don’t know for sure, but I’m not taking any chances. If Atlan falls, we’ll be dealing with Drayconar.”
Vidan shuddered. “Not a pleasant thought.”
“Right, and this alien entity that’s appeared near Atlan could be a crystal ship. I want to know if it is, and what’s happened to the girl, if anything.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll contact Shadowen and get a report.” Vidan paused, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not thinking of trying to stop it attacking Atlan, are you?”
The Shrike shook his head. “It’s not my problem, except what could happen in the aftermath. If it destroys Atlan, the Draycons will be free to take over, and that threatens us. And what will the Ship do after it’s destroyed the Atlanteans? I doubt it’s just going to go away.”
“Surely Atlan has the military strength to destroy this thing before it does them any harm?”
“I don’t know. If that was the case, why does the prophecy say only the Golden Child can save Atlan? Where did the prophecy come from?”
Vidan shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“So there could be more to this than meets the eye.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Maybe nothing,” Tarke said. “It depends on what’s happening to Rayne. She might be in danger, and if she’s the only person who can stop this alien ship, I should help her. She has a guide, someone called Endrix. See if you can contact him. He might know more.”
Vidan nodded and rose, still looking a little confused. After he left, Tarke pondered what he knew, not surprised that Vidan had become lost in the situation’s complexity. Only he and Rayne knew he had encountered and destroyed the first crystal ship, unless, of course, she had told the Atlanteans, which seemed likely. Vidan clearly could not understand his concern for the Atlanteans, since they were his arch enemies, and he could not tell him it was the girl he was really concerned about. Once again, he was filled with an inexplicable urge to rush to her aid, and he was not even sure she was in danger. He lay back and pondered the situation.
Vidan returned about half an hour later, his brow wrinkled with confusion. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but it doesn’t seem good. I couldn’t contact Shadowen, so I tapped into the Atlantean communications. There was so much space line chatter it took the techs a while to sort it out. It seems this alien is a huge crystalline entity, and it’s vanished. No one can find it. The trouble is, Shadowen vanished at the same time, and the Atlanteans think the alien ship took him, with the girl on board.”
The Shrike groaned.
Vidan waited for several moments, then asked, “What do you want to do about it?”
“I don’t know.” Tarke raised his head and groaned again, this time with pain.
Vidan’s expression became concerned. “You mustn’t exert yourself.”
The Shrike looked down at the wound in his chest. “How long before this thing’s healed?”
“The doctors said you should remain in bed until tomorrow at the earliest.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You could tear it open.” Vidan frowned, his chubby face becoming stern. “I won’t allow you to do that.”
“Allow me? How do you propose to stop me?”
“I would much rather you didn’t try anything as stupid as going to Atlan to try to find this ship, and the girl. If she is the Golden Child, she doesn’t need your help. Going to Atlan is suicide. They won’t hesitate to capture you. It’s too dangerous.”
“And when has danger ever prevented me from doing something?” Tarke asked.
“Never, but I have.”
The Shrike nodded. “Ah, yes, the time you transferred me out of a slaver’s hold before I could kill the bastard.”
“Before he could kill you.”
“So little faith.”
Vidan shook his head. “It wasn’t that, and you know it. Without you, hundreds of thousands of people will suffer and die. That’s what I can’t allow.”
“You would carry on. No one would suffer.”
“You’re wrong. I can’t. I’m not you. It’s you they believe in. You’re the one who gives them hope. You’re the one they’d die for, not me.”
Tarke sighed. “Dress someone else up in a black outfit and a mask and they won’t know the difference. You’ve done it before. All those poor sods the Atlanteans executed, thinking they were me.”
“They know your voice and manner. Those men fooled the Atlanteans, but they wouldn’t have fooled your people.”
“I’m not going to argue with you,” Tarke said. “If the Crystal Ship isn’t stopped, we’re all in a lot of trouble, and I don’t think we even realise how much.”
“What can we do, if we don’t know where it is? This Endrix person hasn’t responded to our calls. If we locate the alien ship, or this Endrix responds, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, you need to sleep.”
As Vidan spoke the last word, the familiar, enervating sensation of a sleep inducer drew a black curtain across Tarke’s mind.
Vidan settled Tarke comfortably, then went to the door, where he paused to gaze back before leaving him to rest. He disliked overriding the Shrike’s wishes, but at times he was forced to, when Tarke seemed bent on self-destruction. In all the years Vidan had been with him, he had not figured out the strange man he worked for. There had been more than one occasion when he had stepped in to avert a disaster, when Tarke seemed to go off the deep end. He knew Tarke had a lot of problems locked behind his calm demeanour and inscrutable mask. He even knew some of the reasons for them, but he was never able to put the symptom together with its cause.
There was just too much inexplicable tragedy in Tarke’s past, too many things he never spoke about. Now it seemed the Shrike was once more on the road to self-destruction, and going into one of his risky phases, when he stopped caring about his safety. These times were tense for Vidan. The Shrike’s loss would doom his empire and all those who thrived within it. Although that concerned him, his main fear was losing the man he loved more than a brother, who saved so many from unspeakable humiliation and suffering.
The Shrike’s concern for the human girl was strange, he pondered as he walked along a smooth, pale corridor towards the base’s main control centre. Perhaps it was, as he claimed, because she might be the Golden Child, but he hoped there was more to it than that. Tarke had lived like a monk for as long as he had known him, refusing the temptations of some of the most beautiful and exotic women in the galaxy. The fact that he was Antian partially explained it, but Vidan had always hoped Tarke would one day find a female companion with whom to share his problems, and who might put an end to his wild and dangerous ways.
Now this human girl seemed to have caught his attention, and fresh hope took hold in Vidan. He wondered if the problem had been the other women’s exotic looks, because compared to them, the human girl was quite ordinary. He shook his head and strode through the doors that opened ahead of him, entering a scene very like that of a ship’s bridge. Whatever the reason for Tarke’s interest, he had to find a way to ensure the human girl’s survival.
Vidan stopped beside one of the officers who manned a console. The man glanced up at him in surprise. “Vidan, what brings you here? I thought you were monitoring the Shrike.”
“I was, but he’s asleep now. Any response to our calls to the ship called Endrix?”
“No. And Shadowen hasn’t reappeared either.”
Vidan nodded. “Keep searching for him. It’s important that we find him, and keep calling Endrix.”
Rayne gasped and opened her eyes, fighting a strange lethargy that tried to slam them shut. Moist, musty air made her cough as she fought to raise her head. She was unable to prevail against the far stronger urge to fall asleep again, and allowed the warm gloom to wash over her. There was nothing to see, anyway, only darkness.
Swimming down into the depths of her dreams, she encountered the alien presence again, stronger, keener, and eager for her help. It raced around in her mind like a frolicking foal, searched through her memories and sampled her emotions. Vaguely she was aware that she seemed to be trapped in warm stickiness, but perhaps that was part of the dream. She concentrated on the alien mind, trying to ask it questions, but not knowing how. It seemed to divine her need, and showed her a series of brief, telepathic visions that jolted her.
The seething, rosy chamber seemed prevalent in the creature’s thoughts – a hot, sticky scene that made little sense to a human observer. Other scenes meant even less, she found: cascades of clear liquid and a red river of tiny, indistinct creatures. Masses of fragile green swelled in sheets of light, puffing out cool breezes, and vast empty spaces aglow with pearly brilliance. Her confusion seemed to agitate the creature, and it flashed the pictures more forcefully. Realising that she was only making things worse, Rayne strived to relax, communicating her sympathy and friendship again. This had the desired effect of calming the massive entity.
I have to wake up, Rayne told it. I have to see you with my eyes. The concept of eyes confused the Ship, and she could not explain it. It gave her a picture of a vastness that puzzled her, a flat plain of nothingness strewn with tiny islands of solid matter and points of hot brilliance. Above this seethed a sky of glowing yellow, and below, a vast void. The scene lingered while she studied it, and, as she did, realisation dawned like the first sunrise on a new world. She was seeing the three dimensions as the ship did, viewing the universe in its colossal entirety, summed up in a picture that reduced it to a finite reality.
The vast plain that was the second dimension stretched away without apparent end, as did the other two, yet she sensed the Ship knew its end, although it had never been there. Having grasped this, she probed for more information, and it laid before her a picture of alien beauty that made her gasp. A vast gaseous nebula, warmed by several million huge stars, was the glowing cauldron of life-giving sustenance for a bevy of its kindred. The ships sailed this spacial sea, grazed on various gasses, soaked up the stars’ radiation and basked in solar winds. This was its home, left far behind to come to this cold, dark region of space, which was like a desert to the Ship. Once, it had detected life beyond its nebula, but for a long time now, there had been nothing.
Because of the creature that hurts you, she thought, and the Ship agreed. Many of its kind had sailed from the nebula, driven by the creatures that lived within them, and returned starved and exhausted, while their parasites were fat. One had not returned. Rayne remembered the remains of the crystal ship on Elliadaren, and a powerful sorrow suffused her. Banishing the memory, she tried to communicate her need to the Ship again, asking it to release her from the constraints of sleep in which it had trapped her.
This only confused it. It had no understanding of her concepts of sight, touch or locomotion. She asked to see the parasites, and again it flashed the rosy, seething chamber. She asked to see herself, and, after a brief pause, it showed her a picture of sleek greyish pink flesh, or something like it. In the middle was a tiny speck, stuck to it like an insect to flypaper, so small she could hardly make it out. The realisation that to this creature, she was the size of a flea in relation to a Great Dane came as a shock.
Rayne tried to tell it that she had to move, to find the dominant male parasite that was the Envoy, but the Ship found the idea of her crawling within it abhorrent. She was not partial to it herself, but in order to help it, she had to make contact with the Envoy. The Ship communicated deep misgivings at this, and she sensed its concern, for it considered the Envoy to be dangerous to one as small as her. Rayne silently agreed, but again asked to be allowed to move, making her request as forceful as she could.