CREWMEN SHOWERED US WITH all sorts of suggestions as to how to communicate with the alien. Some were patently ridiculous: draw a diagram of the hydrogen atom: one nucleus, one electron, and progress through physics from that starting point. That was Ms Frand’s idea, which Fath didn’t debunk openly. But as I told him privately, if you showed me a hydrogen atom, would I have much to say about it? For that matter, would Fath?
He decided we needed to establish units of time. I pondered how that might be done, came up with nothing. The outrider seemed to accept that some of our efforts would be fruitless, and seemed untroubled by them.
We took a break. Mikhael corralled me, with Tad’s consent, and took me up to the wardroom. He introduced me to the six other middies who’d come aboard from long-leave, including Alon Riev, who’d become first midshipman upon Anselm’s promotion. No doubt because I was Mik’s brother—and the Captain’s new son—they were more polite than they would have been, though Riev’s manner was distant.
Mik seemed a bit disappointed that I maintained a cool reserve. But all these joeys were at least two years older than I, and I wasn’t interested in making a fool of myself. Mr Riev, for one, seemed glad to see me go.
Back to work.
By now, even Mr Tolliver had become involved. From time to time, he studied the outrider thoughtfully, arms folded. His acid remarks eased. Of course, they didn’t disappear entirely; that would be too unlike him.
We reached agreement on symbols for Fuse, food, and injured (broken-not-dead). We applied this last to ships and fish. Then Fath drew examples of touching: outrider-touch-fish, fish-touch-ship, human-touch-human, all alongside a new triangular symbol for touch.
Once we’d cemented these concepts, Fath had Jess draw symbols showing outrider-touch-human; human-dead. Fish-touch-ship; ship-dead. The alien responded with the symbol for “yes.”
We’d reached the crux of the issue. Neither side seemed sure how to proceed past this point. Fath, Tolliver, and Dr Romez conferred at length.
Someone shook me awake. Fath. I peered up sleepily. “Sorry. I was resting my eyes.”
“Dinnertime.”
I stretched. “Clean clothes?”
“What do you think?”
I sighed. “Yessir.”
Fath sent me walking ahead, spoke quietly to Tolliver. Nonetheless, his voice was louder than he thought; I got most of the conversation.
“… time he took Kevin’s body groundside.”
“He may not want to leave.”
“Don’t force him off; he’s an old shipmate. But persuade him.”
“What’s the urgency?”
“Randy spoke to him and came back upset.”
“What did Dakko say?”
“I have no idea.”
With even more passengers gone than before, dinner was a quiet and somber affair. Fath would be on watch until midnight; he sent me off to our cabin to read aloud two chapters of any book in the Old Testament. I wasn’t required to memorize them.
I hated it when he did that. In his absence it would be so easy to cheat. It was utterly unfair of Fath to depend on my sense of honor to stop me. How could I exercise a joeykid’s natural right to evade parental supervision, if constrained by a call to integrity?
I chose Genesis, read two chapters, and a third for spite. Then I undressed for bed. Janey, tonight, was with her mother. I turned out the light, thought about Anth and Dad. Then, Alex Hopewell and Kevin, at the pond. Judy Winthrop, diving into the still water. I was plagued with unsettling images of Judy and our brief tryst at Carr Plantation. I tossed and turned, until I relieved my unease the only way open to me.
When Fath came to bed I woke, though I pretended sleep for his sake. Soon the pretense was real. It must have been two hours after that the caller softly buzzed.
Instantly, no doubt from long practice, Fath keyed it quiet. “Yes? Very well, put him on.” A pause. “Jerence. I trust you know the hour?”
I lay listening. I’d promised Fath never to eavesdrop—and had stood in the corner for hours to make myself agree to it—but this was different. I was in my own bed, where he wanted me; it wasn’t my fault he spoke too loudly to ignore.
“He what?” Fath sat upright, switched on the bed light. I watched through half-opened eyelids. “When? Anyone hurt?” A sigh. “Jerence, this is serious. What do you suggest?”
I licked my lips.
“Of course I want to help; he’s Derek’s grandson and I’ll do anything I can. But Admiral Kenzig is breathing down my neck. When I snatched Randy from Scanlen’s clutches he threw a fit. My orders now are explicit: stay out of local politics, period. And if Andori’s involved …” He listened. “Anyone know where he went? Have you tried the Cathedral? It’s his home base.”
A long silence, while Fath listened.
“Jer, take care. Remember the holo of Randy’s hanging: these joeys don’t play for zarks. Yes, I know. Anthony is formidable, in his own way. Keep me posted. I’ll call the Admiral in the morning, see what he’ll let us do.” Another pause. “And to you too, old friend.”
The light winked out.
I lay awake half the night.
When I woke, groaning and stretching, Fath was up and gone. How did he do it? He was an old man; he even had gray hairs.
I washed and dressed, even took an extra minute to brush and comb. I tried the bridge but he wasn’t there; I trotted down to Level 2, but he wasn’t at the table.
The ship was far too large to search; disconsolate, I ran back up to the wardroom, knocked at the hatch. Mik wasn’t there; Mr Riev told me rather crossly that he might be in the exercise room on Two.
He was, working through a series of exercises. When he finished a set of push-ups I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Working off a demerit.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Pa.”
“What for?”
“For asking too many questions.” With a glance at his watch, he began vigorous jumping jacks.
“C’mon.”
“I was late to watch.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“Belowdecks, with Corrine and Janey, I think.”
Ms Sloan’s cabin was on Five. The ladders were faster than the lift. On Five, I’d reached section two when—
“Mr Carr!”
I skidded to a stop.
Ms Frand’s face was stern. “I believe we’ve spoken about running?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I was wary.
“Apparently without effect.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s a regulation, you know.” She studied me. “But perhaps we’ll waive it. The corridor is circular, is it not?”
“Ma’am?”
“If you run that way, east, eventually you’ll return to your starting point.”
“Yes.”
“Show me.”
“What? You want me to—”
“As fast as you can. Move!”
“Yes, ma’am!” I took off.
“Stop! What did you say?”
“I said—I mean, aye aye, ma’am!”
“Hurry, now. I expect you back in forty seconds.”
I raced down the curving corridor. Luckily, few crewmen were about, and no passengers. Section five. Six. I’d forgotten to check my starting time, and had no idea whether I’d meet her goal. Seven.
At last, ten. Then one, and two. Lieutenant Frand stood tapping the deck restlessly. “What kept you?”
“I ran as fast as—”
“You’ll have to do better. Try the other way.”
I gaped.
“MOVE!”
I dashed toward the corridor bend.
When I completed the circle, panting, she didn’t look at all pleased. “Lazy, that’s what I call it. Run to seven, tag the hatch control, run back. Get the lead out, or …”
“Aye aye, ma’am!”
When I got back, her arms were folded. “Barely adequate. Perhaps you need practice. Should we waive the regs on running?”
“No, ma’am,” I gasped. “I’ll walk.”
“See to it, joey.” She strode off.
The hatch to 575 was open. I peered in. The Captain sat on Corrine’s bunk, Janey on his lap.
“. … years ago. I doubt he’d remember—”
“Nick, it was personal. If John were the devil incarnate, Scanlen couldn’t have hated him more. All I’m saying—”
“Hi, Ran’!” Janey jumped off her father, ran to me. Corrine watched with guarded approval.
“Hallo, what’s this?” Fath loomed over me. “Look at you! Your shirt’s damp and sweaty. Go wash and change.”
“I’m sorry, Fath, I—”
“We’ll have a chat tonight about grooming. In the meantime, a dozen verses, memorized. Try 2 Corinthians.”
“Sir, I—”
“Right now, Randy.” I trudged dejectedly back to our cabin. What a day. And I hadn’t even had breakfast.
My hated chore completed, the Bible lay open between us.
“And that’s when Ms Frand caught me running.”
Fath heard me out in silence, but there was a glint in his eyes that might have been humor. “Terrible,” he said. “What will we do with you?” He got to his feet. “I think I know the problem.”
“What, sir?” I sounded apprehensive, because I was.
“Come here.” With a glint of humor, he embraced me. And then we went to lunch.
“Seventeen new words,” said Mr Tolliver, biting into a hot, juicy soybeef on rye. “I must admit, that’s progress. In just a generation or two, we’ll be able to carry on a chat. In fact—”
“Why, Edgar!” Fath was in good spirits. “You, cynical? I never thought I’d live to see—”
Andrew Ghent tore into officers’ mess, his face flushed. “Sir—Captain—Midshipman Ghent reporting—”
It wasn’t fair that he could run and I couldn’t. I’d have to speak to Fath about it.
“—Ms Frand says the outrider is agitated and you should come quick, her compliments I mean, and if you please—”
“Steady, Mr Ghent.” Fath threw down his napkin. “Randy, care to come along?”
Did I care to breathe? Did a Bishop read the Bible? Did—
I scurried after him. We’d barely reached the hatch when the alarms shrieked. “General Quarters! All hands to General Quarters!” The voice, taut with tension, sounded like Tad Anselm.
“Where to, Fath?”
By answer, he grabbed the hatchway caller. “Seafort to Bridge.”
“Lieutenant Anselm reporting. The outrider’s gone to section four airlock. If he burns through the outer hatch, the section will decompress.”
“The inner hatch was left open?”
“As per your orders, yes, sir.”
“What’s he doing now?”
“Scuttling in and out of the lock.”
“When he’s inside, cycle.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Pipe ‘Pilot to the Bridge.’ I’ll be along.” He strode along the corridor.
“Is he mad at us? What were the seventeen words?” I trotted to keep up.
“Pilot Van Peer to the bridge, flank.”
“I don’t know, son.” We strode through another section. “You’ve been a great help, so I’ll allow you on the bridge. But we’re on duty now, both of us.” It was a warning.
“Yes, sir.” No other response would do.
A middy I’d met yesterday shared Lieutenant Anselm’s watch. Uniform crisp, hair neatly brushed, he jumped to his feet when he spotted the Captain.
“As you were, Mr Braun. Tad, is he Outside?” The Captain took his seat. I found an empty place, in the training row behind.
“I can’t cycle, he won’t hold still enough.”
“Visuals.”
“There, can you see him? Half inside the lock?”
“What set him off?”
“I’ve no idea, sir.”
“Laser room, stand by to fire. Safeties removed!”
“Frand here. Aye aye, sir.”
“Comm Room to Bridge. Incoming call from the Stadholder. He says it’s urgent.”
“Pilot Van Peer reporting for duty.” The Pilot, lanky, graying, was breathing hard.
“Take your seat. Move us within twenty meters of the fish. Our guest wants to go home.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Grasping the thruster levers, Van Peer licked his lips. “This’ll be a first.”
“No idle chat, gentlemen.” The Captain paced before the simulscreen. “Mr Anselm, watch the inner hatch. Be ready.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Comm Room, put Mr Carr through.”
“Visuals?”
“No. Take care, Pilot. Don’t hit her. Ms Frand!”
“Yes, sir?”
“Your primary target is the fish. Don’t fire unless she makes for our fusion tubes, or winds up to throw an appendage.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
“Captain Seafort?” Anthony.
“Mr Van Peer, slow your approach. We don’t want to scare her off. Yes, Stadholder? It’s rather a busy moment.”
“There, sir!” Tad jabbed at his console. “He’s gone in! Cycling.”
“Hull view.”
The simulscreen blinked. Abruptly, our hull stretched to infinite distance. I tried to orient myself, spot the outer hatch.
“Sir …” The Pilot. “I’d like a view of the fish, for reference.”
“Jess, split screen. Go ahead, Mr Carr.”
“Did Branstead call you?”
“Last night.”
“Palabee’s gone over to the Church, I’m sure of it. He’s helping hide Scanlen, so Andori will appear blameless. We’re headed for crisis. Where’s Chris Dakko?”
“He went groundside this morning.”
A sharp regret stabbed my gut. I’d meant to have a last goodbye with Kev. He deserved it.
The fish loomed, alarmingly close. Mr Van Peer nudged the thrusters.
“Mr Braun, don’t fiddle with your console.” Fath’s voice was a rasp.
The middy jerked in his seat. “Aye aye, sir.” He pressed his hands in his lap.
“I’ll try to find him. His people haven’t been cooperative, but …” His people? I thought Mr Dakko was a victualler. Anth made it sound as if he had a cadre, a political—
The Captain said, “Jess, sensor report, Level 2 east airlock.”
“Pressure twenty percent and falling. Hatch integrity undisturbed. Anomaly within lock.”
“The outrider?”
“I presume so. Airlock sensors are not programmed to recognize motion of other than humans or servos.”
“It’s the outrider.”
“Substitution noted.”
“Mr Seafort, may I be frank?”
“Of course.”
“If I had your experience, or Grandpa’s … Sir, for most of my life you headed a government that dwarfs mine. What should I do?”
“Just a moment, Stadholder. I’ve a situation here.” The Captain drummed the console. “Sorry I snapped at you, Mr Braun.” His voice was quiet. “Nerves.”
“Thank you, sir.” The midshipman sat very straight.
“Eleven percent,” said Jess. “Five. Vacuum achieved.” A gap in the smooth surface of the hull. The outer hatch slid open.
The Pilot, with gentle nudges of his thrusters, positioned us closer to the fish. At last, we came to rest relative to the alien.
Virtually ignoring the fish, the Captain stared at the outrider. “If he skitters along the hull …”
I blanched. The outrider could melt through the hull just about anywhere, and wreak havoc. Even here on the bridge. I glanced about. Where was the suit locker?
“Mr Seafort, are you there?”
A shapeless form, at the hatch.
Eyes riveted on the simulscreen, the Captain clasped his hands behind his back.
The fish’s colors pulsed.
The form on our hull quivered, flexed.
“Godspeed.” Fath spoke in a whisper.
The outrider launched itself into the infinite cold of space. I swallowed. If it missed …
It landed on the fish amidships, seemed to stick to its surface. The fish’s skin swirled, became indistinct. The outrider shrank.
It disappeared within.
I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“All right, Anthony. For the moment I can give you my full attention.” A pause. “Understand, my own conflicts with the Church skew my judgment.”
“Still, sir, I want it.”
“Very well. The Bishops are inevitably allied with Earth. In my view, you can’t govern in their name.”
My breath caught.
“Disestablishment? I’m not sure I could carry it.”
“Excommunication is a mighty club.” Fath was quiet. “And Andori will use it, without qualm.”
“Whether I govern with Church or without, he has that power.”
“Only among those who listen. How many are they?”
“Hope Nation remains conservative.”
“Then you’ll fall.”
“Not without a fight.”
“I should tell you, by the way, that our Reverend Pandeker has spent many hours on the caller, consulting his cohorts in Centraltown.”
“About what?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve no right to listen in.”
“Then how’d you …”
“The Comm Room thought I’d want to know. Never mind that. What does Jerence say?”
“I can’t risk repeating it, sir. Only face-to-face.”
“Oh, I know him. You’ve told me enough.”
“Thank you. I’ll make my decision shortly.”
“I’ve been little help.”
“More than you know.” The line went dead.
With a sigh, Fath rubbed his face.
The fish floated before us.
“Now what, sir?” Tad.
“We wait, Lieutenant.”
“How long?”
“However long it takes.”
Braun shot Tad a look of commiseration. Tad frowned.
The Captain paced a moment longer, sank into his seat.
Anselm seemed unfazed. “What, exactly, are we waiting for?”
Fath said with some asperity, “I’ll know when I see it. Anything else, Mr Anselm?”
“No, sir.” To my astonishment, Tad caught my eye and winked.
Fath swiveled. “Mr Carr!”
I jumped. “Yes, sir!” My voice was a squeak.
“Coffee, if you’d be so kind. Tad?”
“No thanks.”
“Pilot?”
“Black, please.”
The nearest dispenser was in the officers’ mess; I hurried along the corridor, a touch resentful he sent me on menial errands like … well, like a ship’s boy. My annoyance faded to a grin. I was crew. This was my work.
When I returned the Captain thanked me absently, sipped at his steaming cup. On the simulscreen was a holoview of section four, where the alien had been housed. In replay, the outrider careened wildly up and down the corridor, hatch to hatch. Its momentum was such that it climbed halfway up the bulkhead, in passing.
Over and again Fath replayed the sequence. The alien, across the barrier, waited for a plate to be shown him. His quivering seemed no greater than usual. He moved to one side, as if balancing himself.
The outrider had no feet. Well, he did, but temporary ones. His weight seemed to roll over onto extended bulges, when he moved. Only in slow-mo playback could I see just how.
“Tad, what’s the fish up to?”
“No change, sir.”
“Mr Seafort, may I suggest we withdraw?” The Pilot.
“How far?”
“How about another solar system?” The Captain glared, but Van Peer seemed unfazed. “At least a few hundred meters, sir. That beast is far too close for comfort.”
“Well … all right. Two hundred meters.”
“And may I suggest we shift position relative to the fish and the Station? We were blocking their shot if—”
“That was deliberate.”
“Oh?” Mr Van Peer said no more, but his silence spoke volumes. Delicately, he tapped the starboard thrusters. In the screen, the fish began to recede.
One eye on the fish, Fath took up his caller. “Comm Room, locate Jerence Branstead, groundside. I want a secure—”
The fish pulsed, disappeared.
“Hello? Comm Room to Bridge. Say again?”
Fath stared.
“Captain?”