ARC: Under Nameless Stars (24 page)

THIRTY

Zenn froze where she lay in the pod, exposed, helpless, as the Indra’s mind burrowed into hers, pouring through her with all its merciless, relentless anger. She could feel the creature’s unfathomable power focusing, gathering itself to annihilate the trespasser within its body. Stav’s plan would work. The Indra would do as he’d said. And all would be lost. There was nothing she could do in the face of the Indra’s unthinkable, irresistible onslaught against what it now saw as a mortal threat. There was nothing to do but die.

Then Zenn was seeing the face of her mother; but no, not her face. Rather, the sense of her, but clear, unmistakable, and so real, so beautiful, so filled with compassion and loving, and it was as if Mai was right beside her. Then, her father: the warmth, humor and strength of him filling her mind. She felt the strong hands that had once lifted her up, the affection that lifted her higher. And somehow… yes, she felt her father’s mind, she was
in
his mind, she was with him on the ship where he was held fast, trapped. And she felt his love for her, felt his anguish, not for himself but for where she was that instant. And then other minds, opening to her, letting her in. Like cold, clear streams tumbling into a single river of sensation and thought. Fane, Jules, Liam, Treth. Still alive?

They must be. They must be… Please, let them be alive.

Her thoughts were now touching the thoughts of the passengers from the
Helen of Troy
, then all the beings on all the Indra ships, all their minds, welcoming, flooding into her, overwhelming her with their longings, their fears, their desperation. Even Stav, his single-minded obsession burning away all other concerns within him. The teeming Khurspex, frantic with their need to return home. All the mighty Indra in their ships. All connected. To each other. To Zenn. To the measureless webs of animated matter thrown out to every corner of the universe to conjure the mystery and the wonder that was life itself. All this life. All these beings who only wanted one thing. To live. To live and… to go home!

They must not die. This must not happen.

Then the time was almost up. Something like a shadow’s edge rushed at her, speeding, coming fast, then faster, she felt it surge toward her like an irresistible avalanche of sheer intention. Her time was up. The ticking clock inside her ticked to zero, the nexus completed its circuit, time stopped. The universe held its breath.

She waited to be ripped apart. Waited for the killing tidal wave of energy to crash into and through her, to blast through the minds of every Indra in the galaxy, killing them all. But the thing that should have happened next… didn’t.

Zenn knew at once why. It was the Asyph. The
Helen’s
Indra. The Indra knew. Of course. Of course. And Zenn knew then with perfect clarity what the Indra knew: she, Zenn, was not the enemy. Not the invader. The Indra had seen into Zenn’s very core, knew Zenn’s mind, and more: knew her heart. And now the Indra was reaching deeper, searching, showing Zenn what was there all the time, hidden deep within her own tattered consciousness. Diamond-hard and true at the center of Zenn’s being. It was simple. So simple. Unadorned. Uncomplicated. It was right there. It was what Zenn felt. For all those beings. For all those dreaming minds. For all those lives that only wanted to live, to go home again and live and regenerate and continue, all those lives that did not deserve anything less. The New Law was wrong. Alien and human were not enemies. They were
connected
. They were one. They were alive. They were life. So simple.

And now Zenn felt more, as if this new knowing brought with it new strength. And the possibility of control. She felt her will growing. And the Indra’s will, too. Melding, intertwining, each reinforcing the other, growing strong, strong enough, together, to bend the course of events. And something else, just as strong but dreadful: the cost. The price for opening herself to the unthinkable forces pressing in on her, fighting to get out of her. Zenn knew deeply, unquestionably, that if she let this happen, if she united with the Indra this time, she might not come back, might never return to herself, might whirl away, dissolving into atoms, vanish utterly into… what? She couldn’t guess. Didn’t dare.

Still, the decision came without hesitation. The choice as simple as the knowing of it. She joined with the Indra. And it began.

In the instant of decision, the tangle of connection deep in Zenn’s brain exchanged the last signal that was required, the final synapse bridged. Now, the fulcrum’s balance was at last overweighted. The astonishing strangeness within her mind blossomed into the nexus. And then she was the one, the single living point through which the awesome quantum force of first one Indra, then two, then a dozen, then an entire species, flowed – colossal, unstoppable, unknowable, joyous!

The final focused stream of energy broke its final barrier, and the threshold was crossed. Like a universe-snake uncoiling for the strike, a dark energy chain reaction of immeasurable power slipped the bonds of physical law, the force exploded out, time doubled back on itself, swallowed its own tail, disappeared. Sound, sense, awareness all hurtled to an unbearable crescendo, roared, thundering headlong into the infinite abyss, soared up and out again. Certainly, no being made of flesh could survive this. No mind made of matter could experience such an inhuman journey, touch so many beings, look so deeply into the shocking mystery of existence and ever be whole again.

A single quick breath later, however, Zenn was whole again, somehow returned and held within the preposterously insignificant bounds of her own puny primate’s body.

Alive… I’m alive!

She wanted to laugh, shout at being enfolded again in the warm, living world. And she wanted to sob, her heart breaking at the thought of the minds she had been torn away from, the bewildering number of beings, all the creatures whose innermost longings she had momentarily felt and lived as her own.

As reality seemed to congeal and take shape around her, she saw she was still lying in the in-soma pod. But the bow cam view screen showed something else. What? The interior of the med-ship. She was no longer in the Indra’s brain. Stav stood at his console, not looking at it, but holding onto it with both hands as if to steady himself, weaving on his feet like he’d just been through something that had knocked him off-balance.

Zenn toggled the pod door to open. Cool, fresh air flowed into the musty interior. She unbuckled the safety harness, sat up, almost passed out from the effort, her head aching, her body weak, scarcely responsive. Stav turned to her, his eyes unfocused. He lifted his gaze to look beyond her, seeing a sight that, judging by his expression, made no sense.

Zenn realized with an odd detachment that something was different. There was a smell in the cabin that hadn’t been there before: a heaviness in the air, rank, wet, a scent that instantly evoked a memory – the lock leading into the
Benthic Tson
. The smell of seawater. Zenn rose up in the pod to see what Stav was seeing behind her. There, impossibly, still rocking slightly to and fro at the far end of the cabin deck sat a large oblong object. Water sheeted off its sides to run out and ripple across the floor. The object was yellow with a dull-green slime of algae coating. It had numerous mech-arms, and booms sprouting from its hull and several small portholes. It was the service sub from the
Benthic Tson
.

The hatch on top of the sub creaked open, and Treth rose into view. There was the sound of movement behind Zenn. She twisted to see Stav drop behind a cargo crate, the flux-rifle at his shoulder.

“Treth, look out!”

The rifle bolt tore into the plating near the sub’s hatch, spraying hot fragments. But the Groom had already launched herself into midair. She hit the deck hard and rolled into the nearest medical bay. Zenn saw she carried Pokt’s plasma stick.

Rising to her feet, Treth aimed and fired, and the lightning pulse snaked across the cabin to strike the bulkhead next to Stav’s head, sending him to the floor. Zenn saw her chance. She pulled herself up out of the pod and scurried around to the other side of it, putting it between her and Stav.

“Novice Scarlett,” the Groom yelled.

“Treth,” she shouted back. “The sub. How did you…?”

“We did nothing. We were sinking, the hull imploding. Then we were here.”

“And the others?”

A blond head poked above the sub’s hatch.

“You OK, Scarlett?”

A bolt from Stav’s rifle skimmed the side of the sub, and Liam disappeared back inside.

Another bolt split the air above the Groom, and a gush of molten metal sprouted from the wall. Stav, leaning around the pilot’s console, was taking aim when Treth leaned out and fired first. She missed, but the impact forced Stav to retreat farther behind the console.

“This is pointless,” Stav shouted. “You are outnumbered. Kill me, and my crew will kill you. You cannot prevent what is coming.” Stav rose just long enough to let off another blinding volley, then ducked down again.

“It is already prevented,” Treth yelled, firing, then pulling back out of sight. “You failed. The Khurspex ship tunneled. It is gone.”

Stav gave a harsh laugh. “You’re insane. There is no way that–”

“Look, Treth, there.” Zenn pointed behind Stav. There was no mistaking the blood-red orb that filled the view screen. “It’s Mars!”

Stav twisted to see.

“No,” he murmured. The scream that followed as he turned back to them was less than human. “No!”
He crouched and, with the rifle gripped in one hand, loosed a series of wild shots at the alcove where Treth was concealed. A round from Treth’s weapon made him drop back behind the console.

“Novice,” Treth called to her. “How can this be?”

“It was the Indra,” Zenn shouted. She knew what had happened. She’d felt it. She’d helped do it. “She understood! She knew. She sent us home.”

“You,” Stav shouted, turning his weapon toward Zenn. The shot jolted the in-soma pod off the floor. It landed inches from Zenn’s face, smoking, flames rising from within it. He fired again, and the pod skidded into Zenn’s side. She couldn’t stay there.

“Novice,” Treth yelled. “Run. Now!”

The Groom stepped out, exposing herself to unleash a firestorm of lightning at Stav. Zenn had just enough time to throw herself into the nearest surgical bay. She turned to see Stav’s next shot rake Treth’s side. The Groom collapsed out of sight.

Zenn’s backpack lay just outside the bay. There was movement inside it.

Katie...

Zenn hooked the pack with one foot and pulled it to safety. Katie’s nose emerged.

Stav was on his feet now, working his way toward Treth’s position. Zenn saw Treth sit up, gripping her side but still managing to fire. Her shots went wide of the mark, and Stav returned fire from the hip. “It’s over, Groom,” he growled, his voice seething. “You will all pay for what you’ve done.”

Treth got off another round, but her aim was getting worse. She must be badly wounded. Soon, Stav would be close enough to finish her. Zenn saw movement near the far bulkhead. Something small, brown. The Khurspex whip-whelk. It had detached itself from Pokt’s dead arm and was trying to crawl away on its multiple spindly legs. Zenn made a tentative move toward it, but a round from Stav forced her back into the bay.

“Wait your turn, Novice.” Stav spat the words at her, then returned his attention to Treth. The Groom was firing blindly now, but that was just enough to slow Stav’s progress toward her.

At Zenn’s feet, Katie struggled free of the backpack and looked up at her.

“Friend-Zenn, Katie hungry,” she signed. “Have treat for Katie?”

No, she thought dully, no treats for Katie.

But a second later, another thought came.

“Katie. See the little oyster thing?” Zenn signed rapidly, then turned Katie’s head to make her look directly at the creeping whip-whelk.

“Oyster-bug! Good for Katie eat?”

“No. Not oyster. Not good to eat,” Zenn signed. “But Friend-Zenn needs. Katie brings it? Yes? Katie brings.”

“Katie big hungry,” the rikkaset signed. “Certain? Certain no good eat?”

“Big certain,” Zenn signed back, growing frantic, starting to think this wouldn’t work. “Please Katie. Bring it to Zenn. Don’t eat, bring. Ready?”

Katie considered for a moment, huffed irritably and signed, “Katie ready.”

“Good. Katie? Blend!”

A purple-cream blur, and the rikkaset vanished. Zenn signed at the animal’s last position.

“Get the oyster. Bring it to Friend-Zenn.”

Stav and Treth traded two more volleys. All Zenn could do was huddle in the bay. And wait. After a few seconds, Zenn realized something was wrong. It was quiet. No firing. She peered around the edge of the alcove. Stav was walking across the center of the room, moving toward Treth. The Groom must be unconscious. Or dead.

Zenn saw the whip-whelk jerk once across the floor, then rise a few inches into the air and begin to float toward her.

By now, Stav was standing over Treth. He kicked at something. The plasma stick skidded across the floor, beyond the Groom’s reach.

Then, the whip-whelk was close enough for Zenn to grab. As soon as it was in her hands, she pushed it onto her wrist. It responded instantly, the many spider-like arms wrapping her forearm in a surprisingly strong grip; she could also feel a faint prickling like an electrical current emanating from the creature into her skin. Subdermal neural connection?

Katie rematerialized. Zenn stroked her, then, with a twinge of conscience, gathered the rikkaset into her arms. Stav had seen Pokt with the whip-whelk and cut him down before he could activate the creature. She would have to use Katie to hide the weapon until she was ready.

She rose and stepped out into the cabin.

“You, Novice, are a great disappointment.” Stav raised the rifle to his hip, swung its tip toward Zenn.

As he raised the gun to his shoulder, Zenn dropped Katie to the floor and thrust her arm out in front of her. She had time for only one thought:

Stop him!

That was enough. The whip-whelk’s shell opened, the rope of flesh leapt through the air and brushed gently across the side of Stav’s neck. A slight, astonished exhalation escaped his lips, his eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped senseless, falling on his side, the rifle clattering onto the floor. The whelk’s appendage retracted back into its shell, and the two halves snapped shut with a soft
clack
.