Sunborn (12 page)

    Li-Jared made a soft, sputtering noise.

    There was a moment of awkward silence. Bandicut stirred his coffee and said, “I can’t entirely argue with Li-Jared. When you think about it, we’ve been on something of a one-way trip since we all met.” Since I left Triton, he added silently.

    “I like
The Long View,
” Antares said.

    Li-Jared looked annoyed.

    “But,” she continued, “I also like the
One Way Trip
. So why can’t the ship have two names? One for each mood.”

    Bandicut opened his mouth to protest—then thought, why not? So it was a little unconventional. But maybe only by human standards.

    Ik clacked his mouth. “I like the idea. Maybe it will bring us double luck, yes?”

    Li-Jared shrugged.

    “Well, since that is settled, I think I am going to retire for a while,” said Ik. “And make myself at home in
The Long View/One Way Trip
.”

    Might not be such a bad idea, getting a little more sleep, Bandicut thought. Get it while we can.

Chapter 8

Deadly Encounter

    Bandicut slept dreamlessly this time. He awoke to find Antares studying him. She crinkled a smile, touched his cheek tenderly with her fingertips, then got to her feet. He followed her, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
    They met the others in the lounge. Over brunch, they came to a decision: while they were en route, the best thing they could do was to gather information. “We should learn what this ship has on it, and how to use it,” Li-Jared declared, echoed by Ik, who said, “We should learn to fly it.” To which Bandicut replied, “Fine, but who’s going to teach us? Jeaves?” Jeaves did not seem to be present. They settled, for the time being, on trying to master the layout of the ship, and set out together to explore.

    The vessel continued to be weirdly mutable. During the night, their sleeping quarters had been rearranged, and were now neatly arrayed like the arms of a sea star around the common lounge. It seemed an improvement. But the rest of the ship remained a cipher: a changing maze of corridors and compartments that seemed to unfold out of n-space, as needed. “Hrah!” Ik cried in frustration to Delilah, who floated by at one point, perhaps to make sure they were not lost. “Can you not pick a layout and stick to it?”

    Delilah chimed in puzzlement, pointing out that future needs might be unpredictable.

    “Please!” Ik said. Delilah replied with something undecipherable, and went away. Bandicut chuckled and kept walking.

    Napoleon and Copernicus were off prowling elsewhere on the ship. Napoleon had mentioned something about downloading literature from Jeaves, or maybe it was from the shipboard AI—so perhaps that was what they were doing. Bandicut wondered, though,
What literature?

    Eventually, Antares went to the bridge, and Li-Jared wandered off on his own. Bandicut and Ik tried again to explore the compartments that they guessed to be science labs. Just about everything in them was incomprehensible: enigmatic machines that seemed to wink and turn themselves inside out, and floating images that seemed to flower open and rotate through multiple dimensions. Bandicut was at a loss, and the questions he asked Delilah—when she was around—just produced translation gridlock.

    By the end of an hour, they had all returned at least temporarily to the bridge, that being the one place where they could have at least the illusion of control. Everything seemed almost frighteningly quiet. They knew the quiet couldn’t last—but what could they do? The hours passed, and the dark smudge that was Deep drew steadily closer.

*

   
As it happened, the robots had indeed seized a few minutes to download literature from a library Jeaves had made available to them. The library, Jeaves said, was incorporated into his memory systems—part of his original programming as a “server and personal assistant.” After checking that all seemed calm on the bridge, Napoleon left to join Copernicus for a fresh download. They met in a small alcove off the main corridor, where Jeaves had prepared interface ports.

    Napoleon signaled readiness, and they jacked in together. Napoleon experienced a momentary shiver of guilt, and hoped they weren’t doing this too often, or being derelict in their duties. They had both found that they liked reading novels, and also found the reading something of an attention trap. They were hooked, as John Bandicut might have said. Napoleon found the literature remarkably stimulating. According to Jeaves, they were genuine originals from Earth. Napoleon had never been on Earth, not alive, though most of his components had been manufactured there. His own awakening had come on the remote outpost of Triton. He felt a longing for Earth, and reading the exploits of characters on Earth seemed to nourish that longing.

    Copernicus, on the other hand, had little affinity for Earth, per se. But he loved adventure, or at least the imagining of adventure; he also felt that these novels gave him insight into human thought and action. Clearly it was useful to absorb these stories, even if they infringed a little on his work time, because they involved human passion and drive. It was for that very reason that they were called
romance
 novels. The more he knew about these human qualities, the better he could serve Bandicut and the others.

    Together the robots perused the titles in the library, looking for five apiece to choose. They were rationing themselves. Either of them could have absorbed the entire library with ease, but Jeaves had told them that these texts were best savored in moderation.

*

   
Li-Jared paused in a corridor intersection, noticing Bandicut’s two robots plugged into the wall. What were they doing—recharging? Spying on the shipboard AI? Colluding with the shipboard AI?

   
Li-Jared had shared some tough times with Bandicut and these robots, and he harbored a growing fondness for the norgs, as Antares called them, especially as he had watched their personalities evolve. He didn’t actually think they were up to anything bad. Still, there was no telling what influence Jeaves was having on them. It seemed they were always getting “upgrades” to their programming, from the shadow-people or others—though it was never very clear just what the upgrades entailed. While he had never observed a negative outcome from any of the changes, it was worth finding out what they were doing.

    “Napoleon! Copernicus!” he said, approaching them. “What are you two up to?”

    There was a certain amount of clicking and humming. Copernicus stayed plugged into the wall, but the taller, gangly Napoleon disconnected and turned to face him. “Greetings, Mr. Li-Jared. Is there an emergency on the bridge?”

    “Not that I know of. What are you two doing?”

    “We are reading books.”

    “Books?”

    “From Earth.”

    “Ah.”

    “Novels,” Copernicus offered.

   
“Ah.”
 As if that explained everything.

    “We are downloading from Jeaves’s library,” Napoleon said, “and reading them internally, at our leisure.”

    “I see,” Li-Jared said. Jeaves’s library? This might bear keeping an eye on. “Well—you’ll be there if we need you, right?”

    “Of course,” said Napoleon. “We are merely making use of spare processing cycles.”

    “That makes sense—I guess.” Li-Jared rubbed his fingers together briskly. “Well, then—see you later.” He turned to leave.

    “They’re helping us to understand human nature better,” Copernicus called, just as Li-Jared was starting to turn back into the main passageway. Li-Jared paused, but could think of no response, so he just gestured with an open hand, and continued on his way.

*

   
On the bridge, Antares maintained watch, with John. Ik had retired to his meditations, and Li-Jared was still wandering the ship. Antares, in a near-meditative state herself, sat cross-legged on a low, padded bench seat in the center of the bridge, facing the balcony view. She was aware of John’s presence nearby, sometimes walking, sometimes sitting; but he was not in the center of her thoughts. He would be there if she needed him; she didn’t have to think about it. Instead, she gazed at the wispy magenta-and-blue radiance of the approaching nebula.

    She had stopped trying to understand the physical details of star-formation and star-birthing nebulas. She didn’t have the science for it, and her interest lay elsewhere. She wanted only to sit in stillness and openness, trying to tease out anything she might detect with her empathic senses, whether from Starmaker or Deep, or anything else. She would have considered the notion crazy—they were
much
too far away—if it hadn’t been for the earlier long-distance contact with Deep. Clearly things were possible in n-space that she would not have guessed. She did not want to repeat the earlier contact. But she did hope to find subtler threads that might help her prepare for whatever was coming.

    Just now she felt a faint ringing sensation, at an extreme distance. She couldn’t identify any specific emotions in that ringing, but she felt welling up within
herself
 a breeze of sadness, overlaid with traces of pain and fear. She couldn’t be sure whether these were echoes of something in the distance or from within her. But she thought they were not her own.

   
There was something closer, too. After a moment, she realized it was Deep. She thought she felt hints of curiosity and urgency. And something like anger.

    And it was moving toward them.

*

   
Bandicut had decided that the most useful thing he could do was remain nearby, ready at hand if Antares needed him. The trouble was, watching someone meditate—even someone he cared for—got tedious. He paced; he sat on one of the small sofas behind her; he tried to think of ways to communicate better with Delilah; he tried to puzzle out Jeaves, who had spoken only briefly to say that, barring emergency, he would be unavailable for a time, due to system integration difficulties.

    Bandicut started awake with a crick in his neck and a tickling in his mind. /What is it?/

   
/// Not sure. ///

   
“Do you feel it?” Antares asked, turning her head slightly. Her back was to him, and he couldn’t quite see her eyes. “The disturbance is getting stronger.”

    “It is?” Bandicut leaned forward to stand up, but then closed his eyes instead, concentrating. “I feel—
something
—just a twinge. I don’t know what to make of it.”

    “I don’t know what to make of it, either, but it’s more than just a twinge. I feel—” Antares swung around to face him, raising both hands to her forehead “—as if there’s a second pulse pounding in my head. It’s Deep. He’s alive and he’s definitely aware of us.”

   
“He?”

   
“That’s how it feels to me.”

   
/// I feel it, too.

   
You’re sensing it through me. ///

   
Bandicut joined Antares on the bench seat. Together they faced Starmaker and the dark cloud—except that he could no longer pick out the dark cloud. “I don’t see it. Him.”

    “He’s there,” said Antares. “But I think there’s something else, too.”

    “Something like—?”

    “I don’t know. Something else. I feel a great anger. I wasn’t sure before, but now it’s unmistakable.”

    “Anger toward...us?”

    Antares’s forehead creased. Her hair started to fall over her face, but she made no move to brush it back. All her concentration seemed to be directed outward. “I’m not sure,” she said finally.

    Bandicut’s stomach knotted. “Should I call the others?”

    “That might be a good idea.”

    “Jeaves?” Bandicut called. “Delilah? Can you call Ik and Li-Jared to the bridge? Something’s coming!”

   
Jeaves’s holo-image appeared—for the first time since their departure—flickered once, then steadied. “They’re on their way. We’re scanning, but so far you’re learning more than we are. Do you want Delilah to magnify the link?”

    “No!” Antares said, jumping to her feet. “Not yet. It’ll overwhelm us.”

   
Bwang.
“Where is the danger?” Li-Jared cried, running onto the bridge. Ik followed a few seconds later. “Is it that Deep creature again?” Li-Jared asked, striding out onto the balcony. He looked to be poised to dive off into space. “Is
it
 the danger?”

    Antares sat down again, concentrating. “We don’t know yet.”

    “Hrah, it has grown! It is much closer!”

    Startled, Bandicut realized Ik was right. The dark cloud had become visible again. And indeed it was larger—alarmingly large, and directly in their path. “Jeaves? What’s that thing doing? A minute ago it wasn’t visible.”

   
“It seems to be zigzagging,” Jeaves said. “It was off to your left for a while, then cut back in front of us. I believe it may be pursuing another object.”

    “What object?”

    Ik raised a long arm. “I see a tiny black speck out there.” He was pointing a little to the right of the roiling cloud. “Do you see it?”

    Bandicut shook his head.

   
Bong.
 “No.”

    Antares suddenly spoke, but distantly. “I don’t
see
it, but I do feel Deep’s awareness of it. I’m beginning to get a sense...it’s almost a visual image...from Deep.”

    “Telepathic?” Ik asked.

    Antares turned her head slightly. “I suppose, uhhll, but not like any I’ve ever—” She suddenly gasped, putting a hand to her head.

    Bandicut returned to her side. “Are you—?”

    “I’m fine—but it’s changing.” She drew a sharp breath. “It’s as though I’m seeing—not with my eyes, but my mind. It’s like seeing a dream you can’t quite remember, and you
feel
it more than you see it. And yet it’s still a vision, it’s like something laid out on a huge field of light...” She pressed her fingers to the side of her head. “It’s jagged things of light. I can feel parts of it that are
Deep,
and parts that are the...other. I can’t tell, though, what’s—” She closed her eyes, breathing rapidly. “It’s getting stronger.”