Lawrence Watt-Evans - Out of This World

The cabin was empty, and he remembered belatedly that Nancy would still be tending to Grummetty and Alella. He turned back and headed that way.

At the door of the storage locker he found Rachel sitting against the bulkhead to one side, arms wrapped around her knees and her head down. She didn’t stir when he approached.

That wasn’t how she would react to the alarms, or to talk about pirates; Pel knew his daughter better than that.

“What’s the matter?” he asked her.

She shook her head and didn’t answer, didn’t look up.

“Rachel?”

She refused to speak, refused to move.

The locker door opened and Nancy peered out. “Oh, Pel,” she said. “It’s you.”

“Yeah,” Pel said. “What’s wrong?” He belatedly remembered why Nancy was there in the first place. “Are they worse?” he asked.

Nancy nodded. “Grummetty’s dead,” she said. “About ten minutes ago.” Her voice was unsteady.

Pel felt his own throat drying and tightening at the news.

“Oh,” he said helplessly. “I’m sorry.” He paused for a second or two, out of respect for the little man, and then said, “Listen, the ship’s in trouble.” He couldn’t bring himself to mention pirates, not yet; it still sounded stupid.

“I heard the bells,” Nancy said. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know exactly,” Pel said, “but the navigator said we’re under some kind of attack-something that shuts down the anti-gravity.”

“Is it Shadow?” Nancy asked. “Is it sending more of those creatures?”

Pel had not even thought of that; what if it was Shadow that was responsible, and not pirates?

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t think it could be the creatures, because they can’t live in this universe any more than Grummetty could, but it could be people working for Shadow, I guess.”

“Are they shooting at us? At the ship, I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Pel repeated. “Listen, I really don’t know much of anything, but we are under some kind of attack, and the navigator said we should get to our cabins and lock the doors and wait there.”

Nancy shook her head. “I can’t leave Alella,” she said. “You take Rachel, and I’ll stay here.”

Pel chewed on his lower lip, considering, and then nodded. “Come on, Rae,” he said. “Let’s get back to our room.”

Rachel looked up unhappily. “I want Harvey,” she said.

“I know you do,” Pel said, “but he’s not here. Now, come on, and we can cuddle up together, if you like.”

“Is Grummetty really dead?”

“If your mother says so,” Pel said, “then I’m afraid he is. Your mom’s pretty reliable about these things.”

“I don’t want him to be dead.”

An officer trotted past, almost running. Something was buzzing loudly somewhere forward.

A storybook hero would find some way to make himself useful, some way to save the ship, but Pel was no storybook hero, he knew that more certainly than ever. Right now, dealing with Rachel seemed much more important than saving the ship. He knelt down and spoke softly to his daughter.

“I don’t either, Rae, but we have to go. Right now. Come on!” He reached over and took her hand, and then stood up again. She allowed herself to be pulled upright, and followed him, unresisting, as he led her by the hand back to their cabin.

There, they sat on the bed and waited.

* * * *

Amy had decided to make one more attempt to convince Ted that he was awake, and that everything that had happened was real.

For one thing, she wanted to be sure that she was convinced herself; for another, she thought Ted might be useful somehow if he once started taking things seriously.

She had been leading the conversation gently in that direction, listening to Ted ramble on about how everyone misunderstood what lawyers really did, when the alarm bells sounded. She looked up, startled.

“I wonder what that is?” she asked.

Ted shrugged, looked around, and saw nothing different about the aft salon. “I guess I haven’t decided yet,” he said.

Amy frowned.

A crewman ran through, without so much as glancing at them. The two Earthpeople watched him go.

“Or maybe we should go see,” Ted said, getting to his feet, “just what I’ve come up with this time.”

* * * *

The tocsin roused Raven from a doze. He frowned; he had slept far too much and too easily, of late. Perhaps the strain of these strange adventures in fantastic lands was telling upon him, and were it so it would be sorry news indeed; he would need all his powers when he led attacks against Shadow.

“A bell?” he asked no one in specific. “Wherefore does it ring?”

“I know not,” Stoddard replied. “Perchance the lieutenant can say?”

“An he be here,” Raven agreed.

“It’s an alarm,” Drummond said, hurriedly pulling on a boot. “I don’t know why.”

“An alarm?” Raven said, swinging his feet to the floor and sitting upright. “Be the ship endangered?”

“I said I don’t know ,” Drummond snarled. “I’ll go find out.” He stood, boots on.

“Shall we accompany?”

Drummond hesitated, thinking.

“No,” he said at last. “No, you two stay here. And don’t cause any trouble. You’re valuable; if there’s some kind of fight we don’t want you getting yourselves killed.”

“I’ve no fear to give my life in a good cause,” Raven said. “Better to die waging war ‘gainst evil than to live in an evil world.”

“This isn’t any war against evil,” Drummond said. “It’s probably some stupid mix-up. You just stay out of trouble.”

“I reserve, sir, the right to judge my best role myself,” Raven retorted. “I am no child.”

“Fine,” Drummond said. “Fine. Just stay out of it this time, though, okay?”

Then he was gone, the door closing behind him.

“’Tis not our fight,” Stoddard said. “’Tis not our world, so how could be?”

Raven looked at his sword, leaning against the nightstand, but did not reach for it. “Shadow has its agents in this realm, as in ours,” he said, settling back. “But ‘til we know more, best to bide.”

* * * *

Somehow Pel had assumed, from what the navigator had said, that the pirates, whoever they were, would be arriving, however they would arrive, within a few minutes, but instead he and Rachel sat on the bed, hugging each other and whispering quietly, for what seemed like hours. Nothing happened; no one burst in, or even knocked; there were no loud noises, no screams, no explosions, no sign that anything out of the ordinary was going on. A few times they heard footsteps passing the door, sometimes running, sometimes not.

Rachel fell asleep after perhaps a quarter of an hour, and Pel tucked her into bed. Then he sat, alone, waiting.

And still nothing happened.

He wished fervently for a book to read, or a TV to watch, or something to pass the time. A deck of cards to play solitaire would have been a taste of heaven, and he wished he had taken one when he had the chance.

His watch still wasn’t working; after some thought he had concluded that as near as he could figure, liquid crystals didn’t exist in Imperial space, and probably couldn’t exist. He wasn’t sure about chip technology in general, whether it was impossible or just hadn’t yet been developed.

Whatever the exact reasons, he had no way to tell how long he sat there, watching Rachel sleep and waiting for the pirates. It was very inconsiderate, he decided, to not provide every cabin with a working clock.

He lay back on the bed, trying to think of what he should be doing and reaching no conclusions at all. Nothing that he came up with seemed very important, and they all involved leaving the room, and that meant leaving Rachel alone, which seemed like a very bad idea.