Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

Legroeder let out a slow breath. “No one except Rusty seemed to suspect that I’d done anything deliberate. If they had, I doubt I’d be alive now to tell you about it. But it was clear something had gone wrong, and I told the captain that a Flux anomaly had caused us to lose our hold on the other ship. I’m not sure he really believed me—but how could he tell?” Legroeder chuckled darkly. “On the other hand, he definitely thought I’d blown a sure capture. Or he thought we had, and thank God Rusty was willing to take some heat for me, rather than blowing the whistle.”

He reflected a moment longer. “But I must have done a pretty good job of making it look real, because they never did come down on us, except to say, ‘You stupid lowlifes—couldn’t you see it coming? ’ The third guy, Joey, who was sort of a favorite of the captain’s, helpfully volunteered how amazing it was—and said it with such conviction, the captain made a note about it in his log.” Legroeder laughed. “Poor Joey! He was a terrific natural rigger—could take just about any image and sail right down it—but he didn’t have a clue about much of anything else.” He shook his head. “We were just damn lucky.”

At that moment, Conex appeared in the doorway. “We’ll be making a course adjustment soon, to start our final approach to Asteroid Arco Iris. For safety, please secure yourselves.”

Morgan collected the cups and saucers, while Legroeder turned the seats into position. Five minutes later, he watched the stars turn as the ship rotated end over end. As he waited for the vibration that would tell him that the acceleration had gone from two gees to five, he let the emotions from all that had come before wash over him like a tide coming in over a sandbar. Maybe this time he really was on the way to reversing his fortunes.

At first the asteroid was a sparkling point of light whose motion was barely visible against the star field. As they drew closer, it began to take form: disk-shaped structures of shiny metal poking out here and there, and along one edge the profile of a silver dome. A large golden helix floating just beyond the asteroid looked like a Narseil Flux antenna.

A private Flux-wave transmitter? The average planet usually only had a couple to serve the whole world. They were not only horrendously expensive; there was a bandwidth limitation before transmissions began to interfere with rigger ships moving in and out of a system. But the Narseil had a reputation for looking out for their own needs when they lived among humans. And with the technology of the Narseil Rigging Institute at their command, they did it remarkably well.

“The Narseil own the asteroid,” Harriet remarked. “They hollowed and outfitted it themselves. El’ken is their most famous resident, but there are at least a few hundred Narseil living here.”

Conex came on the intercom to inform them that they would be docking in several minutes, and if they had any second thoughts, now was the time to voice them. Harriet and Morgan chuckled, but Legroeder remembered their reasons for coming, and felt anything but amusement. If he’d been at the controls of a rigger ship, he’d have taken them straight down into the Flux and on until sunset… or until he found a place where no one had ever heard of pirates, or of Renwald Legroeder.

As they passed through the airlock into the asteroid’s interior, they plunged into humid air filled with the smell of the sea. An alien sea. The corridors, with their long stretches of bare stone wall, seemed at once tidy and musty. The walls felt damp to the touch. As they walked along, Legroeder tried not to think about mildew. Nevertheless, he was intrigued. He had never entered a Narseil habitation before, and only on a few occasions had even seen a Narseil rigger.

They were greeted by a pair of the amphibious Narseil. They were tall and vaguely reptilian, with dark green, finely scaled skin like an iguana’s. Their eyes were humanoid except for the shape: vertical ovals with similar-shaped pupils. Their faces seemed long and hollow, with mouths but no nostrils. Breathing was accomplished through fan-shaped gill openings on the front of the neck. Tailless and bipedal, the Narseil had long, flat dinosaur-like crests or neck-sails running from the backs of their heads to their lower backs. They dressed in wide, crisscrossing bands of fabric and carried long, thin compads. Their speech was a mixture of their own rendition of Anglic and synthesized translation, in about equal measure.

“Please ssstate your business on our world,” hissed the Narseil on the right, as the other examined their ID tabs.

Harriet answered calmly, though the sight of the Narseil towering over her must have felt intimidating. “We are here to visit El’ken the historian.”

“Jussst the three of you?” asked the second Narseil.

“Yes, plus our pilot and copilot—” Harriet gestured back up the corridor toward their ship “—who will be waiting for us for the return trip.”

The second Narseil made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a hiss. “They may stay on their ship. If they need assistance they may make a request.”

“We have permission to visit Academic El’ken,” Harriet replied. “We wondered if you might direct us to his quarters.”

“ Kkhhhh —we will get to that.” The first Narseil busied himself making entries on his compad, while the other motioned to the visitors to follow. “Come. First you must pass through customs.”

Customs consisted of a complete multiscan examination of their persons as well as their possessions. They were assured that the radiation levels were almost undetectable, but Legroeder could not help thinking that the Narseil looked to him as if they had very different tolerances for radiation. Or as if they’d already had way too much of it. Don’t be racist, he chided himself. But their cool demeanor was starting to wear on his nerves.

As they were led from customs through the inner asteroid, they saw the occasional human face, and one Swert; but the vast majority of those they encountered were Narseil. They came at last to a short passageway with a door at the end. A nameplate on the wall listed a name in Narseil script, beneath which was engraved in Anglic: El’ken .

“Do not expect to stay long,” said their escort. “He is a very busy tophai .” The escort deliberately used the Narseil word, which Legroeder recognized as a high Narseil honorific. He opened the door and they walked in.

They were suddenly beneath the stars again. El’ken lived under a dome. His quarters were a large, twilit cavern, about half the size of a human gymnasium. Perhaps two-thirds of the ceiling was dome; the rest was a dark stone overhang. On the near side of the cavern a long, curving desk or counter, a trifle high by human standards, was built into the stone wall. The far side of the cavern was dominated by a pool carved out of stone. A bordering strip between the two sections was covered with gravel, and held two bench seats.

Legroeder peered around in the gloom. He exchanged glances with Morgan, who was also turning around. “Is anybody here?” she asked.

There was a splash, and then a husky voice from somewhere in the darkness of the pool. “What do you want?”

“Academic El’ken?” called Harriet. “I’m Harriet Mahoney. This is my daughter Morgan and our client, Rigger Renwald Legroeder.”

There was a ripple in the water, and a head appeared over the top of a stone island in the center of the pool. “I know who you are,” said the Narseil, his eyes gleaming in the twilight. “I asked what you want.”

“Truth,” Harriet answered. “What we want is truth, if you have it and are willing to share it with us.”