Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

The Narseil winced slightly.

“I thought so. Maybe you don’t think I have all that much chance of returning. But you wouldn’t be undertaking this mission if you thought it had no chance, right? And you will offer me the same prospects for safe return as your own people, won’t you?”

He was aware of Morgan stirring uneasily beside him, but he kept his gaze on El’ken’s.

Finally the Narseil said, “Your chances are exactly the same as any other member of the crew. I hope very much for your safe return.”

“Good. Then what can you do to help my friends on their way?”

El’ken hesitated a long moment. “I suggest a cooling off period, at least until the Spacing Authority cruiser leaves. Then perhaps I can arrange for a diplomatic transport to take them back to Faber Eridani. Barrister Mahoney, can you perform your duties from within the Narseil Embassy in Elmira?”

Harriet looked surprised. “Better than I could do them from here, or in prison, I suppose.”

El’ken bowed. “Then I will endeavor to arrange it. And I would very much appreciate it… if you would do all in your power to learn who was responsible for the death of a good man.”

“McGinnis? You have my promise.”

“Thank you. Before I make the call to my people, Rigger Legroeder—when can you be prepared to travel?”

Legroeder shrugged. “I’m ready now.”

“Excellent. A transport will be standing by.”

“And its destination?”

“That, I cannot tell you.” The Narseil stretched out his hands. “I suggest you make your appropriate farewells in the next few minutes. You will not hear from him again until he returns. Go and make your preparations, and come back when you are ready.”

Legroeder felt like a body being viewed at a wake. “Look—I’m not dead yet, okay?”

Harriet nodded miserably, and Morgan was too busy leaking tears to say anything. Legroeder tossed his bag over to the door of their little dining room. “It’s not as if I’m never going to see you again. So for chrissake, how about showing me a smile. Morgan, you were terrific in bed last night.”

Harriet’s eyebrows went up. Morgan made a choking sound, and for a second he didn’t know if she was going to laugh or sob. She smacked him on the shoulder—hard—then burst into tears. “Asshole,” she muttered.

Legroeder sighed. “Doesn’t anyone have a sense of humor around here?” He knew he was just making it worse, but couldn’t help it. “Look—I’m sorry—you were awful in bed last night. Terrible . In fact, you weren’t even there. Harriet, she wasn’t— ow! ” Morgan had just hit him twice as hard. Now she was covering her face, making hiccuping sounds.

He sighed again. “Morgan, I’m just trying to make you a little less funereal, okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” she said, voice muffled by her hands.

“All right. But look—don’t be so scared for me. Be happy that I have a chance I didn’t have before.” He moved awkwardly to put his arms around her. She grabbed him in a sudden, powerful bear hug. They embraced for a long time, before stepping apart. Morgan wiped at her eyes.

“Good-bye, Legroeder,” said Harriet, putting her arms around both of them. “Take good care, dear—and come back safely, so I can collect my thirty percent, okay?”

Legroeder struggled to answer, as Morgan shook, hugging them both. “All right, you two,” Morgan said hoarsely. “Can we please get moving, before I go to pieces again?”

Legroeder picked up his bag, and they walked off together, back to El’ken’s chamber.

Once more, Legroeder rode as a passenger, this time on a Narseil diplomatic transport three times the size of the corporate ship that had brought them to the asteroid. And this time, traveling through the Flux, he fairly twitched with frustration, wishing he could get up there on the Narseil bridge and see what rigging was like among these amphibious star travelers. Eventually he sent a message to the captain, asking for a visit to the bridge. He received a polite rebuff: forget it, while they were en route to the secret base.

He chafed at having nothing to do but sit and wonder what the hell he was doing, and what would become of his friends. Where was Maris by now? And what would happen to Harriet for helping him? Was her grandson Bobby alive? Gah . He was going to be cooped up way too long to spend all his time fretting.

Eventually, a crew member pointed him toward the ship’s library, where he occupied himself delving into the Narseil files on Impris . At first he read grudgingly, to kill time. Soon, though, he became fascinated reading about the ship from the alien perspective. Inspector Fandrang was mentioned only fleetingly. Considerably more space was given over to the propaganda campaign that was launched against the Narseil, blaming their navy for the loss of Impris . Various searches of the Narseil’s meticulously kept naval archives, over the years, had turned up no record of any engagement with such a ship—or any ship even remotely close to Impris ’s course. It was clear from the sheer volume written on the subject that Impris remained a sore point with the Narseil.

Legroeder browsed for writings by El’ken, and found quite a lot; he was a prolific and respected chronicler of Narseil history. There was nothing by him on the subject of Impris , though, except for a third-level footnote in one article—the Narseil loved footnotes—mentioning that Impris was to be a subject of future research. Legroeder closed the file, feeling unsettled at having recognized himself as a tool in the august historian’s “future research.”

As the days wore on, he found himself reflecting on how far one could travel in a dangerous and possibly quixotic search for truth. He also found himself reflecting on the irony of his own worlds’ failure in space exploration—no vision, no courage, no willingness to sacrifice and take risks—and how strange it felt knowing that he was, in some sense, in accord with those he so utterly despised. What if he were given a chance to participate in deep-space exploration, but only in the company of pirates, or the likes of Centrist Strength? Jesus . Would he do it?

No… no … he wasn’t that desperate to go. Not yet…

By day four, the feelings of isolation were starting to close in around him. He finally found some company in the crewman who had shown him the library, a young Narseil named Korken. Korken was interested in learning about humans. He had never been to a human world, but had studied the major Earth-standard language, Anglic, and talked when he could without the assistance of the implanted translator. “The closssest I ever got was the asssteroid where we gathered you,” he said ruefully.

“Well, that makes us even,” answered Legroeder. “I’ve seen Narseil riggers, but that asteroid was the first time I’d ever been on your turf.”

Korken nodded, causing his neck-sail to flutter. His crest was considerably larger than El’ken’s, framing a smaller and rounder face. Was it his youth, or simply a personal characteristic? Legroeder was finally becoming able to tell one Narseil apart from another. When he’d first come aboard, they’d all looked the same to him.

“Have you ever rigged?” Legroeder asked, pouring himself a small beaker of juice from the refreshment center.

Korken poured himself a larger beaker. “No, but I hope to, one day. I am—what would be the word in your language—an apprentisss to the riggerss of my ship. I study their inssstructionals—and one day, when I have passed their tests, I may be permitted to enter a rigger-net with the crew.” He paused to sip his drink. “That will be a proud day for me.”