Jeffrey Carver - Eternity's End

Twice now he’d thought he had heard sounds in the passageway, sounds not from their own ship. In all likelihood the Narseil’s explanation was correct: he was probably hearing disturbances of their own passage, altered and reflected as echoes in the net. Still, he felt a nagging unease, wondering if something might be out there, shadowing them. If so, it was concealing itself well.

H’zzarrelik slowed and, rocking slightly, slipped around a corner in the tunnel. Another drop lay ahead; the tunnel had been descending in a long series of steps, each drop affording only limited visibility ahead. Do we have any idea where this will end? Legroeder asked.

Not really, said Palagren, his head turning from side to side as he scanned the edges of the tunnel. I’ve never been able to hold such a structured image so long before. I’d guess that the hard-edged form will end of its own accord before much longer. It must be associated with a dense nebula or some such thing.

The ship slipped downward over a sharper step, then another. Pinga-ping . There was another faint sound—like a distant, clanging buoy. The current seemed to be speeding up. Legroeder felt a sudden chill of fear, as he imagined a submarine shadowing them through this labyrinth, torpedoes ready to fire.

Don’t let your imagination run away with you, he cautioned himself. Still… Was that our own echo I just heard?

Voco answered from the stern, I heard it, too. I think it was our own, yes.

And I think, said Palagren, that I see the end of this tunnel.

Legroeder peered ahead, past the Narseil, where he glimpsed a shifting of light. Yes, now he could see the labyrinth opening. What’s that up ahead? he murmured. Before anyone could answer, the ship picked up speed and shot out of the tunnel like a bird out of a chute.

The undersea image evaporated, and the ship sprouted long, slender wings as it flew into a cloud-filled sky. Legroeder could feel the craftsmanship of Palagren and the others at work on the image, but really they were just refining what was here: a skyscape of great, sculpted clouds, and currents slipping among them like dancing breezes. The clouds looked like top-heavy savanna trees leaning with the wind; sunlight glowed on their tops, and great caverns of open air yawned in their shadows, where complex and convoluted Flux currents wound among the cloud bases.

While the Narseil riggers conferred on a direction, Legroeder stretched his arms out in the net and felt the wind whisper through his fingers. He rocked the wings a bit. Off to the left, and a little behind, he glimpsed a flicker of lightning among the clouds.

What is it, Legroeder? Anything wrong? asked Palagren.

I guess not—just a flash of something back there. Just some weather, probably.

The other riggers seemed puzzled.

Didn’t you see it?

No, I didn’t— began Palagren, but was interrupted by a distant rumble of thunder. The sound seemed to echo among the clouds for a few moments, then faded away.

You may be right about the weather, Voco said from the stern. I see a thunderhead moving off to the port side. We’d better keep a watch on it.

Palagren began a wide turn away from it. Wait, Legroeder said. Do you mind if I do this for a moment? he asked, nudging them back toward the left.

I sense a difficult passage in that direction, Palagren said cautiously.

I just want to check something, Legroeder said, banking the ship a little more sharply. He thought he saw something dark among the shadows under the clouds; something darker than the shadows… I’m not sure… hold on a sec’ …

What is it?

Legroeder thought he heard a faint booming sound. Maybe it was just a reverberation of thunder, but he felt a little shiver of apprehension; he wasn’t sure why. But the view had changed now and he saw nothing. Shrugging, he returned the ship to the right bank that Palagren had initiated, and gave control back to the Narseil.

He remained unsatisfied, though. Closing his eyes, he searched back in his memory, analyzing the sound and feel of the thunder. His stirring of apprehension turned into genuine fear as some connection clicked into place, some pattern in the sound. Opening his eyes, he said softly, Don’t be alarmed, but we need to change the image and see if we can get a clearer view under those clouds . He hesitated. Palagren, I think you should inform the captain and the commander .

The ship became rounded, a domed flying saucer, with all-around visibility. The clouds began to change in color and density as they shifted the image through different combinations of filters. Inform them of what? Palagren asked.

To ready their defenses.

He felt Palagren’s surprise, then heard the soft mutter of the Narseil passing his words on to Ho’Sung and Fre’geel. And the captain’s voice: What exactly have you seen, riggers?

Legroeder answered, Nothing I can explain easily. But it’s the lightning and thunder. Somehow I have a sense—

Before he could finish, there was another flash, like heat lightning in the clouds ahead of them. As he listened to the rumble of thunder, he felt that there was something not quite natural in the sound. He felt the recognition as a tightness in his chest. To the left and astern, he saw a fleck of darkness moving against the underside of a cloud. His stomach dropped. Mother of stars …

Legroeder, Palagren said, what are you sensing? It does not seem—

Legroeder interrupted. It’s behind us, port side and thirty degrees above! Prepare for attack. This is it!

He felt Palagren’s puzzlement as he sent the message on to the captain. The Narseil didn’t feel his certainty; but then, they had never rigged with pirates. Expect a lot of light, and a lot of—

I hear it. Coming now—! Palagren called.

A second later: B-D-DOOM-M-M! B-D-DOOM-M-M!

The sound crashed through the net with a dissonant rumble, as if reverberating from all directions at once, a hundred echoes arriving out of synch with each other. The Narseil riggers looked jarred and confused—too many inputs funneling through the tessa’chron. Legroeder called, This is the beginning of an attack! Don’t let it shake you!

Palagren, recovering, called back, I’m all right. Captain, we are under attack!

Audio attack only, so far, Legroeder added. No sign of weapons fire yet .

Very well, came Ho’Sung’s voice. Let’s act like victims, until we determine their intentions . His voice became more distant, probably directed elsewhere on the bridge. Let’s have that hail ready .

Act confused but don’t be confused, Legroeder thought.

B-D-DOOM-M-M! B-D-DOOM-M-M! B-D-DOOM-M-M-M!

The reverberations shook the net, making it harder to steer a level course. They were hitting turbulence, as waves of sound crashed over them like a pounding surf. The fleck of darkness that Legroeder had spotted was gone. It was impossible now to localize the direction of the sounds.

The pattern was familiar enough to Legroeder—did all raider bands use similar tactics?—but it also felt different enough to reassure him that this pirate ship was from an outpost other than DeNoble. It was not his former captors.

The captain’s voice rang through the net: All weapons and stations are on full alert. Is the attacking vessel in sight?

Palagren answered, Not yet. Legroeder—do you see it?

Negative . He’d lost it in the clouds. The pirates could make their approach from any of a dozen directions. The terrain of the Flux was so convoluted here, the number of places to lurk almost limitless.