Nigel Findley - Into the Void

They went down the ladders to the Nebulon's deck. Julia took the lead, followed by two bravos, and they spread out across the great expanse of deck, searching for hidden dangers. It wasn't long before they beckoned to the others to come down; apart from them, the circular deck was empty.

Teldin was next over the rail. The rope ladder swayed uncomfortably under his weight, even more so than usual. It had to be because of relative motion between the two ships, he realized. Even though the Probe was tied down, it could still move slightly in relation to the Nebulon. He was glad when his feet were on the ivorylike deck.

The group reformed quickly, with Estriss in the middle surrounded by the "escorts." Teldin led the way to the center of the deck. The circular hatch-the one that had opened like a mouth-was already gaping wide. An invitation or a trap? Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly, Teldin thought. As one, the group drew swords.

The spiral staircase was wide enough for two, so Teldin and Rianna led the way. Julia took up the rear. The stairway was lit by the same sourceless yellow light that Teldin remembered from his first visit. Thank the gods for small favors, he thought. Just the idea of exploring this strange ship in the dark was enough to unnerve him.

They reached the landing. As before, there was only one door. Teldin reached out, expecting the door to swing wide before he touched it. This time, though, he had to push the door open. He glanced back at Estriss, but the illithid's gaze was noncommittal. He probably doesn't understand any more than I do about all this, Teldin thought. But, then, he's probably angry enough that he wouldn't tell me even if he did. Teldin stepped into the doorway.

The long hallway was just as it had been when he'd first visited the Nebulon. No, not quite; the lighting seemed dimmer, more yellow. For a moment, Teldin was overcome by the desire to turn and leave. Things weren't the way he'd expected them to be. Things were wrong, and that scared him.

Almost immediately, the fear turned to a burning anger-at the arcane, at this great ship, and at his own reaction. The whole situation was some kind of test-whether intended that way or not-and it was a test he was determined to pass. To turn away now, from a potential danger that could very well be an artifact of his own doubts, was ridiculous.

From childhood, Teldin had always tried to suppress anger in himself. Although nobody had ever told him so, he'd decided that anger was an unworthy emotion, and anyone who let himself feel it was also somehow unworthy. Now, though, he let the emotion build within him, felt its fire spread throughout his body. He felt the compass, the boundaries, of his anger. As he strode down the corridor, it was as much his anger as his will that drove his steps. He glanced over his shoulder. The others were behind him. Julia was still taking up the rear, looking over her shoulder regularly to watch for anyone-or anything-that might be following them.

He reached out toward the door that led to the great windowed room. Again it didn't open in response to his proximity. What does that mean? he asked himself. He pushed on the door, and it swung open smoothly.

Everything was exactly like his first visit to the Nebulon. The "throne" of purple crystal was facing one of the great windows, and Teldin could see the blue-skinned giant stating out into space.

"T'k'Pek," Teldin said. The arcane didn't move, gave no sign that he was even aware of Teldin's presence. "T'k'Pek," he repeated louder. He walked closer and froze in horror.

The arcane wore the same green, shawllike robe as in their first meeting, but now the front of that robe was drenched with a pale, pinkish fluid that still flowed sluggishly from a great wound across the creature's throat. T'k'Pek gazed out at the universe with eyes that would never again appreciate its wonders.

The arcane was dead.

The burning anger that had sustained Teldin was doused like a candle in a hurricane. He was cold, empty, as though there were a hole in the core of his being.

A sharp cry-a female cry-rang out behind him. He spun.

The cry had been Julia's. One of the bravos had the fingers of one hand entwined in her red hair, while the other hand held the edge of his sword against her throat. Another bravo reached down and removed Julia's sword from unresisting fingers. The woman's eyes were wide with mingled fear and anger. The other bravos hemmed Estriss in with a fence of steel. There was no way the illithid could kill or incapacitate them all before one managed to end the creature's life with a sword thrust. One pulled the mind flayer's dagger from his belt sheath and stashed it in his own boot.

Rianna had stepped away from the others, closer to Teldin. She held her sword casually, but her other hand held an item too small for Teldin to make out-material components for a spell, he guessed. She was grinning broadly, wolfishly, at him.

Understanding came like a physical impact. For a moment, the world seemed to dim around him. His throat tightened, almost enough to cut off his breathing, and it felt like there was ice in the pit of his stomach. His gaze was locked on Rianna's face.

"Don't look so tragic," she told him. That familiar, subtle throb of amusement was in her voice, and it was enough to make him ache. "It could have worked out a lot worse. The neogi could have caught you themselves."

One too many shocks. Teldin felt numb. When he spoke, it was with a voice devoid of emotion. "You're working for the neogi," he said. She just grinned. "Tell me why, Rianna. I think you owe me that."

She shrugged. "There's no reason not to tell you. Most of what I told you about myself was true," she began. Her voice was as unemotional as his, as if they were discussing nothing more significant than the weather. "I'm a message-runner. That's all I've ever wanted to be-alone in a ship, alone with the stars. You remember the talk we had about the stars?" Teldin's only answer was a curt nod. He didn't want to think about their talks. "I left home young," she continued, "and from then on I was always in business of one kind or another. It took me years, but I saved enough money to buy my ship, the Ghost. And that's when I finally got the life I wanted. Since then, I've done whatever it's taken to guarantee that I'll always have that."

"The neogi," he prompted.

"It happened much the way I told you. I was inward bound from Garden, and I met a neogi deathspider. I turned back to Garden and tried to lose them among the rocks, but they hit the Ghost a couple of times, and my helm went down. When they boarded me, I expected to be killed. I was ready to fight, ready to sell my life as dearly as I could…."

"But you didn't have to," he finished for her.

"I didn't have to. They offered me a deal. They'd set me adrift in space right across the course your ship would be following." She smiled. "They understand humans very well. They knew you'd rescue me. They offered me enough to buy myself a much bigger ship."

"And you trusted them?" he asked with scorn. "Neogi?"

She shrugged. "Business is business. I've dealt with humans who are worse than neogi. At least they kept it on a very professional level, just the way I like it. Plus-" there was real satisfaction behind her smile "-they may understand humans in the abstract, but they don't understand me. I don't want a bigger ship. I want something I can crew myself. The advance payment was more than enough for the ship I'd buy. So if they didn't come through with the rest of the money, I'd still be ahead."

"They have no hold over you, then," Teldin pointed out.

"When I cut a deal, I stick to it," she said sharply.