Damocles (38 page)

“Yeah.” Prader had agreed to fly the shuttle. She and Aaronson had the most experience with Chelyan crystals, and nobody knew more about pulling off the dangerous maneuver of jumpstarting the propulsion system. Plus Prader weighed less than anyone on the crew. That’s how close the weight calculations had become.

“So I’m going drop the payload high,” Prader explained as if anyone would question her. Nobody did. Just like nobody acted like they heard the tremor in her voice. “I’m figuring eight hours up, drop the load, and give Aaronson room to make the hump ’n’ jump. All told we should know for sure in about ten hours, give or take.” Prader cleared her throat and Meg could see her lower lip quiver. “If it’s all right with you, Captain, I’m going to stay up there with her just in case the injection doesn’t work.”

Wagner nodded, his jaw muscles clenching. “Understood.”

Meg spoke up. “If it doesn’t work, are you going to bring her back down here?”

Prader, Jefferson, and Wagner shared a look she couldn’t read. Prader’s mouth twisted into a sad smile. “If it doesn’t work, that crystal’s going to blow us into stardust. If that happens, I just…I want to go with her, you know?”

Jefferson whispered, “Some of us want to see the stars…”

Prader and Wagner finished the line in unison. “Some of us want to be them.”

Prader climbed into the shuttle, slipping into the narrow space between the silicate piles that led to the pilot’s seat. She hesitated in the door and smiled. “Just for the record, when I get back here to pick you guys up, the trip back is going to be a bitch. We’re not going to have time to put the seats back in. That means you’re going be strapped to the floor. Just saying, put your big boy pants on.”

“I’m gonna sit in your lap, sweetheart.” Jefferson grinned.

Prader laughed and looked up at the red-and-blue-streaked sky. “All those suns are going to set, huh? Figures I’d be gone the one day this planet gets any fucking shade. Hey, Captain?”

“Yeah, Prader?”

Her smile stayed in place even when a tear dripped into her dimple. “Do me a favor. Don’t run the clock, okay? Nothing good ever happens at the end of a countdown.”

“Understood.”

They stepped back, clearing the work crews back from the radius of ignition. The burners flared and for one horrible minute it looked like the thrusters would not lift the overburdened sub from the slab. But Prader knew her ship, and in seconds the heat around the slab became unbearable, more rock splintered under the thrust, and the
Damocles Sub 2
shot through the air.

Loul had been born the year of a Purpling. His mother always told him that meant his life would be special. She’d told him that as an infant, his eyes had watched the darkening skies, and she swore that he’d been the first to spot the pinpricks when they’d appeared. At his second Purpling, he’d told his mother those weren’t pinpricks in the sky. They were suns just like the ones that had set and that the sky was full of them, hundreds and thousands of suns just like theirs all through the universe, and that the only reason they couldn’t usually see them was because the Dideto suns made too much light. His mother had laughed and asked him when he’d gotten so smart. He got the feeling that she didn’t believe him about the pinpricks.

Now, with the Fa sun behind the ridge of the mountains, the Red Sun dropping into the water, and the rarely seen Green
Sun shining weakly behind him, he hoped his mother still didn’t believe him. Now that there was proof, now that the satellite images had been confirmed by the incredible technology the Urfers had brought to the world, now that everyone knew there were billions of stars and that they could be charted and navigated by, now more than ever he hoped his mother watched the skies for the places where the Sea Gods had pricked the veil.

Prader had been gone for almost two shifts. The smudge log had burned down to embers and somebody had managed to get hold of a few tubs of
checha
soup. It wasn’t as good as Reno Dado’s mother’s soup, but Loul couldn’t be sure if that was because of the soup or because of the bitter taste in his mouth. The work site had been cleared and equipment packed up and stored in the lines of trucks. Now, instead of toolboxes and sample cases, the area within the barricade was filled with people lying out on blankets, propped up on backpacks and food bags, watching the wide streaking bands of colors as the Red Sun took the last of the light from the sky.

Mamu the archivist had cut long strips of purple fabric for everyone. According to Cartar tradition, everyone would wear something purple, and Loul had smiled as Meg and the Urfers had taken their pieces and wrapped them loosely around their slender necks. Everyone else draped the fabric across their shoulders as they dipped fingers into the embers and smudged soot over their cheekbones. Po offered to smudge the leader, Agnar, who had laughed and made a comment about black on black. Still, the tall alien sat still as Po rubbed the gritty stain on his skin. Loul smudged Meg, and the Effans took turns smudging Cho. Only The Searcher had the nerve to approach Cheffson, who struggled to sit still while his cheeks were blacked.

Bowls of soup were passed around. Meg ventured a taste. The way her mouth twisted made Reno Dado laugh hard enough to
spit soup on her overshirt. The rest of the Urfers dined on piles of dried
tut
. As the sky turned from a kaleidoscope of colors to a wash of streaky blues and purples, conversations died down. Meg moved away from Cho, whose hand she had been holding almost nonstop since the ship had flown off, and moved to the blanket Hark had claimed for them. Hark and Po rested their heads on a duffel. Reno Dado lay beside Loul, her arms folded behind her head. Loul was beside her still propped on his elbows, scooting over to make room for Meg.

She folded herself down to the ground beside him, her long neck craning gracefully to watch the darkening sky. Her pale cheeks picked up hints of rosy lavender when she tilted her head back. “This.” She waved her fingers over her head, moving across the sky. “This is good, yes? This is…big?”

“Yes.” Loul spoke softly. “The Purpling. This is important.”

“Yes.”

The breeze from the sea picked up, whistling through shelters where the remaining equipment was stacked. Clouds skittered over the sea, reflecting the last of the Red Sun across the water. Loul knew if he turned around to look where the Green Sun had long set, he would see only rough shapes and shadows, the light gone from the southern horizon. Nobody looked that way though. The Red Sun was the father sun, the life sun. It would be the last to set and the first to rise, and all over the planet, the Dideto watched its journey.

He looked at Meg. The smudging hadn’t done much to camouflage her in the shadows. The Urfers’ skin didn’t hold the soot well, and light still shone on their lips and cheeks and foreheads. Her eyes, though, were shadows, dark and strange.

“Meg, is this night?”

He could see her teeth white in the darkness and hear her soft laugh. “Yes, this is night.”

“This is good/okay, yes?”

“Yes, Loul. This is good/okay. Very.”

They still didn’t understand exactly what was happening, where Prader had gone with the load of black stone they had excavated from the slab. When The Searcher had asked if the ship would return, Meg had let her hand waver between
yes
and
no
. Maybe. Loul could see the trembling in her delicate fingers. By unspoken agreement, the ground crews stopped asking questions then, choosing instead to focus on preparing for the Purpling. Nobody took the generals up on their offer to shuttle anyone home. The Urfers had been quiet ever since. None of them opened their light screens.

In the growing darkness, he felt Reno Dado shift against him, her skin warm in the cooling air. How long had he waited for this Purpling to tell her how he felt about her? She lay beside him uncovered, her hands now loose by her side, and he let his fingertips brush her wrist. She squeezed his fingers in return. “Talk to Meg.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “I’ll wait.” He sighed when she lifted her hand, letting her fingertips graze his rose spot.

On the other side of him in the shadows, he could make out Meg and the long line of her spine as she bent over her lap. He heard a click and a slide and then felt something warm pressed into his hand.

“To Loul. Loul has this.” Her fingers flitted near his, and the warm plastic in his hand glowed a pale red. “Loul has this.” It was her wristband, where she kept the light screen.

“Meg, this is…I can’t keep this.”

“Yes. Meg to Loul has this. Loul thoughts to learn this. To see Urf. To learn.” Her teeth and the whites of her wide eyes seemed to glow in the vanishing light as she brought her face close to his. “Meg go. Loul has this. Meg not go. Loul has this. Loul has this.”

He felt her fingers as they ghosted around the band, and he wondered how she could see what she was doing. He thought she must know the device by heart as she pinched and drew the light screen out. She traced the edge of the screen and the light vanished to almost nothing. He was glad she understood the need for darkness.

Her breath was warm on the side of his face as she whispered to him. “Meg talk to Loul. Meg say this to screen and Loul learn this after. Okay?” She was going to tell him something, something the computer would have to translate, maybe even after she was gone.

“Okay,” he said, pulling her hand to the earpiece in his ear. “Loul hear Meg talk. Meg. Not Dideto. Meg.”

“Okay.” Her fingers flitted over the screen and the translator program went off. He lay back on the blanket, one hand in Reno Dado’s, one hand holding the wristband. He scanned the sky for the pinpricks and listened to the bell-like sound of Meg’s voice in his ear.

They didn’t need a clock to keep the countdown. They counted in breaths and heartbeats and stacks of equipment. They took turns dozing, unable to really sleep, and finally Cho offered them all a vitamin amphetamine shot.

“We’ll sleep on board,” he said. Nobody argued.

Maybe she was running out of time with Loul, but as the sky exploded in a color show like none she had ever seen, Meg wanted to be still. She wanted to sit with her crew. During the packing and loading, Prader and Jefferson both had made their version of a peace gesture, including her in the conversation and
helping with the work. She appreciated the effort. Watching the Dideto smearing soot on their faces, tasting the sour, muddy soup, and watching them sprawl their bodies awkwardly onto their wide backs, Meg felt loneliness wash over her. She didn’t want to translate. She didn’t even want to talk. She held Cho’s hand and accepted the peeled
tut
Wagner handed her. They watched the suns set.

When the last sun, the hot red one, began to sink into the sea, Cho released her hand. Prader would have reached the
Damocles
by now. The solar shields for the radio had been stripped for their weight. She might not be able to contact them until she returned to atmosphere. They might not know if she would return until they saw the burners in the sky. Whatever was going to happen, whatever they were going to learn, they would learn in a few hours. The crew didn’t make any good-byes, not wanting to jinx the mission, but they understood that Meg had more to say than any of them.

“With your permission, Captain.” She raised her wristband to him.

“Did you strip it?”

“Yes sir.”

“All right.”

She moved through the bodies on the ground to find Loul and his friends. The sky glowed warm lavender, making the scene around her look like a dream. As the suns set and the light dimmed, she heard the pulse of thrumming rise up on the breeze. All around her, the crews and archivists and soldiers reclined, watching the sky. They didn’t speak, but their throats hummed, rising and falling in a rhythm that came together so solid, so in tune with the others, that Meg felt light-headed. She listened, picking Loul’s thrum out from the throb of harmony, hearing it rise just slightly when the girl’s fingers touched his wrist.

“Is this night?” Loul asked.

She turned to him and saw that his gaze fell near her but not on her face. The last sun had dipped below the water and the sky flushed a deep purple, but the sight was no darker than a late summer twilight. Still, she could tell that Loul and the other Dideto could barely see. They didn’t know darkness.

“Yes,” she said, watching Loul smile, “this is night.”

Meg gave him the wristband. ProLingLang would continue to run translations and she had faith that Loul could figure out the kinks. As protocol dictated, she’d stripped the database of all weapons and military information. She put the library of comic books at the top of the access list.

“Meg talk to Loul. I want to tell you something, something the program can translate later. Loul can figure it out. I know you can.” Loul put her hand on his earpiece. He wanted to hear her voice, not the translator. She was glad. The story was easier to tell to someone who didn’t understand the words. She turned off the connection to her crewmates’ coms so only Loul’s computer could hear her and pulled the locket out from beneath her shirt. In the purple light she could make out two young girls with identical haircuts and identical dresses. Their faces would have been identical too except that one girl smiled with gap-toothed glory. The other’s smile was closed-mouthed and shy.

“This is my sister, Maddie. My twin sister. Six minutes older than me and she never let me forget it. She bossed me around like a drill sergeant and I never questioned her, not ever. She had this way about her, this power. She had a million jokes, knew the words to all the songs. She could wear anything and make it look cool and she never left me behind.

“I was nothing like her. I know our parents must have wondered what the hell happened that they could have one vivacious firecracker and one backward paste-eater. Maddie always
had a boyfriend. From first grade on she always had the cutest guy and another in the wings. And she always insisted they find a guy for me too. They must have hated that, having to find a date for Meg the Peg. That’s what they used to call me, because I’d just stand there, afraid to speak up. I’d just stand there in Maddie’s shadow.