Chapter 27 - IN SEARCH OF IMPRIS

The Flux felt different to Legroeder this time, as they flew down the light-years, far from the outer boundaries of Outpost Ivan. A part of him that had grown intensely attached to Tracy-Ace/Alfa was struggling to find a way to fill the emptiness where, against all odds, he had found something to treasure. Or at least want to treasure. Was it real, the thing that had happened to him with Tracy-Ace? He wasn't quite sure anymore. The Flux—perhaps acting in concert with his heart—felt more tenuous than usual, with a less clearly defined feeling of movement. He couldn't quite tell if the difference was in him or in the Flux itself—or maybe in the peculiarities of the Kyber ship Phoenix. Despite the lack of feeling of movement, they were speeding along briskly, as though in a planetary jetstream—thin, high-altitude winds.

The primary rigger crew consisted of Legroeder, Deutsch, Palagren, and Ker'sell—with Kyber riggers taking the secondary crew slots, a fact that did not sit well with the Kyber crew. Legroeder, per YZ/I's orders, was the command rigger in the net; but the ship itself was under the authority of a rugged Kyber captain named Jaemes Glenswarg, a man in his forties, with only modest augmentation. He seemed to have a tough disposition, and likely a willingness to take some risks—but also a predisposition toward conservative flying. That last was some reassurance to Legroeder, who was torn between excitement and fear as he thought of what lay ahead. He was grateful for the trio of Kyber escort ships that had departed along with them. The escort had already dropped back out of visual contact, to a distant shadowing position; but Legroeder was glad they were there—the first time in his life he'd ever welcomed the presence of pirate ships.

Any hope had evaporated for anything like a return to "old times." He and the Narseil and Deutsch worked well in the net together, as always—but it could never be quite the same, operating under a Kyber flag. If he wasn't sure whom to trust, the Narseil were even more uncertain. He had vivid memories of going to Fre'geel with the proposed mission...

"Send my people to fly with the Kyber? I'd as gladly send them out the airlock. What did you tell them, anyway?"

"I didn't have to tell them anything, Fre'geel. They knew all about us, the whole plan!"

It was hard to tell whether Fre'geel's indignation was real or staged. "What do you mean, they knew—?"

"They were waiting for us. They knew who I was the whole time. They were the ones who sent the feelers to El'ken. The whole thing was a setup to get us here! Not just me; they wanted your people, too!"

The Narseil's face was transformed by a series of expressions as he struggled to absorb this new information. "You're saying they brought us here to help them look for Impris?"

Legroeder appealed to Tracy-Ace, who nodded confirmation. "Don't forget it's one of the things we came here for, Fre'geel. We have a chance now to try to bring Impris in. Rescue her. Learn the truth."

Fre'geel glanced back through the window into the holding cell, where a set of portable mist-showers had recently been installed. The Kyber had kept their word on that, at least. But Legroeder could imagine him thinking, how would his crew react if he sent his best riggers out on a Kyber-run operation?

"Perhaps," Tracy-Ace said dryly, "you would like to hear the actual terms Ivan is offering."

"Terms!" Fre'geel said, not quite snorting. "Since you have us as your prisoners, you may be able to dictate terms. But you cannot command our actions. Why do you want Impris, anyway?"

Legroeder threw up his hands. "Why don't you listen to them and find out?"

Fre'geel looked stunned, but in the end he went along to discuss the matter with Yankee-Zulu/Ivan...

And in the end, if Fre'geel did not exactly trust Ivan, he did decide that the Narseil's prospects for achieving their goals were better with the deal than without. Even if there was no guarantee that YZ/I would uphold the bargain if they rescued the ship, they were at least pursuing contacts and gaining information. Fre'geel argued for the inclusion of Cantha and Agamem as bridge specialists to help analyze the structure of the Deep Flux, and although YZ/I had not originally intended to send non-rigger Narseil, he agreed.

They'd gotten underway without delay, despite signs of considerable wariness between the Narseil team and the Kyber crew. Ker'sell, whom Legroeder suspected had never quite trusted him in the first place, seemed more guarded than ever. Legroeder couldn't tell if Ker'sell regarded him as a traitor, or if he simply distrusted everyone. Agamem, whom the Narseil really had wanted along for security, rather than Flux analysis, seemed to accept Legroeder's loyalty; but even so, Legroeder felt he was being watched. As far as he could tell, Palagren and Cantha still accepted him as a friend and crewmate.

Phoenix's heading was set for upper northeastern Golen Space, where Kyber tracking was last known to have followed Impris. The information at their command was scant; Kilo-Mike/Carlotta, whose ships were currently shadowing Impris, provided only the minimum tracking data required by the Kyber Republic commonality agreements. However, YZ/I's people had purchased some additional information—they hoped more than just rumor —from a third outpost that had deeper sources than Ivan's within KM/C.

While Cantha worked with the Kyber crew at the plotting computers, trying to project Impris's possible locations from the information they had, Legroeder and the rigger team flew on a course traversing the narrow waist of the so-called Golen Space Peninsula. They were aiming for an area not too far from several important routes that skirted Golen Space just a few light-years to the galactic south of the star-birthing region of the Akeides Nebula. The nebula, just outside Golen Space on the route between Karg-Elert 4 and Vedris IV, was a passage of tremendous beauty, but also an area of turbulence, where a number of Centrist ships had been lost over the years.

The nebula was well known to Kyber worlds, too—but for another reason. It was a boundary point of Impris's wanderings. The ship seemed to meander chaotically, appearing in ghostly fashion in one place and then another, at unpredictable intervals. Its movements seemed limited to a zone a few dozen light-years in length, and a dozen wide and high. The region of the Akeides Nebula marked one end point of that zone.

"Are you saying," Legroeder heard Cantha asking a Kyber navigator named Derrek, "that there's a force in the nebula that turns the ship back when it gets too close?"

Derrek's return gaze seemed to deny all recognition of Cantha's authority or position. His electronic eyes glanced at Captain Glenswarg, as if to ask, How much do you want me to say?

Legroeder watched in silence. When the captain didn't speak, Cantha explained, "If we want to locate the ship, we need to understand its behavior. If you have knowledge that bears on our search..." He appealed with a gesture to the captain.

Glenswarg moved his chin up and down a centimeter, nodding.

The Kyber navigator's mouth pursed as he struggled to accept this. "The answer is, we don't know."

Legroeder thought, Was that so hard to say?

"Don't know what—whether or not the nebula turns Impris back?" Cantha asked.

Derrek shrugged. "For all we know, the nebula just happens to be there. Maybe there's no connection." He pressed his lips together, making clear there was nothing else he would offer willingly.

Cantha looked thoughtful as he turned back to the simulation console.

* * *

At the end of the fourth day of flying, Cantha and the riggers gathered in the plotting room just aft of the bridge. "I find it interesting," Cantha said, "that even the Kyber—with all of their ships tracking Impris—cannot accurately predict her course, or even define its limits very precisely." Cantha gestured to the holo-image floating in the center of the room, where he'd traced out his projections of their course aboard Phoenix. From the net, their course had seemed like a fairly straight line; but from Cantha's plot of the Flux-layers, it looked more like a mangled corkscrew penetrating the Golen Space Peninsula.

"What are these lines here?" Legroeder asked, reaching out to trace glowing threads that crisscrossed under the path of Phoenix. "Why do they zigzag like that?"

Cantha picked carefully at his teeth. "That's something you should regard as extremely tentative. I'm trying to sketch out some possible routes of Impris through the—" he hesitated "—underflux."

"Underflux?" Legroeder asked, cocking an eye at him. "Do you mean the Deep Flux?"

"Only partially." Cantha's neck-ridge quivered; he seemed a little reticent, even defensive, as he continued. "Our Institute has been examining a theoretical series of spacetime layerings that we term the 'underflux.' We don't have enough data to confirm or deny our theories, and it's... not discussed much outside the Institute."

Legroeder frowned. "Meaning, it's for Narseil eyes only?"

Cantha shrugged at the implied reproach. "Essentially, yes. Until now. The underflux includes—as nearly as I can tell—the layer that the Kyber refer to when they say the Deep Flux."

"As nearly as you can tell?"

Deutsch floated forward. "Is there a question about terminology?"

Cantha displayed an uncharacteristic annoyance. "Not just that. No offense, Freem'n, but your Kyber crewmates would sooner open their veins than share their knowledge about the Deep Flux with us. And somebody had better start sharing information. Why'd they bring us along, if they're not willing to pool knowledge?"

Palagren stirred. "They probably think we'll use whatever they tell us to try to stop that colony fleet of theirs."

"And are they wrong?" Deutsch asked. Before anyone could answer, he added, "Don't forget, these guys are not entirely playing with their own decks here." He tapped the side of his head. "I don't think I'm being programmed to respond to you in any particular way, but I'm not sure the same thing is true of the Phoenix crew. There may be low-level safeguards against the spilling of information."

Legroeder opened his mouth, closed it. If the augments were keeping the Kyber crew hostile... "I'd better talk to Captain Glenswarg about that. If they want us to find Impris, and there's a chance she's actually lost in the Deep Flux..."

"It would be very helpful," said Cantha, "if you could use your influence with the captain."

That drew a low hiss from behind Legroeder, and he turned to see Ker'sell's eyes narrowed to thin vertical slits. Legroeder sighed impatiently. "Look, Ker'sell. Unless we cooperate with the Kyber, we'll never find the ship. I didn't sell out to them." At least, I don't think I did.

Ker'sell blinked slowly, looking like a large, dangerous lizard. "Perhaps not," he said. "But remember that our interests are not the same as the Kyber's." He almost spat the word as he flexed his long-fingered hands. Had his nails grown long and sharp when Legroeder wasn't watching, or had they always been that way? "I will be watching to see whose interests you serve."

"Please do," Legroeder said softly, trying to sound merely annoyed rather than alarmed. He drew a breath. "And now, if you'll all excuse me, I think I'll go have that talk with the captain."

* * *

Glenswarg crossed his arms over his chest, facing Legroeder in the commander's wardroom. "What do you expect me to do about it? I can't make my men like the Narseil. As long as they're doing their jobs—"

"But that's just it. They're not—" Legroeder caught himself.

"Are you suggested they're not doing their jobs?" Glenswarg asked in a low voice. Are you questioning my leadership?

Legroeder steeled himself. "They're not sharing information," he said slowly. "At least, not freely enough to enable our riggers, and researchers—" brought to you at enormous cost, across many light-years "—to do what's necessary to complete our mission. To find Impris."

"I am aware of our mission, Rigger."

"Yes, sir." Legroeder paused. "If you don't mind my asking, Captain—are these crew under... augment control?"

Glenswarg's gaze narrowed even more. "I don't see what concern that is of yours."

"Yes, well—" Legroeder cleared his throat "—let's just say, if they're intentionally being made to be suspicious of us, perhaps there is some adjustment that could be made..." His voice trailed off, as the captain's eyes grew more and more slitted.

"You're treading very close to accusing me of incompetence, or sabotage," Glenswarg growled.

Legroeder kept very still for a moment, holding the captain's gaze. "I don't mean to, sir," he said evenly, at last.

There was another pause that seemed to last a dozen heartbeats. "I'll see what can be done," Glenswarg said. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, Captain..."

* * *

Legroeder's request seemed to bear fruit. During the following days, he often saw Cantha working at the sim console with one or more of the Kyber bridge crew; and the Narseil reported in private that the Kyber navigators were becoming a little less grudging in cooperating with his requests. No one was declaring the end of mutual suspicions, but at least he had a sense that they were working together. Of all those on the ship, Cantha clearly had the deepest understanding of the subtleties of the underflux—and even the Kyber crew were coming to recognize that fact, or were being permitted to recognize it.

Days passed, as they flew within distant view of the Great Barrier Nebula, a ghostly green wall that stretched for many light-years along the edge of Golen Space.

They were passing to the galactic north of the region known as the Sargasso, where Robert McGinnis had once been shipwrecked. Legroeder fervently hoped that they would have no need to fly any closer to the Sargasso than they were now.

He might as well have wished for a moon.

When Cantha called the riggers together for a look at his latest mapping displays, they were joined by the Kyber crew and captain. As everyone gathered around the floating holo of nearby space, Cantha raised a wand and shone a thin pointer of light into the display. "What I've been trying to establish is a track of where Impris has been seen, and ultimately where we might expect to see her—or better yet, have a chance of breaking through to reach her."

"Explain," said the captain, the light of the holo playing over his frowning face.

Cantha moved the pointer-beam through the glowing display. "The ships that are out there shadowing Impris apparently pick up only intermittent ghost traces—so at best, even with the extra information you obtained, we have only bits and pieces of her course."

"So what's the good news?" said Glenswarg.

"I've been making new projections, based not just on Impris sightings, but on what we think we know of the structure of the underflux." Cantha caused the holo to rotate in mid-air, then pointed out their current destination, not far from the Akeides Nebula. "Here's where the most recent intelligence places Impris, based on KM/C's movements." He touched a handheld controller, and something changed in the display: previously unfocused details came into focus, as though they were peering deeper into a multidimensional display. "Now, observe these green lines." He traced a series of spidery threads, through the newly focused region. "These are routes that I believe Impris could have followed in recent months." He peered through the display at the others. "These are not paths through the known Flux, but projections into the underflux—possibly into the lowest layers, what you call the Deep Flux. These are projections only. It is a poorly mapped region, to say the least."

Legroeder squinted, trying to visualize the elusive layer in which Impris might be trapped. Cantha's lines zigzagged to the south and radially out on the galactic meridian—converging in one region before spreading out again in other directions. "What's that area of convergence?" he asked—uneasily, because he thought he knew the answer. "Is that the Sargasso?"

"Indeed," said Cantha, with a tone of satisfaction that gave Legroeder a shiver. The Narseil's gaze pierced him for a moment, then shifted suddenly to Captain Glenswarg. "I believe, if we wish to catch up with Impris, the place to do it is in the Sargasso."

Legroeder's heart sank.

"That is," Cantha continued, over the muttering of the Kyber crewmen, "if we don't merely want to catch sight of her, but want to actually find her and rendezvous with her." Cantha looked around the room, the display shining on his vertical amphibian eyes, to see if he'd gotten everyone's attention.

Legroeder closed his eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the protests of the others. The Sargasso: a dead zone, where the currents of the Flux dwindled to a stop. Who knew why? And who knew how many ships were stranded there right now—not in the strange, ghostly immortality of Impris, but just stranded in the motionless Flux, dying like animals caught in quicksand. If they went in with Phoenix, looking for Impris, what were their chances of coming out again?

Not good, he thought.

Except that Cantha was suggesting it. And he trusted Cantha's opinion as much as he trusted his own rigging.

"I think, Narseil Cantha," said the captain in a tight, flat voice, "that you have a great deal of explaining to do. Are you seriously recommending that we take this ship into the Sargasso?"

"Yes, Captain," Cantha said. He pointed to the place where the green tracings converged, and altered the focus slowly to a higher level of the Flux, and then back down. The map changed in texture and color as he shifted the display. Cantha's pointer-beam traced green paths through the layers. "Here is what I want you to see. I don't know which of these paths Impris has followed—

perhaps none of them precisely. But the important thing is that they come together, and rise very close to the level of the normal Flux—here in the Sargasso." He peered through the display at the captain. "That's the key. If we want to reach Impris, we have to break through into the level where she's trapped. And the Sargasso is the only place I see to do it."

"You're out of your mind," muttered a Kyber crewman. "Why the hell are we listening to this?" said another.

Christ Almighty, Legroeder thought, gazing into Cantha's eyes. He felt despair.

"It could be a very dangerous course to take," Deutsch rumbled, breaking through the grumbling.

"Yes," said Glenswarg, commanding silence with an arch of his bristly eyebrows. "It sounds extremely dangerous." He paused, allowing Cantha to continue.

"That is true," Cantha said. "And that is why we need to talk about the underflux. And about the spatial flaws I believe may underlie it."

"What spatial flaws?" growled a Kyber rigger.

Cantha placed his hands together, forefingers pointing into the holo. "The Flux, generally speaking, displays a fairly smooth progression of dimensionality as we move through descending layers. But, from layer to layer, we may encounter differing currents of movement—yes?" He glanced sharply at Derrek, the Kyber navigator, who shrugged.

"As you go deeper and deeper, you may reach a point where the movement slows too much; and if you're using standard rigging techniques, you lose the ability to maneuver. Or, you simply come to a halt—like getting stuck in silt at the bottom of a river."

"Like in the Sargasso," Deutsch said.

"Almost." Cantha raised a finger. "There's a crucial difference. The Sargasso is a place where currents seem to lose their energy—but there it happens in the normal levels of the Flux, which is what makes it such a hazard. But why do the currents lose energy? Is it just a cancellation effect of converging currents? Or is it something more?"

Palagren's neck-sail stiffened. "Cantha, are you sure you should tell them—?"

"Why not?" Cantha asked. "We've demanded that they share their knowledge with us."

Palagren's mouth tightened. "But this information—" "Is essential to finding Impris. How else can we do it?" Palagren's eyes seemed filled with uncertainty; but finally he gestured acquiescence.

"So what's the explanation?" Legroeder prompted.

Cantha hissed softly. "The Narseil Rigging Institute believes there are flaws—fractures, if you will—in the structure of spacetime in the Sargasso. We believe that currents may be leaking out of the normal layers of the Flux into a deeper substrate... into the underflux." He gestured to Legroeder. "You've read the Fandrang Report. It talked about regions of high 'EQ.' We don't use that terminology anymore—but this may be a related phenomenon."

"These fractures—are you talking about openings that go all the way down into the Deep Flux?" Glenswarg asked, looking troubled.

"Possibly," Cantha said. "We don't know how deep they might go. In the Narseil understanding of the Deep Flux, there are layers far down in the underflux—" the holo shifted to a deeper level, and many of the star systems still visible as ghostly images seemed to draw closer together "—where extremely long routes in normal-space are shortened and compacted, but at the cost of becoming far more unpredictable." The threads marking starship routes became blurred and wavering. "Too unpredictable, in our view, for safe travel."

Cantha walked around the display, pointing here and there. "We can only guess at the details. But we have identified places where subsurface cusps or folds in the Flux may occur. Places where movement along hidden boundaries can result in abrupt transitions." The display flickered with topographic shifts and folds as his pointer beam moved along the indistinct route-threads. "It may happen so abruptly that an unsuspecting crew might not know how to make the transition back."

Legroeder blinked. "And you think this is what happened to Impris?"

Cantha steepled his long-fingered hands together. "Quite likely. I also believe this is how she can be found."

Glenswarg cleared his throat. "And that's why you're asking me to risk this ship in the Sargasso?"

"It is a risk," Cantha agreed. "But if these flaws exist, as we believe, in the Sargasso, then they could provide openings where we could break through into the underlying layers."

Glenswarg waved his arm through the holo. "But Impris isn't there. As far as we know, she's up here." He pointed to what was now the far corner of the display, at the point marking their present destination.

"Indeed," Palagren said, stirring. "She was last seen up there. But that doesn't mean we can reach her from there. Legroeder—when you encountered Impris seven years ago, did you have any sense that you could have physically reached her?"

"You mean, if we hadn't been attacked?" Legroeder shook his head. "I don't think so. We saw it, heard her riggers in the net... and then it faded, just as the attacking ship—" He shuddered, and allowed the inner hands of the implants to close off that memory for him.

"Exactly. It's there, but it's insubstantial... and then in a matter of seconds, it's gone again. Cantha, can you show the folds more clearly?" As the display changed to highlight the features, Palagren traced with his hand along the irregularities in the Flux. "We suspect that Impris may have become trapped somehow inside one of these folds in the underflux. Trapped in a parallel channel —seemingly close to us, and yet isolated." Palagren glanced around. "She does seem to move very quickly from one location to another."

"So," said Cantha, "we can look for Impris up here—" he rotated the image and highlighted their present destination "—under the nose of KM/C, where we won't be able to reach her anyway. Or we can try to enter that fold down here—" he rotated it again, highlighting the Sargasso region "—where the pathways converge and there may be openings that will let us reach her from within the fold. Where, I might add, Kilo-Mike/Carlotta will see much less of what we're doing."

"Carlotta will love that when she finds out," whispered a Kyber rigger.

He was silenced by a look from Glenswarg. The captain's eyebrows looked like two caterpillars trying to merge. He scowled into the display. "It's an interesting idea. But it'll be dangerous as hell, won't it?"

Cantha shrugged. "The Kyber are known for their courage, yes?"

Glenswarg's scowl darkened even further. "These paths in the folds—are they fast moving?"

Cantha cleared his throat with a rumble. "If they are Deep Flux, they may be very fast. Or short. So if you're asking, could we hope to make our way to her quickly once we're in the fold—"

"Not just that," said Glenswarg. "Are we going to be able to find our way out again?"

The Narseil hesitated.

"Impris couldn't find her way out. What makes you think we're different?"

The blood pounding in Legroeder's ears competed with Palagren's answer. "Impris probably didn't know why she was trapped. We will. We're going to have to look for a way in. Which means we'll be noting exactly where and how we enter. That'll make us better equipped to find our way out again." Palagren turned to Legroeder, then the captain. "With your permission, we would perform some retuning of the rigger-net—to take maximum advantage of our versatility. Human, Kyber, Narseil. All together. That's another advantage we have that Impris didn't."

Glenswarg rubbed his chin. "And assuming we make it out of this fold of yours, what about getting out of the Sargasso itself—once we're back in the normal Flux?"

"The Sargasso has extremely slow and tricky movement," said Palagren. "Not no movement. If we plan ahead and map with care, we should be able to manage. I won't deceive you, though. There's a degree of risk."

"High risk, if you ask me," said Navigator Derrek, leaning into the holo and craning his neck as though trying to extract more information from it.

Glenswarg turned to stare at Legroeder, who was responsible for the rigging decisions. Legroeder took a deep breath. "It has to be the Sargasso?" he asked the Narseil.

First Cantha, then Palagren nodded. "It's the only place we see an opening," Cantha said, unfolding his fingers in a humanlike palm-up gesture. "If we want to find Impris, that's where we have to go.

Legroeder closed his eyes, asking the implants if they had any wisdom. They didn't. He gazed at Glenswarg and sighed. "I'm afraid I must recommend, Captain, that we take this ship to the Sargasso."

Glenswarg's gaze bored into him, as though waiting to see if he would change his mind. When Legroeder held his gaze, the captain grunted and turned to his exec. "Prepare a message to the escort ships. And tell the bridge crew, we're changing course."

Chapter 28 - GHOST HUNTING

It was hard to be sure precisely when they entered the Sargasso, but soon enough the signs became unmistakable. The net softened around them like sails gone limp, as the currents of space slowed to a crawl. Legroeder gazed out at a tenuous skyscape of ocher clouds, and felt the image changing of its own accord to a vision of water. The mists flattened to become the foggy surface of a still sea, with a half-shrouded sun burning overhead.

Nothing moved. Even the water lapping at the side of the ship sounded like something caught in a time warp, the chuckling slap of listless waves drawn out into a croaking sound, like the monotonous drone of some primordial, throaty-voiced creature.

The riggers scanned in all directions. Legroeder half expected to see the cluttered flotsam of drifting ships; instead, what he saw was a profound and oppressive emptiness. It seemed to permeate not just the outward scene, but the mood inside the net, as well. All four riggers were silent, as though a single word might destroy the fragile magic that held it all together.

The Narseil had spent hours working with the Kyber crew, carefully retuning the flux reactor, adjusting the sensitivity of the net in painstaking increments. Palagren and Cantha were trying to make the net more responsive to emotional fluctuations among the riggers. That was easy; what was hard was to do it without losing the usual buffers against mood shifts. The other riggers, especially the Kyber who flew the alternate shifts, felt uneasy about the changes—and even Ker'sell seemed uncertain—but Legroeder and the captain had allowed Palagren and Cantha to try. They were convinced that, by heightening their sensitivity to fainter stirrings of the Flux, they could improve their maneuverability in the Sargasso. And Legroeder was very much in favor of being able to maneuver out of the Sargasso.

Right now, he couldn't see much except the stillness. He found himself thinking of Com'peer, the Narseil surgeon, quoting from the book of Psalms. How had one of them gone? He leads me beside the still waters... Yes, Legroeder thought. Still waters, indeed.

An unfamiliar inner voice offered a comment:

“ The quote refers to "safe" waters, actualy. Are these waters safe? “

(I doubt that,) Legroeder muttered. (Who are you? Do I know you?)

“ I am an analytical subroutine. My exegetical database includes many of the known galaxy's religions. “

(Oh. Well, what do you analyze about this place?) “ Difficult to know... “ said the implant.

(Yah.)

“ But I am working on it. “

As are we all, Legroeder thought. But perhaps the implant was right about one thing: it would be very helpful to keep in mind an image of these waters as safe —particularly since the net was far more sensitive now to fear or anxiety. But they were also looking for evidence of any opening in the underflux, any opening through which a ship might pass into a hidden fold—a ship such as Impris. Or Phoenix. Legroeder wondered where their escort ships were by now. They had been unable to make contact; and though Phoenix had transmitted their intentions, they had no way of knowing if the escort had received the message.

Legroeder watched his crew watching the Flux. While commanding the rigger crew, Legroeder occupied his customary stern position, with Palagren at the bow and Ker'sell at top gun. Deutsch, at the keel, seemed intent on something. Freem'n. What are you picking up?

Deutsch didn't answer at once. He seemed to be processing through his augments. Finally: Nothing that I can describe clearly. For a moment, I thought I'd sensed some ghost traces... I don't know of what. Like shadows. Maybe echoes from the underflux. Not clear. Deutsch fell back into silence, but he seemed more emotionally connected to the imagery than usual.

Legroeder, for his part, felt a strange, listless foreboding, as if he were floating under a tropical sun, awaiting the arrival of some vaguely defined enemy. So far, though, he'd seen nothing; he found it hard even to focus on the features of the Flux. The ship was drifting sideways, very slowly. The only visible features on the sea were the fog banks, and if you watched them carefully you could see that they too were shifting with dreamy slowness, as if stirred by convection currents rising from the still surface of the water.

Turning to watch Palagren and Ker'sell, he noted their unstirring poses. He did not interrupt them; they were stretching out through the tessa'chron, probing as far into the future as their senses would allow, seeking any whorls or eddies in the flow of time, anything that might suggest the presence of a change or a flaw in the local fabric of spacetime. So far, they'd seen nothing suggestive of the entry point they were looking for. The net sang like a charged high-tension wire as Palagren came to and peered back at Legroeder.

I'd like to retune further, Palagren said. I think we need more sensitivity.

Legroeder frowned. The net was already a roomful of suppressed emotions waiting to erupt. With increased output from the flux reactor, they would shift even further into an experimental operating regime. He wasn't sure how much more he wanted to experiment. Cantha? Agamem? he called to the bridge. Are you picking up anything useful?

From the bridge, the two Narseil replied in the negative. No movement visible, Cantha said. Not much energy gradient of any kind.

If they wanted to be able to maneuver, they had to do better. Legroeder glanced at the ethereal vision of Palagren, waiting at the front of the net for an answer, then called to Deutsch. Freem'n, will it interrupt your AI scans if we increase the sensitivity further?

I don't think so.

Was that a trace of nervousness in Deutsch's voice? Well, they were all nervous. All right, Palagren, let's go ahead.

Commencing now, replied the Narseil.

Legroeder felt a momentary tingle, followed by a heightened awareness of... what? His heartbeat, pulsing in his ears? Light and shadow, boredom and fear?

It seemed to fluctuate through a variety of responses, as Palagren made cautious adjustments—backing off here, enhancing there. Legroeder's implants flickered, joining in a circle with the others', as Palagren gauged the new settings. Legroeder became aware of a smell of the sea that he hadn't noticed before, of brine and seaweed. Everyone okay with this? he asked softly.

As the others agreed, he disengaged his augments from the circle. The others could use their augments for flying, but he was going to stick with his human senses. Begin cycling the images.

The plan was to try a variety of image types, in hopes of revealing patterns or movement beneath the surface. If the patterns were there, they might well manifest as different images for different individuals.

The first was an undersea vision: a clear and still place, with sunlight slanting down through the water as far as the eye could see. Far off, Legroeder saw floating tufts of seaweed and detritus—perhaps areas of altered density,

or mass concentrations in nearby normal-space.

Legroeder was surprised to feel a profound sadness welling up in him for no apparent reason, a feeling of indescribable loss. His thoughts flickered to Tracy-Ace, and he felt himself on the verge of tears. Would he ever see her again? Had she deceived him to get him on this mission? Was he on a fool's errand? No... he remembered the intimacy of their joining, and refused to believe that it was false.

He drew a sharp breath, startled by the power of the emotion. Good Lord. Glancing around, he realized that everyone in the net seemed preoccupied. Palagren appeared wistful and distracted; Deutsch was concentrating fiercely on the Flux beneath him. Only Ker'sell showed any awareness of Legroeder, and he was staring down at the human with apparent suspicion. Legroeder looked away, hoping he had not let actual images of Tracy-Ace into the net.

Focus outward, he thought. We're here to fly, not gaze at our navels.

The silence was interrupted by: This is Cantha. Nothing visible on instruments out here.

Nothing here, Deutsch said.

Nothing, said Legroeder.

Ker'sell didn't answer.

Palagren changed the image again.

The crystal clarity of the seascape closed in, and Phoenix was transformed to an aircraft flying straight and level through solid cloud; the forward motion, of course, was purely an illusion. Legroeder felt his feelings changing with the image. At first he was oppressed by the clouds, but that gave way to a sense of freedom and exhilaration. Not everyone in the net shared the feeling, however. Palagren was focused deeply, as though pondering a mystery. Deutsch's mood was inscrutable. Ker'sell was snapping his gaze around with angry energy.

Before Legroeder could learn what was bothering Ker'sell, the Narseil changed the image—as though he could not bear the clouds any longer. Dark forms loomed in the fog, then faded back, like dream-shapes. What were those—something they needed to see? Too late: the fog dissipated and the surroundings changed to night. Now they were floating in a glass bubble over a dark, featureless plain.

Featureless plain like the featureless sea.

But was it? Legroeder sensed that something was building beneath the surface. The plain below was not altogether still and motionless; it was smoldering with sulfurous fire. Once he realized that, the fire seemed to spread. In just a few heartbeats, the plain was sprinkled with burning pools of sulfur, reddish orange, like a collection of portals into Hell. Legroeder's pulse quickened. What do you all see down there? he whispered.

Looks pretty featureless to me, said Deutsch. Also to me, murmured Palagren.

Was he the only one who saw the fire? Legroeder glanced up at Ker'sell, and knew the answer. The Narseil was staring down from the top gun position, not at the landscape, but at Legroeder. Those weren't portals down there; that was Ker'sell's anger. Flickers of fire, of suspicion and rage.

Legroeder spoke softly to Ker'sell. What is it? What's bothering you?

What's to tell? Ker'sell's eyes seemed to say. The Narseil was eaten up by distrust of Legroeder, but he wasn't going to speak it aloud.

If you think I betrayed you, I did not. Legroeder was surprised by his own calm, in contrast to the smoldering sulfur. I see your anger down there. That's you, not the Flux, isn't it?

Ker'sell didn't answer, but Palagren glanced back at Legroeder in surprise. Palagren clearly didn't know what Legroeder was seeing, but he also seemed to be struggling with something else. Self doubt? Uncertainty about whether he could fulfill his promise to bring them through this place? Is everything all right with you two? Palagren asked. Then he grunted, as if he suddenly understood.

Perhaps he was glimpsing a moment or two into the future, because Ker'sell suddenly hissed to Legroeder, You work with the enemy, you make friends with them. Do you make love to them, too?

Legroeder was speechless. He had to grope for words to reply. I did not betray you. I did my job. What would we have learned about Impris if we had not come here with this crew?

Something in the Narseil's eyes brightened and then went dark, and Legroeder couldn't gauge the effect of his words. But below the ship the image suddenly changed again—the seething landscape dissolving to reveal something moving beneath it, a shadow under the molten surface.

Wait! Legroeder cried, as the image began to fade away. Did you see that?

The others looked, but whatever he had seen was gone now, and the sulfur with it. Perhaps it was just a reflection of all the disturbances in the net.

He shook his head as the images continued to evolve. They were high above ground in night flight, a weblike array of thousands of tiny nodes of liquid light sprawled out on the surface below. The array seemed to loom out of an infinity of darkness, as though they might fall down through the spaces between the threads, into some other universe altogether. This reminds me of our homeworld, Palagren said suddenly, with wistful longing in his voice. From Ker'sell, there was an even stronger reaction. He seemed to be struggling with a desire to break out of the net, to dive into that world and leave all of them behind.

A heartbeat later, a similar homesickness hit Legroeder, as if his own homeworld might be hidden somewhere below.

Something's there. I feel it, Deutsch said quietly from the keel position. For a moment, Legroeder could not identify the emotion disguised by Deutsch's metallic voice. And then he had it: fear.

Why fear?

What do you see, Freem'n?

Not sure. Not sure.

Legroeder peered, but could see nothing to be afraid of. What does it look like? I don't see anything at all.

Not sure. Shadows. Just a glimpse of something. Gone now, said Deutsch. His voice reverberated with increasing fear.

I felt it, too, said Palagren. A presence. I don't know what. He seemed to be catching some of Deutsch's fear, overlaid with a deep and troubling need. Do we dare go closer?

Deutsch tensed perceptibly at the suggestion.

Let's be careful here, said Legroeder. What do we hope to find?

Movement, Palagren said. If there is movement...

Then we shouldn't turn away from it, Legroeder thought. But that doesn't mean we should plunge right in, either. All right, he said. But cautiously.

It felt as if the image simply swelled up to engulf him. It was dark and mysterious, drawing him into something beautiful and exciting...

With a rush of memory, he felt himself becoming aroused as the shadows resolved into a powerful image of Tracy-Ace/Alfa, unclothed, reaching out, open to him at her center, eyes filled with inexpressible longing. Legroeder fell toward the image with a muted groan, unable to resist the hunger...

What's this? Ker'sell hissed, wheeling around to glare at him.

With a jerk of recognition, Legroeder tried to veer away from the thought; this was the last thing he wanted any of the others in the net to see. He strove to banish it, but Tracy-Ace was moving toward him, fingers closing around his shoulder blades, mouth closing on his...

Exactly as I thought! Ker'sell hissed, his anger flaring in the net like a pale, crackling flame.

No—it's not—! Legroeder protested as he struggled to change the image. Did Palagren and Deutsch see it, too? (Help me!) he whispered to the implants.

“ Initiating change,” they answered, and began a swift reweaving of the image.

Tracy-Ace was transformed in an eyeblink into another woman...

(Not you!) he whispered, as the beautiful, raven-haired pirate from DeNoble beckoned to him, augments flickering with sinister delight. (Christ, not Greta!)

“ Changing again... “

(Just help me wipe it—!)

There was a flicker, and the image changed abruptly. The female form turned into a luminous wire figure and spun away from him, moving out across the darkness with a final sparkle. Legroeder gasped in relief.

I'm not sure I understand what's happening here, Palagren said slowly, as though rousing himself from a daze.

Ker'sell was still hissing, but his outrage seemed to ebb as he was distracted by changes in the scene below. The spiderweb pattern of lighted cities was turning into a cyber-landscape of cyan and crimson webbing suspended over black, illuminated from within by speeding pulses of sapphire and orange. They were dropping toward it as though moving through an intelnet. We must not fly through this! Ker'sell cried.

Legroeder reacted with annoyance. Why not? Does anyone else see a problem?

Not here, said Deutsch.

Palagren glanced backward, gesturing in the negative. Then what was Ker'sell alarmed at?

(What do you see?) Legroeder asked his augments.

“ Analyzing... the activity below is very regular and rhythmic, as if all activities balance other activities. No net gain... “

Activity in the Sargasso... balancing and canceling...? (Can you filter it, let me see the component movements?)

“ Attempting... “

The augment matrix began to blur through its analyzing and filtering routines. At the same time, he felt the image begin to shift; one of the other riggers was changing it. Leave it a moment!

It's making me dizzy, Ker'sell complained, continuing to change the image.

Legroeder reached to stop him. Why are you afraid? I need to know what's happening. Then, a little too sternly: I'm in command here! Freem'n, help me!

Deutsch reacted in some unseen way, meshing his augmentation with the Kyber net to block the change. No! Ker'sell protested. We can't!

What are you afraid of? Legroeder shouted, his annoyance growing. Don't keep trying to change it! Tell me!

The Narseil's fear was palpable, radiating throughout the net. There are things down there—things out of time —past, future—all mixed up! I can't see...

What things? Legroeder tried to probe the image, but it was all entangled with the Narseil's fear. You've got to—

NO! Cracks in time! Splinters! Things moving—!

Ker'sell, said Palagren suddenly. Pull out of the tessa'chron! You're losing objectivity!

Instead of answering, Ker'sell made a desperate attempt to bypass Deutsch's blocks. The net quaked from his efforts.

This was becoming dangerous. You are relieved! Legroeder commanded. Ker'sell—leave the net.

What—? squawked the Narseil.

Get out of the net! At once!

For an instant, no one moved. Then Palagren said to his fellow Narseil, Follow his instructions.

Ker'sell abruptly vanished from the net.

Legroeder's heart was pounding. He tried to concentrate on the landscape below, the virtual cyberimage of a world. All right. He gulped. Let's all calm down. He took three deep breaths, focusing on the flickering movements. Palagren—get on the com and talk to Ker'sell. Find out what he saw, why he was so alarmed.

As Palagren obeyed, Cantha called from the bridge. We're picking up a lot of strange quantum effects. I can't quite follow it. And Ker'sell is quite upset. Captain wants to know, are things under control?

Legroeder was breathlessly trying to assess that very question. What had Ker'sell seen that the others could not? Was he just hallucinating, or were there really—?

Legroeder's heart nearly stopped as he saw a shape begin to form among the threads of light below. What was that—and why did he feel alarmed by it, even before he knew what it was?

Legroeder, are you doing something? Deutsch asked worriedly.

Not intentionally. I've got my implants trying to sort out energy flows that are canceling each other...

Well, yeah—so am I, Deutsch said. But I'm not getting anywh—

His words broke off as the new image suddenly came to life. An enormous, spiderlike thing rose up out of the crisscrossing threads of light. Its body was an illuminated shape of transparent glass. It was moving across the landscape with a slow, undulating movement. Streaming out from it were faint wavelets in the Flux, moving backward like the wake of a boat.

What is that? Palagren whispered in fascination. Is it alive?

Legroeder shrugged, watching it with a creeping horror. He struggled to control his emotions; he didn't know where they were coming from. Look at the wake moving back from it. Is that canceling its energy?

Let's find out, Deutsch said darkly, as if disapproving of this strange manifestation.

Legroeder nodded uneasily. Was he wrong to have sent Ker'sell away? Had Ker'sell been the first to see a real danger? Palagren was beginning to steer the ship away from the spider thing. Wait, Palagren. I think we need to investigate this, Legroeder said, feeling afraid even as he said it.

If we could probe the thing's wake, Deutsch muttered. He seemed charged with a dark kind of excitement. If we could reach down... As he spoke, he stretched a long arm down from the keel of the ship, trolling it in the wavelets far below.

The ship suddenly began to descend.

Alarmed, Legroeder said, That may not be a good idea. Pull your arm out.

I can't!

Look, Palagren said. The spider thing had turned and begun to stretch out toward them, as though it were a living thing. The wake streaming out from it was becoming more energetic.

Do you hear that? Palagren asked.

Legroeder's heart was pounding. What?

Voices. Below us.

Legroeder strained. At first, nothing; but as the glassy spider loomed toward them, he felt a sudden shiver. Something was happening to the spider; it was melting into a ghostly haze of light. Faces were forming in the haze, faces of light. Human, or nearly human, faces. Ghost faces...

That's what I heard. Their voices, Palagren whispered.

Legroeder's stomach knotted. The ghostly faces, drawn thin as though with desolation and anguish, were peering up at him, rising from the auroral glow to meet the ship. Were they images from his subconscious, or from Deutsch's?

The voices grew louder. Cries, and groans of distress.

Jesu, Legroeder whispered. He felt from Deutsch a horror like his own. They were only images, weren't they? But why here, why now?

Something strange is happening in the tessa'chron, Palagren whispered. It's slipping away from me...

The ghosts veered away just before reaching the ship. Their passage sent shock waves through the net.

What the hell was going on? Legroeder tried to focus...

His implants spoke. “ Freem'n is remembering... we glimpsed it in his matrix... faces of death. “

Faces of death? But from where?

More ghost-faces rose on shimmering waves. One flew so close its cry sent a poker through Legroeder's heart. He thought he recognized the voice. But how could that —? Freem'n! Was it Deutsch's memory of people he had watched die on starships, victims of piracy? Freem'n! Legroeder, are you all right?

That was Palagren, nearly drowned out by the wail of the specters whirling around the ship.

Legroeder?

I'm not... sure, he whispered. Holy MOTHER OF—

HEL-L-L-P US-S-S! cried a spirit flashing past. For an instant Legroeder saw a young man's rictus-face pressed against the net like a window pane. It was no one he knew; yet he was overwhelmed by a sense that he had met this man before.

HEL-L-L-P US-S-S... !

The ghost veered away, and as Legroeder and Deutsch flinched, the ship rocked dangerously. Fly the ship, Legroeder thought desperately; but he couldn't control his fear. Palagren was trying to compensate. Ker'sell— come back into the net! We need you! the Narseil called into the com.

Another ghost hissed by. Palagren seemed utterly unaffected. As his fellow Narseil returned to the net, he reported, Legroeder and Freem'n are seeing something I'm not—some sort of third-ring entities. They're losing control. You and I need to steer! He was working urgently to level the ship, oblivious to the ghosts about his head.

“ We've identified the voice,” murmured an implant in Legroeder's head. “ It's from your memories of the Impris encounter. You heard the crew calling out to you on the L.A.— and at least one of those voices is the same. “

Impris! Legroeder whispered aloud.

Yes? said Palagren. If these are real voices and not just your memories, we must follow them. They may be showing us the way.

Or, Legroeder thought desperately, it may be my subconscious taking us through some delirious hallucination.

Captain Glenswarg wants to know what the hell we're doing, Ker'sell said as he helped Palagren fly. He appeared to have shaken off whatever was alarming him; like Palagren, he was calm as ice now. What shall we tell him?

That we're onto something important and we need to see it through, Palagren said. With your permission, Legroeder—?

Legroeder struggled. Palagren was right; he had to overcome his fear. He finally grunted, Permission granted, and watched with dread as Palagren and Ker'sell steered them toward the waves of light from which the ghosts had emerged. The place that had once been a spider was now boiling and curling over with waves of light, ghosts whirling and diving through the curls. The ship wallowed like an overloaded airplane, dropping toward it. You aren't intending to go through! Legroeder whispered. I'm supposed to be in control; I'm supposed to be in control...

This is amazing! said Palagren. I see glimpses forward and backward, as if time has flowered into beautiful petals. And Legroeder! I see the entities emerging. Some of them are from you and Freem'n—but some are not. Some are from down below, from the underflux! Legroeder, these voices came through that opening. We must go!

All right, Legroeder managed, praying he was not condemning them to Impris's fate. Take us down! And to his implants: (Map everything!)

Palagren banked the ship into a dive.

The waves grew, until the curling crests turned into coiling tunnels of darkness, lit by the glow of flying spirits. Legroeder held his breath, as the ship flew into one of the cresting wave tunnels, along with half a dozen of the faces.

Deutsch cried out in terror.

Legroeder, suppressing his own fear, felt a surge of unreasoning hope. It's all right, he gasped, as the starship plunged through the spectral glow after the whirling ghosts.

The passage seemed to take a long time, and no time at all. The tunnel blossomed open to reveal bright, golden-orange clouds: the clouds of the underflux, he felt certain. He didn't know why, but his fears had begun to melt away.

What is this? Palagren cried.

Legroeder blinked, then saw what Palagren meant—a great, clear orb floating toward them. The ghostly faces were gathering near the orb, their voices fading to a monotonous buzz. One after another, like bees, they plunged into the orb and vanished.

Legroeder's heart was still thundering in his chest, but he forced himself to focus as the ship drifted toward the shimmering sphere. He realized now what it was.

It was a giant raindrop.

And through the raindrop, magnified and distorted as though through an ethereal telescope, he saw something that took his breath away.

A starship, long and silver.

Impris.

Chapter 29 - THE FLYING DUTCHMAN

For a moment, no one stirred. They all saw it, through the raindrop: the spaceship, like an insect caught in amber. Legroeder's pulse raced. He shifted his vantage point from one side of the net to the other, trying to get a clear view of the length of the starship. I guess the only way to reach it is to go through, he murmured, as much to himself as to the others.

The Narseil peered through the raindrop with expressions of wonderment. But at the keel position, Deutsch was quaking in terror. You can't! It's a graveyard ship! Let it rest in peace!

Legroeder looked down toward the keel. What is it, Freem'n? What's wrong?

Deutsch shuddered wordlessly.

Legroeder searched for the source of Freem'n's terror. What did Deutsch see that he didn't? He spoke to his own implants. (Can you connect me to Freem'n's augments? Without exposing me to whatever he's going through?)

“ Attempting... “

Palagren called out at that moment, I was wrong. Those are not third-ring entities! They are as alive as we are!

They're coming from Impris, Legroeder said. I know those voices.

No! cried Deutsch. They're not alive!

“ We have a connection,” reported the implants.

Legroeder followed the augment prompts. It was like peering through a telescope, glimpsing what Deutsch saw. Legroeder was astounded by the difference in the view. Deutsch was staring through the raindrop at a broken hull, filled with lifeless bodies. And ghosts, twirling in and out of view.

(This is insane. Why is he seeing this?)

“ Unsure... “

(Is he viewing it through his augmentation?)

“ Yes. “

Damn. Legroeder called out to his companions, Listen, everyone! We're not all seeing the same image. Freem'n, can you change your view?

No! Deutsch cried in anguish.

Legroeder spoke to his implants. (Do you still have that connection—?)

Before he could finish the question, he was suddenly gazing across a dark gulf—at Deutsch on a lighted stage, crouched down in terror. He called across to the stage. (Freem'n! Disconnect from your augments!)

(I can-n-n't!) Deutsch wailed.

Legroeder thought he knew what was happening. It was the damned raider augments, programmed to instill terror. (Freem'n, your augments are distorting your view of the Flux! You've got to disconnect!)

“ Try showing him this... “

Legroeder's implants displayed his view of Impris, its net still active, an automated distress beacon flashing a monotonous plea for assistance. Then a translucent overlay slid across the image... and it was transmogrified into a ghost ship full of corpses and tormented spirits.

“ This is what he's seeing. “

(Yes! Freem'n!) Legroeder called. (Look at this!) Legroeder's augments flashed the living-ship image above the stage, where Deutsch could see it.

For a moment, Deutsch seemed dazed. (What are you saying—this isn't—)

(It is, Freem'n! Look with your own eyes!)

(I don't have eyes of my own. Don't you understand? Without my augments, I'm blind!)

(Then find the ones that are doing this, and turn those off. They're programmed to make you afraid!) Could he do it? Legroeder wondered. Or had he been living with the implants too long?

(I don't dare. They'll come, they'll kill me... )

(Who will, Freem'n? Who will come and kill you?) (They... will. I can't... )

(Won't the augments let you?)

Deutsch was stammering now. (It's not—not that. They'll come, I tell you.)

(Who, Freem'n? The ghosts?)

(Yes! YES!)

(NO,) Legroeder said with difficulty. (They won't. Freem'n, can you trust me on this? Do... you... trust... me?) Dear God, were Deutsch's implants under Glenswarg's control? They weren't supposed to be. But what if the controls were malfunctioning?

Legroeder, what's going on? Palagren asked, his voice intruding on the inner connection. We need to decide what to do. Our position isn't stable. If we're going to pass through that bubble, we should go!

Legroeder tried to control the pounding of his heart. Yes. Yes, I know. I have to work this out with Freem'n. He gulped another breath. (Freem'n, listen to me. You may be having an augment malfunction. You've GOT to check it.)

Deutsch stared at him from across the stage, as if trying to comprehend what Legroeder was saying.

(I'm... afraid.)

(I know you are. You've got to trust me. Do you trust me?)

(I... I'll try.) A terrible tension filled the augment connection.

Then Legroeder's implants said softly, “ He has control of his augments. “

The Deutsch on the stage rose partway from his crouch and reached up to a large control panel. He fingered the switches hesitantly, before turning one off... then back on. There was no effect on the Flux image. (It's not helping,) he whispered.

(Don't stop! Try the rest.)

He continued flicking the switches off, then back on, one at a time. None seemed to have much effect, except in color and clarity and sound. He moved to the second row of switches, his hand shaking. OFF. The image changed abruptly. The bodies were gone. The terror was gone. Through the raindrop floated a living ship.

He flicked it back on.

The ghost ship loomed, spirits crying out.

OFF. The terror vanished.

(I'll be God damned,) he breathed. He looked across the stage at Legroeder. (How did you know?)

(Later,) Legroeder sighed, as the stage darkened and vanished. Back in the normal net view, he saw the Narseil waiting at their stations with a strange mix of patience and agitation. They reminded him of horses stamping restlessly, breath steaming. Through the raindrop, the other ship was beginning to drift out of his view. Palagren was right; they were going to lose it if they didn't hurry. We have to go through, Legroeder said. And quickly. Are we agreed?

The Narseil agreed with almost unnerving speed. Deutsch was still nervous, but didn't object. Palagren, Legroeder said. What are our chances of finding our way back out?

Palagren's hesitation sent a chill through his blood. We can't be sure until we're on the other side, can we?

Legroeder cursed, as the other ship drifted a little further to the side.

A com-window opened from the bridge, and Glenswarg called, Riggers, report! That looks like a ship in our monitors. Is that Impris?

Legroeder's heart was in his throat. Yes, Captain. We believe it is. She appears to be in a separate fold in the underflux. But we believe we can... reach her. His voice caught. Request... permission... to make a final transition to the next layer of the underflux. Sir.

The captain's voice was sharp. Final transition! Are you telling me we're already in the underflux? When did we cross over?

We—just a few minutes ago, Captain. It was an... extremely hectic moment. Too hectic to communicate with the bridge? he could hear the captain thinking. Captain, I'm afraid we had a tiger by the tail, and there was really no chance to explain.

Glenswarg sounded as if he was torn between fury and disbelief. You mean you took it upon yourselves to risk this ship—? Hold on. Seconds passed, and the riggers in the net looked at each other and looked at Impris, slowly sliding away. Legroeder forced himself to breathe slowly, wondering what he would do if Glenswarg said no.

The com came to life again. Cantha has shown me where we are and what you've done. Or what he thinks you've done. What he can't tell me is what our chances are of getting out the way we came in.

Legroeder blinked. Only a third of Impris was visible now. Captain, we're doing everything we can to chart our course in. It took our combined efforts to find this entry point. But we did find it, so we have that over the Impris crew. But I can't tell you it's a sure thing. Legroeder peered at Palagren, who shook his neck-sail: nothing to add.

How soon do we have to go through? We're losing the view of the ship out here.

Legroeder felt flushed with urgency. You're seeing what we're seeing, Captain. It may be now or never. We think it's worth the risk.

Goddamn alien riggers, he imagined the captain thinking. But Glenswarg surprised him. Proceed, then. Permission given.

Permission to proceed, Legroeder echoed, then called to the others, Let's go before we lose her.

Palagren reached far out from the bow of the ship and touched the shimmering surface of the raindrop. It quivered as his hand went through. It was no longer possible to see Impris.

All together now, Legroeder whispered. There was very little movement of the ship, and the surface tension of the raindrop was just strong enough to resist even that motion. If we can all just relax and let it pull us through... His heart was pounding. (Help me relax... )

The implants gave him a soothing chant... and he breathed deeply and felt himself calming...

And the ship began to ease forward into the drop of water. The raindrop dimpled inward, stretching for a dozen heartbeats. Then, with a sudden release, the drop shimmered open and flashed closed around them. For a whirling moment, Legroeder had a dizzy sensation of time and space being stretched and twisted and folded in some utterly incomprehensible manner. He felt the ship speeding and somehow blurring... and yet seemingly not moving at all. And then suddenly all of those feelings drained away, and he was floating in a warm, clear sea. It looked like the Sargasso they had just left, but glowing a deep, enveloping cyan.

Some distance off their port bow floated a ship, long and silver, like a dolphin frozen in the act of leaping. There she is! Deutsch breathed.

Impris, Palagren said, his voice laced with wonder. Ker'sell was dumb with amazement.

As Legroeder tried to find his voice, a call came from the bridge. We've got it on the screen here! Cantha called excitedly. We somehow bridged a dozen light-years to Impris. I'm analyzing now. We had a big spike in the quantum wave flux readings.

Before Legroeder could answer, Captain Glenswarg's voice cut in. Can you bring us alongside?

Attempting to do so now, Legroeder answered. But there's almost no moving current. It's going to be tricky. Use extreme care, Glenswarg said, quite unnecessarily.

* * *

For a while, they hardly managed to move at all. The Phoenix net simply could find no purchase in the Flux. While they were preoccupied trying, Legroeder was startled by a small voice calling:

Ahoy there! Ahoy, ship!

Legroeder looked up.

It was not one voice but several—distant, haunting, echoing across the still, silent surface of the sea. Legroeder scarcely dared breathe. Did you all hear that? he asked his companions.

I heard it. It sounded human, said Palagren.

Human, yes. Legroeder peered across the empty sea between the ships. Impris! he called. Can you hear me?

The response was distorted, as if from over-amplification. Finally Legroeder made out the words, — hear you! We hear you!

Legroeder called back, This is Phoenix, Impris. Please stand by! He reported to Glenswarg: We have contact, Captain, we have voice contact. After all these years, the Impris crew was still alive! His heart raced with excitement. Now, if they could just find a way to bring the ships together.

Palagren, let's trade positions. I'd like to try something at the bow. The Narseil rigger acknowledged, and blinked instantaneously to the stern, while Legroeder blinked to the bow. Legroeder drew a breath, settling into position. Testing the flexibility of the bow net, he began to stretch forward from the bow, out into the stillness of the Flux. Let's see how far I can reach...

Hold on, Deutsch said, making an adjustment in the net. A moment later, Legroeder found himself stretched out as though on a tremendously long bowsprit. He managed to reach about a tenth of the way to the other ship before it began to feel unstable.

May I try? asked Deutsch, as Legroeder drew himself back in. My augments might prove useful here.

Legroeder frowned at the thought of Deutsch's augments, but perhaps Freem'n was right. All right. Do you want to switch positions?

Deutsch shook his head. Right here is fine. From the keel position, beneath the bowsprit, he stretched a long arm—a ridiculously exaggerated version of his mechanical telescoping arm—out over the sea toward the marooned starship.

Legroeder shouted from the bow: Impris—we are trying to reach you! Can you stretch your net out farther?

There was an indistinct return shout from Impris. Deutsch continued telescoping his arm—and the net, with his tuning, stretched out like a slow-motion sunbeam. On Impris, after a moment, Legroeder saw a tiny flash of gold light, then a halo growing around the ship's bow. Three tiny shadows moved in the glowing halo: human figures.

Legroeder felt a rush of hope, as the figures grew in size. Eventually he began to make out their faces across the distance. He became aware that Deutsch was having a difficult moment as the faces became more distinct; they were the same faces Legroeder and Deutsch had seen earlier as ghost images. Legroeder murmured reassuringly to his friend: It was their faces we saw, Freem'n—live men, not dead men.

Deutsch grunted acknowledgment. See if you can get them to do what I'm doing, he said.

Legroeder called out again to the Impris riggers. He had a sudden, eerie vision of being adrift on a life raft,

trying to reach out and lock hands with survivors on another raft.

Even as he thought it, the net changed to reflect the image; and across the water, seconds later, he could see the Impris riggers reaching out shadowy hands. Deutsch's long reach lengthened even further. But the ships were just too far apart, and in the end they pulled back, frustrated.

Legroeder glanced back at the Narseil. Any ideas?

Well, I wouldn't want to try the long-range grapplers, not without knowing how they'd behave in this underflux fold, Palagren said. It's unfortunate we can't just throw them a line.

That's it! Deutsch rasped.

Legroeder peered down at him.

Excuse me? said Ker'sell, with an edge of puzzlement. At least he no longer sounded hostile; the appearance of Impris seemed to have allayed his suspicions.

We'll throw them a line! Deutsch explained. If we focus together... As he spoke he crafted the image: a huge coil of line to be hurled out over the water. It would be net-stuff, of course, just a way of coaxing the net into stretching out beyond its ordinary limits. We'll have to do this together. On the count of three.

The four riggers jostled for position to exert their influence on the image. Finally four arms held the coil of line together. They swung it forward and backward.

One... two... THREE!

Their release was uncoordinated, and the coil tumbled away and sank like a stone.

Deutsch pulled it back in, zzzzzip. Try it again. Focus, people. Timing is everything.

He counted to three. This time Ker'sell held on an instant too long, and the coil flew up over their heads. Deutsch brought it back for a third attempt.

A voice broke into the net: What are you doing in there? Are we getting any closer? The coil vanished, the image broken.

Legroeder explained to the captain.

Can you do this without damaging the net? Glenswarg asked.

We'll have to watch the stresses if we do make contact. But right now we see no other way.

Glenswarg's reluctance was palpable. Very well, since we can't seem to raise their captain on the flux-com. Is there anything you need us to do here?

No, we just need to concentrate. With your permission... Freem'n? One more time?

Deutsch recreated the coil.

After two more tries, they finally came together on the rhythm and direction. The coil sailed out toward the glittering net of the other starship. Catch it! Legroeder shouted.

The shadow figures in the other ship's net moved and shifted, and stretched their own net...

And missed.

Two more failures followed. And then, at last, the shadows in the other net moved together, and caught it.

The line snapped taut. The sudden strain in Phoenix's net left them all gasping. The net was stretched out like a nylon stocking with a boulder in its toe.

As they struggled, a voice reverberated down the net. Are you guys for real-l-l?

Startled, Legroeder sharpened the focus. He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of two, no three, faces peering back through the net at him. Hello, Impris, he called. We're Phoenix. We've been looking for you. What is your condition?

Our condition? said a different Impris voice, this one tinged with hysteria.

The first voice: We're stranded!

I know. We've been—

Are you stranded, too? cried the Impris rigger.

No, we're—Legroeder hesitated—the rescue party. RESCUE? There was stunned silence in the joined nets. Do you know how to get us out of—

It's impossible! interrupted the second voice. We've been here forever!

You've been here for a very long time, Legroeder said. But we're hoping to help you. We need to bring our ships together. If we can draw both of our nets in VERY GRADUALLY, we might be able to do it.

The Impris rigger acknowledged. There was a sudden jerk on the net.

EASE OFF! Legroeder shouted.

The pressure eased.

Legroeder glanced back at his alarmed rigger-mates, and together they began to draw the net in slowly. Deutsch soon got on the com to the bridge, asking for as much power to the net as the flux-reactor could give them. The effort was difficult and unnerving. What would happen if they overstrained the net?

Behind him, the Narseil worked with dark, silent determination. As the riggers hauled in the line, like sailors on some ancient sailing ship pulling with their backs, the two ships drew slowly, almost imperceptibly, closer together.

* * *

On the bridge of starship Impris, Captain Noel Friedman stood with his hands on his hips, glaring from one control station to another. A strange, slow-motion pandemonium seemed to have taken hold of his crew— and truthfully, he wasn't in much better shape himself. A glance at his own reflection had shown a white-haired man, wild-eyed and unkempt, scarcely a man Friedman would have wanted to trust with his ship. When the summons to the bridge had echoed through the ship, he had been jarred out of a dazed stalk through the corridors. How long had he been doing that? And how long had his bridge crew looked like escapees from an asylum?

Tiegs, the sanest of the bunch, had been on duty for most of this eternity as rigger-com; he was darting urgently back and forth among the com-console and the various bridge officers. Johnson, the navigator, was running around shouting like an evangelist that rescue was at hand. Gort and Fenzy, on systems, looked like two old drunks trying to decipher whether or not it was all a hallucination. The rest of them looked as though they were dreaming and happy to have it that way.

Friedman stared at the image in the monitor, reflecting on Tiegs's report. Voice contact with another ship. The question was, were they in contact with spirits, or flesh-

and-blood humans? That ship in the monitor looked awfully solid. But so had the other ships down through the years... all the ships that had turned out to be nothing but vapor, jests of a malicious universe.

Or had they? Tiegs had maintained all along that those were real ships they'd seen, real voices of real riggers. Soho... Mirabelle... Ciudad de los Angeles... Centauri Adventurer... Friedman had never been sure himself. One way or another, they'd all slipped back into the night like dreams. But this one... could be different, he thought, rubbing his stubbly chin.

Captain Friedman felt it in his gut, though he couldn't have said why. That black and gray ship out there, with its net stretched out toward Impris like a piece of ethereal taffy: Could this really be their rescuer?

"Tiegs," said Friedman to his earnest young officer, "is that thing actually in physical contact with our net? Can you confirm that?"

Tiegs hesitated. "Well—actually, Poppy says it is, and Jamal agrees. But—"

Friedman frowned.

"—Sully says it isn't, and they're arguing about it right now." Tiegs touched his ear, listening to the conversation in the net. "Sounds like Sully's getting a bit worked up. Claims they're hallucinating, and wants Poppy and Jamal to leave the net."

Friedman closed his eyes, pondering through the haze of a sudden migraine. It was beyond him how the rigger crew had lasted this long together, after all the times their visions had turned to dust. The headache still thudding, he opened his eyes and studied the monitor again. The image of the other ship had grown noticeably. "That's no goddamn hallucination," he muttered. "Tell Sully to get out of there before he screws up the whole operation. If they need someone else, get Thompson."

Tiegs pressed his throat mike. "Sully, Captain's orders are to come out of the net. Do you read me on that, Sully?" He touched his ear. "Did you hear me on that, Sully?" Tiegs shook his head. "We may have a problem getting him out."

Friedman strode to the rigger-station where Sully was reclined behind a scratched and smudgy window. He rapped on the window, then pressed the com-key. "Sullivan, get your ass out here on the bridge!" After a moment's thought, he added more gently, "We need your help on something."

He stepped back, waiting. The window opened, and Sully squinted out at him as if he'd just emerged from a cave. Staggering, Sully climbed out of the station. He was a big man, with sandy hair. He looked as if he'd been in the rigger-station for days.

Friedman steadied him with one hand. "Sully, I want you to keep an eye on the monitor here and keep me informed about what's happening." And stay out of trouble, for God's sake.

Sully looked around in puzzlement, then shrugged and went to stand in front of the monitor. "I see we have the hallucination up here on the screen," he said matter-of-factly.

"That's right," said Friedman. "That's exactly the sort of thing I need you to tell me. Let me know if it gets any closer." He turned to Tiegs. "Find out if those two need help in there. And find me my backups."

Tiegs nodded and returned to the com.

Friedman stabbed a finger at Fenzy, a lanky fellow who had gotten up from his station to stare open-mouthed at the screen. "You—fire up the fluxwave and see if you can put me in contact with that ship's captain out there."

* * *

Through the joined nets, the faces of the Impris riggers were growing larger and clearer. There was definitely a haunted look about them, Legroeder thought; the ghost images earlier had not been all wrong. While the spectral faces staring back did not necessarily reflect the physical appearance of the men in the other net, they undoubtedly echoed the men's states of mind. Was it surprising that they looked this way, if they had spent the last hundred twenty-four years in the net, waiting hopelessly for rescue?

There was some inaudible crosstalk in the net. Say again? said Legroeder.

I said, don't do that.

Do what? Legroeder asked, then realized that some argument was going on in the Impris net. Maybe that explained the jerky hold the Impris crew was exerting on the line.

The Phoenix crew continued to draw in the net, slowly but steadily. The effort was becoming somewhat less difficult as the reach of the net shortened.

Cantha's voice cut in from the bridge. We're getting a call on fluxwave. It's from the captain of Impris.

Legroeder wanted to cheer. Can you let us hear it?

Stand by, said Cantha, and then a new voice filled the net.

—is Noel Friedman, captain of Faber Eridani starliner Impris. To whom am I speaking?

Glenswarg's voice filled the com. This is Captain Jaemes Glenswarg of Kyber-Ivan Phoenix. Captain, we are extremely pleased to have found you. Are you in need of assistance?

Are we—? The other skipper's voice was choked with emotion. Captain, we are very much in need...

As the captains conferred, Legroeder and his rigger-mates continued drawing Impris closer. Progress grew faster as the nets shortened and became stronger. Sooner than Legroeder would have imagined, the ships were nearly alongside each other. Legroeder signaled his fellow riggers to begin reaching all the way around Impris with the Phoenix net. It felt to him as if they were about to embrace a long-lost, estranged family.

As his crewmates handled the net, Legroeder called across to the Impris crew, I'm Rigger Legroeder. We met once, years ago. I was aboard Ciudad de los Angeles then.

Ciudad de los Angeles! echoed an astounded voice. Have you come back to haunt us, then?

Legroeder blinked in astonishment. They had heard the L.A. riggers! With sudden exultation, he remembered his own first reason for being here. He had witnesses! Are you recording all this, Cantha? he shouted into the com. Get it all! Every word! As Cantha muttered an acknowledgment, he called, Impris—we heard your distress call seven years ago, on Ciudad de los Angeles.

We couldn't help you then—but we've come back to get you!

The confusion in the other net was palpable.

What do you mean—?

Seven years—?

Deutsch murmured to Legroeder, It might be better not to try to explain too much right now.

Legroeder nodded agreement. Impris, you're caught in a fold of the underflux. We will do our very best to get you out. May we grapple and dock?

At that moment Glenswarg came on the com to tell the rigger crew that they had permission to dock with Impris. Legroeder drew a deep breath of triumph and relief.

As the riggers began to enfold Impris in their net, he had a sudden unsettling vision of the joined nets echoing with manic laughter.

Chapter 30 - GHOST SHIP

The grappling with the net turned out to be more difficult than Legroeder expected, despite Phoenix's net having been built for just such operations. Just as they were about to close around Impris, the passenger liner began to ripple in their grasp like a great silver fish. Afraid they might lose it, Legroeder called for more power to the flux-reactor. The shimmying became worse; it was like trying to hold onto a frightened whale. A low groan began to reverberate through the net. Everyone, stop! Legroeder cried. His pulse thudded in his ears as the net relaxed. Gradually, over several seconds, the reverberations subsided.

Impris—what just happened? he called. Do you know what caused that instability?

What instability? came the answer.

Legroeder blinked. You didn't feel yourselves shimmying in our net a moment ago?

Pause. We didn't feel anything.

Legroeder turned to his crewmates. Did you feel it? Indeed, said`Palagren. Give me a moment to speak with Cantha...

As the Narseil turned his attention to the com, Legroeder asked Ker'sell, What did you feel?

Ker'sell's voice sounded sluggish, as though he were in a daze. Time, he said slowly. There's something wrong with it.

What do you mean, wrong? asked Legroeder. Do you mean the tessa'chron? Is there something in the immediate future?

Ker'sell hesitated, as if embarrassed. It's not that. It's as though it's... blurred, he said finally.

Was this a Narseil admission of a weakness? Legroeder wondered. Ker'sell turned away, avoiding his gaze. Legroeder glanced down at Deutsch, who simply looked annoyed at the situation.

Palagren spoke again. Cantha thinks what we were seeing was a temporal flutter. They measured no spatial anomalies from the bridge, but all of the Narseil felt a blurring in the tessa'chron.

That's what Ker'sell said. What's it mean?

Palagren took a moment to readjust himself in the net. I'm not seeing a clear window on past, present, and future. It's difficult to explain. My viewframe is smeared out, as if something's... vibrating the spacetime continuum. He looked closely at his fellow riggers. He did not appear to share Ker'sell's embarrassment about the subject. We may be feeling continuing quantum effects from our passage into this layer.

Legroeder shivered. How much do we know about that?

Palagren answered cautiously. Cantha and Agamem are studying it.

Well, if you figure it out, don't forget to tell us, Deutsch muttered.

Palagren looked at him wordlessly for a moment. Cantha suggests that we pull tight for a hard dock without actually encircling Impris with the net. He believes a physical joining might keep the two ships in better synch.

I concur, said Captain Glenswarg, coming onto the com circuit. Pull us in as close as you can. We'll fire tethers across.

Legroeder signaled the other riggers, and they began drawing the two ships together as before. When the gap had closed to a hundred meters, the captain ordered magnetic tethering cables launched across to anchor on Impris's hull. Bumper forcefields were turned on, to keep the ships from colliding, and the tethers drawn in. Finally Glenswarg ordered a boarding tube stretched between the ships. Before sending anyone through, he asked Legroeder if there was a chance of bringing the two ships out into normal-space.

Legroeder hesitated before answering. The captain's desire was understandable; they all wanted to know that they had done more than just join Impris in eternal limbo. And yet...

If I may interject, said Cantha, I believe it would be unwise to try. Until we understand better how we got into this fold, we could run the risk of burrowing ourselves in deeper.

Glenswarg's silence sounded like a curse.

Captain, said Legroeder, I think the sooner we get over there to talk to their crew, the better.

All right, then—stabilize the net and come on out, Glenswarg said. I'll send in the backups.

"Fine work," he said, when the four riggers were standing on the deck with him. "Now I want you to go get some rest."

Legroeder started to protest, then saw the other ship begin to ripple in the monitor with a slow-motion distortion. He held his breath.

"Don't worry, I'll call you when it's time for you to go over," Glenswarg said, reading his thoughts. "But first, we need to establish safe passage. That's going to take time. And I'm not about to risk you people until I have to. You're the only ones who have any hope of getting us out of here again."

The captain was being smarter than he was, Legroeder realized. They were all exhausted. Very definitely, the smartest thing they could do right now was to go get some sleep.

* * *

Sleep, unfortunately, did not come easily. Legroeder kept thinking about Impris, floating beside them. He was desperately eager to cross over and physically touch the ship, and at the same time, the prospect filled him with fear. Several times, as he was just drifting off, he awoke again with a sudden, burning sense of dread—an inexplicable feeling that something was waiting to haunt him in his sleep. He told himself not to be foolish; he was just overtired.

Something out there... hidden...

Go to sleep.

In the end, with some help from the implants, he did sleep; but even in the depths of sleep, he remained aware of an irrational fear... a feeling that there was a monster in this realm, lurking just out of sight.

When he awoke, he felt as though he had not slept at all. He had the strangest sense that he had somehow slipped through time as he slept. (I don't feel quite right,) he murmured to his implants, as he was getting dressed.

“ We register an inconsistency in your biological clock, compared with our clock mechanism. “

(Explain.)

“ We cannot. “

Cannot, he thought, frowning to himself as he looked in the mirror and gave his umbrella-cut hair a quick swipe. His eyes looked bleary. He sighed and went to find the others.

It wasn't long before the riggers were gathered, with rolls and cups of murk, in the briefing room off the galley. "I just spoke to the captain," Deutsch reported. "They're about to open the boarding tunnel to Impris. Let's see if we can get it on the monitor here." Deutsch made some adjustments to the wall screen, and soon had a picture of three Kyber crew members, including the first officer, making their way through the Phoenix airlock and then into the tunnel-shaped boarding tube. As the three men floated toward Impris, half the screen showed them dwindling down the tube and half showed a view, apparently from a shoulder-mounted camera, of the other ship drawing near. The Impris airlock opened as they approached.

Legroeder realized he was holding his breath, and forced himself to exhale.

"We're in the airlock now," reported the first officer on the comlink. "Airlock's closing." The image became shadowy as the other ship's hull came between the men and Phoenix, but the voice transmission was still clear enough to hear: "Cycling and opening on the inside..."

Standing in the briefing room, they could make out the door sliding open, and a large group waiting inside Impris.

"Hello!" called the first officer.

The Impris crew surged forward, engulfing the contact party. At first, their voices were indistinct; and then Legroeder heard: "MY GOD, ARE YOU GUYS REAL?

OH, MY GOD—!" And then it was a total chaos of greetings and introductions, as the bewildered crew of the lost ship met the first humans from outside their hull in over a century.

Legroeder and the others watched for a while, then turned back to their part of the business at hand, which was to try to figure out a way to get both ships the hell out of this place.

"I think," said Cantha, "that we've pretty well confirmed where we are. But we still don't know how Impris got here, and or even for sure how we got here."

"Oh, that's great," said Derrek, the Kyber rigger, who seemed alternately impressed by and resentful of the Narseil success.

Cantha's neck-sail stiffened. "We appear to have passed through a quantum fluctuation as we entered the underflux fold. Unfortunately, it interfered with our ability to map what was happening. We really need to talk to the Impris riggers."

"The raindrop—was that the quantum fluctuation?" Legroeder asked.

"We believe so," Palagren said. "It was most likely a wave function connected to something deeper in the spacetime structure. We're still trying to understand why we found Impris right here when we passed through, instead of a dozen light-years away, where we thought she was."

"Are you saying we traveled that distance instantaneously— or was she actually here all along?" Legroeder asked.

"We're not sure the question actually has meaning in this context," said Cantha. "I'm not sure what the concept of distance means in the fold. But a more immediate question is, can we find a way back out through the quantum fluctuation, or is it a one-way passage?"

Derrek looked ill.

Legroeder prompted Palagren, who said, "To answer either question, we have to understand exactly what went on when we came through. We need to put our flight recordings through some intensive processing—which Cantha has already begun."

"I'm sure of this," said Cantha. "It's related to the phenomenon of quantum linkage across spacetime. We've always known that individual particles can be quantum-linked across vast distance—but no one's ever seen such a large-scale effect before, that I know of."

Legroeder mulled that over. "What about the problem we had grappling Impris? Was that quantum fluctuation, too?"

"Probably," said Cantha. "We know that the time flow is altered here. We've measured shifts in simultaneity, and all of us—" he gestured to the other Narseil "—have felt disturbances in the tessa'chron. But I still don't know how to interpret—"

He was interrupted by a call on the intercom. It was Captain Glenswarg, and he sounded annoyed. "Researchers and contact personnel report to the boarding area at once. Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch —for the third time, dammit, report to the bridge!"

Legroeder exchanged a mystified glance with Deutsch. "Have you heard him call before?"

"Nope," said Deutsch. "But I'm acknowledging now. Shall we go?"

"Keep us updated," Legroeder said to the Narseil, as he and Deutsch headed out of the room.

In the corridor, he heard another call from the captain — this time saying, "Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch, stand by to go aboard Impris. Please acknowledge and report to the bridge for your instructions."

Legroeder looked at Deutsch, puzzled.

They found Glenswarg stalking back and forth before the consoles. "Call Legroeder and Deutsch again," he was instructing the com officer. Then he turned around. "Oh—there you are. Good of you to make it, for Rings' sake."

"We came as soon as you called," Legroeder said.

Glenswarg looked annoyed. "I called four times."

"Four—?" Legroeder began—and suddenly realized what was happening. They'd heard the captain's first call after the third one. We're in trouble. "Captain, I think you'd better get your people mapping everything they can on temporal instabilities in the area." He explained what they had heard, and when.

Glenswarg's scowl deepened as the implications sank in. "Just what we need," he muttered. "Well, until we find something we can do about it, I suppose we should go ahead with our plans. You need to talk to the riggers over there. Make damn sure you report back regularly," He stuck a finger into Legroeder's breastbone. "Err on the side of calling too often. If anything like this happens again, I want to know. And don't stay long. Got that?"

"Yessir."

"Get going."

* * *

On the boarding deck, they found that a number of Kyber crewmen had already gone back and forth between the two ships. The Impris crew were reportedly eager to speak with their rescuers. "Captain said to conduct you straightaway to Impris," said the Kyber lieutenant in charge of transfer operations.

Legroeder peered out at the long, transparent tube stretched out between the two ships' airlocks. He shivered at the thought of that frail protection between him and the naked Flux; but there was no help for it, and now the lieutenant was waving them into the airlock.

"After you," said Deutsch, telescoping an arm forward. Legroeder grunted, then realized that Deutsch was probably ushering him ahead out of genuine consideration. After all, he had been looking for Impris far longer than Deutsch had. He nodded and stepped into the airlock.

Ship's gravity ended at the outer airlock door, and they floated out into the tube with a lurch. Two Kyber crewmen were waiting in the tube to escort them through. Legroeder was embarrassed but grateful. The weightlessness was disconcerting enough—but that became incidental when he looked out through the clear wall of the tube.

It was like gazing into another reality. They were the same swirling mists he saw in the rigger-net; but here, viewed with the human eye, they looked far more perilous, as though at any moment they might engulf him in their churning energies. What would happen if the ships moved apart and the boarding tube came loose, spilling him and Deutsch into the Flux? What horrifying death would they encounter?

Legroeder shuddered and headed for the far airlock. But Deutsch seemed fixated by the Flux; he was floating at the tube wall, peering out, his head a Christmas tree of flickering augments. "Freem'n, c'mon!" Legroeder shouted.

Deutsch followed reluctantly.

Legroeder sighed with relief as they floated into the Impris airlock. He grabbed a handhold, but stumbled nonetheless as the Impris gravity-field brought him to the deck with a lurch. Deutsch, effortless on his levitators, reached out to steady his friend. The Kyber crewmen checked to see they were secure, then launched themselves back toward Phoenix.

The airlock closed, and the inner hatch opened. Standing before them were two more Kyber, plus a pair of unfamiliar crewmen wearing rumpled Impris uniforms. The starliner crewmen looked haggard, but eager. "Sirs!" cried one. "Welcome aboard!"

"Thank you," said Legroeder. "We'd like to see your riggers and captain as soon as possible."

"He said to bring you right away," said the crewman in a strangely halting voice.

Legroeder started. Had that crewman just winked out for an instant, like a faulty holo? He wasn't a holo, though; Legroeder's nose told him that the crewman was overdue for a mist-shower.

"This way," said the other.

Legroeder glanced at Deutsch. A tickle from his implants told him that Freem'n had seen it, too. Not good, he thought, as he turned to follow the crewmen down the ship's corridor and—he hoped—toward the bridge.

* * *

Voices clamored as the bulkhead door opened. "Tiegs! Did you tell Poppy and Jamal to come out of there?"

"I told them, Captain."

"Tell them again! Tell them I said now."

As Deutsch and Legroeder stepped onto the bridge, they saw crew members scattered among various posts. The bridge itself looked different enough from modern designs to be noticeable—it had more silver and chrome, for one thing—and yet, it bore more similarities than differences. Apparently, ship design had been stable awhile. A tallish, white-haired man turned to greet them. He wore a tattered uniform jacket over rumpled leisure pants. His bright blue eyes looked more than a little wild. "You're the riggers from Phoenix?" he demanded. It was more a shout than a greeting.

"Uh—yes—" began Legroeder.

The escorting crewman cleared his throat. "This is Captain Friedman—Noel Friedman. Captain, Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch."

"Welcome aboard!" the captain roared. "We're sure as hell happy to see you people! How the hell did you find us, out here?"

"That's a long story, Captain. I'd like to tell you about it when we have more—" Legroeder faltered, as he realized that Friedman was staring at Deutsch and not listening to a word. "Captain," he said hastily, "Rigger Deutsch is from the Free Kyber worlds."

"Free Kyber!"

"Yes, and I'm—well, from several worlds, I guess. Most recently, Faber Eridani."

"Faber Eri?" Friedman barked. "We're out of Faber Eri. Is that where Phoenix is from? I thought they said someplace named Ivan."

"Yessir. Phoenix is a Free Kyber ship, from Outpost Ivan. We've a mixed crew, including myself of the Centrist Worlds, and several Narseil members."

"Narseil! Kyber!" Friedman exclaimed. "Are you all working together? Is the war over?"

"Yes—for more than a hundred years."

"A hundred years!" Friedman looked from one to the other in astonishment. "Good Christ! Your captain said you'd been looking for us a long time, but... a hundred years?"

"A hundred twenty-four, actually. I'm afraid a lot has happened since you left Faber Eridani."

Friedman looked stunned. "I'm surprised anyone still remembers us," he said softly.

"Well, that's—"

"And yet, you came looking for us. Incredible." Friedman frowned. "What about Fandrang? Gloris Fandrang. Is he still working?"

Legroeder shook his head. "No, sir, I'm afraid he died many years ago. But it was his report that got me started in my search. There have been—" he hesitated, not wanting to get sidetracked by complicated explanations "—searches for you before. You have been seen by other ships. But no one has ever figured out how to get to you."

"Fandrang dead?" Friedman said thoughtfully. "Sweet Jesus. Pen Lee will be distressed to hear that. He's already pretty shaky. He was Fandrang's assistant, you know." Friedman shook his head. "Has it really been— what did you say?—a hundred twenty years?"

"A hundred twenty-four," said Deutsch, speaking for the first time.

Friedman gazed around his bridge, frowning. In one corner of the center monitor, Phoenix was visible, large against the Flux. Legroeder tried to imagine what the captain was thinking. How many friends, family members, loved ones had he left behind when he'd set out on his journey? None were left to greet him at home.

"So." Friedman drew himself up and turned back to Legroeder and Deutsch. "Well, let me introduce you to my crew." He brushed at his rumpled uniform. "I'm afraid our hospitality has gotten a little rusty. If you'd like to see the ship, we can arrange—"

Legroeder raised a hand to cut him off. "If we could do that later—right now, we want to talk to your riggers, to see if we can find out what happened to strand you here. We're still working on the best way to get out of here— we're in a fold in the underflux, you know, in a layer of the Deep Flux."

"Deep Flux?" Friedman blinked. "Let me get my riggers. Tiegs! Have those men come out yet?" "Coming now, skipper."

"Good." Friedman turned back to Legroeder and Deutsch. "We are more grateful then I can tell you. There are four hundred eighty-six men, women, and children passengers aboard, plus seventy-four crew."

"Yes, we—"

"It means a lot to know that we weren't forgotten."

Legroeder swallowed as he thought about the lies told about the ship over the years. "You have an almost... legendary status," he said finally.

The captain's eyes widened. "Is that so? Well, what now, then? Can you get us out? Lead us back to civilization?" His gaze was filled with sudden intensity. "You should know that this ship is still fully functional." For an instant, the message blazed unmistakable in his eyes: Don't make me abandon my command.

Deutsch made a soft clicking sound. "Captain, we're compiling information about the quantum structure of the Flux here. We have experts with us from the Narseil Rigging Institute. And people from Phoenix to go over your ship with a fine-toothed comb for any evidence of what happened."

"You can try—but we went over the ship with a fine-toothed comb a hundred years ago and it didn't help." Friedman's eyes flashed. "Do you know the way out, or don't you?"

"We won't know until we try," said Legroeder. "That's why we really need to talk to your riggers."

Friedman spun around. "Where are those two?"

Across the bridge, a panel slid open on a rigger-station. "Did you want me, skipper?" said a bearded, black-skinned man as he rolled out slowly, shaking his head. On the next station, another panel creaked open and a thin, pale, blond-haired man climbed out, blinking in the bright light.

"We've been calling you for half an hour," said Friedman. "Come say hello to the riggers from Phoenix. They came a long way to find us."

"That's an understatement, I guess," said the first rigger. "Let me tell you—for a while there, I thought you guys were ghosts or something. But ghosts don't pull like that."

"Rigger Jamal," said Captain Friedman, and then gestured to the blond "—and Rigger Poppy. Meet Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch."

Legroeder stuck out a hand in greeting.

Poppy peered at him. "You the one from the Los Angeles?"

Legroeder nodded, memories cascading in his skull.

"And you—" Poppy cocked his head at Deutsch "— you look just like a guy I saw in the net of some ship— jeez, it was like a damn pirate ship or something. It came out of nowhere and started shooting up another ship that looked like they were trying to help us."

Deutsch was silent a moment. "That was not me. But I think I know the people you mean."

Poppy frowned in puzzlement.

"We came to try to help you," Deutsch said softly. "Well, what are we waiting for?" said Jamal. "Can you lead us out of here? I'm ready when you are."

"It's a little more complicated than that," said Legroeder.

"These two gentlemen need to sit down and talk to you," Friedman said. "Riggers Legroeder and Deutsch want to know about your experience."

"That's right," Legroeder said. "Everything you can tell us about how you got here. Anything that might help us avoid blind alleys or mistakes getting out again."

Deutsch interjected, "If you don't mind my asking, how have you managed to survive all this time?"

Friedman's brows went up. "We've done all right. We've... taken good care of the passengers, all things considered. We had to expand our hydroponics and recyclers and so on, of course." He pressed his lips together; he was trembling a little. "But you know—this time thing. It sure hasn't—well, it hasn't been any hundred and twenty-four years, here."

"More like an eternity," muttered Jamal.

Legroeder nodded, sensing the strain they were all under. "Is there someplace we can talk?" he asked gently.

* * *

The corridors of the passenger liner were starting to fill up with crewmen from Phoenix, working with Impris officers to interview the passengers and crew, and see to any immediate needs or medical problems. The captain emptied a nearby conference room for the riggers to confer.

They had barely gotten settled around the table, however, when a call came to Legroeder on his collar¬com from Phoenix, via relays set up through the boarding tube. It was Captain Glenswarg, wondering why the hell he hadn't reported in.

"We just got here," Legroeder said, surprised. "We've only just sat down to talk."

"Just sat down? You've been over there for six hours," said Glenswarg.

Legroeder's heart froze. "Excuse me, Captain? It's been less than half an hour, our time."

There was silence on the com. Then: "Christ. All right —look. Stay there absolutely not a minute longer than you have to. And report back to me in ten minutes, your time. Understood?"

"Understood," Legroeder echoed. He exchanged troubled glances with Deutsch, then turned to the Impris officers. "It looks like we're having some problems — Captain, are you all right?"

Friedman looked startled. "I'm fine. Why?"

"You seemed to blink out for a moment."

Friedman winced. "That sort of thing happens. We don't really know why. But the whole ship is riddled with time distortions. It seems to affect some of us more than others."

"What exactly do you mean?" Legroeder shifted his gaze from the captain to the riggers and back again. He was afraid to take his eyes off any of them.

"From one part of the ship to the next?" Friedman looked puzzled, as if unsure what should be obvious and what not. "As if the time seems to flow in these ripples and eddies, you know. Fast one place, slow another. Depending on where you are in the ship, you're aging faster, or more slowly." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We've got one couple spending their time in a damn closet together, because time is slow there. They've been gambling on being rescued. But who knows if they're right? Because if we weren't rescued, they'd just be prolonging their lives so they'd be left behind when the rest of us finally die."

Legroeder shivered.

"Not to mention," Poppy interjected, "that boy who tried to kill hims—"

"Here now—no need to talk of that," Friedman chided. "We're here to think constructively."

Legroeder drew a deep breath. "We'd better concentrate on the rigging issues. Let's start by finding out what you know about how you got here. How much do you remember?"

Jamal snorted. "What's to remember? We were rigging along just fine, and when the time came to get out, we couldn't."

Legroeder glanced at Deutsch. "You didn't notice anything along the way? Any hint of problems?"

Poppy waved his hand in agitation. "Jamal, you're forgetting—there was that whole business of when we went through a sort of funnel. It wasn't such a big deal— except we all thought the Flux felt different afterward."

"Oh yeah," said Jamal, scratching his head. "But it's not like we thought anything was wrong, then."

"Not wrong. But different."

"Different, how?" Legroeder asked.

Poppy grimaced, as though trying to recall something from very long ago. "Different, like it was harder to get a grip. A purchase. We were still flying, but there was some slippage, if you know what I mean. Not enough to clue us that something was really wrong. But then, later, when we tried to come out..."

"What happened then?" Legroeder asked, wondering, was the funnel just another image of the raindrop Phoenix had gone through?

"Nothing happened!" Poppy and Jamal cried together.

"Do you mean, there was no response from the net?"

"It was as if it had gone dead," said Poppy. "I don't mean dead: it still worked. But we couldn't do anything, couldn't change our position or speed... couldn't even change the image much. And that's more or less how it's been ever since."

"Did you check the reactor? Try increasing the output?"

"Oh, yeah." Jamal chuckled grimly. "Of course. We gave it a real good goosing."

"And?"

Poppy gestured around the room. "That's when this time business started—"

"That's when people started blinking out." Jamal studied the opposite wall for a moment, rubbing with a thumb and forefinger at his lips. He looked back at Legroeder. "Let me tell you. That scared us real good. Real good." His eyes filled with fear as he spoke.

Legroeder remembered their effort to increase power when they were trying to grapple Impris with the net. It had only made the problem worse.

"So do you know how to get us out or not?" Poppy asked.

Legroeder hesitated, and Deutsch spoke instead. "We have thoughts on the matter," he said.

Jamal burst into bitter laughter. "You have thoughts? Well, isn't that a relief! Rings, man—we've had thoughts!"

Legroeder flushed. "He means that the Narseil riggers who got us in also think they can get us out. But—"

"But they don't know, is that it?" Jamal's laugh gave Legroeder a shiver. "Hell, man, don't tell me you came all this way just to sit and rot with us!"

"Not that we don't appreciate the company," Poppy added.

Legroeder exhaled softly. "We hope our situation is somewhat improved from yours. For one thing, we have the benefit of more than a hundred years of rigger science since you flew. Plus, we have a hybrid crew—with and without augmentation."

"I see you've got some augmentation yourself," Poppy said pointedly, reminding Legroeder that in Impris's time the Kyber were a dreaded enemy, considered barely human.

Legroeder frowned. "I do have augments, but I don't use them much while rigging—unlike Rigger Deutsch here, who uses them extensively. So we're pairing our skills. Plus, we have two excellent Narseil riggers, who have a good understanding of the latest research."

"If they understand it so well—"

"What I'm trying to say is, we have a variety of different viewpoints—"

Legroeder was interrupted by the movement of a dark shadow over his head. He glanced up in alarm. It looked like a large ocean breaker, rising over him from behind. It was not a shadow on the walls, but a darkness in the air itself. It curled over, well above his head, and came down past the far side of the table, before curling under the table. Then it stopped, hovering, enclosing the conference table in the tube of its curling wave of blackness. "What the hell?" Legroeder whispered.

Deutsch rose on his levitators and approached the leading edge of the shadow. He rotated in midair, inspecting it from various angles, his regular eyes and his cheekbone eyes swiveling. "I can't tell what it is," he murmured. The augments on the side of his head were afire with activity. Floating forward, he telescoped his left hand out toward the phenomenon.

"Freem'n, wait—"

Deutsch reached into the wave until his hand disappeared. Then he pulled it back out. "Seems okay," he said, turning his hand over. "Whatever it is, it didn't hurt me. Let's have a closer look."

"Freem'n, wait!"

Deutsch floated forward and leaned into the shadow. " 'S okay..." His voice became muffled, then cut off. Abruptly, as though yanked, he toppled headfirst into the shadow.

"Freem'n!" Legroeder yelled, jumping up. But his friend was gone, lost in the wall of darkness. Legroeder swung to Captain Friedman and the Impris riggers. "What's going on?"

Jamal and Poppy were shaking their heads.

A heartbeat later, the wave of darkness surged forward. Before he could move, it engulfed him, too.

* * *

Legroeder blinked, stunned. He was sitting on a cold metal deck, in a very deep gloom. "Captain? Freem'n?" There was no answer. As his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, he realized he was no longer in the meeting room. Then where was he? There was some illumination: emergency or night-lighting, emanating from hidden sources spaced along the base of the walls. His eyes adjusted slowly. He was in a corridor. He could hear a distant ticking sound, and a noise like the closing of a door. "Hello?" he called.

There was no answer.

(What can you tell me?) he asked the implants. “ We registered a discontinuity in al readings. Our chronometry is totally desynchronized. “

(In other words, you don't know much.)

“ Acknowledged. “ The implants sounded almost rueful.

Legroeder groaned to his feet and looked both ways down the corridor. There was nothing to indicate where in the ship he was, so he chose a direction at random and started walking. In due course, he came to a series of doors outlined in a pale luminous blue. A hum was audible behind the wall. He tried two of the doors, but they didn't budge. Probably an engineering area— ventilation or hydroponics or something.

He continued walking, but his feelings of unease grew steadily. Was anybody here? He felt as if he were on a ghost ship, the only one still alive.

He drew a breath, cupped his hands, and bellowed down the corridor, "HALLOOO! ANYBODY HER-R¬RE?" He turned and called the other way.

At first there was no answer. Then he heard an amplified voice calling back, "Legroeder? Is that you?" His heart quickened. "Yes! This way!"

Deutsch appeared around a corner, some distance down the corridor. He was an eerie sight, floating toward Legroeder on his base with his augments winking slowly on the sides of his head. "Are you all right?" he called.

"Yah." Legroeder hurried to meet his friend. "Thank God! I thought I was the only one left." He stopped and turned around. "Do you have any idea what happened? I was—was—" He suddenly stopped, shaking his head. He had completely lost his train of thought.

"Time," Deutsch said. "That's all I know. There was a time fluctuation. My internal clocks are all scrambled. It's ship's night now." The Kyber's eyes, glowing in the dark, made him seem more robot than human. "Did we just lose a bunch of hours?"

Legroeder blinked. "Weren't we just—?" He shook his head; he was having trouble remembering where he had been. "We were... talking... in the meeting room."

"Yes," Deutsch said.

"And that wave of shadow—"

"Temporal displacement wave, I think," Deutsch said slowly.

"It pulled you right out of the meeting room—and then hit the rest of us—"

"Which, by my reckoning, was about ten minutes ago. I've been wandering the passageways," Deutsch said. "Did you see anyone?"

"A couple of people. When they saw me, they ran the other way. I think they thought I was a ghost." Deutsch scanned the corridor. "Do you know what I'm wondering?"

"I'm wondering a lot of things."

"Well, I'm wondering where we were, physically, between the time we were in that meeting room, and now."

Legroeder cleared his throat uneasily. "You have any thoughts on that?"

"Yeah, but you won't like it."

"I already don't like it."

"Yeah, well, I'm thinking maybe we were far away... especially if this quantum fluctuation that Palagren and Cantha talk about is spread out over a large area. Or maybe we weren't exactly in existence at all." Deutsch's round glass eyes seemed to loom in the near-darkness.

Legroeder chewed his knuckles for a moment, trying to focus constructively. Before he could come to any conclusions, he was startled by a strange-sounding cry behind him in the corridor. He turned and saw three people walking toward him. Or not so much walking as rippling toward him, stretching through the air like ghostly time-lapse holos, then contracting forward. They were talking, or possibly shouting; their voices were distorted, incomprehensible.

As they drew close, it became clear they did not see Legroeder and Deutsch before them. "Excuse me!" Legroeder called, stepping out to get their attention. They still appeared not to see him, and he flattened himself to the wall to get out of their way.

The nearest, a heavyset man, brushed against him; the man passed through him as if he were a ghost. Legroeder turned to gape as the trio receded down the passageway. Their voices dopplered down to a distorted bass rumble.

"That was very interesting," Deutsch remarked, floating out into the center of the corridor again. "What do you suppose just happened?"

"I don't know," Legroeder said. "But I hope we can find someone on this ship who can talk to us."

"Or on Phoenix," Deutsch said. "I'm not getting a com¬signal. Are you?"

Legroeder felt a sudden chill; he'd not thought to check. (Are we?)

“ There is no com-signal. “

He shook his head. "You don't suppose it could just be our implant function messed up?"

"Maybe. Or maybe we haven't quite made it all the way back to our own space," Deutsch said softly.

Legroeder's jaw muscles tightened. If Impris could be trapped in its own space, floating like a specter out of contact with others, what was to prevent individuals from being similarly trapped? He squeezed his hands into fists. Don't jump to conclusions. "Do you know which way to the bridge?"

"This way, I think."

They walked awhile, and finally found a directional map showing them to be aft of the passenger's recreational area. Once they located the main corridor, they moved quickly along its deserted length. Were there any real people here?

The answer came finally when they passed through a large passenger lounge and found a scattering of people, as one might on a large ship, late at night. "I wonder if these folks will see us," Deutsch murmured.

Seated at a coffee table, two women were playing cards. One, blonde, looked to be in her twenties; the other was a brunette, somewhat older. The brunette sat with her blouse partly open in back—as if she had been interrupted in process of dressing and transported to this spot, with no memory of what she had been doing. The blonde, sitting opposite, was absorbed in her hand of cards. As Deutsch and Legroeder approached, she looked up at them. She seemed to focus on Legroeder's face and started to speak. For a moment he thought she was going to address him; then the older woman said something, and the blonde looked back down at her cards.

Legroeder frowned, stepping close to the table. He peered at the cards and asked, "What are you playing?"

The younger woman held out a card, placing it on the center of the coffee table—and as Legroeder bent for a better look, she peered right through him. She spoke again, and her voice was incomprehensibly distorted.

"They don't see you," Deutsch said. "Let's go."

Passing along the length of the lounge, they came to a young man absorbed in a stand-up holo-game of twisting lights and strange sounds, all contained within a ghostly shadow-curtain. Was this what the game was supposed to look like? Legroeder wondered—or was it, too, being distorted? He stepped up beside the young man. "Good game?"

"Mrrrrk-k-k-k-ll..."

"Can you hear me?"

The man, reaching out to fiddle with a control on the game board, put his hand through Legroeder's left arm. Legroeder drew a deep breath. If there's a way to get here, there has to be a way to get out, he told himself, as though chanting a mantra. Only half believing it, he followed Deutsch onward.

At the end of the lounge, an old man was sitting with his feet propped on the table, reading a book. As they went by, the man looked up, arching his eyebrows. "Don't recall seeing you two here before," he said. "You must be off a' that other ship, the one that's knockin' us off kilter—"

Legroeder could scarcely breathe. "You can see us?" "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"Yeah, but... well, you're the first person who's—" "Wait a minute," said Deutsch. "You said we're knocking you off kilter?"

The man chuckled. "Well, begging your pardon— things have gone from bad to worse since you got here, what with the time waves and all." He marked his place in the book and closed it. "Don't get me wrong. But I hear people saying your arrival must have upset something in the continuum. Not that I understand how things could possibly be worse—except if we take you along with us."

Legroeder stared at him open-mouthed.

“ If we might interject—it could be very important to determine whether or not this is true. “

(No kidding,) Legroeder thought.

"We passed through an instability ourselves, not long ago," Deutsch said.

The man laughed. "You're in good company. Twice now, since I been reading my book here, I found myself having dinner again last night." He grimaced. "The first time was bad enough. They used to have good food on this ship. That was before everything came from the recyclers."

"Do you have any idea where we might find the captain?" Legroeder asked. "We were meeting with him, and then this wall of darkness—"

The old man waved him to silence. "If the same thing happened to him, he could be most anywhere. But you're headed in the right direction for the bridge and crew section. Just keep going till you get to the royal blue doors."

"Thank you," Deutsch said, his face flickering with augment activity. He peered up the corridor with his primary eyes, while his cheekbone eyes remained fixed on the man. "Any chance you might come with us? Help us if we get lost?"

"Jesus, that's weird. Your eyes, I mean. No offense." The man shook his head. "No, I'd rather just read my book, if that's okay with you. It's a happier way to go."

"All right," said Legroeder. "Thanks, then."

They continued quickly on.

* * *

It seemed only a dozen heartbeats later when Legroeder suddenly shivered, blinked...

—wave of shadow passing over—

...grabbed for Deutsch, didn't find him, felt a rush of disorientation, his vision swimming...

He refocused with an effort and found himself in the meeting room with Captain Friedman, Jamal, and Poppy. He struggled for breath as he peered around the room. No Deutsch.

"What the hell are you doing?" Friedman asked.

Legroeder couldn't tell if the captain was angry or just surprised. "I'm—not sure—" Legroeder gasped. "I think I just got transported to... tonight. At least... some night. There was a passenger lounge, and hardly any people. Most of them couldn't see me."

Friedman grunted.

"A passenger told us that things had grown more unstable since our arrival—"

"Told us? Who's us?"

"Rigger Deutsch. I found him back there, and then we got separated again. Have you seen him since—?"

"I'm right here," said Deutsch, beside him.

Legroeder jumped, startled.

"I have not seen Rigger Deutsch since—oh, there he is," Friedman said, squinting. He shook his head. "What were you saying?"

"That the instabilities may be worse as a result of our presence here. May I take a moment to contact my ship?" "Certainly. Do you need a com-unit?"

Legroeder shook his head. (Connect me to the ship, please?)

“ Trying... connecting... “

A moment later, Cantha's voice squawked from the collar-com: "Legroeder, this is Phoenix. We've been trying to reach you for hours. What's wrong? Do you have a report?"

"Sort of," Legroeder said, and described briefly what had happened. "Have you been observing anything like this?"

"We certainly have," said Cantha. "Including the fact that you seem completely out of time synch with us. More importantly, we've mapped some movement in the quantum flux, and we have some ideas about what might be causing it."

"Such as—?"

"We believe that we may be sitting on top of a very large flaw in the quantum structure of the Deep Flux. We suspect its influence is reverberating upward through the layers of the underflux. And by the way, at least three riggers on this ship have reported having dreams—all with a similar thread. Frightening dreams, mostly."

"Dreams!" Legroeder barked, suddenly remembering the fears he'd felt trying to sleep the night before.

"Yes, have you—?"

"Hold a moment, Cantha." Legroeder realized that Jamal and Poppy had swung to face him, the word dream on both of their lips. "Does this mean something to you?"

The two Impris riggers looked wide-eyed. Jamal was crouching slightly in his chair, a grimace on his face. "Something coming," Jamal whispered. "I keep dreaming that it's coming. Coming to get me. To get all of us."

"What is? What's coming to get you?"

Jamal shook his head. "Don't know. Monstrous thing. It sounds crazy. But it's like there's a big serpent or something in the sky..."

Legroeder shifted his gaze. "You, too, Poppy?"

Poppy nodded, biting his lip. "For me, it's like... the Gates of Hell or something," he whispered. "Something real bad. I can't sleep at all when I've been dreaming about it. Sully too. Sully's had it, too."

"Okay," Legroeder said. "I want to know everything you can tell me about it. Cantha, did you hear that?"

"Yes, I did," came the Narseil's voice. "Get the details, please. We've got to piece it together quickly. Palagren thinks we need to get out of here before the instability gets uncontrollable."

"Do you know yet what's causing it?"

"We think it's an entropic effect of the two overlapping flux-reactor fields, in the presence of the quantum fluctuations. There are signs it's getting progressively worse."

Legroeder felt faint. "Meaning, if we don't get out soon, we won't get out at all?"

"Precisely."

"And have you come up with a way to do it? To get out?"

"Possibly. That confirmation of the dreams might be an important clue. If there is a deeper structure... and people, riggers, are somehow sensing it subconsciously..."

Legroeder frowned.

"Hold on a moment, Legroeder. Palagren wants to talk to you."

Legroeder waited, drumming his fingers on the table. Finally he heard Palagren's voice. "Are you there? Did Cantha tell you that we have to move fast?"

"Yes. But he didn't say how we were going to do it." "We think we have a way. But we nee-e-e-d to-o-o ta-

a-a-a-l-l-l-k-k..." Palagren's answer suddenly stretched out into a long distortion of his voice, then faded away. "Palagren? Palagren?"

“ We have lost the connection. “

(Can you get it back?)

“ We are trying, but there is no longer a com-signal. “ "What is it, Legroeder?" Deutsch asked.

Legroeder gestured sharply. "See if you can raise the ship."

Deutsch became very still, then shook his head. Friedman reached for his own com-set. "Bridge! Has there been any change in the other ship?"

"Excuse me, sir?" came the answer.

"The other ship. Phoenix. Is there a change in its condition."

There was a pause. "I'm not sure what you mean, sir. What other ship?"

"The ship that docked with us a few hours ago!" Friedman shouted.

"Sir?" said the voice on the bridge. "We haven't had contact with another ship in at least a month. Is there... a problem, sir?"

"With me? No." Friedman snapped off the com in frustration, then snapped it back on. "Bridge, give me a time and date check."

"Certainly," said the bridge officer, sounding relieved to have a question that could be answered. "It's now 1730 hours. And we're showing, let's see, day six hundred fifty-two."

Friedman stiffened. "Thank you." He snapped off the com.

"What?" Legroeder said.

"The bridge is two days behind us. Your ship hasn't arrived, as far as they're concerned." Friedman's face was ashen. "This has never happened before. It's definitely getting worse, isn't it?"

Legroeder took a deep breath. "Yes," he whispered. "Yes, it is."

Chapter 31 - SPLINTERS IN TIME

"I would like to suggest," Deutsch said, "that we forget about what day it is, or whether our ship happens to be out there right now."

"Excuse me?" said Jamal. "Are you aware of what's happening here?" You Kyber, his eyes seemed to say.

"I do understand," said Deutsch. "We must assume that, at some point, our ship will reappear. When that happens, we should be ready to move."

"Agreed," Legroeder said. He had been running through various scenarios in his head, and the one that scared him the most was the one where they waited too long and found they'd missed their opportunity to escape. "It's clear Palagren has a plan for attempting to fly out."

"Great. What good does that do, if we don't know what it is?" Poppy muttered.

"But we should be ready to act when we do find out what it is. And—" Legroeder focused inward for a moment "—the first question is whether we should try to fly the two ships out together, which could be very difficult and dangerous, or instead just get everyone over to Phoenix." He turned to Captain Friedman, whose eyes he'd been avoiding. "I'm sorry, Captain. We must consider the possibility."

Friedman's face had turned even whiter, if that was possible. "You don't know what you're saying," he whispered. "We have passengers who are hiding, crewmen disappearing and reappearing..." He shook his head, and appeared to regain strength as he drew a deep breath. "I don't think we could ever be sure we had them all. And some people would never willingly leave the ship."

Including you? Legroeder wondered.

"We cannot assume that everyone will be rational about it."

"Well," said Deutsch, "I think we would all prefer to bring Impris out, if we can do it safely. Our people very much want to study it."

Jamal's voice was a flat twang of skepticism. "I don't know how we're going to get one ship, let alone two, out of this—whatever you called it—fold in the underflux." His nostrils flared. Prove it to me, his gleaming white eyes seemed to say.

Legroeder couldn't; he could only guess what Palagren had been about to say. But it had something to do with the hidden structure in the Flux. "The Narseil seemed to think that those dreams of yours might be an important clue in how to get out."

Jamal shuddered. "Man—if you are trying to reassure me, that's not the way to do it."

Legroeder persisted. "I think the dreams may be trying to tell us something about the Deep Flux. And the more you can tell us about them, the better."

Jamal glanced at his crewmates, shrugged, and began talking.

* * *

"...I don't always see the same thing, but it's always the same feeling—you know what I'm saying? That there's something out there." Jamal's voice fell to a murmur, straining. "Something that... devours."

Legroeder suppressed a shiver as his own memories surfaced. "Suppose," he said, following a sudden hunch, "that you had to confront this thing—whatever it is. To get your ship out. Could you do that? Could you face it?"

Jamal shook his head. "I just want to get away from it, man."

"But suppose it's what's keeping you here." Legroeder's voice became husky. "Suppose, to find your way past it, you had to make it real. In the net. Could you?"

Beads of sweat were forming on Jamal's forehead.

Legroeder felt a sudden wave of dizziness, and leaned heavily on his elbows for support. (What's happening?)

“ We have contact with the ship. “

"Thank God!" he gasped.

"For what?" said Poppy, who had been sitting tightlipped since giving a terse description of his dreams.

"Our ship is back," Legroeder said. He held up a hand. (Put me through.)

“ We have a voice channel—”

"Phoenix," Legroeder snapped. "Can you hear me?"

"Legroeder?" called Cantha. "Are you there? For a few minutes, it looked like you flickered out. Not you—the whole ship."

"Tell me about it. Look, Cantha—we have a crew here that's ready to do whatever's necessary to get out." Right? he asked with his eyes, of the Impris riggers. Jamal scowled, while Poppy looked as if he had been drained of emotion. After a moment, Jamal nodded reluctantly; then Poppy. Good. "I think I should probably get back over to Phoenix to plan with you and Palagren," Legroeder said to Cantha.

Jamal sneered at that. "What, you're going to cut and run now? And leave us here?"

"I'm doing nothing of the kind," Legroeder said, with annoyance. "But we've got a lot of planning to do." He turned in his seat. "Freem'n, what do you think?"

Deutsch raised his chin. "Okay—but how about I stay and work with these guys. That okay with you?" He surveyed Friedman and the two Impris riggers, who looked frightened at the prospect. "Flying out of here is going be a real bitch, you know. Anyone else think formation flying, through instabilities and quantum fluctuations, might be hard?"

Poppy squinted hard at him. "You've got those—" He jerked his chin at Deutsch.

"Augments? Yes. I do." Deutsch raised a hand to stop Poppy's protest. "Look—if you guys want your ship to fly out with us, then we have to link the two nets together. I only know one way to do that. That's for Legroeder and me to link ship-to-ship through our augments." Ignoring their reluctance, he turned back to Legroeder. "Yes, I think that's probably the way to do it."

Legroeder nodded, lips tight. This was bound to be unnerving to the Impris riggers. It was unnerving to him, too. "If it's okay with everyone, I'll inform Captain Glenswarg and head back over." He rose. "Could someone show me the way out?"

* * *

Stepping into the airlock, Legroeder peered uneasily through the outer hatch window. The connector to Phoenix was still there, still intact. But one of the Impris crewmen on watch was saying in a trembling voice, "A few minutes ago, that whole thing was gone. The ship and everything. I hope you know what you're doing."

Legroeder tried not to show the fear that was tying his stomach in knots. What if one of the ships winked out while he was in the connecting tube?

Before he could reconsider, he slapped the hatch control. The inner hatch hissed shut, and the outer hatch hissed open. He stepped out into the tube.

He'd forgotten about the weightlessness. His first step sent him tumbling into flight. With a gasp, he caught a handhold and brought himself up short. Behind him, the hatch slid shut with a thunk. He was alone in the tunnel between the two ships. Where were the Kyber escort crewmen who had brought him over? He tried not to look at the Flux swirling around him, just beyond the transparent wall of the tube.

He pulled himself along quickly, but it was impossible to ignore the Flux; it was a magnet, drawing his gaze outward, to its vapors of blood. He was breathing in short, quick gasps; he could smell his own acrid fear. Jesus. He had to get across before he went crazy, just get across...

*

...but there was a tapping sound that blurred his concentration, and a strange, ringing vibration in the air... it was becoming impossible to think...

*

The tapping was in the walls, all around him. He was in a shipboard compartment; he wasn't sure for a moment which ship. What's happening to me? Turning, he realized he was in an engineering section, and it didn't look like the Kyber ship. He was surrounded by panels of controls, and the hulking shapes of enormous coils that hadn't changed much in a hundred years, just enough to notice.

He was inside Impris's fluxfield reactor, in one of the interstitial spaces... and he wasn't wearing a shielded suit...

His vision was blurring, knees buckling; he couldn't last here for long...

* * *

In the briefing room, Deutsch felt a sudden dizziness; in the same instant, his inner monitors told him that the connection to Phoenix had been lost again. He wondered where Legroeder was; had he made it back to the Kyber ship?

A com unit was chirping somewhere in the room, a voice rasping something about the other ship having flickered out again, and the connector tube...

Deutsch leaned forward and shouted, "Was Rigger Legroeder in that connector when it went out?"

"Gone, they're just gone..."

* * *

The Flux was pulling at him as he tumbled. He was back in the connecting tube. Legroeder lunged for a handhold and missed, then finally grabbed another. What the hell was happening? Thank God that reactor had been at low power, or he'd have been fried.

He fought his way toward the hatch—then stopped. Wrong way. Damn. Turn around. The Flux tore at his eyes, a living, devouring thing. Had the fluxfield lines caught him, pulled him into a quantum fluctuation? His heart was pounding; he could feel the sweat as he struggled, hand over hand, down the tube toward Phoenix. The coils of the Flux were wrapped around the tube like a cosmic boa constrictor, squeezing. He gave a last mighty shove from a handhold, and crashed into the Phoenix hatch.

It was closed. He grunted, terror crawling up his neck as he groped for the switch.

What if it didn't open?

What if the ship blinked away again?

He choked back a scream—suddenly realizing he might trigger the unthinkable with his own emotions. He was a rigger... he was a rigger... damn it, think like a rigger...

He pounded on the hatch switch. Open, for God's sake —open!

The hatch slid open, and he tumbled into the airlock. He slapped clumsily at the inner switch, and the hatch slammed shut. He clung, gasping, to a handhold, hanging by his arms. Finally, as the inner hatch opened, he sank to his knees. Gravity had never felt so good.

* * *

His heart was still hammering as he stumbled onto the bridge. Palagren and Cantha were hunched over one of the computers. "That was fast," Palagren said, looking up —and then his eyes narrowed as he registered the strain on Legroeder's face. "Are you all right?"

"You look like hell," said Captain Glenswarg. "Where's Deutsch?"

Legroeder struggled to catch his breath. "He stayed. He wants to work with the Impris riggers, and try to fly it out with them. With us."

Palagren's gaze was dark. "That could be risky." "But can we do it?" asked Glenswarg.

"Captain—"

"Our orders," said Glenswarg, "are to bring Impris out if we can. We want the ship, not just the people. We need every bit of information we can get from her." He glanced at Legroeder.

"That's right," Legroeder gulped. "And from what Captain Friedman says, even if we tried to get all of her passengers over here, we probably couldn't." He explained.

"Well," said Palagren, "it's an open question: Can we fly the two ships out in formation? Or once we power up the two fluxfield generators, will the interaction between them and the quantum fluctuation throw the whole thing out of control?"

Legroeder remembered all too clearly what had just happened to him in the connecting tube. "First tell me how we're going to get one ship out."

"Ah." Palagren scratched the base of his neck-sail. "We have developed a plan, Cantha and I. It will not be easy, and it involves a degree of risk."

"Which is—?"

"On the one hand, that we lodge ourselves permanently in the underflux; on the other, that we disappear in a spray of neutrinos."

"Oh."

Palagren swung back to the console. "Here, let me show you what we have in mind. We have been looking at this business of the dreams, and we've found evidence of a physical feature that correlates with it..."

* * *

What the Narseil had found, from a careful mapping of the Flux lines of force, was an indication of what they called a deep quantum flaw, a fracture not just in local space as they had thought before, but in the primordial fabric of spacetime itself, situated beneath even the present level of the Deep Flux. Though they could not say much about its size or extent, they believed it was the source of the fluctuations that had drawn Impris and Phoenix into this trap in the underflux. It was entirely possible that similar flaws were the bane of other ships lost in the Deep Flux, as well.

The influence of the flaw could be felt well beyond its actual location. This, Cantha believed, could explain the dreams of the riggers. They, of all the souls on the two ships, were the ones whose psyches were most directly exposed to the Flux. It was no coincidence that they shared the fears about, and possibly a subconscious awareness of, a great monster lurking deep within the Flux. "There really is a monster there," Cantha said. "That's why you're feeling it."

"In order to get out," said Palagren, "we must locate the quantum flaw. The opening that brought us into the Deep Flux does not appear to offer an exit. To find another way, we must seek the point of origin of the openings..."

Legroeder listened in sober silence. The Narseil plan was audacious—and not a little desperate. They would try to make the ships sink deeper still—by suppressing even further the action of the nets, by bringing them to a state of controlled, meditative stillness. They hoped to accomplish two things: one, to reduce the dangerous interactions between the two ships' fluxfields; and two, to allow the natural eddies and ripples to draw the ships down into the lowest layers of the Deep Flux. There, they hoped, they would find not just a clearer view of the underlying quantum flaw, but also a pathway out.

"There are no guarantees," Palagren noted.

Legroeder remembered the Narseil's warning about vanishing in a spray of neutrinos. But he couldn't think of a better idea. And remaining where they were was unthinkable.

Captain Glenswarg was already persuaded; Captain Friedman was a little tougher to sell on the proposal. By the time they reached him by com, on the Impris bridge, there had already been one more time dislocation aboard Impris. "How do we know it won't make matters worse?" Friedman asked.

Before Legroeder could answer, Deutsch, on the other bridge with Friedman, pointed out that they were already on a nonstop course toward chaos; and surely it was better to try even a risky course of action than none at all. Before he could finish talking, Jamal stepped into view. His eyes were wide as he said, "You're going to deliberately take us toward that thing that we've been dreaming about?" Turning, he gesticulated toward Poppy, who was standing still as a statue, fear frozen on his face.

"We talked about it before, remember?" asked Legroeder, thinking, it wasn't much more than an hour ago.

"Yeah, but I didn't think we were going to fly right into the thing's face!" Jamal protested. "It's not like we exactly agreed to it."

"No, we didn't," Poppy whispered, behind him.

Legroeder drew a breath, wanting to close his eyes and go somewhere far, far away. "We talked about the fact that it might be necessary."

Palagren stepped up beside him to speak into the com. Jamal's eyes grew even wider at the sight of the Narseil. "You are right, that this is a dangerous plan," Palagren said. "But we know what will happen if we stay. The situation will grow steadily more desperate. We won't have saved you; we will have doomed you, and us, to watching each other die... very slowly."

"But—" You Narseil, Jamal seemed about to say. He didn't complete the thought aloud.

Friedman faded out of the image, then reappeared. "If I may point out—we have watched people die here, and it is not pleasant."

By now, they had all heard the story: the boy who in despair had poisoned himself with a fast-acting poison— or so he had thought. Due to the time distortions, he had died for almost a year, ship's time. The captain had finally moved him to the bridge, where time seemed to move faster, to complete the process.

The two Impris riggers stood silent. They had no answer.

"I don't know about you," Friedman continued, "but I think a hundred and twenty-four years are enough. Let's do it."

Poppy and Jamal looked at each other, then at Deutsch. "Will he be flying with us?" Jamal asked.

"You can't ask for a better rigger on board with you," said Legroeder.

"He has those... things," Poppy said.

Legroeder drew a deep breath. "Yes. And those things may be what enable us to get you out. Give him a chance. I think you'll be surprised. Right, Freem'n?"

Before Deutsch could reply, Friedman said, "Consider it done. Riggers, make ready to sail."

Poppy and Jamal frowned. But if they were tempted to argue, something in the captain's expression persuaded them otherwise. One after another, they turned reluctantly toward their stations.

* * *

Departure had to await the engineers' completion of their work on the Impris powerplant. Legroeder's anxieties mounted with the delay, but they didn't dare fly without ensuring that Impris's flux-reactor and field components were properly tuned. Twice more, the other ship flickered out, leaving those on the Phoenix bridge holding their breaths. But when it reappeared the second time, they got the all-clear call from the Kyber engineers on Impris, and the riggers hurried to their posts.

As the rigger-station closed around him, Legroeder thought of how tired he felt, and how much he longed for a good night's sleep. It was foolhardy to fly while exhausted. But it would be worse to wait while things deteriorated. (Whatever else you guys do, make sure I stay alert, okay?)

“ Roger wilco,” he heard in reply.

Legroeder was joined in the Phoenix net by Palagren and Ker'sell, and Cantha in Deutsch's place. They had decided that Cantha's inexperience in the net was outweighed by his knowledge of the quantum flaw. Cantha would ride in the top gun position, as observer and advisor. Legroeder, while still in command of the net, would fly in his accustomed stern-rigger spot; Palagren was in the lead position, and Ker'sell was at the keel. If Ker'sell still harbored any suspicions about Legroeder, he was keeping them to himself.

In the Impris net, Freem'n Deutsch would be the commanding rigger. There had been some argument about that; the Impris riggers had not been eager to relinquish control. But Captain Friedman had agreed that it was the best way to fly the ships in formation—with Deutsch's and Legroeder's augments linked by flux-com.

Is everyone ready? Legroeder asked across the joined nets, as the connecting tube was drawn back to the Kyber ship. Deutsch murmured acknowledgment, as did the Narseil. Jamal and Poppy muttered ambiguously to themselves, probably trying not to show their fear.

We are disconnecting from hard-dock now, came the voice of Glenswarg. Riggers, you may begin your flight. As he spoke, the tethers were released and the ships were gently pushed apart by the forcefield bumpers. The two nets separated, and the connection between Legroeder's augments and Freem'n Deutsch's switched to a flux-com link.

Prepare to descend, Legroeder called. All riggers, begin to still your thoughts. Let's start with a standard meditation. He drew a breath and let it out slowly, and allowed his vision to go to soft focus. Drawing on exercises from his earliest rigger training, he began to allow conscious thought to drain from his mind. Around him, the others were doing the same.

Through the connection Legroeder became aware of the Impris riggers jittering around. Relax, everyone, he called softly.

They began to form images, underwater at first. Legroeder exhaled, watching his breath bubble away. Reduce buoyancy... sink... This okay with everyone? As soon as the words were out, he realized that the Impris riggers were struggling.

I can't swim! Jamal cried.

Startled, Legroeder let the image dissolve. Is this better? He spun forth an old standby for meditations: a hillside sprinkled with wildflowers. He reclined in the grass and gazed up into a deep cerulean sky. Fill it in however seems best to you.

That seemed to work better for Jamal and Poppy. Sighing, Legroeder closed his eyes halfway. He too was having trouble calming down.

“ Would you like assistance? An alpha-field? “

(No, let me take it the same way as Jamal and Poppy. I need to know how they're feeling.)

“ Understood. “

He tried to let his thoughts go. Banks of pastel mist floated overhead, became clouds drifting in a cyan summer sky. What color sky do you see, everyone?

Ah, deep purple, said Palagren.

Blue, shading off to green. Deutsch.

Blue. Pale blue. That was Poppy.

I feel, said Ker'sell, as if I am back home, waiting for the rain to fall and bring the brinies up to the surface.

You are indeed relaxed, Palagren murmured, if you can think of eating at a time like this.

Legroeder let a small chuckle escape. He was beginning, just beginning, to let go of his anxieties. He glanced over at Impris, a ghostly silver presence on the hillside...

The other ship winked out.

“ Loss of signal. “

He cursed. (Time fluctuation?)

“ Most likely. “

Palagren seemed not to have noticed. Legroeder called to him and the Narseil looked around in puzzlement. What do you mean? Impris is right there. They're starting to look a little transparent, though.

Legroeder stared, where the ghostly shape of the other ship had just been. All right, he said softly. If you see it, I'm going to count on you to keep track. As far as I can tell, it's gone. He drew a breath and let it out slowly, thinking: It'll come back again. Just believe that.

He had lost all semblance now of a meditative state. (Maybe you'd better give me that shot of alpha-wave, after all,) he muttered to the implants. An instant later, he felt himself calming down. He relaxed his grip on the stern tiller, allowing the ship to drift wherever the Flux wanted to take them.

There was only the slightest movement of cloud in the sky. He focused on his breath. Just be. Feel. He began to enter a deeper state of relaxation, and to let go of some of his deeper anxieties.

After what seemed a very long while, he realized that the ship was sinking.

It felt like a softening in the hillside, as if he were sinking into the earth, easing his way down into some subterranean kingdom where hidden thoughts and possibilities lurked, and invisible currents ran. He noted that his rigger-mates were in similar attitudes of meditation. As one, they appeared to be sinking into the image of the hillside; and now, beside them again was the ghostly presence of Impris. Overhead, the clouds were starting to move, to drift upward and across.

Movement.

Legroeder drew a slow breath. It's working. Don't stop now; just keep doing what you're doing. The clouds were scudding overhead now. They were leaving the area of doldrums. But going where? Did they know what they were doing? Could they control their fears?

Just the thought was enough to distract him. The calm was starting to slip away again; feelings and memories were bubbling up unbidden...

A memory of his old riggermate, Janofer—more beautiful than ever. Not now, of all times! Despite himself, he was becoming aroused at the memory, the memory of desire. He'd always been half in love with her...

Legroeder, the ghostly Janofer whispered, brushing back her long hair, brushing her lips on his neck. No, he thought, this isn't right...

It's very right, she whispered back to him, turning into Morgan Mahoney.

The sudden change left him breathless. Morgan... Morgan, how are... where are... have you found Maris yet?

Morgan turned to Maris, with a little smile that seemed to say, We hardly even knew each other. But if we'd had the time...

As Legroeder struggled to follow, he seemed to hear his mother's voice echoing the familiar refrain: If you would take the opportunities life puts in front of you... from a woman who had taken perhaps one too many opportunities in the form of Legroeder's father, who hadn't stayed around to meet his son. Legroeder felt his old protest rising in his throat. But his mother was long gone; there was no one here to talk to now.

“ Warning: this train of thought... “

Was not good. Letting his thoughts get away from him...

But Tracy-Ace/Alfa was here now, as he had somehow known she would be, as if her spirit had always been present, moving through the terrain of his subconscious. She was beckoning to him... her head cocked to one side, augments twinkling, watching him from a position in space, just out of reach. Hurry and come back, she said softly. We have a lot to talk about.

Yes. Yes! But first they had to get back...

In the net of Impris, Deutsch had been laboring to match his efforts with those of his crewmates over on Phoenix. He was leading Poppy and Jamal in a maneuver that ran counter to everything they had been trained to do. He wanted them to suppress their inputs; let themselves flow; allow the ship to drift like a cork into a whirlpool. He wanted them to float helpless toward a terror hidden deep in the Flux. So far, he'd been keeping their input to a minimum—for all practical purposes flying the ship himself.

For Deutsch, it was old hat to drift in the Flux; he'd done it as a Kyber raider countless times, like a predatory sea creature camouflaged as seaweed. But to Poppy and Jamal, it was unthinkable. They didn't trust him or this plan of falling toward their worst nightmare. They hadn't yet refused an instruction, but they were like two kettles about to blow their lids.

Gentlemen, if we're to stay with Phoenix, we need to follow her precisely. Which means—

We're clear on what it means, said Jamal, in a mutinous tone.

If we go limp the way you want us to, Poppy said stiffly, how are we going to keep from falling right in?

Deutsch drew the net more firmly about himself, thinking, we sure won't fall in if we stay stuck here in the underflux. Phoenix had already flickered away for a couple of minutes; now that it was back, he didn't want to lose it again. But when things got more energetic, he wouldn't be able to manage Impris alone.

He was not going to win this by arguing. He spoke to his augments. (Bring up some alpha-wave; amplify and broadcast it into the net.) On further reflection, he decided to add music, and chose a selection from his augment archives, something soothing.

What's that—hospital music? Poppy asked, with thinly disguised annoyance.

Well, damn, Deutsch thought. It had always worked on the riggers in the raider ships. Maybe musical tastes had changed more than he thought. He riffled through his play list and tried something different, with a little more bass beat and movement, and some horn. It wasn't as soothing to his ears, but he could manage. Better?

First Poppy, then Jamal shrugged. Deutsch kept an eye on them, and after a few minutes they began to relax. Now, if they just unwound enough for the alpha-waves to start having an effect...

The silvery shape of Phoenix shimmered; it began to sink into the hill of mist it was resting on. Deutsch nudged the alpha-field up a little more.

As the net of Impris grew calmer, Deutsch thought he felt the tug of the lower underflux, pulling them downward also.

* * *

Have to get back.

Heaven and sky. Legroeder had gotten so absorbed in the vision of all these women, like a testosterone dream, that he'd nearly forgotten what he was doing. He was in the net of a starship, trying to fly out of an impossible situation.

Gazing through the fading image of Tracy-Ace, he saw myriad stars. The ship was falling through space like a stone now. Around him, the Narseil riggers were deep in meditation; only Cantha seemed alert, and Cantha wasn't actively influencing the net. He looked scared, actually. Everything okay? Legroeder murmured.

Cantha's neck-sail was quivering; his eyes were darting downward, and back up again. Thank heaven you're conscious, he said. Look down there.

Legroeder looked—and for a moment, had trouble drawing a breath. Below them, through the faint glitter of the net, he saw the starry darkness change to just plain darkness... and far down, embedded in the deepest part of the darkness, was a writhing thread of fire.

The quantum flaw? he whispered.

They were falling toward it like a body tumbling from a cliff.

I think we've left the dead zone behind, said Cantha. He looked at his fellow Narseil. Should we disturb them?

Yes! Wake them! Do whatever you have to. Legroeder wheeled around. Where is Impris?

Far off to the port side, he saw the other ship, tumbling and twinkling. They should bring the two ships back together while they still could. He needed help. Palagren! he shouted. Snap out of it!

The Narseil rigger was slowly turning his head. His neck-sail was glowing a delicate yellowish green along its outer rim; the glow faded as his eyes focused. By the deeps, he sighed, that took me farther than I expected. Were we in entirely separate meditations?

I think so, Legroeder murmured. But never mind that. Impris is over there—he pointed to the tiny, distant ship —and we're falling fast, toward that. He pointed down, toward the malevolent light of the quantum flaw. It had grown in the last minute.

Palagren gasped. We've succeeded!

I think so, Legroeder said. But what the hell do we do now? He felt Deutsch connecting with his implants, asking the same question.

Cantha turned from rousing Ker'sell. I've been searching for Flux currents leading away from the flaw. And? said Palagren.

What have you found? Legroeder demanded.

Cantha had links set up to the bridge sensors, and now they flashed a rippling series of lines across the darkness of the Flux below. The lines spiraled and spiked as different measurements were highlighted; it was difficult to discern an overall pattern. But one thing Legroeder did not see was anything like a path emerging from the vicinity of the flaw, a path that would take them away from it.

This isn't working the way we'd hoped, is it? Palagren asked softly.

Legroeder squinted downward. Do we have any idea what lies inside that thing?

I imagine, said Cantha, almost casually, that it bears some resemblance to a singularity.

Legroeder felt his heart stop. He swallowed and peered across at Impris, still twinkling at a distance. They were both still falling, the thread of light growing beneath them. Palagren, having roused Ker'sell from his trance, was stretching his arms into the invisible streams like a high-diver.

I really had hoped it would all become clearer once we approached the quantum flaw, Cantha muttered, adjusting the sensor-displays.

Legroeder tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. Do you have any more data? Anything at all? I'm trying, but I—wait, let me do something.

Legroeder waited, for an endless couple of heartbeats.

Cantha made another adjustment, causing a sudden change as all the space around them suddenly filled with what looked like a blue Cherenkov glow. Can you see it better now?

Unfortunately, Legroeder could. The space around them had suddenly taken on a discernible shape and form. Now he could see all the streams of movement in the region. They were all flowing, twisting, spiraling... all in one direction.

Toward the quantum flaw.

Into the quantum flaw.

Chapter 32 - SAILING THE QUANTUM FLAW

What the bleeding hell are we doing? Poppy screamed shrilly, deafening Deutsch. You aren't taking us into that thing!

No choice, Poppy. That's where we're headed. No-o-o-o!

Deutsch cut off the music and jacked up the alpha-field. It's the only way. You've got to forget the dreams. Those are your fears speaking.

Jamal shouted, You're damn right my fears are speaking. And they're saying, don't go into that thing!

Deutsch called on a series of authority-routines to deepen his voice and projection. We can't NOT go into it. The question is, are we going to fly in like riggers, or drop like stones? GENTLEMEN, I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE! His words rang in the net like a gunshot across a valley.

Jamal's voice was muted, frightened. You don't suppose the dreams were telling us we have to go meet it, do you, Pop? You think Legroeder mighta' been right?

Deutsch held his breath, as Poppy wailed wordlessly— and after gulping a few times, finally calmed down enough to say, You really think so—?

Maybe. 'Cause we're goin' down, anyway, said Jamal. Shall we go out in glory?

Deutsch began to breathe again. Whether it was his words or the calming effects of the alpha-field, the two riggers seemed to be finding the foothold they needed to climb out of their hysteria. Excellent, gentlemen. Now, let's see if we can get this ship under control...

* * *

If they were going to do anything, they would have to do it fast, Legroeder thought. The quantum flaw was a lot closer now, their movement toward it visible to the eye. Cantha—are you getting any information on what to expect?

Pretty fragmentary, Cantha said from the top gun position. But I believe the flaw has a greater than infinitesimal aperture, which I take as a hopeful sign.

Jesus, Legroeder thought. If that's what you call hopeful...

It may be, said Cantha, that we can fly through it. It's possible that the flaw itself is the exit path we're looking for. I don't see any other hope.

Legroeder blinked in fear. He turned to Palagren, who was watching the growing thread of fire. Let's see if we can close the range with Impris.

Are you in contact with Freem'n? Palagren asked.

Legroeder could hear little sputters of static from his implants. He shook his head as he asked, (Anything—?)

“ Getting stronger fragments of transmission now... “

The net flexed alarmingly as Palagren stretched it, trying to find a shape that would give them better control. It was like trying to steer in a waterfall. But if they could at least converge on a course with the other ship...

Let's see if we can reach across, link the nets again, Legroeder said.

At that moment, his implants found their signal lock, and he felt sudden input from Deutsch's streaming in. (Freem'n—can you hear me?)

(Right here. Are we going down into that thing, then?)

(We seem committed. Cantha thinks maybe we can go through it and out. Otherwise we die. We should go in formation or God knows where we'll be scattered. Can you extend your net toward us?)

(I'll try. Let me see if—hey, watch it, Poppy!) Deutsch's voice suddenly went elsewhere.

Legroeder swallowed hard. But he saw a tendril of light stretching out toward them from Impris.

Legroeder focused on flying Phoenix, as Palagren and Ker'sell stretched their end of the Phoenix net toward Impris. It was still too long a reach. But the ships were drawing closer. Could they link in time?

Below, the quantum flaw was growing faster than ever, its diamond-white glare brightening. Legroeder clicked in a filtering routine and peered at the flaw through darkened glass. If they were going to fly headlong through it, was there any way to control the outcome? Was it all up to Nature and the structure of the flaw? Maybe not. This was the Flux, and if there was any chance of influencing their passage by changing their entry, it was now or never.

Legroeder felt a tremor, and looked up to see a tenuous link between the two ships. Palagren and Ker'sell were slowly reeling in the joined net.

Cantha spoke up. I recommend going in one after another. These readings are all very strange, my friends. I don't know what's going to happen, but I feel it's going to be interesting.

Interesting!

If you can't hold it together, Cantha called to Deutsch, then fall in behind us and break contact just before we enter. Try to follow as precisely as possible.

Are you going in and leaving us here? Poppy screeched.

No one's leaving anyone, Cantha answered. But our time perceptions may give us a better chance to find the way.

I approve of your plan, said another voice. It took Legroeder an instant to recognize Captain Friedman. He had almost forgotten about the captains. Not that any orders from them could make much difference at this point.

Everyone prepare, Legroeder called, to enter the quantum flaw.

From somewhere deep within the strained fabric of the net came the rumbling voice of Captain Glenswarg: Permission granted. Godspeed, gentlemen...

* * *

The quantum flaw dominated the sky now, nearly encircling them. It was no longer a smoothly curved line, but a finely jagged thing, fractal in nature. Deep within Legroeder's implants, a furious analysis of the flaw was taking place. Was it a relic of the primordial universe, like a cosmic string of normal-space? It was a discontinuity in the structure of spacetime, for certain.

One moment, it looked like an opening across half the universe; the next, it was a one-way passage into oblivion.

The answers would soon become clear.

With Impris swinging around behind them, the joined nets were becoming more difficult to control. The attraction of the flaw was beginning to fluctuate as they drew near. Were they feeling the effects of its fractal shape?

Cantha looked increasingly worried. He peered across the net at Legroeder, his face lit by the ghostly glare of the quantum flaw. Uncertainty-readings are off the scale. Even if you find a way to maneuver, I can't give you any guidance on a course.

Legroeder nodded.

The fractal nature of the flaw was becoming increasingly pronounced, as finer and finer details of jaggedness came into view. Would their passage be determined by how they intersected with those jagged elements at the boundary? How could he possibly control that? But there had to be a way to influence their passage. It was not a matter of evidence, but of faith.

The Narseil were peering this way and that. What were they seeing in the tessa'chron? His own sense of time and reality was singing and twanging like a violin string. If any of you sees a way through this, don't be shy about telling me. Freem'n—can you still hear me?

Like you're at the end of a tunnel. You ready to go through?

Ready, Legroeder lied. He could feel the other ship pulling from side to side like a boat in tow. It'll be soon now. If we get separated going through...

I'll be looking for you on the other side. Tell Palagren to have one of those Narseil beers ready for me.

Yah, said Legroeder, wishing he could think of something more to say.

Palagren suddenly exclaimed, By the Three Rings, would you look at that!

And then the bottom fell out from under Legroeder, and he could feel the net suddenly stretching ahead like a spiderweb in a breeze, and one particular fractal angle in the flaw blossomed. And in a single, strangely prolonged instant of time, the flaw yawned open and swallowed them.

* * *

The net was turned inside out. The Narseil voices distorted into a sound like an electronic malfunction, and Legroeder's stomach went into freefall. His head felt distended like a child's soap bubble. As he brought his gaze around behind, to where Impris was following, he glimpsed a flicker of silver and a crazed opening in the sky. He heard Deutsch's voice—a heart-rending shriek, tearing off into silence. Then the jagged opening closed, with a blinding flash that billowed out in slow motion.

That had been... Impris... enveloped by the blinding flash.

Legroeder cried out: Frrreeemm'nnn... Faarrrraaeeeemmmmaaauuuu...

His voice was incomprehensible, even to him. Focusing inward, trying to reconnect with Deutsch through his implants, he found instead an enormous inner vista of space, spangled with stars and galaxies. He tried to draw breath; he could not; dizzily he searched for the implants; they were circling him like flickering stars, doing he knew not what. There was no connection left with Impris.

His vision ballooned out again. Where the flash had been there was now a coiling darkness, webbed with lines of force.

Dear Christ! he whispered, and his voice moaned out into the net, joining with the incomprehensible groans of the Narseil. Had they just watched Impris die?

Palagren's arms were stretched out, distended and transparent; all the riggers were turning transparent. All of their voices were dying away; but new sounds were rising...

*

An impossibly deep rumble... a thrum of incredible power... and, it seemed, sadness. Legroeder was hypnotized, unable to turn his attention, as the thrum filled with deeper and deeper harmonics. It was a choir of unimaginable size and proportion, a choir of space and time, and yet seemingly almost a living thing.

Was he hearing the shifting and creaking of the very fabric of spacetime itself? He was stunned, awed, terrified. For a moment, he wondered: was he even still alive? The quantum flaw could have wrenched them apart into constituent particles, puffing them out of existence in a cloud of neutrinos and gamma rays. Were these the dying thoughts of a haze of neutrinos, soon to dissipate like the morning dew?

They had lost Impris. Deutsch. Legroeder wanted to experience all that he could before he too vanished. Maybe it was pride. Or longing. Or grief. Or stubbornness. He focused all of his being on trying to perceive the sounds that welled around him. If only he could form a picture from them.

As if in response, coiling out of the darkness came distorted lines of force, turbulent traceries of fire, the body of the quantum splinter, surrounding them. Before them stretched a long, jagged avenue of fire and darkness, reaching out into the deeps of space... from infinity at one end to infinity at the other.

He stared at it and thought dumbly, it's either the road to Heaven or the road to Hell...

*

He viewed its majesty through sound, an embryonic music of the spheres, heartbreakingly mournful. But this was not just the music of a handful of stars and star clouds. This was something very different, something far, far greater...

...wheeling majestically in space...

...enveloped by the sound of an expanding universe...

...very close to the instant of its origins... the sound of an infant spacetime continuum struggling to establish itself in the... place?... time?... where there had been no place, no time, nothing at all.

Through his astonishment, Legroeder knew... if he could reach out just a little further, he might hear the sound of the Genesis Moment itself. There was a sound coming at intervals: a great CLUNGGGG ringing through the choir of origins, like a vast bass string being struck with percussive force. He thought he knew what that was: fractures forming in the expanding continuum, splinters, flaws in space and time... fractures forming in the deep quantum structures of reality.

How he knew all this, he did not know. But he was aware of the perceptions of the Narseil overlapping his own, like layers of transparency. What they saw, he saw, in shimmering shadows.

And in his head, the implants were furiously recording.

*

Before him now was a broad ribbon of fire, reaching jaggedly, with streamers and fractal fingers, in both directions. It was not simply a blaze of light through a fracture, but something roiling with inner chaos and change, like a long window into the surface of a sun. It hurt the eye to behold; something about the perspective was all wrong. This was not Einsteinian space or even Chey-Kladdian... it was something different...

And then he knew what it was. This was the heart of the temporal discontinuities. This aspect of the flaw stretched through time rather than space, deep into the past at one end, and impossibly far into the future in the other. Stretching toward its birth... and its death.

The birth and death of the universe?

Legroeder was dumb with awe and terror, gazing down a rent in spacetime that stretched from one end of existence to the other. Would he next gaze into the face of God? Surely he would fall dead even if the flaw itself did not kill him...

But stirring in him now were other strange and wonderful and frightening emotions, emotions not human; and yet contained within them were human feelings—joy and determination and rage and reverence. It was the Narseil emotions; they were seeing this as he was—the terrible beauty and peril of the quantum flaw, the groans of birth and death, linked together in a single instant.

It was changing, though, sparkling at the edges, splinters of light streaming out into infinity... and at the same time, turning his thoughts inside out...

*

Visions of places he had been... present... past... future... Outpost Ivan... DeNoble... Maris and Jakus and Harriet... his mother carrying him as a small child, crying, in a shopping valley on New Tarkus... Tracy-Ace/ Alfa standing with YZ/I, proposing a mission... in flight, speeding toward fabulous clouds of stars...

All these images gathered and then blew away like smoke, leaving him staggered by the vastness around him, the power of cosmic creation. What meaning could his existence have here, where elemental forces flowed like rivers? What possible influence could he have?

Insignificance.

The word flickered in his awareness like a sparkle of light at the boundaries of infinity. It danced, twinkling, along the great ribbon of light...

*

It was, Palagren knew, the most astounding thing he would ever see, the quantum flaw stretched out in multicolored glory: at one end the past, dwindling into the deepest infrared, and at the other end the future, vanishing into an ultraviolet diamond. The present loomed in a golden haze, within which possibilities danced like motes of dust against time and space.

Among the possibilities, Palagren saw a precious few that contained images of himself. He felt unutterably lonely as he glimpsed those. How could a single Narseil matter in the face of such cosmic history?

Something tattered was billowing around him; it was the rigger-net, coming undone. Electroquantum technology did not work well here; and yet something had been holding the net together. But if it wasn't the fluxfield generators...

Palagren saw the net quiver, as though in response to his uncertainty. And then a fragment of the Wisdoms echoed in his thoughts:

"The Whole survives in unity with the One, and the One with the Whole. In all of the Rings, nothing can exist apart from the Circle except that which would break it... the Destroyer..."

The Destroyer...

The quantum flaw?

Or his own doubt?

Palagren drew a breath and stretched his arms wide, and turned his will toward holding the net together...

*

Who are these beings that you are mindful of them...

The question sparkled in Legroeder's thoughts like a sunbeam through a window; it was a line from an ancient human text... but he hadn't heard it from a human, had he? It had been Com'peer, the Narseil surgeon.

But hadn't he heard it somewhere else, long ago? The memory was beginning to come:

What is man that you are mindful of him?

That was it: an earlier form. A poem, or a psalm. But what did it mean?

Skating across the sea of spacetime, his thoughts spun around, and the word "insignificance" twinkled back to face him. He laughed suddenly, and then cried. Who was he, what was he, to be here in the midst of this— surrounded by a shimmering net that was beginning to come apart like an old spiderweb?

The net... if they couldn't hold it together, they would cease to exist.

What is man—?

He was man, human, individual—like his fellows, and yet one of a kind, unique. Did that matter, his uniqueness?

He gazed into the sea of eternity, churning with chaos and uncertainty, and thought perhaps it did matter, very much so, right now.

*

To Palagren, the waves of uncertainty brought hope. Hope for the integrity of his own being, and of the net itself. He thought of the old human story: Schrodinger's cat in the box, its life or death decided by a single quantum event. And more than that, the life and death coexisting in one; it took the glance of an observer to force reality to crystallize.

Just as a rigger's thoughts forced the uncertainty of the Flux to transmute into the desired form...

That's it, Palagren thought. We must see ourselves holding the net together... finding our way through...

*

Around Legroeder, the net was twanging out of tune as it shredded. He was aware of the thoughts of the other riggers, but all in a jangling chaos. He was in a sea of consciousness, struggling to pick out the voices closest to him. He had to; only they, together, could hold the net together...

Was it even possible to contest infinity this way?

Why shouldn't they? If quantum events could link across spacetime—why not their own thoughts reaching out to critical points in this zigzag ribbon of spacetime? Perhaps they could even steer themselves through a window of their choosing in this cosmic chaos.

It came to him in a rush of understanding as he gathered the net around him like an enormous billowing bubble, and pulled it in close... and peered down and out through the beautiful and mysterious ribbon of fire, looking for the place to fall through... first riggers to sail the quantum flaw...

Alongside him, Palagren did likewise... and at last, following their lead, Cantha and Ker'sell.

*

And fire blossomed around them, filling the net with a cosmic glare....