Ceremony by Glen Cook
A return, though, would be far easier if she had a chance to rest her bath before departing.
Her discomfort increased as she examined the starships and cataloged the array of weapons trained upon her as she sensed the fear and disbelief filling the ships. She probed mind after mind and could not find one receptive to the touch. These creatures were all adult, and all voctor.
Throughout the system ships less heavily armed were scurrying toward cover.
Why? What could they fear from one darkship? Had they had contact with silth before, to their dismay? Did they know what had become of the lost starship after all?
She reached back to the bounds of the system and, yes, there was a great black ghost patrolling the brink of the deep. It seemed there was a black wherever intelligence paused, one monster to a star system. She stroked that thing and sensitized it to herself so it would answer more quickly if she had to summon it.
She signaled Bagnel. It was time to try talking.
Bagnel fiddled with his communicator until she lost patience, ordered the strongest of her reserve bath to the tip of the dagger, had her take over as Mistress of the Ship. The bath had experience, but she did not want control while they faced a potential enemy. Marika had to insist.
She joined Bagnel. “What’s the problem? Won’t they respond?”
“I don’t know if they are ignoring me or if I just can’t find the right frequency. It should not be so difficult. I began with the range of frequencies used on the derelict.”
Marika sent a ghost into the nearest ship. The creatures there were clustered around their communications screens. She returned. “You have their attention. Maybe they just don’t want to answer. Keep with it.”
Bagnel made a face. He was as frightened as any of the aliens. “Right now I think I made a mistake coming out here. This isn’t the same as talking about it. Well, here’s something.” His tiny vision screen had come to life. A female alien looked out at him. The communication speaker squeaked.
Marika said, “Run your tape.”
Bagnel snapped, “Marika, mistress the ship, will you? Let me alone. I know my task.”
“I’m sorry.” But apology did nothing to soothe her frayed nerves.
This could be the greatest moment of meth history. Its success or failure rested squarely upon her--and yet it might be entirely outside her control. The aliens might panic.
Bagnel had prepared a tape that began with a simple print message protesting the peaceful intent of those aboard the darkship. That looped ten times, then followed with a copy of the last message left by the folk of the derelict alien.
When that ran Marika was inside the nearest starship with a ghost, watching. The message stirred considerable response, but not of the sort she expected. Well, they were aliens. She had no cause to expect them to respond as meth might.
A message came back once Bagnel finished sending. It arrived too rapidly for him to follow. He used a tiny light stylus to letter a response on the screen of his communicator, asking them to go much slower. Then he requested permission to set the darkship down on the world below.
Again the response was too swift to yield any sense. Again Bagnel relayed his request for a slower information feed and permission to set down.
Permission came in the form of a map with a landing site indicated by a pulsing point of red light. Marika soon matched the map with the face of the world below. The site indicated was near the largest of the alien underground installations, in a barren area.
There was a grim, deadly feel to that region. The area hummed with modulated electromagnetic radiation. A rapid scout with a ghost revealed scores of weapons similar to those that had destroyed TelleRai, all mounted upon huge rockets.
Marika began to have doubts about making contact with these creatures.
But they had no grasp of the otherworld, no suspicion that it existed. If the worst happened she could call down the great black. She extended her touch to it again, shocked it, attuned it to herself more closely, until she was certain she could summon it if that became necessary. “Continue trying to get sense from them as we go down, Bagnel.” She returned to the tip of the dagger, resumed control, dropped away from the alien ships.
They paced her to the edge of atmosphere, then turned away.
For a time Marika dropped alone, but when she reached 150,000 feet aircraft began arcing past her, and lower down they began circling. Bagnel observed them with awe. They were like no aircraft he knew. Their airframes were long and slim. Their long, narrow wings were rooted far back on the fuselage and angled forward, so that the craft looked almost like the head of a trident. They seemed to be rocket-powered.
Marika was impressed too. Nothing like them existed in the meth technical arsenal.
At fifty thousand feet she resumed exploring the assigned landing area. Already it was thick with aliens, all of them come up out of the ground and all of them armed. Again she wondered if she had stepped into something nasty.
At last the darkship touched down after she had floated a moment, seeing if the mob would rush her. The aliens surrounded the darkship, but kept their distance and held their weapons casually. She hoped that was a good sign. She touched the bath. Keep your rifles slung. Do not unsettle them. I will guard us through the otherworld. But see you to assembling your own protective ghosts. Bagnel. Be circumspect in your communications. Do not give them something for nothing.
Meth and alien eyed one another till an alien senior stepped forward. Marika was mildly surprised. This one was male. He presented a bare palm as he approached.
Marika replied by raising both paws, then indicated Bagnel. Bagnel put his communicator aside, produced pen and paper.
“How well have you learned their language?” Marika asked. Not well at all, she knew, but she had to say something to vent some of her nervousness.
“Not well. I don’t know if it’s the right one. What I’m hearing spoken here doesn’t sound like what we’ve been hearing aboard the starship.”
Marika fought to keep her ears from twitching, though she was sure the aliens could not read her body language.
The alien senior examined what Bagnel printed out so laboriously, frowned, summoned another alien. They chattered briskly. Then the second alien wrote something upon paper he carried. Bagnel studied it for a long time.
“Problems, Marika.”
“What?”
“I am almost convinced that these creatures do not use this language. Or if they do, I am using it entirely wrong. But if I understand what this note says, then our starship belongs to their enemies.”
“Trouble?”
He shrugged.
“Make it clear that we are enemies of no one. In fact, try to get across the notion that we do not quite understand what an enemy is. Also tell them that we never saw those starship folk alive.”
“That is a lot to get across at a reading-primer level.”
“You’re a genius.”
“I wish I had your faith in me.”
“You can do it.”
“I’ll try. That’s all I can promise.”
“And tell them that all that deadly hardware makes me nervous. Tell them who I am.”
“You expect them to understand or care?”
“No. But if you do it right they might be impressed.”
“You expect too much of me.” He resumed writing in curiously blocklike letters, passing small sheets of paper after each few sentences. “I’m telling them who I am too.”
“Of course.”
It was slow work. The strange-colored sun of that world moved. It, too, was slow, as the world moved more slowly than that which had given Marika birth. Not, she reflected, that she was much familiar with sunrises and sunsets anymore. How many of the homeworld’s sunrises had she seen in the last twenty years?
The bath began to relax. Several stepped down from the darkship and began prowling. Marika reached with the touch. Remain alert. Do not allow any of these creatures to p
Their response did not go unnoticed. Bagnel said, “They’re full of questions about us. Especially about how we can take a ship through the void while exposed to the breath of the All.”
“We have questions about them too,” Marika said. “Evade. Ask them about them. There’s something not right here.”
“I am. I’m not stupid, Marika. But neither are they. I am certain they intend to be evasive too.”
Marika grunted. She was growing more unsettled by the minute. Rest! she sent to the bath. We may need to get out of here at any moment. There was a wrongness here that had little to do with these creatures’ alienness.
She shrugged. Maybe she was imagining it. She climbed aboard the darkship while Bagnel struggled on, rummaged through a locker, and found the photographic equipment he had brought. She loaded a camera and began photographing the alien beings.
They became very agitated.
“Bagnel, what’s the matter with them?” Some had begun shouting and shaking weapons.
“I’m trying to find out. Stop bothering me.” After a minute he said, “They don’t want you taking photographs.”
“Why not? They’ve been photographing us.”
Bagnel exchanged notes rapidly. It did seem to be getting easier for him. “They say this is a secret installation. They want no photographs to leave the system.”
“Oh.” Marika settled on the arm of the darkship and considered the implications for a moment. “Bagnel, what do you think of them?”
“I’m not sure. I have the feeling they’re hiding more than we are. I have a growing feeling that they may be more trouble than they’re worth. I am trying to be neutral but I find myself beginning to dislike them.”
“Yes. There’s something in the air here. An aura that reminds me of those places where rogues hide. Did you ever get down into one of those underground... No. Of course not. We may have made a mistake, coming here without looking at them more closely first. But keep talking. See what comes of it.”
“Stall?”
“Some. But learn whatever you can. I want time to rest the bath.” She touched the silth again, ordered them to rest. They boarded the darkship, stretched out near their stations, performed rituals of relaxation, went to sleep. Marika pushed herself into a half sleep, leaving everything in Bagnel’s paws.
The sun of that world eventually set. The aliens kept the landing site brightly illuminated. Some of the curious drifted away and were replaced by others. Always there were weapons in evidence. Marika went past half sleep into little naps several times. Bagnel continued valiantly, facing the same aliens who had come to the fore at the beginning. The speed of communication continued to improve.
Soon after the morning sun rose Marika asked, “Have we learned anything significant?”
“They’re rogues of a sort. They have tried again and again to explain, but the situation is beyond my comprehension. It’s something like what we would call bloodfeud, only every member of their society is a participant. Without choice. There are cognates with the Serke situation, in that one group is trying to take territory from another, but the motives make no sense.”
“I did not expect to understand them that way. What else?”
“I have established that their society includes nothing like sisterhoods or brethren, or even our bond working castes. Their thinking vaguely resembles that of the brethren who joined the Serke in exile. It may have affected the thinking of those rogues back when they first entered the derelict.”
“We suspected that.”
“They have no consciousness of the All, the touch, nor any silth skills, except as the contrivance of fantasy. Their words. I have betrayed nothing by mentioning such skills because they refuse to believe they can exist. They call such skills superstition and directly accuse me of lying. They believe, and fear, that we are greatly advanced beyond them technically.”
“What is their interest in the ship we found?”
“It belonged to their enemies. They suspect it was searching for their hiding places. They aren’t interested, really. It vanished long ago by their standards. They’re very interested in us, though. They have never met another dark-faring race. I suspect they would like to find a way to manipulate us into helping them in their struggle.”
“No doubt. Just as the Serke would have enlisted them. But I have no interest in that. Especially if they’re rogues. We’re going to leave, Bagnel. I made a mistake. These are not creatures with whom I care to be associated. Our search will have to lead elsewhere. Did they tell you much about their enemies?”
“They’re very reticent on the subject.”
“That is understandable.” She extended her touch, wakening those bath who remained asleep. She sent the strongest to their stations. The senior passed the bowl. Wearily, Bagnel continued his exchange. Marika said, “You will make certain you are soundly strapped down. You are exhausted and I may be forced into violent maneuvering.”
“They want to know what we are doing, Marika.”
“Express our regrets. Tell them we have decided that we made a mistake in pursuing this contact. Tell them we do not wish to become embroiled in the affairs of an embattled race. Tell them we are going home. Then get aboard and strap down.” She passed the bowl to him, let him sip, then consumed what remained and took her station at the tip of the dagger. Strap securely, she sent to the bath.
Bagnel concluded his final note, passed it over, and climbed to his place at the axis. The aliens did not understand until Marika lifted the darkship.
They began shouting and running around and making threatening gestures.
Marika ignored them.
There were a few wild shots from handheld beamer weapons. They came nowhere near.
Marika took the darkship up fast.
She could not climb nearly as swiftly as the alien aircraft. A flight overtook her before she reached fifty thousand feet. She was in no mood to play. She sent ghosts to still their engines. They fell toward the surface. Their pilots eventually left the craft to float toward the ground on parachutes.
Rockets leaped up. Marika was prepared for them. She stopped them long before they neared her. After a dozen tries the aliens stopped sending them.
Above, voidships moved to intercept her. She did not want to make enemies needlessly, but they seemed determined to stop her, and that she would not permit.
She reached out to the fringe of the system and summoned the great black. It came to her struggling, wriggling, protesting, never having encountered silth before. She held it in abeyance, not loosing it till the starships fired upon her.
She silenced three ships in fifteen seconds, then shifted her course. Dimly, she sensed Bagnel laboring over his communicator, sending crude messages, trying to assure the aliens that the meth meant them no harm, that they wanted nothing but to return home and forget the whole thing.
The strike of the great black paralyzed the aliens’ decision makers long enough for Marika to reach orbital altitude and gather ghosts for the Up-and-Over. Bagnel was apologizing for their having defended themselves when she climbed into it.
Chapter Forty-One
I
Trouble did not end with escape from the alien world.
The homeward journey became an epic of endurance and determination, and there were moments when even Marika doubted she would have strength enough to bring the darkship safely to the starship.
She succeeded--only to learn that her absence had been noted and someone had tried to take advantage.
She was barely able to stand when she came through the airlock, to be greeted by Grauel and Barlog, who had remained in a frenzy days after the event. They stumbled over each other explaining. “Someone tried to sneak in on us. We did not know what was happening till the killing started. We fired back, but if we had not gotten help from silth who were here, visiting... We managed to destroy them. Barely. At least fifty died here. We have not accounted for everyon
“You did well,” Marika said, leaning against a passageway wall. “But did you have to keep shooting till there wasn’t a fragment of darkship left with identifiable witch signs?” She had spied the debris during her approach and had wondered about it.
The huntresses were not overcome with remorse. Grauel said, “We know who it was. We saw their witch signs. They were Serke.”
“Serke? You must be mistaken. Or it was someone who had assumed the guise of Serke? There aren’t any Serke... “
“Tell that to the dead brethren, silth, and voctors. They were Serke, Marika.”
“Or masquerading as Serke,” Marika insisted. But who would?
“It is a ruse that might make sense,” Grauel admitted, sounding as if she believed nothing of the sort. “But even pretending to be Serke, what other sisterhood would unleash such indiscriminate slaughter? Any other order would want the starship for what it contained, and that has to include the minds of those who have been unearthing its secrets. Not so?”
“I suppose. I guess I just don’t want that old haunt lifting its head again.”
How many Serke remained unaccounted for? Starstalker and one, possibly two darkships. But it had been years. Even she had forgotten them. They all had to be old, possibly on the edge of becoming harmless. But if the attackers had come from the dozen or so surviving Serke silth, then they must have some contacts inside the meth civilization. Else how had they known she was away?
“I should return to the homeworld,” Marika mused. “What I learned among and about the aliens is important enough to be reported directly. And I really should see what is happening with the rogues. I did not catch Kublin. He must be up to something. But I dare not go, do I? This could happen again.”
Bagnel had been muttering with one of his associates. Scarcely able to contain his grief, he said, “I fear we have flown our last probe among alien stars, Marika. I have lost thirty of my best meth. It might not have happened had I remained here. I will not go out again. Not while meth remain meth and silth remain silth. It is... What do you silth call ritual suicide? Kalerhag? It is an invitation to kalerhag. Exposing your back to the knife. I am too old to run through the snow with the grauken baying at my heels.”