The Bright Black Sea by C. Litka

  Chapter 52 Day 133 The Ghosts of the Drift

  01

  I awoke to find myself in a strange ship. My quarters had grown, extending into shadows and seemed different in ways I couldn't quite pin down. Still groggy from sleep, I searched rather helplessly for something solidly familiar but found everything vague and different. I tried to get out of my hammock, but I couldn't seem to manage it. Were we under power? I didn't hear the engines... Someone or something, moved in the remote shadows of the room. I struggled to get out of the hammock, my heart pounding, which woke me up enough to realize I was dreaming, and with an effort tore myself out of the dream.

  My heart was still pounding when I swung out of my hammock and slipped into my slippers on the deck. The room was dark and quiet, but familiar. I'd apparently not undressed before falling asleep, so I decided to look in on the bridge before cleaning up. I stepped into my office. There was someone at my desk. He swung around as I entered.

  'Ah, Litang. Still captain, but not for long. I meant to give the Lost Star to Seni Shir,' said Hawker Vinden. 'She'd earned it, you know.'

  'Yes,' I had to agree. It was true. 'That's what we all thought. But you died before the Lost Star made it to Calissant, and well, Seni got the Comet King when Jann bought his own ship'

  'So I hear, so I hear. Just as well. You might serve my purposes even better,' he added thoughtfully. 'Yes, Litang, you might...'

  Warning bells were jangling in the back of my mind telling me this wasn't right. It struck me that Vinden wasn't my owner any longer. Hawker Vinden was dead. This had to be a dream. I had to still be dreaming, and with that realization, and an almost physical wrench, and an audible yell, I hauled myself into the waking world once again. I lay in the hammock, heart pounding, breathing hard, a brassy taste in my mouth, and carefully surveyed my familiar surroundings. Nothing seemed out of place, everything seemed solid. Real. Right. I cautiously swung out, slipped on my slippers. I looked into my office. It was empty, and I made my way to the shower to wash the nightmares away and made a mug of cha to wash the brassy taste out of my mouth. It was not a good start to the day.

  The day got somewhat better, but the shadows still moved in the corner of my eyes and I still had that vague feeling that we were no longer alone in space. Everyone was either very quiet or on edge, a sharp response never very far off. Even discounting my feelings, it was clear something was wrong aboard the ship. I could only hope that once we were under power again, it would cure itself...

  Work on the engine is winding down. We're now mostly test running sub-sections of the engine/control/pump system while we waited for the service bot to complete the trimming of nozzle bell. Judging from the progress the bot has made to date, that job should be completed in two days, on day 135, four days beyond our original scheduled deceleration date. After we had stored the severed section in the hold, we'd still several days to slowly work the engine up to full power, to make certain every system was working properly and reliably, which would put us further behind. Still, assuming we found no great problems, we could, with the aggressive use of balancing rockets to augment the main rocket, still make our delivery deadline. But it would be close.

  I was tired by the time the 5th watch was drawing to a close and I was ready to make my final rounds of the ship. Little details and tasks had filled my day, keeping whatever it is that's weighing on me more or less at bay, save for the odd moment or two. I wasn't exactly looking forward to the inspection, but I'd feel a whole lot worse if I gave it a miss. And well, I wasn't so eager for sleep either, so I stepped out of my office and headed down.

  The engineering workshop is the deck below bridge deck and contains the engineers' workshop and parts cage, plus the storage lockers for perishables and other sundry supplies. It also houses Dyn's environmental office and control center, the culture vat and the mechanical section of the moss garden. I looked into the workshop and Dyn's office. Both were dark and quiet as work was winding down on the engine. I checked the locks on the storage lockers and the large service airlock. Everything was in order, save that the shadows seemed darker and more animated, as soon as I turned away. I resisted the urge to look back.

  I was growing rather alarmed, not about the shadows themselves, but about me. My imagination seemed to be running wild. For no reason. I knew there was nothing to my sense of unease, the ship was a sealed world, and so I should be able to easily dismiss it. But. But it wasn't easy, and that seemed inexplicable. I could only hope it'd pass.

  Rafe and Kie were working on the engine room control platform, reinstalling the extended wiring from the moved engine and injector mods. I stopped to talk for a few minutes, but not wanting to delay them, I made my way down into the depths of the engine room. There were shadows aplenty in the depths, and I wasn't about to let myself become afraid of them. Since we were still in free fall, I drifted down and around a complex array of machinery using the spider web of ladders and platforms to pull and push and weave my way deeper, leaving the brightly lit control platform behind.

  I didn't see him at first. Thinking back, I probably smelled him before I saw him. It was the aroma of strong spirits that caught my attention.

  He was lounging in the shadows on one of the ribs between two of the steering rockets, barely visible in the low ambient light from overhead. He wore a jumpsuit, dirty and open to the waist to show an equally dirty shirt. His face was half hidden by a large drooping mustache.

  He grinned and raised a large globe of whiskey and offered this toast, 'To fast orbits,' he toasted, adding with a wink and a leer, 'And fast women.'

  I stared at him, closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them, I'd just see a dark shadow.

  He was grinning at me when I opened them again. 'Not that easy, mate'

  'Who are you? What are you? What are you doing here?' I whispered.

  'Now where are your manners? No how do ye do? No grand to see ya mate?' he chided me. 'But allow me to introduce myself. I'm...'

  'Glen Colin.'

  'Him in person,' he grinned. 'My fame has proceeded me. Why, I'm blushing...' He took a pull from the globe. 'And you be?'

  'I'm dreaming. That's what I am.'

  'Well, lad, one of us may be dream'n, but I don't think it's you...'

  'So this is what it's like down the dark hole,' I said, fighting the swelling tide of panic sweeping up from my guts. 'It's come to this.'

  'Oh, don't be so dramatic. You're in a bit of darkness, I suspect, but not of my doing. So who do I have the pleasure of conversing with?'

  'Wil Litang. Captain Litang...'

  'Cap'n are you? Where's ol'Fen?'

  'Miccall died a year and a half ago now...'

  'Ah...'

  'What did you mean about being in a bit of darkness?'

  He shrugged and grinned. 'Just a guess, lad. But I suspect you'll know soon enough.'

  If I my orbit had lead down the dark hole, I might as well go with it. There seemed no divergent course. Best face it. 'What are you? Why are you here? Or rather why am I seeing you?' I asked.

  'One question at a time. I need to keep my wits about me,' he said and took a sip. 'What am I? Why I'm an ol'spaceer. Nothing more, or at least nothing much more. An ol'spaceer with a talent, perhaps. Sometimes I can visit me old ship now an' again when I get in a state, this way and that. Spent enough time down in this ol'hole, I did. Easy enough to find my way home. Just come to visit, Cap'n. No harm in that...'

  'How?'

  He shrugged. 'Mystery to me. As far as I know, you're in my dream.'

  'Then where are you?'

  'Don't rightly know,' he said with a puzzled shake of his head. And taking another pull on his globe, added, 'You're making my head hurt with all your questions. I'm here now, aren't I and talk'n to you? Let's keep it that simple.'

  'Alright. So why are you here?'

  'Old time's sake, I suppose. As I said, I spent many a voyage as nursemaid to these old engines, which, by and by, brings me around to the poi
nt that's been puzzling me. You've got a mighty curious rig, Cap'n,' he said, using his globe to point to the main engine looming behind me, visible through the catwalks and platforms. 'That's a new one for the old Lark.'

  'A fracture in the nozzle bell about three meters in. We decided to trim it off and get by without it,' I replied to my delusion.

  'Ah, the ol'drifteer game, eh? A rather bold measure for a ship this size, I must say. Short of credits, are we? Though I never knew Vinden to be short of credits, except when it came time for pay'n wages.'

  'Vinden is dead too. His niece, Tallith Min is our owner now. And I don't know her credit balance....'

  'The Hawk dead? Oh my, life does go on, doesn't it?' he said and took a long, thoughtful draw on the drinking tube. 'Did they catch up to them?'

  It occurred to me that Glen Colin – whatever he was – might know some things I might like to know as well, so I replied, 'Not that we can tell. Heart failure and a needle rocket explosion. But the Mins were killed in a space boat crash with a dead man at the helm...

  'Purser and Pilot dead as well... Well, take it from ol'Glen Colin, Cap'n, the only sure way of escaping your enemies is by outliving them... But you're too young to have enemies. So now you've a new owner and are having to raze an engine to get by.'

  'I wouldn't say that. We're bound for Zilantre with a scheduled delivery to keep and big penalties if we don't. The liner fractured while we were shaping our course after Anjur so it was either a long burn with only our balancing engines which would give us no chance of making the delivery on schedule, or this. Our engineers said this would not only work well enough to get us to Zilantre on schedule, but could be a semi-permanent solution until we could afford to get the bell relined.'

  'Ah, back to running the drifts, are we. That makes a difference...' he muttered, and studied the engine with another long draw on his globe. 'Still, it's a bold move. Never heard of it being done on a ship this size. I've only seen it done on small ships with engines smaller than those balancing ones of yours. And they only run slow.'

  'Still, it should work in principle. Shouldn't it?'

  He grinned, 'You took your chance and you're going to find out.'

  'Aye, though to be perfectly honest, it was the owner who made the call. I'd have gone with using the balancing engines alone,' I admitted, adding, since I might as well get everyone's opinion, even a ghost's, 'Think we're fool to try it?'

  He considered that question for quite a while, pondering the engine and taking several pulls on his globe. Finally, he said, 'Well, Cap'n, I guess I don't see why it shouldn't, but I'd not push her very hard. No, not very hard at all. At least not the way she's set up now.'

  'Why?'

  'Well, I'm a bit leery of that saddle extension. It seems a bit frail to me.'

  'We ran sims and it's built to take the load,' I said glancing up at it. As I may have mentioned, the top of the engine ends in a nest of beams under the control platform called the saddle, which carries the thrust of the engine up through the structure of the ship. Moving the engine down meant that we had to construct an extension to the saddle, basically a series of beams that spanned the space between the real saddle and the part of the engine that would have been flush against it.

  'Oh, I'm sure the sim and your engineers have it right, according to spec. But well, I've run some razed engines in my day, and I have to say, they take some handling. Even the little ones. You wouldn't think taking a little slice of the exhaust nozzle off would make much of a difference, but I have to tell you, it does. You get vortexes and flow issues that'll rattle the engine this way to Sirius. And when you consider that you've got less bolts holding the engine in place, I'm certain you can imagine that there'll be stress points in the system as the engine bucks with an uneven thrust. Bust a few bolts, get the head of the engine a little off center, and if your saddle extension has a bit of flex and give to it.... well, things could get a bit wild in short order. You could find yourself on the bridge sitting on the engine head and it could get pretty drafty down here in the engine room, if you get my thrust... Of course, with enough Dew of Dunagan,' he lifted his globe, 'you can do most anything. But I'm thinking you'll need a lot to get you through a razed engine and a long burn without having to worry about finding the bloody engine in your lap.'

  'I know there was some discussion about making it more substantial, but there was a question of time and materials...'

  'If I was you, Cap'n I'd find the material and the time to build a more substantial extension of the saddle down to the engine. I'd make it three times spec just to be on the safe side. And even then, I'd be pretty reluctant to use that old jet at full power, least ways until you know how it bucks. But as I said, you can rely on the Dew here to see you through. Enough of the Dew and you've not a worry in the Neb.'

  I stared up at the towering engine housing, half hidden beyond the catwalks and platforms.

  'If I see that it is strengthened, will it get us to Zilantre?'

  'How many hours of burn are you looking at?'

  'Something over 500 hours. We'll be using the balancing rockets hard as well.'

  He shook his head. 'I'm rather fond of this ship, Cap'n. You see that it's strengthened, and lean on the balancing rocket hard. And I'd still advise you to take a dollop or two of Dunagan's as well.'

  I nodded. 'Right.' At least my illusion wasn't talking nonsense. 'Of course over ruling my engineers in their engine room and getting my engineers to make the changes might be a problem...'

  'You're the cap'n, aren't you?'

  'Aye, and you're an engineer. So what do you think?'

  He grinned. 'Oh, we follow orders, Cap'n. We must, you know. Guild rules. We just don't have to like'em. And don't have to keep our traps closed about not liking 'em either.'

  'Right,' I said, grimly. 'And they don't.'

  'Aye. You can tell'em Glen Colin advised it.'

  'You think that'll do it, do you?'

  He grinned. 'Oh, they'll think you're mad. But trust me, they'll not be able to come up with a reason not to do it. Tell them little engines in little ships buck. I don't see why a big engine won't buck as well. And buck hard. Allow the engine to get even a wee bit off kilter, and you're in big trouble.

  'I've got a lot of years of my life invested in this old girl of yours. Don't want to lose her. And even with the saddle extension strengthened, you'll have to handle her with a light touch. Hope you've got competent pilots, because you'll be finding that not only will the engines be finicky but the ship will feel different as well on account of the engine being moved aft. All the computer programs are going to be off because of the change of balance and that'll mean making all sorts of manual adjustments. The little old ships the drifteers do this to, are usually run pretty much manually anyway...'

  'Seems you know a lot about all this...'

  'Oh, I've been around. I've managed drifteer ships with all sorts of crazy hacks. And I kept this old girl running between the planets for more than a century. Off and on, mind you so there ain't much I don't know about this ship, or rockets in general. Trust me...'

  'Trust you? What are you, a ghost, a delusion, a hallucination? '

  'Oh, make it a ghost if ya like. It ain't exactly accurate, but it'll do well enough.' and raising his globe, 'To your health and mine,' he took another long draw, smacked his lips and added, 'Ah. I doubt Dew of Dunagan is available to the real dead. But hope never dies... Fair orbits Cap'n!'

  'Wait, I've got more questions...'

  He just grinned and faded to deep shadow. Only the aroma of the Dew of Dunagan remained behind.

  I should've hurried to the medic bay, gotten some sort of anti-hallucinatory treatment and retired to my hammock. But instead, after staring at the shadows for a few moments deep in thought, I slowly made my way up through the engine room, absently continued my inspection of the two crew decks and wandered into the bistro to make myself a mug of cha with the intention of getting my chaotic thoughts in some sort
of order.

  02

  To my surprise, I'd found a creeping sense of an unwarranted relief in the whole episode, which made me both wary, and comfortable at the same time. whatever Glen Colin was – the phenomena seemed part of the shifting shadows and that sense of something being aboard that had been haunting me these last several days. Clinging to a ghost is not within a light year of being a rational explanation, but old Glen Colin was a character out of the Four Shipmate's yarns. I'd always believed those yarns were complete fiction, but I now... Well, if the Shipmates themselves saw Glen Colin, going so far as to claim he'd stand a watch in the engine room on occasion, that would make what I just experienced not that much out of the ordinary – for the Lost Star. Something to cling to.

  Min was brewing a mug of cha in the bistro when I entered. She looked up, 'Captain,' she greeted me with a nod. (Using my title kept a certain formal distance that she seemed to think necessary.)

  'Tallith,' I replied absently.

  'Is everything all right? You look like you've seen a ghost,' she asked, watching me closely, as she had since our conversation last evening in no. 4 hold.

  'I have, in fact. I just ran into Glen Colin in the engine room, complete with his globe of Dew of Dunagan and whiskey aroma. Draw your own conclusions as to my sanity, because I can't.'

  'You just saw Glen Colin, the ghost...' she asked, now watching me with growing alarm.

  'Had a conversation with him, actually. He's rather leery of our saddle extension. He says that our cut down engine will run a lot rougher, something about eddies and vortexes in the flow causing unbalances in the output which will put additional strain on the securing bolts, of which there are now less off since we moved it down. He thinks any flex or give in the saddle extension could cascade into something dangerous,' I replied, calmly filling my mug with a spoonful of leaves. 'I know getting advice from a ghost sounds completely insane, and perhaps I am, but well, the Four Shipmates claimed to have dealings with Glen Colin as well, so I may be no more insane than they were. I guess it's your call...'

  'Are you feeling quite right, Wil?'

  'You know how I'm feeling. I'm feeling something's wrong, but I can't say for certain if it's me or something outside of me... I believe I'm still in control, but well...' I trailed off with a shrug, and filled my mug with boiling water. 'But Glen Colin was real enough in his own way, and he talked sense, so I'm actually feeling saner than I have for a while. What the engineers think of me when I mention the saddle extension issue is another story.'

  'Excuse me, I didn't mean to listen in, but...'

  Min and I turned to find Lilm standing just outside the bistro bay.

  'But I think I can offer an explanation for what I think you're experiencing.'

  'I'd certainly welcome one, Lilm. Though I can't imagine what it could be.'

  'What you're experiencing is a known phenomenon, common in the Canjar drifts. I recognized its touch four or five days ago, but I didn't dare to say anything until I knew the worst could not be avoided – didn't want to come off as a hysterical old lady. But now that I know it isn't just me, I guess I'm going to need to act. I suspect others are dealing with similar issues.'

  'Like what?' asked Min. 'I'm not seeing ghosts.'

  'Neither is Riv,' she replied. 'It affects some people more than others. Don't know why. It's been many years since I felt the touch of wyrm weather. I know I'm pretty sensitive to it, so I wasn't sure anyone else was feeling it.'

  'Wyrm weather?'

  'Have you ever heard of dream dragons or dreaming dragons?'

  'They're one of the legion of mythical dragons in spaceer yarns. Like the one with the silver asteroid sized egg that Uncle Hawk claimed put that long dent in the hull.'

  'Well, there are those dragons, and there are the real ones. The real ones are likely just natural phenomena personified. I prefer the term wyrm weather rather than dream dragon. The scientist who studied the phenomena called it a singularity. But perhaps I'd best start at the beginning...

  'Please,' I said. 'I haven't heard of dream dragons, but I've heard a lot of stories about drift dragons. I've always taken them as old spaceer yarns. Something out of the unbelievable file of Four Shipmate tales.'

  'As you know, I'm drift born, and went to space in the drifts, the Canjar Drifts, to be precise. There's a lot of weirdness in the Canjar. Seems to be a cosmic stress point of some sort. Anyway, this type of singularity is quite common in the Canjar and nearly impossible to avoid. We referred to it as wyrm weather when we sailed through it. I assure you it does exist, and was real enough for the Unity to have spent several thousand years investigating the phenomena, only to decide thirty thousand years ago, it might be better if it didn't exist, after all. They marked the known singularities as uncharted, dangerous on the charts and simply rerouted the space lanes around these singularities. But even outside the deep drifts, the old stories lived on as a fantastic feature of spaceer yarns. And yes, they can be dismissed as spinning a little dark drift space sickness into a supernatural tale, but, as I'm sure you realize, Captain, it's not quite the same.'

  'Well, I'm not sure just what I realize. That's part of my problem... What exactly are we facing? What can we expect. And what can we do about it?'

  'If you look up wyrm weather or dream dragons in the oldest versions of Vinsong's Practical Guide to Ship Management, or Pengrove's The Ship Master's Guide, you'll find they treat the subject as undocumented phenomena, semi-myths, but nevertheless offer concrete advice on how to deal with it. I'll get to what they say, and how we dealt with it in the Canjar in a minute. But first, let me tell you what I know about wyrm weather.

  'The experience made me curious enough to search all the accounts of the phenomena I could find right back to the original Unity surveys. They're still available, you just have to dig very deep into the Unity archives to find them. You know the Unity. Certainty is the Unity's ideal. Anything or anyone, that is unpredictable or unknown is pushed to the moons and drifts, or in this case, deeply buried in scientific reports with obscure titles.

  'Anyway, the Unity sent scientific expeditions out to investigate the phenomena throughout the first ten thousand years of its existence. They came up with various theories about what they called a singularity. One was that it was a result of a corruption of the cosmic code that allowed things to happen which couldn't have happened with uncorrupted code. The fractal universe school of thought explained the singularities as sections of the fractal universe that've been either damaged or mutated into strange configurations that allows unconscious ideas to take semi-forms. Multi-universe scientists suggested that the singularities are spots where our universe touches another one and the interface of these two universes allows limited interaction between the two.

  'Oh, they had theories enough, but they could never prove any of them, and so, after thousands of years of fruitless scientific investigations, the Unity officials decided just to turn a blind eye to the phenomena. All the research was filed deep in the archives and officially forgotten and as I said, all the known singularities in Unity space were marked uncharted and dangerous on the charts and the space lanes bent to avoid them. However, the deep drifts – beyond Unity surveys, these singularities remained on our routes and charts, and in the Canjar, at least, nearly impossible to avoid, though we stick to the fringes whenever possible. Most deep drifteers, especially if they ply the Canjar, have experienced wyrm weather, whose yarns based on their experiences have been woven into the mythology of the drifts, sometimes taking the form of one of the various mysterious dragons that are said to live in and on the nebula. In this case, dream dragons. The story is in most of those tall tales that when you get too close to a dream dragon, you're either drawn into their dreams, or they wake up and enter your mind.'

  'But you don't believe it's really a creature, do you?' asked Min.

  'No. But then, nobody knows just what it is. But whatever it is, the effects are real. It affects some people, like Wi
l here, or myself, more than others. We can experience strong waking dreams or hallucinations. Most people just get an uncomfortable sense of an unseen presence, the feeling of things moving just beneath the surface of their awareness.'

  'That's it. Is it dangerous? Can it take control of a person?'

  'We considered it mostly harmless – of course we knew what it was when we felt it. In mild cases the symptoms can be easily treated. In the more sensitive people, dreams take on a semblance of reality. You can see and hear them, perhaps even feel them. They may not seem to be your dreams at all – they can sometimes be the memories or dreams of your shipmates as well, which makes them seem so strange since you don't know their source. Some are very different, some are familiar. We dealt with this on a regular basis sailing the Canjar and when you experience it often enough, it becomes familiar enough not to matter much. On the ships I served on, we often had regular phantom visitors every time we crossed certain wyrm weather sectors. And we did try to keep to the fringes of them.'

  'Like Glen Colin.'

  'Aye, and sometimes the visitors could be seen by more than just one person.'

  'Still, I'm not sure wyrm weather is any more explainable than a ghost,' I muttered. 'They're almost the same thing...'

  'It's still a known effect. Some of the finest minds of the Unity found it real enough to study it for a thousand years. And at least everyone knows what it is we're dealing with, and that it is mostly unpleasant, but harmless...'

  'So why isn't this wyrm weather singularity on the charts marked uncharted and dangerous?' asked Min. 'We're in Unity space, and far from the first ship to sail from Azminn to Zilantre.'

  'I suspect that we're well off the optimal track because of our main engine shutdown and likely in uncharted space. Earlier ships may've either missed it or just briefly skirted an edge of it. And the main space lane to Zilantre comes from the Aticor system, so we're in uncharted space. We're likely the first to ever sail through this particular stretch of the Nebula, and so likely the first to sail through the full effects of this singularity.'

  I nodded. It made sense. 'From your experience, what can we expect going forward?'

  'I can't say for certain. At our speed this must be a massive singularity for its effects to have been felt for five days. I think, however, it may be peaking. Seeing Glen Colin as vividly as you did suggests we're near the center. Still it'll likely be four or five more days before we're clear.'

  'If I'm seeing Glen Colin, what might others be experiencing? And could I or anyone else be a danger to the ship?'

  'Oh, the visions are usually harmless if you know what it is that's causing it. Because I'm both very sensitive and have had a great deal of experience dealing with the effects, it's hard for me to judge how intensely others, especially others who've never experienced it, are dealing with it. I've never known a wyrm dream to actually take control of a spaceer. And once you know what you're dealing with, you can usually discount its effects, taking your Glen Colins with a grain of salt. Still, I know of some spaceers who get so entangled in them that they prefer to sleep in a sleeper-pod until the ship is out of the weather while others, like Riv, and, I gather, Talley here, don't feel anything at all. I suppose it's possible that someone might do something under the influence of the wyrm weather to endanger the ship. You hear third hand yarns of that, though I've never known it to happen. Still, ships do disappear in space and drift dragons are often blamed. If a ship's lost with all hands, there's no one to say how it happened. The best way to deal with it, if I might be so bold, is to first make certain everyone aboard knows what's going on and if necessary, sent to the med-bay for treatments to dull the effects of the visions. The ship should be secure enough to counter any sort of unusual action on the part of a crew member, but I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be extra vigilant.'

  'Will they believe me?'

  She shrugged. 'If they're experiencing the phenomena, I think they'll welcome an explanation. I'll provide you with the Unity studies of the phenomena that you can make available to everyone. You can send all the data out as a memo for all to read. Those affected should find the explanation reassuring. The rest don't need to believe.'

  'I suppose, though I'm not looking forward to the skeptics...'

  'I suspect that most everyone is feeling its effects to one degree or another. Trust me, your explanation will be welcomed.'

  'And what can be done to mitigate the effects?'

  'Spending the duration in a sleeper-pod works for some people, but others have such vivid dreams that cure may be worse than the disease. The med-bay can provide some anti-anxiety meds if necessary. Mostly just knowing what's going on is enough. Think of the yarns they'll be able to spin...'

  'Aye, there's that... Forward me the files you have and I'll send out a memo right away,' I said, adding with a nod to Min, 'With your permission, of course.'

  'By all means, Captain. Thank you Lilm, I can see it's already put Wil here more at ease.'

  03

  I lingered over my cha, reviewing my encounter with Glen Colin, and the days leading up to it. Putting a name and assigning a reason for my feelings had, indeed, made me feel much better about things. I did, however, have one decision to make – what to do about the engine saddle extension. Do I take the advice of a wyrm weather hallucination and order it strengthened, or just forget about it? I'm not more superstitious than the next spaceer, but I'd a strong feeling that I shouldn't ignore a ghost's warning. But I could sleep on it.

  It was into the sixth watch by the time I'd composed and sent out the memo, so I debated giving no. 4 hold a miss this time. But I felt a certain loyalty to my new feline friends – and a superstitious need to complete the ritual – so I decided to go back up and finish my rounds.

  I found that knowing what was causing my unease only went so far to ease it. By the time I swung out into the dim short passageway between the two strong rooms, I needed to take a deep breath and remind myself that those dark currents were a known phenomenon. Everything was so quiet, but I could almost my heart beating. I assured myself it was effects of the singularity, but still... I'd just glance in and retreat to my quarters.

  I hadn't taken more than a few steps into the companionway between the two strong rooms when was a subtle rustling of cats scampering along the deck and bulkheads to greet me. It seemed like dozens of them, though I counted only seven swirling around my feet meowing their greeting when the rush had subsided. Still you know how quantum our cats are. And yes, in the dimness, they were all grey.

  I crouched down and greeted them. They climbed aboard and pressed close. I assured them it was just wyrm weather and that it'd pass... (probably along with their friendship). It was nothing to worry about. After a minute or two, I disengaged from the gaggle of cats and rose to make a quick inspection of the hold despite the protests of my new feline friends. I stepped into the large dim space and turning to my left, noted a thin shaft of light on the deck. I stepped further into the hold and turning, saw that the sliver of light was shooting from a thin crack in the strong room doorway. The door should have been locked. Only Min, Illy and I had the master key that opened it. Mine was in my pocket.

  My first, and indeed, only thought was that Min had decided not to retire, but to do some more research into her inheritance. I stepped quietly over to it, cats about my feet, and slowly pulled the heavy door open and stepped in.

  The strong room is a long, narrow space lined with strong boxes set in the bulkhead with a large safe at the far end. The bulk of the open space is piled to the ceiling with crates and boxes secured tightly with cargo nets to keep them from shifting about during maneuvers and free fall. In them, as far as I know, are the abandoned possessions of former crew members. There's a narrow twisting path between these moldering piles to reach the big safe at the far end. The source of the light lay further in, beyond the first turn in the piles.

  I was about to call out, but paused and decided, perhaps not, and even briefly debate
d whether I should look in at all. But in the end, I very carefully and quietly, pushed ahead, careful not to step on the cats who insisted on accompanying me. I was surprised to find Dyn sitting on a low pile dimly lit by a small lantern near the big safe at the far end. He looked up as I stepped out of the shadowed passage.

  'Wil.' he said quietly, 'I was waiting for you. I was almost ready to signal you.'

  'Evening Dyn,' I said carefully, adding 'Why are you waiting for me here?' Never mind how you got in...

  I was, however, greatly relieved when my feline escorts leaped to surround and greet Dyn. I trusted them to know what was right and what was wrong and what was a wyrm weather phenomena and what was not.

  'Oh, I know you make your nightly rounds, and well, what I needed and what I need to do is best done here, and now.'

  He seemed just as quiet and sane as ever, but there was wyrm weather to consider.

  'How'd you get in. I though only Min, Illy and I had the key?'

  He smiled faintly and shook his head a little. 'I know this ship very well, no one knows it better. And Fen, of course, trusted me.'

  I nodded. Of course.

  'Why are you here? And why are you waiting for me?' I asked carefully, looking at him and the cats that were now swirling around both of us, unconcerned.

  'It's time for me to go, Wil. There's no longer anything aboard this ship for me, and it has been that way for some time now. I really need to get away and I intend to go tonight, as strange as that may seem to you.'

  'Go away? You don't mean die?' I asked quietly, with growing alarm. 'I'm sure we can help, all of us...It's the wyrm weather...'

  'No, I don't mean going away like that. Indeed, I intend to live a whole life, to take full breaths again. Something I can't do here, aboard ship, anymore.'

  'I don't understand, Dyn. There is no other place for you to go. At least until we reach Zilantre. But why leave? You're amongst friends and shipmates of decades. I know we can't replace Captain Miccall, but we're still family. Your family. If there is anything you need, you need only ask.'

  'Thank you, Wil, but I simply can't stay aboard any longer. It's torture. This singularity is my only opportunity to escape and I intend to take it.'

  'Ah, you know about the singularity, the wyrm weather. I've just found out about it. How did you know, and what does it have to do with escaping? I'm not tracking you.'

  He lifted up a small thick rectangle covered in what appeared to be worn and stained red leather. 'Do you know what book this is?'

  'I haven't a clue,' I said, not even knowing it was a book.

  'It's Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen.'

  I stared hard at what he held up for me to see. 'It actually exists?' I whispered. And then, why not? Anything seems to go these days.

  'Yes, and like vey'Cline, I'm going to use it to travel to Faylyen. We, Fen and I, always knew about it, but it never worked, not for travel anyway. So we put it away and all but forgot about it. But when I began to feel the first touch of the wyrm weather, it occurred to me that perhaps there was an aspect of the original story that has been lost in the telling of the yarn over the years. Knowing well how things become insubstantial in wyrm weather – in all our travels, Fen and I and the Shipmates, occasionally encountered wyrm weather so I knew what was happening – I got to wondering if vey'Cline had disappeared in wyrm weather and that aspect of the story was lost in the retelling. We never had time to think about it in the old days – we'd more pressing concerns than the Travel Book of Faylyen.

  'It's different now. I've had too much time to think. So when I felt the touch of the wyrm several days ago it struck me that the travel which the Travel Book of Faylyen seemed to promise might be fully realized when wyrm weather had lowered the barriers to the impossible. Perhaps, wyrm weather would make more than just a dream-like visit possible, it might make actual travel possible. And if so, it offered a promise of escape, so I brought it out and began to explore it...' he paused to stare off into space.

  I was frightened. Dyn may have been a rather strange recluse, but he was always grounded in reality. He was always sane. I didn't know if I wanted him to be sane now or not...

  'Wil, from the pages of this book I've visited the most beautiful, the most wonderful world. Cities too beautiful to be in the Nine Star Nebula. There are millions of stars in Faylyen's sky. The deeper we've sailed into the wyrm weather, the more intense I've been able to experience them. I've felt the gentle sea breeze on my face looking out over the harbor of Tsillot, I've felt the warmth of the sun walking along the broad strand of Jaltortha Street while surrounded by the most beautiful people... And I know I can reach them – now – while we're in the singularity. And so, I'm going to Faylyen. I want warmth, I want beauty, I want stars in the sky. I need to go away. I've seen my ability to reach Faylyen grow as we approach the heart of the wyrm and I know now all I have to do is to let go of here and now, and I'll travel to Faylyen the way vey'Cline did and I'll be able to stay there as well. We've reached the heart of the wyrm and now's the time to take my leave of the Lost Star and the Nine Star Nebula.'

  I watched him carefully. His grief was too powerful, his personality too closed to find easy relief within our little society. And yet, he never left the ship if he could help it. We were all he had. The book couldn't take him away... 'You don't like planets, Dyn,' I said with a faint smile to hide my alarm. 'I know it's hard for you aboard, with all your memories. But all your friends and everything you know is here. I'm sure you'll find release from your grief in time. But it takes time – don't get discouraged.'

  He shook his head slowly. 'Thank you, but no. I can't stay. I've found a way out. I'm bound for Faylyen. In a few minutes I'll be gone, but I have a few things to take care of before I go. That's why I was waiting for you to come around.'

  I drew a careful breath, thinking. Fruitlessly thinking.

  'First Wil, when I'm gone, please replace the book in the number 33 safe here for safe keeping. Here is the key to the safe,' he said bringing out a gold ring.

  I hesitated, but stepped forward, extending my hand. He placed the heavy ring in my palm.

  'Why this is Captain Miccall's ring!' I exclaimed, recognizing the heavy gold band with a dull black jewel set deeply into it. 'Surely you can't give me this?'

  He shook his head. 'I'm leaving all behind. It is now yours, Wil. Only this ring will open the safe. But it's more. It's the key to the Lost Star as well. It will keep the ship safe from some of the dangers of the human worlds. Turn it over... You see the little opening inside the ring under the jewel? Look at the jewel from the inside of the ring.'

  I held up the ring and looked closely at the small opening in the gold band under the jewel. Holding it up to my eye, I gasped... It was almost like I was physically drawn into the deepest, clearest well of dark light, intricate arrays of colors against a black background too rich, too intense, to be real, and yet not glaring. Felt more than seen. I tore my gaze from its depths.

  'What in the Neb is it, Dyn?'

  'A darq gem.'

  'A darq gem? Darq gems really exist?' I gasped. I'd always thought that they were just another myth of the Nebula. An object so rare that only the richest First Worlder could afford one. Why if this is a real darq gem it could buy the Lost Star a ten times over. Is this really? How? Why? I glanced again at the little opening in the ring's inner surface and fell into its depths again. So I ripped my gaze from it again. 'What is going on, Dyn? This must be a trick of the singularity.'

  He shook his head. 'It's no illusion. It's a darq gem. They do exist, though how Fen came to have one is a secret I can't share. The outer jewel is just a crystal carbon case to hide the gem's true identity. It's not a big gem, but it's a true darq gem and it's now yours. It was Fen's, mine and now it's yours. I believe I know you well enough to be comfortable turning it over to you. Fen always said that he kept it to protect the ship. It was always Fen's star in his hand should he or his ship strike a reef and credits
could save it.'

  'But it's yours now... I can't take this.'

  'It's the Lost Star's really. I won't need it where I'm going. I'm putting this life behind me. I hope you never need to use it, but it will always on hand ready to save the ship and your shipmates if things ever drifted too deep for any other measure. You're captain now, so that's your job, Wil. So it's yours, no strings attached. My advice is keep it very secret, secret the way Fen and the Shipmates did, by telling no one at all. Should it become known, your life may not be worth the gold in the ring. But, don't let its credit value be a burden. It's nothing more than a stone. Really, it won't solve most problems. It just gave Fen peace of mind. If you find yourself worrying about it, toss it out the lock. Sometimes things like that attract the worst in the Nebula. Don't risk that. But I think if you just put it away, like the Travel Book, it will not be a burden.'

  'But I shouldn't have it. Min should. The ship is hers after all,' I protested, frightened despite his assurances.

  He shook his head sadly. 'She has different priorities, Wil. Someday, when the time is right, you can turn it over to her. But for now, it's yours. Keep the ring and the ship.'

  'I've made other arrangements as well,' he continued. 'I've made a vid describing what I'm about to do, and I've given Tallith and my shipmates access to my credit accounts. However, they're in the Calissant credit bank, so it may take some time before they can be accessed.

  'I hate to leave you now, Wil. If there was any other way, I'd stay and see things through to Zilantre. But I must go now in the wyrm's heart. Within minutes, really. I'm certain you'll find a way to survive our current problem without recourse to using the ring. It should not be beyond yours and Talley's talents if you work together.'

  'I'm sure we will. But really, Dyn...'

  'Right,' he said, breaking in. 'I've almost said everything I needed to say and I'm not changing my mind. I've divided my few personal possessions and placed the packages in my cabin. And as I said, I've also prepared a short vid goodbye and explanation of what I'm about to do,' he paused and added with a faint shrug and a smile, 'Otherwise it might have been awkward if it ever come to be known you have Fen's ring without some sort of explanation of how it may have come to you and what became of me. It should eliminate any hint of suspicion, and you'll never need to mention this meeting.'

  It took a moment. 'I'd hardly think...' But if Dyn did, somehow, disappear without a trace and I ended up with a ring he was known to have and cherish, it might indeed raise questions in my shipmates’ minds.

  He nodded. 'Just so. I'd best be going. Fair orbits, Wil. Fair orbits to my shipmates. Replace the book. Perhaps it will be useful to someone else some day...' and with that, he opened the small battered book. The two pages glowed to life.

  He gave me a fleeting smile, looked down for a moment, smiled, and the book was just floating above the bare packing case he'd been sitting on, twisting a little rush of air that replaced Dyn. Or the image of Dyn. Or something.

  'The bloody Black Neb,' I exclaimed softly, frozen in place. I'd never expected this. Dyn had to be somehow sanely mad, or I was... But he was gone.

  The cats just stared at the empty space and up to me with wide bright eyes and meowed.

  I could only stare with them and try to capture my racing thoughts. Wyrm weather, I told myself, but somehow this felt too real. The shadows of the cats moved across the stacks and piles, spooking me. I just wanted to get out away.

  I stepped closer and reached for Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen. Somehow, it seemed very ancient. It opened to just two glowing pages, one with some sort of unfamiliar text one side and on the other, a softly colored, almost painting-like picture of a sunny place and a blue sea that I could taste just looking at the image. I glanced away, frightened. I touched the edges and the pages changed, new scenes, maps and a strange text that I found I could somehow read... I closed the book with a snap. It has been said that any sufficiently advanced technology appears to be magic to the less advanced. This was magic. If it was a technology, it was more advanced that what I could imagine. It made the machine's ChequeTokens seem like toys.

  There was a latch on the worn leather cover and I carefully latched it and twisting about and around the pile of crates Dyn had moved to reach no. 33 box, I slipped the book back into the half open drawer of the safe which was otherwise empty. I slid the drawer closed and touched the key jewel to the lock interface. I tried the drawer. It was locked. I looked at the worn gold ring in my hand, and slipped it into my pocket. I couldn't imagine ever wearing it. I braced myself against the pile opposite and slid the whole pile back against the wall of safes and tightened the lashings that Dyn had loosened to get at the safe. My heart was racing, my head swirling, so I sat down and tried to comfort the confused cats that were mewling about me. After a while, I picked up the lantern and turned to go.

  Min was standing in the shadows watching me.

  04

  I started. 'Min! You startled me. How long have you been there?'

  She ignored my question, asking one of her own, 'What are you and the cats up to in here Captain?'

  'I was finishing my nightly rounds and I found the strong room door ajar. It shouldn't have been open, of course. I thought maybe you were communing with your inheritance again. The cats and I investigated. We found Dyn instead.'

  'I don't see him.'

  That told me something. 'He was, or at least I believe he was. Hard to tell.'

  'Really? Hard to tell?'

  'What with the singularity it's hard for me to tell illusion and the real. But I'm fairly certain it was him. He's left us.'

  'If you say so,' She remarked, watching me closely. 'Care to expand on that?'

  'We, that is to say, the cats and I found him waiting in here for me, knowing I make my round of the ship before retiring. He had the book, Captain vey'Cline's Travel Book of Faylyen and he told me he intended to use it to go to Faylyen. He said he realized that there is a connection between being able to use the book to travel and the singularity – it lowers the barriers to travel. He said that connection was never made or was lost in the retelling of the tale.'

  She gave me a skeptical look, but I carried on. 'I believe he was never able to find his way out of his grief and decided to take the opportunity to go away. He found Faylyen quite enchanting – the book almost takes you there just by looking at the pictures. Anyway, he's decided to start a new life... So he went, leaving us. He said he's arranged to give his shipmates credits, but that will take some time... Anyway, he's gone for good.'

  'To Faylyen.'

  'He was here one moment and gone the next. Just vanished. I never thought I'd ever say anything like that, but it's the truth, or what passes for the truth in wyrm weather,' I replied. The still rather formal barrier between us prevented me from volunteering any more information about the book, where it is and how to get it. I felt bad about that, but it felt right too.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. 'Things are a little strange, I'll grant you that, Captain, but I think it's best if you, and your friends, get some rest now.'

  This was not right. Something had to be done before it got worse.

  'Tallith, let's not go on like this.'

  'Like what, Captain?'

  'Like that, Tallith. I thought we'd settled things, but they're still not quite right between us. You don't have to be so guarded around me all the time.'

  'I'm not.'

  'Oh, we get along well enough. I'll not complain. It's just that I know that we could be closer. We were, for a while down on the Yacht Club grounds. And it would be nice to be like that again. I'm not asking for anything from you besides, well, your trust, and friendship.'

  'Friendship? Trust? I think you have both.'

  'Neither in full measure.'

  'You have all that I can give.'

  'Then you're a coward, Tallith Min. You know we share more than this. You know how I feel about you. Probably even clearer than I, for I tr
y not to look at it too closely, if only to give you the space you seem to want. I know you far better than you'd like, but you must be able to see that I care for you far more than you'd like to admit. I've seen that too, once or twice. But I've seen it. Can we be honest with each other and ourselves, about our feelings?'

  'A coward?' she smiled. 'That's a meteor calling an asteroid a rock. You've just admitted that you're not even honest with yourself, much less me. But if it's honesty you want, let's be honest. I'll even start...

  'So yes, I do care for you, Wil. More than I'm comfortable feeling. Not because of you, but because of what I must do. Oh, you are trustworthy – sometimes. You're brave, good, and kind, but you are not right for me. You know that. And you know what I must do or die trying. You're wise enough to fear it's hopeless, but too enamored to steer clear and save yourself.'

  'Can I at least make that decision for myself?'

  She shook her head no. 'Even if I didn't care for you, I wouldn't let you follow me. It wouldn't be right. But I do care. But that doesn't blind me to the fact that you're not cut out for what the dangers that I believe lay ahead for me.'

  'What do you mean? Did I not stand beside you at the Yacht Club? Did I not...' but I'd not bring in the duel. It was a matter of pride now. So I finished, 'Have I not face the continued threat of assassination?'

  'Oh, you're no coward, but you're too, well, softhearted. You're too kind, too Unity Standard to fit into what I suspect lies ahead. You see, I've gone over the stories of the Four Shipmates and stripped out all the romance, the humor, and the fantastic elements that they wove into those stories. What remains is a ruthless, deadly struggle. No quarter give or asked. It's straight out of the deep drifts and you're not equipped to deal with something so heartless, so uncivilized. You'd try, I know, but at some point, you'd hesitate and shy away from doing something hard, dark and necessary, and our quest would be over. I can't risk that. I've hardened my heart to face those cold, cruel facts, but I don't think you're capable of that, and that makes you a weak link, a liability rather than an asset. So you see, Wil, the very qualities that attract me to you, doom a personal relationship...

  'You are, however, a good ship's captain. I want you to look after my ship and my shipmates. If you truly care for me, that's what you will do. It is, after all, simply a matter of using the right person in the right job. And your job is taking my ship world to world and earning a dividend for me,' she concluded, watching me.

  I sighed. 'Well, I'll not deny that I'm not cut from the same cloth as the Four Shipmates. I don't relish the quest you've set your heart on, and I would certainly advise you to reconsider it and let the past alone. But I don't think I'd ever be the weak link if it came to your life. I would do what it took to keep you safe. Always,' I said standing and stepping close.

  'And, well, I'll not be a coward now. I am in love with you, and probably was from the first seconds I laid eyes on you...' And with that I drew her close and kissed her.

  05

  I blinked awake – perhaps – and I was alone, sitting on a pile of junk in the strong room, surrounded by cats. Min was nowhere to be found.

  Of course. Min had been a wyrm weather vision. Even I was out of character. Was my visit with Dyn also a vision? I felt my pocket, found the small circle it contained and pulling it out, found Miccall's gold ring with the gem inside, so not all of it was wyrm weather. I could not place exactly where the seam lay between the real and the wyrm. Wearily I rose, made my way out of the strong room, and making certain all the cats were out, closed and locked the strong room door.

  I wished the cats good night, and went down to my cabin and retired to my bunk and turned on the sleep machine. I wanted oblivion. With the dreams of my waking hours, I'd didn't think I'd find sleep any less unreal.