Ascending

10: WHEREIN I EXPERIENCE GREAT FRUSTRATION

Pursuit

Back on the bridge, Uclod was strapped into his seat, with an icky pink intestine plastered over his face, It was not an appealing look — perhaps even I do not look so attractive wearing a major piece of bowel on my head — but I was beginning to get used to the constant presence of Starbiter’s internal organs. I did not even flinch as I threw myself into the jellyfish seat… but this time I lifted my arms high so they would not be trapped when the safety straps wrapped around me.

My strategy worked most excellently: the tendrils snaked up from the chair almost as soon as I touched down, weaving tight around my body but leaving my arms free. Then I had to lower my hands quickly as the intestine dropped from the ceiling — kissing the top of my head, then creeping down over my face with an itchy tickle. This time Starbiter did not have to test my vision or hearing: as soon as the hood was in place, I could see the star-speckled blackness of the void.

"Go to long-range scan," Uclod’s disembodied voice said. I do not know if the instruction was aimed at Lajoolie or Starbiter; either way, the starry view jumped and shimmered for a moment. When it stabilized again, I realized I was viewing the world in the monochrome I had experienced before — seeing through the special devices for perceiving great distances.

Even with this new perspective, I had difficulty picking out the Shaddill vessel; there was so much sky to survey, all around us, above and below. No doubt the stick-ship was pursuing from our rear, but with nothing to see but unmoving stars, I had no sense of which direction we were heading. At last I discerned a bristly dust mote just visible against the bleak constellations — definitely the stick-ship, though Uclod must have had very good eyes to spot it at such a distance.

"It’s gaining on us," he said. "Not quickly, but it’s definitely gaining."

"Then we must go faster," I told him. "Encourage Starbiter to put on more speed."

"Missy," he answered, "my sweet little girl is already ripping along ten times faster than any Zarett before her. It doesn’t seem to hurt her, but I’ll be damned if I risk her life trying to speed up."

"She is a good and willing Zarett. She will try to go faster if you ask."

"I’m not going to ask! There’s no reason to drive her till she drops. Even if the Shaddill catch us, they won’t kill us, will they? They’re afraid of the League, just like anyone else."

"But they can lock us in prison forever! The League does not care about kidnapping or enslavement; they only object to murder."

"I know," Uclod said. "That’s why we’re running, toots."

We were not running fast enough: little by little, the image of the stick-ship grew. That was all I saw — the background stars did not shift, and I had no sense of motion in my body. It felt as if we were standing still, while the Shaddill approached us as slow as squinch-bugs.

This is not good at all, I thought It appeared as if the Pollisand’s teeny-tiny-eensy-weensy chance of disaster befalling me was not so minuscule as he implied. How long ago had I talked with him? Less than an hour. And already catastrophe clutched at my throat.

No wonder the Pollisand arrived when he did; and no wonder he so blithely promised to cure my Tired Brain. He must have known, even as we spoke, that the Shaddill were chasing us… and if he knew that, he must have guessed the Shaddill would commit horrid deeds on my person once they caught us. That is the whole reason Mr. Asshole Pollisand had tricked me into saying, "Oh no, the League should not hold you to blame if awful things transpire; I will assume responsibility myself."

It seems I had been taken for a Sucker. Sometimes, even I can be a most grievous poop-head.

A Brilliant Idea

I desperately wanted to do something — to run on my own two feet, or throw stones at the incoming ship; but that was pure foolishness. We had no way to fight or intimidate the stick-people.

Unless…

"Uclod!" I called. "As official communications officer, I should like to broadcast a message."

"What kind of message?" he asked.

"A loud one. Can you arrange for it to be heard at long distances?"

"Sure — Starbiter can broadcast in deep ether. God knows she’s brimming with enough power, we can probably cover fifteen cubic parsecs in a single burst."

"Good. I want everyone to hear me."

"We’ll hit all the public bands. Give me a second."

I could hear soft noises nearby — Uclod working the Zarett’s controls. Then he murmured, "Okay, toots: you’re on the air. Can’t wait to hear you persuade the Shaddill to back off."

But I had no intention of speaking to the evil stick-people. "Attention Technocracy navy!" I said. "Especially the foolish Captain Prope. Here we are. Come and get us!"

Silence. Seconds slipped by with no answer. Then Uclod let out his breath in a long sigh. "You think the Shaddill will run away if the human navy shows up?"

"Yes," I answered, attempting humility despite the brilliance of my idea.

"Toots," said Uclod, "you got two problems with that. First, the navy ships are way the hell back in the Melaquin system; we’re traveling lightyears too fast for them to catch up with us. Until a few minutes ago, I didn’t think any ship could make the speed we’re going… but it seems a sun-charged Zarett can, and a Shaddill ship is even faster. The navy are goddamned snails in comparison. By the time they get here, we’ll be long gone — probably swallowed by the Shaddill ship. And that’s if the navy even heard us. The other problem with your tactic is that half a second into your broadcast, the Shaddill jammed our signal. The most anyone heard was a hiccup."

"I did not hiccup!"

"Whatever you did, no one heard past the first two syllables. Granted, the navy was probably listening on all bands, hoping we’d break radio silence; good chance they caught the blip. They may even have got a location fix. But they’re just too far away, missy — we’ve been zipping along for hours at a speed they can’t possibly match. They’re out of the picture, and we’re on our own."

Of course, the navy could speed up their ships… if they ventured into the sun and energized their FTL fields. But the insolent Captain Prope would never be brave enough to attempt such a stratagem — not when she believed going into the sun meant death.

Perhaps one of the other captains would try, but even that seemed unlikely. These fools had possessed starships for centuries, yet none had experimented with venturing into a star. No sense of curiosity… nor any other sense I could discern. Had no rich wastrel ever sent a ship into the sun just to see it burn? Had no crazed person ever tried to commit suicide by solar immolation? Humans had been driving starships for four hundred years; Divians had ridden Zaretts for a thousand. In all that time, had no one ever swooped close to a star? How could that possibly be?

But I had no answers; I only had the image of the stickship coming slowly toward us, like a tumbleweed blowing in from the horizon. It was still far off, no bigger than a bumblebee against the blackness; yet second by second, it grew perceptibly.

"Maybe I should ask Starbiter for more speed," Uclod muttered nervously. "But what would be the point? The Shaddill ate sure to have the edge on us, no matter how fast we go. If they gave us Zaretts for free, you can be damned sure they kept something better for themselves. Like handing your frumpy old zigrim to your kid brother, after you get a snappy new lentz—"

I did not know what those things were; but I had lived beneath the thumb of an older sister, and I understood the principle quite well. The Shaddill would not give away Zaretts unless they had something at least slightly superior. "Perhaps," I said, "if we flew into another sun, we could charge Starbiter to even greater speeds."

"We’re in open space now, toots — nowhere near a sun." The little man grunted. "Nothing to do but keep going, and hope for a lucky break. Maybe the Shaddill will have a malfunction… or shut off their engines for a holy day of rest."

"Is that likely?" I asked.

"No. But when my back is to the wall, I always like to pretend there’s a way to dodge the bullet. Maybe the Shaddill captain will keel over from a heart attack and his crew will run away, thinking we have some fancy cardiac weapon."

"Maybe," Lajoolie murmured, "the captain will let us go because he falls in love with Oar."

"I do not think that is funny," I said.

Uclod asked his tongue. "Don’t be such a party-pooper, missy — when you’re well and truly screwed, either you just sit pissing yourself or you invent some reason to hope. Maybe we’ll get sucked into a wormhole and pop out halfway across the universe."

"Maybe," said Lajoolie, "my talented husband will discover he has telekinetic powers that can hold the Shaddill at bay."

"Maybe our enemies will get eaten by giant glass butterflies," I said sharply. "This game is a waste of time! We should take evasive action."

"We will," Uclod said, "as soon as it’ll do us any good. When the Shaddill get close enough to grab us, we’ll stay out of their clutches as long as possible." He laughed without humor. "It’s not like I want to get caught, missy… but we’re bare-ass in space with nowhere to hide for a few trillion klicks in any direction. We don’t have weapons, we don’t have friends, and we don’t have a lot of options. Run or surrender: pick one." "Hmmph," I said. "I made a very bad choice when I decided to accompany you."

"Do you think so?" Lajoolie asked. "On Melaquin, the Shaddill ship appeared right above your city. They recognized your name; they knew you were supposed to be dead. When they heard you were alive, they said someone bad interfered with their plan. It sounds like they wanted to use you for something. Or at least use your corpse. If they’d landed and found you still breathing, what do you think they would do?"

I had not considered the situation in such a light… but Lajoolie was correct. It seemed quite plausible the Shaddill had been heading for Oarville to carry out some plan involving my dead body. Perhaps that explained why the Pollisand took me from the Tower of Ancestors and gave me medical attention after my fall: as the Shaddill’s enemy, he could somehow foil their plans by keeping me alive.

I should have asked about that. I should have asked him many questions. But he rudely terminated our conversation as soon as I agreed to his proposal, so I did not have time to inquire about topics of personal relevance. If the Pollisand returned now, I would ask how my life and/or death concerned the Shaddill… and why he was not helping us in our current predicament. The Pollisand had bragged of his superiority to other species, yet he was conspicuously absent now that the Shaddill were at close range.

As for the Shaddill themselves — if they had arrived on Melaquin and discovered I was not yet a corpse, would they have endeavored to make me one? I did not know… but however they reacted, I probably would not have enjoyed it. Perhaps it was better I had boarded Starbiter, rather than getting caught on the ground. At least I was still alive and free. And perhaps the Shaddill captain would fall in love with me. It was high time somebody did.

Cat And Mouse… And Another Cat

We flew on. The stick-ship edged ever closer.

It was very most frustrating not to do anything. From the odd perspective of the far-seeing devices, we seemed to be sitting still, just waiting for our doom. But could we shoot at the enemy? No. Could we call for help? No. Could we even scream at our pursuers, cursing them with vile obscenities? Yes we could, but the Shaddill would not hear; they were jamming our broadcasts, so they would not receive any taunts I might transmit.

All I could do was glare at the alien ship, hoping if I hated them strongly enough, they would explode. This never works, but one must try it anyway — one feels it ought to work if your loathing is sufficiently sincere.

After several minutes of the enemy closing upon us, I decided the trick might lie in not looking at them. If I turned my eyes away and refused the tiniest glance in their direction, maybe the Shaddill would simply cease to exist. This was no more plausible than my previous plan, but I was weary of staring at sticks; so I aimed my gaze directly opposite, toward blank blackness and stars… only to find that the blackness was not completely blank.

Far off in the distance, I could see a small object — not like a star but a minuscule bone, a tiny knuckle from a baby mouse’s toe. I held my breath, not daring to speak for fear it would vanish… but it remained in sight as my heart pounded out a beat of ten. The distant object might even have grown by a hair. Another ten count, and I knew it was growing. I also knew what it was: a ship from the human navy, one of those long white batons I had last seen under the blaze of Melaquin’s sun.

Apparently, the four ships which had accosted us earlier were not the only ones sent to Melaquin. One more ship must have been dispatched hours behind its companions, on its way from New Earth to my planet. Since Starbiter was headed for New Earth now, we must be traveling in the same space lane… or at least close enough that the navy ship had heard our attempt at sending a message. They could have detected our "hiccup" and shifted to a course that would let them check the source of the broadcast.

"We are saved," I announced.

"What do you mean?" Uclod asked.

"There is a navy baton-ship coming straight for us. The Shaddill will flee again, for they are terrible cowards… and since we are raster than human vessels, we can outrun the baton anytime we choose."

"You’re a hell of an optimist." But Uclod did not sound as gloomy as his words suggested — he too must have welcomed any prospect of eluding the stick-ship. Given a choice between our Shaddill pursuers and the Technocracy navy, who would not prefer the humans? Better the villain you know than the one you do not… and also I was smarter than humans, which allowed us more chance of escape.

"Oar’s right," said Lajoolie, "there is an Outward Fleet ship. Calculating coordinates…"

"I don’t need numbers," Uclod interrupted. "Just tell me who gets to us first."

"Almost a dead heat," Lajoolie answered. "The human ship is coming straight at us, and we’re aiming straight at them. The gap will close fast. But the Shaddill are right on our tails."

Without thinking, I checked on the stick-ship. It was very most close indeed; in the minutes since I made up my mind not to look at them, they had crept steadily nearer. Now they loomed directly behind us — a great wall of bramble blocking our entire rear view.

"Beware," I said to my companions. "This is the distance at which you were flashed unconscious."

"Not true, toots," Uclod replied. "You’re seeing through long-range scanners now — the Shaddill are still a million klicks away, and I’m hoping their weapon can’t shoot that far. Even so, I’ve decoupled the wife and me from Starbiter’s neural feedback. We can still see, but we aren’t feeling anything. Let’s hope that keeps us awake."

I turned to the front once more and saw the navy ship had grown considerably since my last peek at them. If they possessed long-range scanners like Starbiter, they must see both us and the stick-ship… which meant the stick-ship could also see them. Any moment now, the Shaddill would flee like the cowards they were.

But they did not. They kept coming, lumbering up slowly; and one of the sticks began to reach for us, the same long mouth that had tried to swallow us before.

"They are attempting to snatch us!" I cried.

"They can’t," Uclod said, "they’re still too far away. Long-range scanners, remember? Things appearcloser than they really are. But," he continued, "the Shaddill are getting ready for something. Maybe they think they can swoop in and gobble us before the navy ship can react."

"Maybe they intend to seize the navy ship too," Lajoolie said.

"Ooo, that’s an unpleasant thought," Uclod said. "It’d mean they’re so desperate to keep us quiet, they don’t mind antagonizing the entire Technocracy."

"The Technocracy would never find out," Lajoolie told him. "The Shaddill are still jamming all signals in the region, so the navy can’t report what’s happening. If we both get grabbed, we’ll disappear without a peep."

"Ouch," Uclod said. "And by the time the fleet sends another ship to investigate what happened to this one, the Shaddill will belong gone — dragging us with them."

"Is there nothing we can do?" I asked in outrage.

"If you’ve got ideas, I’d love to hear them."

"Do we not have some means of attack? A weighty object we could hurl at the stick-ship?"

"Only ourselves," Uclod replied dryly, "If you’re aching to be a martyr, we could ram the Shaddill at top speed. We might even take out something critical: their computers maybe, or their engines. That’d let the navy ship get away."

I did not care for such a plan. Perhaps it could be reversed: the human vessel ought volunteer to smash the Shaddill, thereby allowing Starbiter to escape. But with our transmissions jammed, there was no way to suggest this scheme to the navy ship… and I did not believe they would spontaneously choose to destroy themselves for our benefit.

"Husband," Lajoolie said in a soft voice, "there is some potential in what you suggest."

Uclod snorted. "I didn’t suggest anything. Do you think I want to splash ourselves all over space on the off-chance—"

She interrupted, "Starbiter has emergency ejection procedures. And the human ship is right here to pick us up afterward."

"Aww, no, sweetheart…" The little man’s voice filled with horror. "We can’t—"

"We cannot what?" I asked.

"We can’t!" Uclod repeated.

Lajoolie said nothing.

I opened my mouth to demand an explanation; but before I could speak, Starbiter shuddered and everything went black.

A Noble Sacrifice

At first, I thought we were under attack — perhaps the stick-ship had assaulted us with a sinister Blinding Weapon, robbing us of our sight. I had seen no beam or missile shoot in our direction, but I had been listening to my companions rather than paying attention to the Shaddill. It would be just like those villains to commit an atrocity while I was distracted.

But moments later, the intestinal hood jerked off my face and I could see again. The ship’s bridge showed no sign of damage… though I noticed the mouth of the exit corridor had sealed itself. Beside me, the hoods came snapping off Uclod and Lajoolie too: a fierce yanking motion as if Starbiter were polling the guts away with all her strength.

Uclod cried to his wife, "Did you do that? Did you disengage the controls?"

"It wasn’t Madame Lajoolie," said a voice beside me. "Starbiter is taking independent action."

I was still strapped tightly in my chair, but I could turn my head far enough to see who was speaking: Nimbus, the infuriating cloud man. His ghostly mist was clotted thick and murky around the chair to my right.

"What do you mean," Uclod asked, "independent action?"

"Starbiter was linked with your mind," Nimbus said, "She saw the idea that flashed through your head… and she knew you’d never go through with it on your own. She informed me she was taking the initiative herself."

"Aww, no," Uclod groaned. "Aww, baby, no."

The bridge shuddered again. From beyond the closest wall came a fierce ripping noise, wet and gooey. Uclod covered his face with his hands.

"What is happening?" I asked.

"When a Zarett is in mortal danger," Nimbus said, "she can eject her passengers to save their lives."

Another ripping sound tore across the room, this time from the opposite wall.

"But the passengers are housed in the Zarett’s lungs," Nimbus said. "For us to escape, Starbiter has to expel a sizable wad of pulmonary tissue. She can’t survive such an injury."

"You mean she will…" I did not finish my sentence. Starbiter would die? My fine bouncy Starbiter? But I did not want her to die.

"She thinks she can save us," Uclod said, tears trickling down his cheeks. "Rip herself apart. Send us shooting to safety, then ram the main mass of her body into the Shaddill like a cannonball." He caught his breath. "Oh, my crazy little girl…"

The entire bridge chamber jerked twice to the right, as if there was some stubborn attachment on the left that refused to pull free. One more lurch, and I heard something snap. Then we were moving, pushed off sideways by muscles that must exist for this purpose alone — to let my friend Starbiter commit suicide.

O Starbiter! You foolish one!

Rips And Tears

Our journey outward was not smooth, but a series of jerky jumps: ramming against a blockage of tissue, bouncing back, then bashing through the barrier. Things squished and popped all around us. I did not wish to imagine what internal organs were being crushed by our passage, what long strands of meat were left bloodily behind… but never once did Starbiter falter. Though she was ripping a portion of lung from her body, she did it with all her strength.

In addition to the terrible rending and gurgling, the light had begun to fade. The great fuzzy beds of fungus on the wall were dimming their phosphorescence like a grass fire burning itself out. Uclod had said the fungus derived sustenance from Starbiter’s own tissues; now, as my friend disemboweled herself, perhaps the fungus’s nutrition supply had been cut off. Either the icky fuzz was dying of starvation, or it had some instinct to go dark as a way to conserve energy when its food supply was interrupted.

Meanwhile, the banging and bumping of our trip was loosening the fungus’s grip on the wall. Off to my right, a sheet of the stuff peeled away with a whispering sigh, its yellow glow snuffed in an instant as it toppled heavily to the floor. The bare wall behind was nothing but a clear membrane, transparent except for three big splotches of pinkish fluid: Starbiter’s blood. As we jerked forward again, I could see fierce shivers beyond the membrane, unknown organs shuddering with pain as we passed.

Another patch of fungus slumped off, this one from the ceiling over Lajoolie’s head. The big woman batted it away with one arm; it hit the floor beside her with a thud. More thuds sounded all over the room, as other clumps of fungus fell… until the floor was heaped with crumples of buttercup yellow, and the walls and ceilings were nothing but bare membrane. Any patch of wail I looked at, I could see straight through into Starbiter’s guts. Gouts of fluid slapped against the outer tissues; strands of connecting fiber snapped as we barreled forward, bashing our way through. Closing my eyes I could shut out the sight, but I still heard the splashing and splitting of gristle…

…then it all went silent. A deep deep quiet. And I felt myself shift under the straps that bound me to my chair, as if my own weight no longer held me down.

"Artificial gravity’s gone," Uclod said in a whisper. "We just passed the edge of the field."

I opened my eyes. Through the clear membrane, I saw we were not quite separate from Starbiter. we poised half-in, half-out of a great rupture in her side, as if we were an egg she was trying to lay. In one direction was the blackness of space, with stars smearily visible through vacuum-dried smudges of Zarett blood. In the other direction was noble Starbiter herself, her damaged body straining for one last push to shove us free. I could see muscles bunch and contract… then with a great heave, we were hurled tumbling away.

My friend Starbiter vanished is a heartbeat — an FTL cannonball shooting through the night. Seeing with my naked eyes rather than long-range scanners, I could barely make out the stick-ship… but there was no way to miss the flash of blazing light that reached us thirty seconds later. For a moment, I feared the Shaddill had fired their unconsciousness ray again; then I realized I had just seen Starbiter’s death as she bravely struck our enemies.

Whatever she had hit, it made a fine explosion.

Grief And New Burdens

The stick-ship was not obliterated, but it did not come any closer — it simply remained hanging in space, an image no bigger than my thumbnail.[6] From this range, there was no way to guess the extent of the damage… but I had faith Starbiter would have aimed for the most vulnerable spot she could find.

[6] — For examining distant objects, it is very convenient to be able to see through your thumb, nail and all. The curve of my nail gives a slight magnification; if I line up my thumbs at the right distance in front of my eye, I can get a telescope effect.

She was an excellent Zarett.

Beside me, Uclod snuffled into his hands. Lajoolie did not weep; but she rested her fingers on her husband’s shoulder and stared at him with sympathy. At last, the little man took a shuddering breath. "She died alone."

"She did it for us," Lajoolie told him. "She did it gladly."

"But she died alone!" He pounded one hand on his chair, then turned around sharply to glare at Nimbus. "She was your mate, for God’s sake. Why didn’t you go with her?"

A ripple passed through the cloud man’s body. "I offered to," Nimbus replied, "but she wouldn’t permit it. She said I had a higher responsibility."

All this time, the cloud man had been clotted around the chair beside me. Now he oozed away from it, revealing what he had shielded with his body during our bouncing passage through Starbiter’s guts.

Nestled on the seat was a tiny ball half the size of my fist. Its exterior had the same stringy gray texture as Starbiter herself… but very delicate, the strings as thin as hairs and the gray more fragile than frost.

"She’s very young to be separated from her mother," Nimbus said. "But Starbiter insisted; and I swear I will take good care of our daughter."

The fog of his body billowed back around the chair, swaddling the baby Zarett like a protective blanket.